Chapter 2
As soon as Harry was strapped in and the car was rolling down Mesquite Drive, Maya craned around from the front passenger seat with a lazy, triumphant grin. “Guess what?” she said.
“What?” said Harry.
“I got the internship!” Maya squealed.
“The one at Tulles? Oh wow! That’s great, Maya!” Harry beamed at her. Maya was passionate about the environment, with dreams of becoming a marine biologist. Tulles Wetland Restoration Center was a research station and nature reserve just outside San Benito, associated with the University of California and the San Diego Zoo. This was an excellent step for her. “When do you start?”
“Next week,” she said. “I’m going to be counting fish, labeling samples, guiding tours…”
“Sounds like a blast,” drawled Tomas from the driver’s seat.
She smacked him on the arm. “You’re just jealous. I’m going to be working with real scientists!”
“I’d rather be swimming,” chuckled Tomas, who resembled a Latino Adonis if Adonis had spent every day swimming in the Pacific Ocean, and was indeed on track to winning a swimming scholarship. “How ‘bout you, Brexit? How’s the job hunt going?”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” Harry grumbled. “I haven’t been back to the UK since I was, like, a year old. I don’t even have an accent.”
“Yeah, you do,” Maya said unexpectedly. “Not when you’re with us,” she said in response to Harry’s startled glance. “With us you’re pure Pacific Rim. But when you’re talking to Stephen, the British comes out, just a bit.”
Harry shifted a little. Mostly he was used to the fake names he and Severus used in public, but sometimes it bothered him. Severus had explained that Severus Snape was an unusual and instantly recognizable name among wizards, and Harry Potter was dangerous too, if their enemies should ever hear it. He had thus devised a surname, Powell, for them both to share, and went by Stephen Powell among all their acquaintances. Harry was glad he’d been able to keep his own first name, if not his second: Harry Powell. It was even on his driver’s license.
Severus said he’d chosen these names carefully, to sound something like their real names. That way, if either of them messed up and used their real names in public, they could plausibly say any audience member had misheard them, or that Severus was actually a nickname for Stephen back in Britain. (Harry privately thought that anyone who actually believed this was probably not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but whatever.)
“But why do we have to worry about wizards finding out our real names?” Harry had asked once. “We live with Muggles. We never even talk to other wizards.”
“Word has a way of getting out,” Severus had replied. “Rumors spread. The magical and Muggle communities are far more intertwined than most wizards would like to admit. And Severus Snape is even more unusual among Muggles than it is among wizards.”
“But I don’t like lying to my friends.”
Severus fixed him with a black-eyed glare. “We all have to do things we don’t like, Harry,” he snapped. “And this is safer for your friends too. Don’t be selfish.”
So now Harry pushed the matter out of his mind and settled down to enjoying the ride, bantering with his friends as they drove out of San Benito. The town was right on the shore, and indeed all three of them lived within walking distance of the public beach, but when it came to surfing, they usually headed out of town, to a different beach north along the coast. The waves were better there, and it wasn’t so clogged with tourists. It was much more private too. There was a lifeguard station, changing rooms and a walled hacienda-style house above the beach and that was it.
“I wonder why no one’s ever at that house,” said Harry as they rolled past it to the graveled parking lot. “Isn’t it a rental or something? Why doesn’t it ever get rented?” Trees in the walled garden swayed in the wind.
“Maybe it’s some tech tycoon’s beach house,” Maya shrugged.
“Or maybe it’s haunted! Woo!” laughed Tomas as he parked the car.
Harry remembered the ghost who really had tried to haunt him and Severus a few years ago, before Severus had ruthlessly exorcised her, sending her screaming into the afterlife. But he held his tongue. What must you never say? Anything about magic. His friends would never have believed him anyway.
And he did not want Severus to do to them what he had done to Jose Ruiz.
Outside, the day had warmed even further, the air heating up. The sound of the sea was loud, the waves smashing on the shore, the tide high, seagulls crying. Perfect conditions. Tomas and Maya unloaded their surfboards from the roof of the car while Harry texted Severus. Severus was skittish around Muggle technology—he always grimaced with distaste whenever he had to use the laptop—but he needed a phone to keep in touch with his Muggle clients. And he loved that his smartphone allowed him to keep close tabs on Harry.
We’re at the beach now, Harry texted.
Be careful, came Severus’s reply.
“Texting Stephen again, Brexit?” Tomas’s shadow fell over Harry’s screen. “Christ, I swear, he’s the ultimate helicopter dad.”
“He’s not my dad, doofus.” Briefly, Harry wondered about his long-dead father. Severus never talked about James Potter. “He’s more like a distant cousin.” This was actually true: Severus said that all the wizarding families were related, especially in small countries like Britain.
“Well, you better keep your phone away from your cousin, Brexit, or he’ll have a tracking app installed before you can say ‘Homeland Security.’”
“Damn.” Harry digested this all-too-plausible scenario. “You’re right. Don’t tell Stephen that’s possible.” Harry shoved his phone into his pocket and hoisted his board, heading down the dirt path after Tomas. Maya was already cleaning up litter off the beach, stuffing it into a trashcan and exclaiming about plastic pollution. Tomas loped over and ruffled her hair, telling her to lighten up.
A wistful stab ran through Harry. Sometimes, at moments like these, he wished he and Severus weren’t just pretending to be Muggles. If they really were Muggles—if the pretense was real—they wouldn’t be able to use magic, but they also wouldn’t have to live in hiding, or use false names, or lie to their friends.
He could never tell that to Severus, of course. Severus might have nothing good to say about other wizards, but Harry knew he was fiercely proud of being magical.
Again, Harry pushed the thought aside. There was no point wishing for what could never be. He ran down the path after the other two. The day was warm, the waves were high, and he was ready to forget his worries.
It was a great day, one of the best: Harry was still riding the high of adrenaline when they drove back into town hours later. He’d caught five waves perfectly, feeling the thrum of the ocean’s power through the board, and executed a perfect leap. Tomas, naturally, had caught seven waves and exited four of them flawlessly, gliding onto the sand with a cocky smirk, but Harry still felt he’d given a good showing. The trio were still chattering about their waves as they lined up at their favorite taco joint, Nacho Rosales.
Harry texted Severus to let him know where he was, but did so out of Tomas’s view. He’d had enough of Tomas’s jibes about Severus for one day.
Maya, meanwhile, had tired of the subject of surfing. “I can’t wait for my internship to start!” she said as they picked up their burritos and claimed a table. “It’s going to look so good on my college applications.”
“Yeah, yeah,” chuckled Tomas. “While you’re slaving away labeling specimens, Harry and I’ll be catching waves, won’t we, Brexit?” He nudged Harry.
Harry nudged back. “Unless I find a job!”
“Seriously, though, Harry, you should try to find an internship yourself,” said Maya, suddenly going earnest. “It’s too late this summer, but maybe next year—”
“What kind of internship?” Harry exclaimed.
“Come on, Harry, you’re smart. What are you interested in?”
Harry shrugged. He was talented at defensive magic, Apparition and nonverbal spells, but somehow, he didn’t think those were the sort of things internships were looking for.
“Lay off, Maya,” Tomas laughed.
“You ought to think about what you want to do with your lives.” Maya waggled a piece of lettuce at the boys reprovingly. “Both of you.”
“Come on, Maya, we’re only going to be juniors next year,” said Tomas. “Can’t we have a little time to relax before we get ground under the wheel of capitalism?”
“Yeah, really,” said Harry. Secretly, though, he thought Maya might have a point. What was he going to do after high school? He’d never given it much thought.
Of course, Severus would gladly give him a permanent job in the workshop, but was that really what he wanted to do? Harry was a competent potioneer and chemist—no wizard personally raised and trained by Severus Snape could fail to become so—but he didn’t have Severus’s passion for the art, nor his genius. And he’d lived in San Benito all his remembered life. He wanted to see a bit more of the world.
Wistfully, he thought of going to school far away, maybe on the East Coast, which he’d only ever seen in movies. But he knew that was out of the question. Severus would freak.
“Right now,” he said aloud, “all I want to do is eat this burrito.” He took a bite in illustration.
Maya dug around in her bag. “Well, if you’re not going to listen to my advice, take a look at this!” She placed a shiny new comic book on the table.
The boys both leaned in excitedly. “Cool, Maya! Your dads got the latest issue?” Harry said.
“Yeah!” Maya opened the latest issue of the new Lord of the Rings adaptation comic, and the three of them examined every page.
Maya’s fathers, Mike and Miguel (Tomas called them “Los dos Migueles” or simply “Los Dos”), ran the Shadowed Planet Comics Store, a venerable San Benito institution beloved by all the geeks, dorks and nerds in town. Indeed, Shadowed Planet was what had drawn Harry and his friends together. He’d known Maya since they were toddlers: Mike and Miguel were the only people Severus had trusted to babysit Harry when he was younger and Severus had had to leave on one of his abrupt business trips. Harry and Maya spent much of their childhood hanging around in the store. A few years ago, Tomas Rodriguez, jock extraordinaire, had snuck into the store to indulge his secret passion for comics and graphic novels, and the three had formed an unlikely friendship. Harry and Maya had guided their new initiate through the intricacies of the nerd world, and Tomas had taught them how to surf. Win-win.
“Man, they’re really taking liberties, aren’t they?” said Harry, examining a beautifully rendered drawing of Galadriel fighting off an army of orcs at the edge of Lothlorien. He wasn’t too upset though: he enjoyed new interpretations of old stories.
Severus despised Muggle fantasy books and art, sneering every time he saw an example and muttering that Muggles had no idea what they were talking about, but Harry liked fantasy. The Muggles might get magic completely wrong every time, but it was fascinating to see where their imaginations led them. Besides, Harry had caught Severus sneaking a peek inside his copy of The Fellowship of the Ring, so he didn’t take his guardian’s grumbles too seriously.
“Oh, Harry,” said Maya, as though she’d just remembered something. “You’re still looking for a summer job, right?”
“Yeah.” Harry looked up. “Why? You know something?”
“Yes, I do! I won’t be able to work at the store this summer with my internship. Why don’t you ask my dads for the job?”
Harry blinked, wondering why this hadn’t occurred to him before. Tomas laughed. “Good idea, Maya! Maybe Brexit can give me a discount!”
“Shut up,” Harry muttered automatically, but his mind wasn’t on the discussion. His thoughts raced. This sounded like the perfect opportunity. He liked Los Dos and they liked him; he was already familiar with the store and loved spending time there. And surely Severus could not object? Shadowed Planet was within walking distance of the house, and Severus liked Los Dos as much as he liked anybody. It would only be a part-time position, too, leaving Harry plenty of time to help out in the workshop.
“Thanks, Maya.” Excitement was rising in Harry’s chest. “I’d love that. Let’s ask your dads. And I’ll ask Stephen too.”
“Ginny, dear, Hermione, have you got everything packed?” Molly Weasley bustled into her daughter’s bedroom at the Burrow, peering keenly into the girls’ trunks.
“Working on it, Mum.” Ginny Weasley stuffed in a pair of socks.
“Fold them properly!” Molly used her wand to fold the socks neatly. “You’re going to be out there for such a long time.”
“You’ll be there part of the time, though, won’t you, Mrs. Weasley?” said Hermione Granger, packing what must have been her fiftieth book into her magically expanded trunk. “And the twins are coming, and my parents…”
“Yes, we’ll all be visiting, but still…” Molly fixed a hawk-eyed glower on Ginny, who squirmed. “Mind you behave yourself.”
“I will, Mum, I promise,” Ginny said quickly. This was going to be her first-ever holiday without her parents, at least part of the time, and she was determined not to mess it up.
“I know you will.” Molly softened a bit and kissed Ginny on the cheek. “Mind you pack everything tonight! We’re taking the Portkey early tomorrow. And get enough sleep!”
“We will.” Ginny waited until her mother had left the room before turning to Hermione. “Wow! I’m surprised she didn’t insist on packing my trunk for me!”
“She’s just trying to help.” Hermione spoke absently, contemplating two books, one in each hand.
Ginny wandered over. One book was titled Magical Historical Mysteries and the other The Rise and Fall of the Dark Lord. “Still obsessing over the Potter Mystery?” she teased. “It’s been fifteen years, Hermione. Surely someone would have figured it out by now, if it was going to happen at all!”
“I know.” Hermione, apparently deciding that both books were indispensable, packed them in her trunk. “It’s just so fascinating, isn’t it? What really happened the night You-Know-Who disappeared?”
“Well…” Despite having had this discussion with Hermione multiple times, Ginny was intrigued. “We all know the story, don’t we? On Halloween fifteen years ago, You-Know-Who entered the village of Godric’s Hollow to kill the entire Potter family: Lily, James and their baby son Harry. He got Lily and James—the Ministry found their bodies the next day—but You-Know-Who completely vanished and so did the baby.”
“Yes, but why? What really happened?”
Ginny shrugged. “Maybe You-Know-Who vaporized the baby before vaporizing himself.”
“You can’t vaporize anyone, Ginny,” Hermione said impatiently. “It’s impossible to magically un-make matter. No, I’m sure the baby had something to do with You-Know-Who’s disappearance, but I can’t figure out what.”
“What could a baby do to You-Know-Who?” Ginny demanded. A thought struck her. “Hey, maybe You-Know-Who kidnapped the baby!”
“What would the most dangerous Dark wizard of all time want with a one-year-old baby?” Hermione scoffed. “Unless he was planning some kind of Dark magic…Maybe there are spells that require a baby’s life or something…I should look this up…”
“You know, Hermione, you’d make a pretty scary Dark witch yourself.” The door cracked open and Ron, Ginny’s brother and Hermione’s boyfriend, grinned in. “That’s the first thing you think of? Wizards sacrificing babies?”
“Don’t listen in, Ron!” Ginny scolded even as Hermione giggled and went to throw her arms around Ron.
“Well, you have to admit, it’s the kind of thing You-Know-Who would do,” she said, and kissed him.
Slightly uncomfortable, Ginny returned to packing her trunk. She liked Hermione Granger a lot and was glad her brother was going out with her (she was certainly an improvement over Lavender Brown). But it made her feel a bit melancholy, watching Ron and Hermione smooch. Ginny had broken up with Dean Thomas midway through the last schoolyear at Hogwarts and hadn’t replaced him yet. She told herself she was glad to be taking a break; but the main adult chaperons on this beach holiday were going to be her brother Bill and his girlfriend Fleur Delacour. If the holiday proceeded the way Ginny foresaw, the two couples—Bill and Fleur and Ron and Hermione—would spend the entire time snogging on the beach, leaving Ginny as the fifth wheel.
She tried to shake the thought off. They were going to California, after all. Surely there would be handsome Muggle surfers who thought her English accent was adorable. “What’s the town we’re going to again?” she asked, partly to break Ron and Hermione apart.
It worked. “San Benito,” said Hermione, stepping away from Ron, though their hands remained linked. “Just this little town on the coast. There aren’t any other wizards there at all.”
“So watch your wand!” Ron added in imitation of Molly.
“I will,” laughed Ginny. “But I don’t think there’s going to be any real problems, do you? After a while, I bet we’ll all probably be really bored.”