A slow rhythmic crush filled the air, interspersed with high cries swaying in the lazy wind. Heat sashayed softly down along with the breeze, settling over the sand and constantly battling with the cool sea air. Wind gently ruffled everything it touched, bringing the island to life. Everything moved together, led by a universal beat.
"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?"
Harry turned his head and spit out sand. What, then, was this?
With all of the real-world aches settling back into his body, he made his way back to his feet slower than usual and with no small amount of stiffness. Frowning as he brushed off the front of his robe, and considered all the hard to reach places that sand had somehow already gotten, Harry realized a full robe wasn't exactly suited for a place like this. Unlike last time, nothing about his appearance changed at his wish for some shorts.
His bare feet shuffled awkwardly in the warm sand as he surveyed the area around him. Lush, green forest served as a back drop for the thin ring of gold-tinged sand running each way as far as the eye could see. In front of him, the blue ocean continuously made a dance of approaching and retreating, waving seductively at Harry with each pass. The waves in the sea continued up through the sand, making small and large dunes in the glittering beds, and even up along rolling wild grass and trees, finally ending in large splashes of rock, standing as a small mountain at least a mile behind the edge of the trees.
Energy vibrantly thrummed throughout the entire area and flowed easily through Harry, making no distinction between empty air and his own solid body. A pinpoint behind Harry's navel blossomed in warmth and radiated outwards, making it impossible to abstain from smiling and breaking out in small, pleasant shivers. Deciding to enjoy this scene and throw caution to the wind, Harry began to slip his fingers under his robe so as to discard it and enjoy the beach bare.
An errant cry, too deep to be accounted for by the lazy flying seagulls, made Harry freeze. He quickly straightened his robe and turned toward the sound. It was too far off and muddled by the natural sounds of the beach to be coherent, but Harry was certain it had been words called out. The first thing he saw in the distance was a fire slowly dancing along the sand towards him, swaying carefree in the wind. Under the fire, the sand seemed to shift and shimmer, reaching out as if to hold onto the vibrant life the first possessed. Then, accompanying the fire was a thatch of green grass, scurrying along with the flame. Harry rubbed his eyes vigorously, ignoring the burning sensation of errant sand grains scratching at the corner of his eyes. Something wasn't right about this scene before him, magic or no.
After rubbing his eyes unhindered, the oddness dawned on Harry. He didn't have his glasses. As if to double check, he slowly ran his fingers over his eyes and left ear. Yes, he was sure, he had no glasses. Harry hesitantly took a step back as the fire continued to approach him. Not only was he in an unknown situation, with an unknown entity traveling towards him, but now he didn't have the advantage of accurate sight, and now that he was counting his losses, a dull thud hit the bottom of his stomach. He didn't have his wand, either.
Effectively defenseless, Harry stood there and squinted at the fire, shimmering sand, and grass, hoping to realize what sort of creature he was dealing with before it was upon him. This time, he was sure the cry was a word. He leaned forward and strained his ears to hear, and froze upon hearing the repeated cry. "'Arry!"
Another step back, he wasn't sure if the creature knowing and recognizing him was good or not. Judging from the course of his life so far, he decided it was probably a bad thing. The fire/sand/grass thing sped up as it grew nearer, its voice becoming clearer, "Harry, is that really you?"
Harry squinted and leaned forward. Wait, that voice sounded familiar. His unfocused eyes wandered in thought, trying to recall that voice. A large, warm weight crushed Harry and eradicated all thought. His world turned sideways, and kindly introduced him to the warm sand beneath his feet. Harry coughed as the force from the drop kicked air up out from his lungs. His arms instinctively wrapped around the weight on top of him, still unsure what exactly it was. Human, he was pretty sure from the feel, but he had learned from the past seven years to be careful and never assume.
"Christ, mate, it's really you."
Now, that voice, so close to his ear, was easily recognizable. It was George Weasley. Harry laughed and coughed again. He was sure he had questions and confusion clawing up from his stomach at the entire chain of events, but he was just too inexplicably happy about having George here with him to care. Finally, they pulled back to look each other in the eyes.
Those blue eyes were lit up once again with laughter, but something seemed slightly off about them. Perhaps they looked so off because he knew there wasn't another pair beside them, following its gaze without even trying.
"What are you doing, George?" Harry was reluctant to let him go, as if he would disappear the second he was outside his reach.
George's brow furrowed. "I'm not George, mate. I'm Fred. Known us for seven years and still can't tell us apart? You're worse than our mum."
It was Harry's turn to be confused. "But, you're…" Harry cut himself off and clamped his mouth down. That just didn't seem to be the proper thing to say to someone, informing them that they're dead. Either he knows and is probably upset about it or doesn't and…should stay happy like he is now.
An odd look ran through Fred's eyes before several emotions flashed briefly – sadness, anger, fear, and longing. Then that bright look won out again and Fred simply smiled. He stood and pulled Harry to his feet as well.
"This isn't the best place for a big black robe, mate." Fred gestured to his own attire. Now, Harry's blurred vision of a monster made sense, the bright red hair, the loud green trunks, and Fred's tan torso had created the monster.
"Er….I know, but I don't have trunks or anything to wear." Harry scratched the back of his head nervously. This whole situation was beyond bizarre and yet, he was worried about admitting he didn't have the proper attire for a beach trip.
Fred laughed easily. "No worry, just take off the robe and everything. Just wear your pants. Those will work just fine." Standing back, Fred gestured at his clothes.
Again, Harry felt wrong-footed, and seemingly for all the wrong reasons. "I don't have anything else on. Just the robe." Looking at the ground, Harry shuffled his bare feet in the warm sand, feeling it run between his toes.
"Oh." Fred let his head tilt back a little as he let out loud guffaws. "Oh! You're starkers under that?" He asked, continuing to chuckle, as he tugged on Harry's robe. Quickly, Harry clamped his hands down on the robe and nodded mutely as he made a second attempt at furious wishing for clothing. He even widened it to any clothing of any kind. Trunks, trousers, pants, shorts, even a long shirt would do in a pinch. He was relatively assured this counted as a pinch.
"Well, then, just take it off."
More laughter met the utterly scandalized look Harry shot at Fred. After giving dramatic glances in all directions and even mock-shuffling through the sand, Fred turned to Harry and said, "There's no one here but us and you'll sweat your bits off if you spend the whole time in the cloak. Look, you're already sweating bullets." Fred reached out and ran a finger across Harry's forehead, collecting several beads on his finger, before wiping it off on the offending robe. "Plus," leaning in, Fred grinned, a predatorial edge to his lips. Harry swallowed automatically. "How else will you be able to swim?"
Laughter followed. The way lights in his eyes danced when he laughed entranced Harry. It was so good to see Fred so happy. After what had happened… all his fault.
Harry reached down and yanked off his robe, letting it fall onto the sand. Fred's eyes widened comically as he took Harry in. There was something akin to approval in his eyes. "Bold," he whispered. "Georgie woulda done it, too." Slowly, he stepped out of his own trunks and turned towards the water. He glanced at Harry and took in the questioning look. "So, we're on even footing. Won't do you any favors again, though. Think before you accept such a dare. Now, three…two...one…go!"
Without thinking, Harry read the look in Fred's eyes and followed his movements, tensing, then shooting forward towards the water, beckoning them excitedly into its depths.