Harry Potter and the Bones of Magic

Airports, Memories, and That Thing Is Bloody Huge

Take a vacation, they said.

It'll be FUN, they said.

Muggle airdeeplayins tech is totally safe in regards to your magic, Arthur had said, after numerous (failed) attempts (courtesy of Hermione) to make him use the proper muggle terminology of the device.

It'll be a totally, completely, 100% normal vacation, they said.

Well. They lied.

But then again, why should he be surprised, after everything that he had done, everything that had happened to him? He was the walking embodiment of Murphy's Law. Trouble followed him like some overly-energetic hound, constantly nudging and nudging at his heels, for him to move, to run, DO something.

Probably something stupid and potentially life threatening.

Those same trouble instincts had finally pushed him into something that not even he was really all that sure how to handle--the greatest annoyance on the face of planet earth--airport security.

Muggle airport security.

Who he doubted would let him take his rattling case full of delicate potion supplies with 20 feet of the plane. He would have normally owned or flooed them over, but he hated floos with a fierce passion, and the inherent spinning of a port key was exactly what he had been trying to avoid when taking over the highly explosive substances. After the whole arm stint with Ron, Harry was wary to try apparating with such a far distance and such a heavy load. And sending them by owl...well, it would be an incredibly heavy load to begin with, and using any owl other than his late, still beloved Hedwig seemed like some sort of deep-rooted betrayal that he was nowhere near ready to look into, much less deal with.

So he was forced to take them onto the rather scary-looking airplane, and at that point, he really didn't care what the muggles said--if they didn't let it on, well, that was what magic was for, after all.

Craning his neck and hopping on his feet in a vain effort to see over the hordes of people in the terminal, Harry winced at the poor visibility his scratched glasses offered him. Pausing his momentary jumping, he yanked the glasses from his head and rubbed them on the edge of his shirt with a frustrated vigor.

Merlin, how did the Muggles do this?

"...Harry Potter? Is, is that you, sir?"

Harry glanced around his immediate surroundings, instinctively spreading out his magic to scan for any potential threats as he shoved his glasses back onto his face. Old war habit, he supposed. His shoulders slumped just the tiniest bit, and he let out a quick huff of air as his magic verified that the voice meant him no harm. He now actively scanned the scene with his eyes, immediately glancing downwards as he felt a tug on the hem of his shirt.

"Down here, sir!"

Harry smiled at the little blonde boy before him. Flipping the ends of his jacket behind him, Harry shoved his hands into his trousers' pockets and squatted next to the little guy.

"Hey there," Harry greeted with an easy smile and the slightest tilt of his head, "What can I do for you? And no need to call me sir, makes me feel like a professor." He added with a lopsided grin.

The boy looked down, cheeks flushed red. "I, um...my sister, maybe you know..." here, the boy swallowed hard, and Harry fought the urge to wrap his arms around him in a comforting hug, "Or, um, knew her... Her name is, was, Lavender Brown. I just wanted to thank you for getting rid of the bad Voldeywart man. Daddy said you saved us, and, um, and I know that it's, that it's not your fault, what happened to her." He glanced back up at Harry, a sad, barely-there smile adorning his face.

Harry fought back tears and the urge to run from the kid.

Lavender Brown. This was her brother, Matthew, or "Wittle Mattie." Harry vaguely remembered Ron explaining how Lavender had called everyone close to her with baby-talk, and Harry let his eyes close in remembrance of the bubbly Gryffindor.

"Thank...Thanks, Mattie. Your sister was very brave during the battle, and I know she loved you very much." Oh god, he could still see her body. Bloody, crumpled so broken it had made him want to scream. He actually did scream when he saw the looming shadow of Greyback huddling over her still form.

He blinked and let out a slow breath.

He wasn't in Hogwarts. He was in a Muggle Airport. With Lavender's kid brother.

And he was next in line to check in his baggage.

Harry briefly leaned forward, now on his knees instead of awkwardly squatting, and drew the boy close to him in a hug, ducking under the thin restraint separating the lines from the crowds of the other travelers. They stayed like that for another minute, until Harry finally realized just where he was, and also that any of the bystanders could technically call him in for harassing a child. Slowly untangling himself from the boy's grasp, Harry smiled at him and thanked him for coming to see him.

A quick photograph and a hastily scribbled signature on the boy's luggage (which depicted a metal man flying in Gryffindor colors, much to Harry's confusion and amusement) another hug later, Harry sent the boy back on his way towards two adults standing in the line opposite him, deep in conversation. He winked in Mattie's general direction, and the glowing smile the boy shot back at him made his heart melt. He heard a few whispered "Awws," spread among the crowd, and he whipped his head to the line behind him to discover a multitude of grinning females and even a few guys beaming at him. Harry's flushed cheeks and sheepish grin faded in the next few moments, however.

"Next, please," the exceptionally bored voice intoned, as a portly man waddled up to Harry and guided him to the nearest desk, where an equally-bored girl sat, glancing at her nails and occasionally snapping her gum. Harry waited patiently through the flight check-in process, fumbling slightly over the muggle touch screens.

The girl behind the counter sent a silent glare at Harry's rattling case of potions, and Harry responded with a wandless, soft-spoken confondus charm. The girl's countenance stretched into a grimace vaguely reminiscent of a smile as her eyes glazed over, and she lifted the huge trunk onto the conveyor belt behind her and finished up with Harry's registration. When she was finished, she sent him on his way with his newly-printed boarding pass and monotone instructions to his gate. Harry thanked her, adjusted the backpack resting on his shoulder, and made his way through security with a few discreet charms, following the confusing signs down the wide passages that led to the gate code printed on his ticket. He grinned when he found it, and threw himself into one of the many leather chairs littering the waiting area.

He couldn't help the small gasp that escaped him as he looked out of the huge glass wall in front of him, staring with wonder at the bloody gigantic plane that swooped down onto the runway with a noisy mechanical WHOOSH.

He grinned and rubbed his hands together in uncontrolled delight.

America better watch out. Harry Potter was en route, and wherever he went, well...trouble was never very far behind.