A/N: I don't believe anyone would believe if I said Harry Potter did belong to me, so therefore, I don't Harry Potter of any other of J. K. Rowling's characters, world, ideas etc.
Chapter 1
Harry sat in his favorite garnet, antiquated armchair, gazing into the library fireplace at Grimmauld place. The velvet fabric was almost worn through in places, likely due to his habit of sitting with his shoe-encased feet tucked beneath him. His head rested in his cupped hand as he let out a long sigh. Currently, only one leg rested beneath him. The other kicked rhythmically, as if to mark the passing of the moments like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.
It was a cool night at the beginning of the summer before he started his auror training, and the cold, damp of the old townhouse seeped into Harry's bones and chilled him. The house was always preternaturally cold, as if the unhappiness and sorrows of its previous residents sunk into its very foundations and shaped its melancholic character.
It had been a long time since he had felt this alone. At Hogwarts, he was always surrounded by a boisterous group of boys in the dorms. During the summers at the Burrow, there had always been the clatter of dishes, the rumble of feet across the wooden boards, the occasional explosion in the twins' room followed by a raucous laugh, and the warm grin of a red-haired friend. Even at Privet Drive he could hear the boom of Vernon's voice, the shrill titter of his aunt's, and the indistinct murmur of Dudley's telly. Here, there was only the crackle of logs burning in the fire and the chirping of his tawny owl, Morgana.
He had finally given in and gotten a new one, as his group of friends had disbanded in the aftermath of the last battle, and communication was easiest done by post. When he first walked into Eeylops Owl Emporium, his eye was immediately drawn to a snowy, white owl. His eyes had pricked with tears, and he turned instead to Morgana with her cinnamon feathers accented with cream. She was perched away from the other owls, her gaze following the path a daring, young mouse had traced in the dusty floor. Currently, she was ruffling her feathers and occasionally peering at Harry with her head cocked to the side, as if to say, "What are you doing?"
"I don't know, Morgana!" Harry retorted, a little harsher than he meant to. She flew from her perch in a flutter of feathers and landed on an end table, her back pointedly towards him.
Harry exhaled slowly, "I'm sorry, girl. I'm just frustrated. Ginny's in Switzerland on some training exercise with the Harpies—something about experience flying at high altitudes. She said we'd talk about "us" when she gets back. And it's a little tense at the Burrow at the moment; I don't want to intrude."
Morgana turned around slowly and offered her leg.
"You're right. I should write them," Harry grabbed a scrap of parchment and scrawled a short message. Harry ruffled her head as he attached the missive. Morgana flew off into the dark of the night, leaving Harry completely alone. He left the window open, waiting for her return. The smell of fresh cut grass drifted in on the summer breeze.
A short while later, Hermione's head popped through his grate in a burst of green flames.
"Really, Harry? You're bored? Honestly, you don't write for a week and that's what you send? How am I even supposed to respond to that?" she huffed.
"There's nothing to do Hermione," Harry whined, "What do wizards do when there's no school and no dark wizard to fight?"
"The same as muggles, I suppose," Hermione mused, "Spend time with their friends, read books, do hobbies. Perhaps you should take up a hobby."
"Are you really suggesting I take up stamp collecting or making model trains?" Harry asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"I'm sure there's plenty of interesting things to do. I'll get you a book of hobbies next time I'm at Flourish and Blotts."
"That's not necessarily. Why don't you and Ron come by tomorrow? In fact, I'll invite everybody. Neville, Luna, the Parvatis, Lavender, Seamus, Dean, George, Angelina, Lee, Alicia, Oliver, Katie. That's an even number of males and females so everyone can pair off and snog when they get drunk," Harry laughed, ticking off his fingers (and several toes) as he named them.
Hermione raised her eyebrow and tilted her head slightly, "That won't work, you know. Dean and Seamus are together."
"Well I know they live together, but that doesn't mean they have to spend every bleeding moment attached at the hip," Harry frowned.
"More like at the lips," she said in a low timber, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards.
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Anyways, I'm sure Ron and I will love to come. I'll see you tomorrow then, round 7?"
"Sounds good. I'll have Morgana let everyone know when she comes back," Harry called after Hermione's retreating head.
Harry eased back in his chair and started thinking of everything he had to do to get ready. When Morgana came back, he went over to his desk and wrote out the notes inviting everyone over and sealed them in the red envelopes he found stacked under some sticks of sealing wax.
"Can you send these out in the morning?" Harry asked.
Morgana hooted in agreement.
"Thank you. Good night, Morgie."
She ruffled her feathers and nipped at his fingers.
"Okay, we'll work on the nickname," Harry chuckled, headed up the stairs to his bedroom.