Harry was irritable the whole week, constantly changing his opinion on how seriously he should take Alasdair's misidentification of Hogwarts. Ginny tried her best to be patient, but patience had never really been one of her strong suits. She was kind and loving, supporting and trustworthy. But patient she was not. It was neither of their faults, so they did their best to avoid arguing with each other over small, irrelevant things. Ginny knew the cause of his annoyance, even if she felt in her heart of hearts that it was probably best for him to give up any hope of connecting the students next door to the dead. Harry knew that Ginny just cared for him, and that she was being far more supportive of his irrational behaviour than many others would be.
It was probably a part of the reason why, when Alasdair and Morag came round again for tea and a chat, Ginny was the one who took the lead in the conversation. She wanted to protect Harry, even if the one she was protecting him from was himself. Harry was not properly in the right frame of mind for talking to other people. Everyone in the Auror department had noticed his tetchy mood, and had wisely said nothing about it, merely going about their jobs in the manner least likely to further irritate him. It didn't help that it was the week of Halloween, when he was always on edge and prone to melancholy. He had more thoughts than usual, his mother seemingly brought to life in front of his very eyes, living a normal muggle life in the house next door to his. He had questions that only raised more questions, with no real hope for answers.
"Any plans for Halloween?" she asked breezily, preferring to focus on the normal day to day aspects of life that the students would likely be experiencing. Halloween was always a tough time for Harry, and Ginny found it discomforting as a result, but for muggles it was just a normal day. For muggle students it tended to be an excuse to dress up in ridiculous costumes and go out drinking. She had no doubt that Morag and Alasdair would have no mystical connections to Halloween. Harry's mother Lily had been murdered on the date many years before, but while Morag might look identical for whatever reason Ginny couldn't see her as having any particular connection to it.
"Just going out later on tonight with a few friends, nothing wild," Morag answered with a smile, a slight blush tinging her cheeks.
"Do you have costumes planned or…?" Ginny asked, nibbling at a ginger nut. She quite liked having students round as with all their children at Hogwarts their house did seem a little empty with just the two of them. There were advantages, and they were both out a reasonable amount with their respective jobs, but meeting new people so very different to the kinds they normally encountered did fascinate her. She may not have inherited her father's slightly embarrassing excitement over anything muggle, but she did find them to be interesting.
"We're going as Amy Pond and her Doctor," Morag said, "Nothing fancy, just relatively easy costumes but still fun,"
Ginny nodded, as if she knew what they were talking about. She was vaguely aware of Doctor Who, but that didn't mean she had seen it enough to have much confidence with the characters beyond a suspicion that they were referring to people from the show. She also had a general awareness that most muggles did tend to know a little more than her about such subjects and that revealing her ignorance might lead to questions about her hobbies and interests that she did not want to have to answer as she couldn't tell them the truth, which was Quidditch.
"I still don't see why I couldn't be Rory," Alasdair protested in a way that suggested this discussion had gone on for a reasonable length of time, though with a lot of good humour, "I've got the nose for it and everything,"
Ginny nearly choked on her biscuit as she started laughing, unable to explain entirely why she was so amused. It was probably in part the way Alasdair had defiantly gestured towards his nose, as well as the resemblance to Snape who she could never imagine saying anything of the sort. Having been slightly on edge all week with Harry's uneven temper had probably made her more alert to any sudden emotions, leading to an inexplicable explosion of mirth. The fact that everyone else in the room turned to look at her with surprised expressions only made her laugh harder, though she gestured her apologies to them.
"Sorry," she wheezed, dabbing at her eyes where a few tears had crept out, "Sorry,"
"The Doctor's more iconic," Morag muttered to Alasdair with a sigh, "You just want to get out of dressing up properly,"
Alasdair nodded, not bothering to refute her claim. He didn't seem to Ginny to be the type to vary his wardrobe much, given that she had yet to see him wear a colour that wasn't black. She wasn't sure how she would feel were he to vary his colour palate at all, as she imagined that it would be surreal to witness someone so identical to Snape who had been so very much connected to the colour black in all their minds.
"Don't like dressing up?" Ginny asked, getting herself back under control enough to speak.
"Not really that into it," Alasdair admitted, making Harry frown. He was certain he had seen Alasdair the Halloween before, very much dressed up in an outrageous costume.
"He let me dress him up as Dr Frank-N-Furter last year," Morag said, a nostalgic smile playing around her lips, "It was great, but everyone hit on him, which was less great. Made me realise I fancied him though, so I guess that was good,"
"We did an Otley Run last year with a massive group of people, all in costume," Alasdair said, as if defending his decision to dress up properly the year before.
"I was Wonder Woman," Morag continued, "And it was a lot of fun, but this year we're going to be more low key. We aren't first years anymore, so it's not quite as exciting I guess? Plus, if you aren't getting properly drunk it can be a bit cold in skimpy outfits like we wore last year. There's loads of pictures up on Facebook from last year though,"
Ginny nodded her understanding, even though she really didn't quite understand. She was, however, good enough with social cues to know how to react.
"So you've not been dating all that long then," she asked, relationships being a topic she felt infinitely more confident talking about compared to muggle pop culture.
"Not really," Morag shrugged, "We were friends for ages and used to get annoyed at all them people who didn't think boys and girls could be friends. We still are friends, just also a bit more," she blushed again, fidgeting slightly.
"I know what you mean," Ginny sighed, "Harry and I were friends at school, and my brother and his wife were good friends for quite a while before they obviously went on to get married. I think it's sweet,"
"Shame really," Alasdair said, getting a wounded look from Morag.
"You know what I mean," he protested, making her smile. Morag struck Ginny as being quite a smiley person in general.
"Yeah," she said, "Luckily I do. I've known you long enough that we can practically read each other's minds,"
"I wouldn't mind seeing your Halloween costumes," Harry said, breaking in on the conversation he had silently been listening to, "Maybe we should be friends on Facebook?"
It wasn't strictly speaking true, as he had little interest in what they chose to dress up as in their spare time. He had also caught a glimpse of them in their costumes the year before, though a chance to show Ginny the full glory of the impressive sluttiness of their costumes did definitely appeal to him. More importantly he could see that Facebook might be a nice way to keep a track of them in a muggle way that was practically socially acceptable stalking.
Alasdair and Morag shared a slight glance then nodded. Harry and Ginny were after all well within the age range of people who could well be expected to use Facebook. They did both have accounts, though they didn't use them much due to being a witch and wizard who spent most of their time in the wizarding world. Maybe had they had muggle jobs they might have done as plenty of muggles did and trawled social media from their desks, counting down the hours until they could go home, but computers and smart phones didn't work in the Ministry nor were they practical for Quidditch reporting.
As the two students had smartphones at their fingertips as well as far more confidence with technology, it was they who searched for first Harry Potter and then Ginny Potter to send friend requests, which Harry and Ginny knew they would have to respond to on their not particularly impressive computer.
"I've been thinking of getting a smart phone," Harry said out of the blue as he watched elegant fingers tap away at the small screens. He hadn't actually thought about it at all, but once he'd said so his mind was full of reasons why it might be a fantastic idea. Ginny stared at him in shock. She was clearly aware that he would not be able to take it with him to the Ministry, and that he would have a lot less use for it than a muggle might. But Harry was already giving in to temptation, fantasising about how much easier it would be to watch Alasdair and Morag through apps on a phone as well as the short, weekly meetings.
Later that night, after Harry and Ginny had both spent far longer than they wanted to admit trying to remember their Facebook passwords, Harry found himself unable to sleep. It had been over a year since he had been jolted out of his sense of normalcy when he had seen Alasdair looking for all the world like a young Severus Snape wandering around Leeds, vibrantly alive and disorientatingly muggle. It was the weekend around Halloween, when there would be fun parties celebrating the macabre. Harry knew that at one of them there would be a young man looking like Severus Snape, accompanied by a young woman looking like his mother. The thought kept him up, disturbed by the idea of Morag being out partying when it had been Halloween his mother had been murdered. It was a strange feeling, a crawling sensation up his spine as he failed to be able to fully separate the two women from each other within the recesses of his mind.
He sat on their window ledge, looking out the window onto the street below, as Ginny slept. His thoughts ran through the ever increasing questions, searching for answers but finding nothing but new questions. The streetlights bathed the scene before him in light, so the clouds covering the moon made no difference to his view. Occasionally costumed students would pass by, but he paid them little attention. He hadn't even intended to say up watching for Alasdair and Morag's return, and felt a twinge of guilt when he noticed them making their way up to their front door, arm in arm. From his google search earlier in the evening, he recognised Amy Pond leaning her head against the Doctor, his bowtie skew-whiff as he unlocked their front door.
