Harry Potter hadn’t slept properly in months, not since the war ended. It was strange, after all the battles and pain, that peace felt so... exhausting. He would lay in bed at Grimmauld Place, his mind racing with memories of loss, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him like a heavy fog. Each time he closed his eyes, the faces of the fallen haunted him. He needed to escape. London, the memories, the life he had once known.
So, without much of a plan, Harry packed a bag, grabbed his new companion, a speckled owl named Orion, and moved across the world to America. He didn’t think about where he’d go or what he’d do, he just knew he had to leave. Maybe then he’d find some sleep, or at least some peace.
After weeks of wandering and aimless hotel stays, Harry found himself on the streets of Los Angeles. His thoughts were as restless as ever when he spotted a tattered flyer on a bulletin board outside a coffee shop: "Roommate Wanted: Loft Apartment. Creative Space. Good Vibes. Call Nick." The idea of roommates sounded better than being alone, so Harry tore off a tab and dialed the number.
The voice on the other end sounded gruff but warm. "Yeah, come by later for an interview. Don't be weird," Nick said before hanging up abruptly.
Later that evening, Harry made his way to the loft but somehow got lost along the way. He bumped into a quirky woman named Jess in the hallway. She had bright eyes and a chaotic energy that reminded him of Luna Lovegood. Jess rambled on about how she had just gotten a new plant, accidentally spilled glitter on it, and now her whole room sparkled. Harry couldn’t help but smile,her randomness was oddly comforting.
Finally, he reached the loft and knocked on the door. When it swung open, Nick was there, wearing a raggedy t-shirt and holding a half-empty beer bottle. "You must be the guy," Nick said, eyeing him up and down.
"Yeah, Harry Potter," Harry said, trying to sound casual despite the fact that this situation was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Muggle living, especially in LA, was quite different from his usual life.
Nick waved him inside, and Harry was greeted by two other guys, Schmidt, who looked polished to the point of obsession, and Winston, who was crouched down near the couch, peering at Orion in fascination.
Schmidt’s eyes narrowed as he took in Harry’s disheveled appearance. "He's a guy? Nick, I told you we needed to find someone who brings balance to the loft, and this guy looks like he just rolled out of a broom closet."
Nick ignored him, waving Harry over to sit down. "So, you do magic or something? I’m not gonna pretend I don’t know about the whole Harry Potter thing, squib parents told me all about the war."
Harry blinked. "Uh, yeah, but I don’t really talk about it much anymore."
"Good. I'm writing a book," Nick said, his face lighting up. "It's terrible. It’s a zombie legal drama. But sometimes I think magic would make it better."
For the first time in months, Harry found himself genuinely laughing. The two of them began talking, and to Harry’s surprise, it felt easy, as though they had known each other for years. There was something about Nick’s self-deprecating charm that put Harry at ease. Nick wasn’t trying to pry into his past or expect anything of him. He was just a guy with a broken-down bar, a ridiculous book idea, and a knack for complaining.
Meanwhile, Winston was completely enamored with Orion, who had hopped onto the back of the couch and was eyeing him with interest. "What kind of owl is this?" Winston asked. "Is it, like, magic?"
"Sort of," Harry said with a small smile. "He's... special."
Winston grinned. "I like him. I think we could be friends."
Schmidt, however, was still standing with his arms crossed. "Nick, we need balance! We don’t need another man in this loft. This place is a delicate ecosystem."
Nick rolled his eyes. "Schmidt, you once spent three hours explaining to me why your towels need to be color-coordinated. Let’s just give him a chance."
Harry felt a twinge of nervousness. He didn’t need this to fall apart, not when he finally felt like he could start anew. "Look," he said, "I’m not going to mess up your ecosystem. I just need a place to stay for a while. If I don’t fit in, I’ll leave."
Nick raised an eyebrow. "You’re not getting rid of me that easily. You’re in, man. The rest will figure itself out."
Winston gave Harry a thumbs-up, still half-distracted by Orion. "Welcome to the loft, Harry."
Schmidt groaned dramatically but relented. "Fine. But you better not mess with my artisanal soaps."
And so, Harry found himself in a new kind of adventure, one that involved awkward roommate dynamics, Nick’s endless rants about his failing book, Winston’s obsession with Orion, and Schmidt’s neurotic cleanliness. For the first time since the war, Harry felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could find a new kind of peace in this strange, muggle-filled world.
At least he knew he wouldn’t be facing it alone.