Chapter 7
Harry was glad that the next day, Saturday, was his long day at Shadowed Planet. It gave him a good excuse to avoid Severus. And the work of tidying the shop, stocking the shelves and ringing up purchases was distracting, and therefore soothing.
Harry kept a surreptitious eye on the pedestrian traffic outside, but saw no sign of the strange witches and wizards.
He was in the middle of stacking some jigsaw puzzles on a shelf when the door flew open, the bell ringing. Harry, nerves already stretched, yelped and jumped. The jigsaw boxes cascaded down.
“Whoa, Brexit!” Tomas held up his hands, laughing. “Calm down!”
“Sorry,” Harry mumbled sheepishly, and began cleaning up.
Tomas sauntered over to help, stacking jigsaws back on the shelf. “You okay, Brexit? You seem really jumpy.”
“I’m fine,” Harry said. “You just startled me, that’s all. Can’t you just open the door like a regular person, instead of flinging it?”
“And risk everyone missing out on my fabulousness? Not a chance.” Tomas smirked.
Harry placed the uppermost jigsaw box on its side, so the picture showed. “Hey, Tomas…have you been up to North Beach lately?”
“No, why?”
Harry let out a silent sigh of relief. “I just thought…maybe we could check out some other beaches. For surfing. We always go to the same one.”
“Because it’s the closest one that’s not stuffed with tourists,” Tomas said. “And I read the report online. There’s supposed to be awesome waves there tomorrow! Prepare to be waterboarded, Brexit.”
“Ha, ha, ha,” Harry said, deadpan, while Tomas roared with laughter at the old pun. “You know, that’s not nearly as funny as you think it is.”
“Maya thinks it’s funny.” To Harry’s surprise, Tomas looked away at this, fiddling with a puzzle box on a different shelf. “Hey, Brexit…do you know if Maya’s going out with anyone right now?”
“Not that I know of.” Felicita the cat came strolling up to wind around Harry’s ankles, and he bent over to scratch her head. “Why?”
“I just wondered,” said Tomas airily—rather too airily.
A slow, evil grin took over Harry’s face. “Oooh, Tomas,” he crowed, and ducked when Tomas swatted at him. “Hey! No violence in the shop!”
“I’ll get you, Brexit!” cried Tomas, aiming another swat.
Mike came out of the backroom with a large cardboard box. “Hey!” he snapped. “No fighting!”
“Sorry, Mike.” The boys desisted, but the moment Mike looked away, Harry leaned in. “Seriously, though…you and Maya?”
“Yeah,” Tomas whispered, blushing crimson. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.” He swallowed, looking even more nervous. “You don’t…mind, do you?”
“Mind?” Harry blinked. “Why would I mind?”
“Well, you’ve kind of known her forever, right? Way longer than I have. So I just wondered if you’d, well, mind. If I started dating her.”
“What, you think I’d challenge you to a duel? Pistols at dawn?” Harry smirked, and laughed when Tomas scowled at him.
Still, he was touched that Tomas valued his opinion so much. “Look,” he said, “if it’s okay with her, it’s fine with me. Just…I hope you can stay friends, if dating doesn’t work out. I really like hanging out with both of you.”
Tomas’s face broke into a luminous grin. “Thanks, man.” He gave Harry a manly slap on the arm.
“If you’re quite done,” called Mike, who was one of the few people who could match Severus for being acerbic, “Harry has actual work to do. Show him our latest arrivals, Harry.”
“Yes, sir,” said Harry jauntily, and it was with a smile that he led Tomas to the newly released graphic novels.
The next day, however, Harry was not smiling.
He’d kept up a steady stream of ordinary chatter to Severus at dinner, telling him all about Tomas’s romantic plans for Maya. Severus, predictably, had sniffed in disapproval and said he hoped someone told Los Dos. His eyes then sharpened, and he warned Harry that if he found out that Harry was dating anyone without telling him, Harry would get a Stinging Hex or five. Harry returned spiritedly that he’d been able to protect himself from Severus’s Stingers since the age of thirteen, but he had no intention of dating anyone right now anyway. Severus said he was glad to hear that, but he knew of several fiendishly complicated potions he would make Harry brew up on his own if he found out Harry was lying to him.
Harry could only imagine what Severus would do if he found out what Harry was truly lying about right now.
On the whole, Harry had been glad to escape with Tomas and Maya early the next morning. But he wasn’t so pleased when he found out they were heading straight for North Beach.
“Come on, man,” he said now from the back of Tomas’s car. He was sitting stiff and sweating as they zoomed down the road. “Seriously. Let’s try somewhere else.”
“Why are you freaking like this?” Maya craned around at him. Now that Tomas had pointed it out, Harry supposed she was good-looking, all cinnamon skin and black hair and big dark eyes, ladders of woven thread-bracelets up both arms. She now peered at Harry with quizzical good cheer. “We’re just going surfing like we always do.”
“Yeah, but maybe we should, like, give North Beach a rest.”
“What for? There’s supposed to be good waves, and it’s not like anyone’s ever there.”
“There is this time.” The words escaped Harry’s mouth before he could stop them.
“What?” Tomas glanced back now, mouth agape. “You mean the Ghost Rental actually got rented?”
“Yeah, by a whole bunch of people.” Harry sensed a possible strategy. “They’re probably on our beach right now. So maybe we should find somewhere else—”
“No, man, I want to see them!” Tomas actually sped up, swishing along the road.
Harry’s heart clenched: he knew, from Severus’s stories, that as brutal as the Death Eaters were to other wizards, they meted out even worse treatment to Muggles. What might these wizards do to his friends…? “Come on, man, what for?” he asked, hoping he sounded normal. “They’re just tourists!”
“Yeah, but this’ll be the first time the Ghost Rental’s had anybody in forever!”
“What are they like?” Maya asked eagerly. “Did you see them?”
“Just once,” said Harry. “And they’re just regular obnoxious tourists.” Sort of. “Very boring,” he added, completely untruthfully.
“Still, they’re renting the Ghost Rental! They must be, like, super rich or something,” said Maya. “Maybe they’re celebrities!”
“Not from what I saw,” said Harry. “Anyway, I thought you didn’t care about celebrities.”
“I don’t, but it’s still cool,” said Maya, somewhat inconsistently. “Come on, Tomas!”
In what seemed like no time at all to the sweating Harry, they arrived at North Beach’s tiny parking lot. “I don’t see any cars,” said Tomas, craning through the window at the walled beach house.
No, they arrived by traffic cone. “Maybe they’ve gone,” said Harry hopefully. A guy could dream…
“No, look!” Maya pointed. “They’ve opened some of the windows. And I think maybe I saw someone go by inside!”
“Come on, let’s not bother them,” mumbled Harry. “I feel like a Peeping Tom or something. Let’s just surf.”
Maya craned around to raise an eyebrow at him. “What’s your problem, Harry? You’re being so weird about this.”
Harry managed a weak smile. “Sorry. I just…I like having North Beach to ourselves, you know? I don’t want a bunch of tourists there.”
“Well, it’s not like we always have North Beach entirely to ourselves. Look, there are some other surfers right now.” Maya nodded at a nearby van which had just pulled up, laden with surfboards.
“I know, but it feels like…like the tourists in the house are watching us or something.”
“Oh, stop being such a wimp, Harry!” Tomas opened the door and swung out. “They can’t arrest you for surfing. Come on and get your board!”
Harry stayed quiet as he got out, but he kept a close eye on the house.
They headed down the path toward the changing rooms, beach grass and succulents waving in the slight breeze. It was cloudy this morning, though Harry could tell already the clouds would burn off soon. He looked again at the house, but saw no signs of the wizards. Maybe they were sleeping in.
“You sure look pretty today, Maya,” Tomas said up ahead.
“Thanks.” Maya blinked at him in agreeable surprise. “What makes you say that?”
“Nothing,” said Tomas, reddening. “Just…thought you looked pretty today, that’s all. How’s your internship going?”
“I’d look for a dating advice blog if I were you, Tomas,” Harry said moments later, in the privacy of the men’s changing room.
“Oh, shut up,” Tomas scowled.
Harry’s grin faded when they headed outside again and he saw the ominous bulk of the beach house up on the bluff again. For the first time ever, he wished his wetsuit had an enchanted wand-pocket. Maybe he should add one himself.
The waves were indeed high today, heaving gray in the cloudy light before smashing themselves onto the sand. The other surfers were already out, paddling against the waves. The sight, irrationally, made Harry feel a bit better, like there was safety in numbers. It gave him the courage to tie the leash around his ankle (the waves were too rough today to risk losing his board) and wade into the cold water, surfboard in his arms.
The waves turned from gray to translucent green as the clouds cleared and the light brightened, and Harry began to relax. That was the thing about surfing: he had to concentrate so hard that it drove all thought and worry from his mind. Laced with the adrenaline of catching a wave, riding the surf, gliding and zigzagging, and it was pretty darn good therapy—
“Harry!” yelled Maya, just when the wave he was riding curled over and swamped him.
Instantly he was caught in a suffocating, airless world of chaos. Harry was tossed and thrashed back and forth underwater, dragged across the sand, the ocean roaring in his ears, around his head, his board hauled him behind like a plough. Finally he was spat out, flat on his back, his surfboard washed up beside him, gasping, as the sea retreated around him in a wash of foam.
There was someone standing over him, blocking the light. Harry wished he had his glasses on, though it still would have been impossible to make out their features with the sun behind them…
The someone laughed, light and trilling. “Is that part of surfing?”
She spoke with an English accent. A familiar accent.
Oh, shit.
Ginny had awoken late that morning. The family had spent yesterday in the rental, resting from their journey (though Hermione had assured them traveling by airplane was much, much more exhausting) and getting used to the time difference. They’d gone out in the afternoon, to walk the beach and splash in the waves, but that was it.
Today, however, Bill and Fleur Apparated to San Diego to rent a car, accompanied by an enthusiastic Arthur. Molly, who seemed to be enjoying her break, sat in the rental’s courtyard with a novel. Ron and Hermione took advantage of her distraction to disappear somewhere together. Ginny was left to her own devices.
“I’m going to the beach, Mum,” she said in passing to Molly.
“All right, dear,” said Molly, not looking up from her book. “Be back for lunch.”
“Okay.” Ginny crossed the courtyard to the front entryway and from thence outside. It was cooler than she’d expected, and the sky, to her disappointment, was cloudy. But the clouds were clearing, she saw with pleasure, the sun peeking out in brilliant bursts that lit up the sea.
There were some Muggles out surfing already, she saw as she strode down the path toward the beach. There appeared to be two groups: six young men who looked to be in their twenties, and three teenagers. Ginny watched them enviously, leaning against a weathered fencepost to take off her shoes and cross the sand barefoot. Surfing looked almost as much fun as Quidditch. Maybe there would be time to learn herself this summer.
As Ginny watched, one of the teenage surfers was knocked off his board, his legs flying into the air as he disappeared under a wave. With a great surge, the ocean brought him to shore, to slide to a halt right at Ginny’s feet.
Ginny looked down at the gasping, soaking-wet boy, sand sliding out of his black hair, and laughed. “Is that part of surfing?” she asked.
He didn’t reply, but lay in the wet sand, the shallow transparent water rippling around him, and panted for breath. He stared up at her with shocked, bright green eyes. Rather familiar-looking green eyes…Actually, all the boy’s features seemed strangely familiar, though Ginny couldn’t imagine where she’d seen them before…
“Harry! Harry!” The Muggle boy’s friends were running out of the water, boards under their arms, looking anxious. They both looked to be about Ron and Hermione’s age. The other boy was breathtakingly handsome, like a god of the sea; the girl was short and curvy, wet dark hair clinging to her shoulders and back. “Harry! Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” the washed-out surfer said at last. He slowly sat up, prying himself from the sand, and let his male friend haul him to his feet.
“That was a real wipe-out, man,” his friend said sympathetically. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” the green-eyed boy said again. He began trying to dust wet sand off himself, eyeing Ginny sidelong.
The girl seemed to notice his scrutiny. She turned to Ginny with an uncertain smile. “Hi! Sorry about that: Harry got washed out.”
“It’s fine,” Ginny said. “I’m Ginny Weasley.” She held out her hand to shake. “We’re just in that rental house up there.”
The girl’s dark eyes widened, and she shook Ginny’s hand with alacrity. “Wow! Pleased to meet you! I’m Maya Smith-Gomez, and these two losers are Tomas Rodriguez and Harry Powell.”
Ginny blinked. For a moment there she almost thought Maya had said Harry Potter. But that was impossible: Harry Potter had disappeared fifteen years ago as a baby and was presumed dead. But then, there were surely lots of Harry Potters in the world. But Maya had said Harry Powell, so it was all a moot point anyway… I spend too much time listening to Hermione obsess.
“Nice to meet you,” said Tomas with a brilliant grin. Harry just stared at her. He had a most peculiar expression on his face, like he was trying to swallow something too large for his throat.
“Are you really one of the people up at the house?” said Maya eagerly.
“Yes. There are seven of us: me, two of my brothers, my brothers’ girlfriends, and my parents.”
“Wow, the Ghost Rental hasn’t had anybody in forever!” exclaimed Tomas. “What brings you to San Burrito?”
“San…Burrito?”
“Never mind him,” said Maya, rolling her eyes. “He just likes to make up stupid nicknames for things. He calls Harry here Brexit.”
For the first time, Harry took his eyes off Ginny, to glower at Maya. “Hey!”
“Why Brexit?” Ginny felt she was getting rather lost, but in a fun sort of way.
“Because Brexit here is from Britain too!” Tomas mussed up Harry’s hair. “We’ve finally got some other Brits in town, Brexit! You and Stephen will have to invite them over for dinner!”
Harry went white under his tan and made a choking sound at this. He really was a strange boy, Ginny thought. “So you really came here from Britain?” she asked. She hadn’t noticed a British accent when Harry had spoken earlier.
“Years ago,” Harry muttered, accent utterly American. “I haven’t been back since I was a baby.” He seemed to pull himself together, facing Ginny with a watery smile. “So, uh, how long are you staying?”
“Two months,” said Ginny, and watched as Harry went all choked again.
“Two months, really?” said Maya. “That’s a long time! Tourists don’t usually stay for more than a few weeks.”
“It’s a long way to come from Britain,” said Ginny. “And we don’t get many chances for holidays in my family. We’re all sort of going to be rotating in and out all summer: my parents are leaving in a week or so, but then my other brothers will be coming and so will Hermione’s parents. I’m planning to stay the whole two months, though.”
“Really?” said Maya. “We’ll have to hang out sometime.”
“Maya!” Harry glared at her.
“Honestly, Harry, don’t be so unfriendly! What’s the matter with you? He’s not usually like this,” Maya added as an aside to Ginny. “That wave must’ve really put him in a bad mood. Anyway, you’ve got to visit the Tulles Wetland Restoration Center. I’m an intern there. We’ve got a visitor’s center and all kinds of nature trails!”
“That sounds amazing,” said Ginny sincerely. “What else is there in town? My brother Ron wants to ride a roller coaster.”
“No roller coasters,” Tomas said now, “but we have Shadowed Planet Comics, right, Harry?” Harry gave Tomas a pained look but nodded woodenly. “Brexit works there,” Tomas explained. “They’ve got loads of comics and graphic novels. Game nights too!”
“Geez, Tomas, spill my whole life, why don’t you?” Harry grumbled. “It’s just a comics store,” he said in Ginny’s general direction. “Nothing that special about it.”
“Wow, Brexit, way to talk up your workplace.” Tomas jostled him. Harry glared sullenly. “Lighten up, why don’t you? You’re starting to act like Stephen when he’s confronted with anything fun.”
“Don’t talk about Stephen like that, okay?” Harry snapped. “He has fun. He’s just…not very sociable.”
“I’ll say.” Tomas rolled his eyes. “You’re going to scare poor Ginny off.”
“I’m not so easily scared,” said Ginny, tossing her hair back. “I’d love to hang out sometime.”
“Great!” Maya beamed. “What’s your phone number?”
“My…phone number?” Ginny went blank a moment before she remembered: most Muggles carried smartphones.
“Don’t you have a phone?” Maya blinked. Even Harry looked shocked.
“No,” said Ginny, embarrassed. “We, uh, often don’t. In Britain. My friend Hermione has one, though,” she remembered. Hermione left her smartphone at home while she was at school—advanced Muggle technology didn’t work at Hogwarts—but she’d packed it into her things for this trip. She’d shown it to Ginny and Arthur. Ginny had to admit that it was pretty amazing to see what a palm-sized piece of glass and metal could do, and Arthur had gone into transports of delight playing with all the apps.
The Muggles were all staring at Ginny like she’d admitted to having an incurable fatal illness. She tried a grin. “It’s not a big deal! I know where to find you. You all come here to surf, right?”
“That’s right,” said Tomas. He indicated his board. “I want to go professional one day. I’m going to surf at Mavericks!”
“That’s great,” said Ginny, wondering what Mavericks was. “Maybe you could show me how to surf?”
“Sure!” said Maya. “Well, I’ll be working at Tulles, but Harry and Tomas can come back tomorrow, right?”
Harry looked slightly panicked. “Actually, uh, Stephen will probably want me at home tomorrow.” He glanced up the beach, toward the pile of the surfers’ things. “Speaking of which, I should go check my messages. Make sure he’s not freaking out. Then we should all go home.”
“Harry has the world’s only Helicopter Cousin,” Tomas said to Ginny in a stage whisper. “If Harry doesn’t text Stephen every hour, Stephen has a heart attack.”
“Stop it!” Harry shoved the laughing Tomas, making him stumble in the sand. “He just gets worried, that’s all.”
Ginny, not at all sure what they were talking about, assayed a smile. “Well, I’ll see you later in the week, then? Whenever you get time?”
“Yeah!” Maya grinned, and Ginny found herself grinning back. “We’ll be here next Sunday at least.”
“Next Sunday, then.” Ginny nodded to her. “I’ll look forward to it!”
“Get yourself a surfboard!” Tomas added as the three Muggles started to move off.
“Tomas, stop it…” Harry muttered. He tossed Ginny one last hostile look before heading back up the beach with his friends.
Ginny gave him her sweetest smile and a little wave, just to annoy him. Then she sauntered down to the water and paddled her feet in the waves, just so Harry Powell could see just how little she cared for his opinion. What a sourpuss. At least his friends seemed nice. It would be fun to have people to hang out with over the holiday. And Ginny really would like to learn how to surf.