It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. Harry Potter fulfilled both the requirements, as he was rich and a single male. He didn't, however, want a wife.

Emerald eyes stared out the window from his office at the Ministry of Magic. This was his last day before the summer break. The former boy-who-lived; now Defeater of Voldemort, had received one of the biggest offices with a view which showed Muggle London outside.

«Gay.» dragging the "y"- sound out a couple seconds, his reflection said and stuck its tongue out. The body-length mirror stood beside a potted plant beside the door in his office. Harry lifted his eyebrows at it. "Me? Gay? No, not really." He chuckled slightly and leaned back in the chair. Harry watched as his reflection frowned in confusion. "Wait what? Not gay?" It stared at him, looking like it wanted to poke Harry to reassure itself that he was a human. The man shook his head. "Nope," he said and turned his head back through the window, "I'm pretty sure I'm not."

The mirror watched Harry with a weird look. "Well, if you're not gay, why don't you want a girl, then?" It stared at him. Harry watched his own emerald eyes stare back at him. At first, when he first bought the mirror, it had been unnerving seeing and hearing himself talk without doing it. Now, however, he was used to it. The man shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. Why should I?" He stuck his hands deep down in his pockets.

"Because..." his reflection glared at Harry as it attempted to find words for his thoughts, "because everyone wants a girl!" Knowing the argument was bad, the mirror crossed its arms in defiance. Harry shook his head in exasperation.

After finishing work that day, Harry used the Floo home. Home was his deceased parent's cottage at Godric's Hollow. Smoothing his robes, the man stretched his back. "Home sweet home," murmured Harry as he trotted out to the kitchen. The green-eyed man muttered a quick tempus and swished his wand. A glowing 5 PM appeared over his head. Harry nodded to himself. Then I have an hour to eat and get ready to go to Ron and Hermione's, he thought. Opening the fridge, Harry pondered about what he should eat. Settling on a sandwich, he grabbed a package with ham.

The man had just taken the first bite before a voice called from the living room. "Harry? You there, mate?" the voice said. Harry looked up, he recognized the voice as Ron's. He frowned. What was Ron doing here? the man wondered, was something wrong?

Getting up from the chair he sat on, Harry walked towards the living room. After stepping over the threshold, he spotted his best friend's face in the fireplace. "Hey Ron!" the man said and walked over to the fireplace, "What's up?"

"Hey man!" Ron grinned at him, before his face turned slightly more serious. "We're going to be busy today, so, eh, you can't come. I'm sorry." His friend smiled apologetically at him. Harry stared at Ron a second, before smiling in return.

"It's ok," he said, "and don't be sorry. I'm sure you have a good reason." The man tried to not look disappointed, even though he was. Ron's grin returned, although not in full strength as before.

"Well, kind of." His eyes stared at a point over Harry's shoulder with a glazed look. "We attempted to get a table at this nice restaurant which I don't remember the name of, but they were full every day for two months but today."

Harry nodded in understanding. "That's ok," he said, "I'm sure I'll find something else to do." He looked around the living room, trying to find something he could say to Ron he would be busy with. Ron would feel bad, thought Harry, as they had planned to have a small Quidditch match together. It felt like ages ago since he last played it.

Before Harry could come up with something, Ron's head snapped up. "Hey! I could probably set you up with someone," he seemed to lean forward in excitement, as a part of his neck became visible through the flames. "There's this girl I work with, she's really nice! I can firecall her and ask if she's busy right now. You know, I'll just do it now. I'll send you an owl. Bye!" Before Harry could even process what Ron was saying, the last bit of red hair disappeared through the flames. The man blinked down at the empty fireplace.

"What...?" he said to himself. As the ginger's words sunk in, Harry shook his head.

The man sighed. He knew Ron meant the best, but that didn't mean it was the best. He had, after all, no desire to get a girlfriend, wife or any sort of partner. Putting his hands in his pockets, Harry contemplated firecalling Ron back to say he was busy or something like that, but his friend was probably busy talking with this "girl from work." And I don't have anything to do this evening anyways, so it couldn't hurt? he asked himself. Harry smiled half-heartedly, attempting to be positive. Maybe I'll even get a new friend, he thought, anyone Ron thinks is nice must be nice, right?

Fifteen minutes later, a pecking sound was heard on the window next to where Harry sat on his couch. Opening his eyes, as he had decided to take a nap, Harry squinted at the bird which was glaring at him. Ron's new owl. The man stood slowly up and yawned. "Hey, girl." Harry opened the window, and an irritated owl swooped in and landed on his arm. It pecked his fingers as he attempted to untie the note around its leg. "Ouch!" Harry retracted his hand quickly. He glared at the bird. "I don't know what you're so angry about, but I don't think it has anything to do with me," he said, "So just let me get my letter, ok?" A second attempt to take the letter was successful. He read Ron's note.

Hey! I talked with Ally, who is the girl from work. She has time to meet you, and she will be ready outside Florean Fortescue in an hour. Have fun!

-Ron

Harry stared at the note. Well, I guess it's definite then, he thought, I guess I must find something to wear. The man smiled wryly and headed towards his bedroom.

The Defeater of Voldemort was standing alone in his bedroom, staring at himself in the mirror. Harry was thankful this one didn't talk. He had decided to wear a nice shirt and some black pants, as they were only going to be in an ice cream parlour. Black messy hair hadn't become tame as he grew older, and it stuck in different directions regardless of how much he attempted to flatten it down. Cleaning his glasses with the hem of his shirt, Harry took a final glance in the mirror. Without the lenses in front of his eyes, his own figure was blurry. He placed his round glasses back on and walked out of the room.

Harry walked with confident strides towards Florean's. Some people recognized him and waved. Some children pointed at him while whispering excitedly to each other. He was thankful that the public had calmed down. The man grimaced slightly, the year after the war had been horrible.

It took around two minutes to reach the ice cream parlour. Harry stopped for a moment. He blinked owlishly. How am I going to recognize her? He asked himself as he stared at the entrance. How am I supposed to know who to approach?

As he walked with slow indecisive steps towards the door, Harry considered asking every girl he saw there if their name was Ally, but quickly decided against it. If he knew the public right, they would probably say their name was Ally just to talk to him. The man made a face as he touched the door handle. Harry sighed, and pushed the cool metal down. He stepped over the threshold.

The room was lively and full of people talking. Some children ran around a table playing tag. Harry smiled. No one had seemed to notice that "the Defeater of Voldemort" had stepped into the ice cream parlour they were eating ice cream at.

Harry was looking around the place, conflicted about what he was supposed to do. Suddenly, he was enveloped in a hug. "Harry! I've been so excited to meet you!" said the person, who Harry guessed by the voice was a girl, while hugging him tighter.

The man attempted to step out of her embrace but didn't manage it. Luckily for him, she did it herself. After stepping back, the girl put a hand over her mouth. "Oh Merlin! I can't believe I'm actually meeting you!" she said," theHarry Potter! Oh Merlin." She giggled and jumped up and down.

Slightly stupefied by her enthusiasm, Harry only nodded. The girl was slightly shorter than him with long red hair. The bright, blood-red colour was most likely artificial, the man thought. She wore an off-white knee-length summer dress, with a picture of a brown rabbit on the right side. White slippers were under her feet.

"I'm Ally, by the way. The girl Ron talked about." she – Ally – smiled and reached her right hand forward. Harry glanced down at the manicured hand, before shaking it. "Eh... I'm Harry, as you probably know."

Ally didn't release his hand but used it to drag him to a table near the window. She turned her head around to him as she walked. Miraculously, she didn't crash into any of the tables as they walked. "As you know, I work with Ron. His office is right over the hall, you know. Like, we always seem to crash into each other as we walk out of our doors..." Ally talked the whole way towards their table, which wasn't long. What was long, however, was the period they waited for their ice creams. And she filled that time, too, by talking. Harry sighed mentally.

It was 10 PM when Harry walked out of the ice cream parlour and said goodbye to Alice. He had a building headache, so the only thing he wanted was to go to sleep. Watching the bright long hair disappear behind a corner, Harry stuck his hands in his pockets. He took a deep breath and started walking towards the exit. His shoes clacked at every step, and as he was about to tap his wand at the bricks at the end of Diagon Alley, he noticed a poster on the wall. "What to do with the summer break? Take a week touring the lovely magical community in Norway!"

Harry looked at it a split second before smiling despite his headache. I know what I'll be doing this summer break, he thought before he tapped his wand against the bricks.

A/N:

Forum: The Houses Competition

Year: 3

Round: 5

House: Hufflepuff Year

Category: Short

Prompt: [First Line] It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.

Word count:1852