the homeowner's association

Harry Potter, two doors down, is pulling the rest of his Christmas decorations out of storage. He coughs as the dust rushes into his nose. He may have a mild allergy to dust. It’s worth it.

His decorations are gorgeous, and he is ever so proud of them. The pride of the neighborhood, he is. It’s never too early for Christmas.

Hermione always sighs at him, every year without fail. She doesn’t understand his love for Christmas, or why he insists on ignoring Halloween. He doesn’t really mind. She doesn’t need to understand; he gets it, and that’s enough. Besides, Ron always helps him decorate, even if he doesn’t quite grasp it either, so it’s not like he’s alone.

Oh. Speaking of Ron. He should probably check on him.

He hurries out the front door and onto the lawn, shielding his eyes from the sun and looking up to his roof. His best mate is scowling down at him.

“Took you long enough,” Ron calls. Harry grins up at him.

“Eh, you’re fine up there. Could just leave you, honestly.”

“I’m not sure Hermione would approve of this.”

“Mate, we both know she’d buy me an early Christmas present for this.”

Ron doesn’t respond, conceding the point.

The ladder had fallen on its side after Harry got down from the roof, and he just hadn’t bothered to put it back up, too focused on bringing out the rest of the lights. His grand plan for today is a masterpiece, and the most beautiful thing he’s put up- at least so far. He has expectations, and he intends on reaching them. The giant stars, outlined in fabulous strings of light, that he’s currently lifting up to his mate are going to shine so bright, they’ll be seen from space.

Well. Maybe that’s an exaggeration. He is planning, however, to significantly increase the power bill of his house. He should at least be able to be seen from down the street; he’ll have to move if not. Honestly, how embarrassing would that be? No, he refuses to fail so miserably. He will be seen.

He lifts himself onto the roof, moving to help Ron set up the stars, when a voice calls from the street below.

“Oi!”

Harry stops, turning to look at Ron, who shrugs in response. He makes his way to the edge of the roof. There’s a man there, his platinum blonde hair shining brighter than his decorations. That just won’t do. He makes a note to add more lights. He’s frowning up at them, a deep furrow set between his eyebrows. It's a shame to see such wrinkles on such a beautiful face. Behind him is another man, looking about the same age, with dark skin and blinding white teeth, a smirk set on his face. He looks utterly at ease, confident, as though he’s in charge of the situation. It’s a direct contrast to his companion, whose fists are bunched up, with tight shoulders.

“Can I help you?” Harry asks politely.

“Yes, as a matter of fact you can. I’m the president of the Homeowner’s Association, and I’m here to inform you that these decorations are not permitted until at least November first. You must take them down at once.” The man is pompous, and his voice is smooth, which is infuriating, because it’s grating at his ears anyway. Must be his tone. Harry has never liked being talked down to.

Harry turns, raising an eyebrow at Ron, who shakes his head back at him. “I don’t recall there being a Homeowner’s Association.”

The blonde looks flustered for a half second, casting a look back at the man behind him, who stands unaffected. “Yes, well, it’s rather new. It doesn’t matter. In any case, it’s against the rules. This is your only warning.”

Oh, this is interesting indeed. He always did like breaking rules. “My only warning, hm? And what will happen if I continue?”

“You don’t want to find out,” the stranger says darkly. Maybe if he didn’t look like a kitten who lost its toy it would be threatening, but as it stands, it’s not really doing anything.

“Well, Mr. President, I appreciate your warning,” Harry says good naturedly. It’s always best to be polite.

“See that you take them down.” He gives a firm nod, turns to leave.

His companion snickers, calling, “And have a good day! Merry Christmas!” as he’s dragged down the street. The first man wacks him on the arm, clearly scolding him as they leave.

“Interesting,” Harry muses.

“Interesting? Bloody annoying, more like. Who does he think he is, telling you what to do like that? It’s your house!” Ron has always taken more offense than Harry has. It’s kind of cute, how he and Hermione think Harry needs to be protected all the time.

“Apparently, the president of the Homeowner’s Association.”

“That doesn’t even exist! Wouldn’t you know if there was one of those?”

“I did just move here only a few months back,” Harry points out. “Maybe they just haven’t had a reason to approach me yet.”

“How are you so unaffected by this?” Ron scowls. “I thought you loved Christmas! You’re always so proud of your decorations, and now, what? You’re just going to let some entitled brat tell you to take them down? You’re going to listen to him?”

“Of course I am, Ron,” he says solemnly. His best mate gives him a dubious look. He continues on in his most serious tone, “Why wouldn’t I listen to him?”

Ron seems to have cottoned on, judging by his slowly growing smirk.

“I’ll listen to him. I just won’t follow what he says,” Harry says with an answering shark grin.

Ron laughs. “Oh, mate, this is going to start a war.”

“That’s fine. I’ve survived worse. Besides,” he added, “I’ve got a general.”

Ron swoons, batting his eyelashes. “I’m your general?”

“No way! Hermione is. You’re my strategist.”

“Fair enough. Strategist, huh? Alright, here’s the plan.”

Harry leans in, and Ron wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“Give ‘em Hell.”

He laughs, clapping Ron on the back, and goes downstairs to grab more decorations.