"So," asked Hermione. "What do you think it was?"
Ron entered the room from the kitchen, balancing a tray with three cups of tea and frowning at her.
"Well if he knew that he wouldn't be here would he?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, Ronald. But Harry does have a tendency to reach a conclusion himself but not accept it until he finds someone who agrees with him."
Ron placed the tray on the coffee table, and sat on the couch next to her. "Ah, of course. See, that's what I get for missing one class in Understating Harry Potter's Psyche."
"Look," Harry finally cut in, "I don't know if this is flirting or actual arguing, but could it wait till after I leave?"
It was the morning after Harry and Ginny had witnessed the unexplainable formation of lights in the sky above his house. He had checked the Prophet, the muggle papers, even had a quick flick through the latest edition of The Quibbler. But no one else seemed to have reported seeing anything like they had. So, with no other place to turn, he naturally sought out the cleverest people he knew. And Ron was there, too.
They were sat in the small flat that Hermione shared with Ginny in London, and having explained the event to both of his best friends, he had opened the floor up to suggestions, but thus far their replies had been less than satisfying.
"Are you sure it wasn't just the moon?" asked Ron.
"For the third time, Ron, yes," said Harry irritably. "How thick do you think me and your sister are that we would be scared stiff by the moon?"
"Well," Ron considered. "Maybe not you, but my sister?"
Hermione slapped his knee scoldingly. Harry gave a bored sigh from his seat on the coffee table opposite them.
"Sorry," said Hermione, returning her attention to him. "But you never answered my question. If you had to guess, what would you say it was?"
Harry shrugged awkwardly. "The first temptation is to say it's Voldemort come back to life, or leftover Death Eaters, or someone else trying to kill me – because my history says that's the most likely answer. But..." He paused. This next part felt silly. "I don't know, it's weird. Looking at it, I just couldn't shake the feeling that this was... bigger than that. You know?"
"How so?" asked Hermione.
"Bigger than just some elaborate attempt on my life. Bigger than some mindless vendetta. Bigger than me. You have to understand, these weren't just lights hanging a few feet in the air. They were at star-level. These were objects in space, getting closer. I think... I mean, I reckon... it might have been extra-terrestrial."
Hermione and Ron, ever the couple, gave him the exact same facial reaction – the raised eyebrows, the mouth twisting into a little 'o', embarrassed fidgeting in seat.
"Don't look at me like that!" Harry pleaded.
"It is a bit out there, mate." Ron pointed out.
Harry stood up from the coffee table, and started pacing. "Hey, let's just remember that there are about a billion muggles in the world that would swear there's no such thing as magic. In the world we live in, is it really so hard to think of intelligent life elsewhere in the Universe?"
"No," said Hermione casually. "I've always personally believed in the possibility of alien life. But that doesn't mean to say they've taken to hanging about above your house at night."
"Well how else would you explain it, then?"
"It could be a million things, Harry. Aliens is a bit of random conclusion."
Harry sat back down stubbornly. There was a brief silence, interrupted by a flapping noise. An envelop had fluttered into the living room and glided over to Ron where, in a very matter-of-fact tone, it said:
"You need to go to the bank."
"Oh," Ron replied, getting to his feet with a start. "Yeah, thanks." The envelope bowed modestly and, it's job done, proceeded to disintegrate in front of them. Ron turned to the others. "I need to go to the bank."
Harry nodded to the tiny pile of ashes. "So I've heard."
"Ron," said Hermione crossly. "I asked you to stop using those things for trivial matters. I need them for my work."
"I'll get you a new pad in Flourish and Blotts," he replied. He threw his jacket on, patted Harry on the shoulder and walked over to the fireplace.
"Diagon Alley," he said, and with a pinch of floo powder, he was gone.
"That boy," said Hermione, with a disgruntled tone but a hint of a grin,"will never change."
"Right," said Harry. "So back to the lights."
Hermione gave him a sad smile.
"I'm sorry, Harry, but short of seeing them for myself, there's not a whole lot I can suggest. They didn't cause you any harm, they disappeared as quickly as they showed up; maybe it was just a one-off. An unexplained stellar event." She watched him take this in without satisfaction. Adopting a softer tone, she added, "The war's over Harry. This is the rest of your life now. You really don't need to look over your shoulder anymore."
"I know," said Harry. "It was just weird. That's all. I suppose I just wish I had someone who knew about this stuff that I could talk to, you know?"
"Like the Doctor?" said Hermione.
Harry sighed. Hermione always was perceptive.
"First name that popped into my head," he said. "It just seemed like something he'd be into. I mean, he was all about weird stuff like this."
Hermione leant across to pat his hand.
"I know it's hard, having lost Sirius, and Dumbledore, and even Remus. Maybe you're getting so bothered about these lights because deep down you just want someone like that to talk to every now and then?"
Harry reluctantly considered this. "Maybe."
"And it wouldn't be totally impossible, you know?" said Hermione, "To track him down?"
Harry gave her a dubious look.
"Hermione, it's been almost six years. If he wanted to talk, he knows to where to find me. Plus, he's a time traveller. That means he could be anywhere, and you and I know that better than most. I think it's safe to say none of us will be seeing the Doctor anytime soon."
Ron rubbed his temple with his fingers, trying to quell the banging headache ranging inside.
It was extremely warm inside Gringotts, possibly due to the large number of wizards and witches crowding the main hall. Only one goblin was behind the desk to serve the bank's customers, and he himself seemed very distracted, with other goblins coming over to him now and then and whispering. Considering that the elderly witch currently at the front of the line was in the process of plucking her entire savings out of her bottomless purse, knut-by-knut, all of this resulted in a painstakingly slow moving line inside the bank.
When the woman lost count and started again, Ron found himself getting agitated.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" he cried. "Why is there only one window open?"
The goblin looked past the old lady to scowl at him.
"Gringotts is experiencing internal difficulties," he hissed at Ron. "You'll wait your turn and do it quietly!"
"Oi, don't get snippy with me! I'm a regular customer, I deserve some respect."
"Hey," shouted a man from down the line behind Ron. "You're not helping, genius."
"Yeah," agreed a woman from further down. "Just shut up and let him work."
"We've been letting him work for forty-five minutes!" Ron yelled back. "And don't tell me what to do, either!"
As Ron and the strangers began a shouting match, no one noticed the door to the vaults opening, and three people being escorted out. One of them hung back to chat with the goblin at the vault doors, while the other two – a red haired girl and a gangly man – walked towards the exit, grumbling at one another as they did.
" - told you not to touch anything," said the red haired girl, in a thick Scottish accent.
"I fell onto it," replied the boy defensively. "And it multiplied. Ten times! And then ten times after that. Starts to become a bit hard not to touch a golden harp when you're swimming in a pit of hundreds of them."
"Well at least we didn't suffocate," said the red haired girl, just as the two strode past Ron and the shouting crowd of customers. "I knew he had friends in strange places, but on this occasion I'm really glad the Doctor is mates with a load of goblins."
Ron stopped yelling with the other customers. The last snippet of their conversation had caught his attention.
"Hey," said the man he'd been shouting at. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."
Ron didn't reply. He watched the man and the woman walk to the doors of Gringotts, then stop and wait. It was while he was wondering if he'd heard what he thought he'd heard that Ron felt someone else breeze past him, running to meet up with the man and woman,but having just enough time to pat Ron on the back like one would an old friend.
"Hello, Ron!" said the Doctor brightly as he passed. "How's things? The family all alright? Give my love to Harry and Hermione, eh?"
Ron froze, able only to gaze in wonderment at the back of the Doctor's head, as he bounced towards his companions at the door, floppy fringe and all.
"Doctor!" he was finally able to say. The Doctor didn't hear him. He and his companions walked through the doors. "No – wait!"
Ron tried to rush after him, but between the points stood a crowd of people he'd gotten on the bad side of. He had to push and shove and mumble death threats, so much so that by the time he eventually burst through the doors of Gringotts and cast his eyes all around Diagon Alley, he found no sign of the Doctor or his friends. The only thing that stopped him deciding he'd gone madwas the sound of the TARDIS, just as he remembered from that night so long ago, sweeping through the cobbled street, disappearing into the air.
End of Chapter Two.