May 2nd, 2003

Harry Potter was very busy. Scratch that, he was beyond "very busy." He had six different events scheduled for today. Six!

He doesn't know why he agreed to every single one, but, unfortunately, there he was.

It was the five-year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the Second Wizarding War, and Harry was booked six times. SIX. Hermione and Ron both say he was overreacting, but they didn't have to attend six different events.

Six might not seem like a lot, but they were each certainly going to take at least an hour and a half, and he just didn't have the patience for that. Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes while violently shoving his foot in his way too small shoes while glancing at his watch.

7:02 am.

He still had 28 minutes until his first interview began, but he had to be there at 7:15, so he was doing his best to hurry.

Why doesn't he floo or apparate like a normal wizard, so he doesn't have to worry about time?

There is a simple answer: Hermione Granger.

Hermione somehow miraculously knew he would be nervously rushing all over his apartment and also be in a panic, so she told him many times, she didn't want him to take the risk of splinching himself. She also said it would look quite improper for him to show up with floo powder and dirt all over himself. She also said it would wrinkle his clothes, which is obviously more important in her eyes.

And Harry, being honest, knows it is wise to listen to Hermione's suggestions, even though he doesn't quite follow them sometimes. Especially back in their Hogwarts years.

So, what is he going to do? Fly?

Again, Hermione said that is not a wise decision.

"Harry, you would be basically gloating the fact you are famous if you show up flying! People are going to think your ego finally inflated to the size of a centaur!"

He remembered her words exactly. It was rather difficult to forget when she said it in such a tone that he could only place in the category of "you-better-listen-to-me-Harry-James-Potter." Hermione apparently cared more about his public image than he did because he didn't see the problem. But the last thing he wanted to do was boast, so he trusted her instincts.

Harry wanted to use a Portkey, but as of lately, they seemed to have lost most of their popularity, and wizards have started using them less and less. He really didn't understand why. They are so bloody convenient! Although they do make one terribly dizzy, but people have gotten used to them the more they use one.

The Daily Prophet has made an article about it. Apparently, the excuse they gave was "Portkey's have started to leave an unprofessional image among the Wizarding World, and official businesses have stopped promoting the usage of Portkeys in order for them to maintain the serious image…" blah blah blah, utter bullshit, in Harry's opinion.

The only option remaining was driving.

Driving in the Wizarding World still seemed bizarre.

Since the war ended, wizards have started adapting to basic muggle technology such as cars and telephones. Why have cars when wizards can still apparate and use floo powder? Harry still doesn't know for sure what the Ministry of Magic is trying to achieve, but all he knows is that the Ministry requires that one must be able to drive a car to find employment.

Harry suspects it is because the floo network, as of recently, has become quite…hazardous. There have been quite a few cases of assault and murder around the Wizarding World's entirety because of wizards sabotaging floo networks, which usually lead to people getting burned alive.

It doesn't often happen since the spell is still unidentified, and Harry figures not many wizards know of it. Hell, the Ministry doesn't even know how it is done. All that is known is the spell had to have been recently created, or else cases would have been more common a great deal earlier.

So, many wizards above the age of 17 have adapted to driving. It was quite difficult, at first, finding willing instructors, but they managed. Hermione learned how to drive when she was 17, during the Christmas Holiday in their sixth year, and volunteered to help instruct others and some other Muggleborns. Once Harry learned to drive, by Hermione, since the Dursleys were never interested in Harry learning to do…well, really anything, he signed up as an instructor as well.

Harry noticed a profound load of people started coming to the Ministry eager to learn driving after he signed up as a volunteer. He supposed everyone was desperate to learn anything from their Savior.

He had several bizarre moments while teaching. Such as when a woman, most likely a few years older than him, was flirting with him the whole time and tried to get him to touch her very exposed cleavage, and when a teenage boy tried getting his autograph while shifting gears (resulting in a couple of broken bones on both parts), or when a middle-aged man, who seemed to be one of the few actually trying to learn, almost killed them both by accidentally pressing the gas instead of the break at a red light.

Fun times.

His experiences weren't all terrible and terrifying. He had actually made a few friends from instructing driving and immensely enjoyed teaching others. Many of his friends, and old acquaintances from Hogwarts, showed up as well, which was incredibly refreshing since he actually felt relaxed…somewhat.

He still cringes at the memory of teaching Ron to drive. Hermione had to step in to teach him herself eventually, and she practically dragged him out of the car after she saw them. It wasn't as though they were acting unprofessionally; they were just having fun.

But maybe poking fun at coworkers on the road wasn't the best decision considering Ron still didn't understand the concept of "shifting gears." At least nobody got hurt.

Except for that poor girl's Pygmy Puff.

Ron didn't run over him but scared the hell out of the poor thing, and the little girl got her revenge by kicking Ron in the shin after he stepped out of the car to check if they were alright. The girl's mother wasn't much help since she was too busy laughing her ass off at Ron's expense, and Harry, too, had to admit it was highly amusing. Even more so when Ron glared at him with tears of pain and humiliation in his eyes when he heard Harry snort.

Excusing all of the unfortunate moments, Harry is just thankful he didn't have to teach any former Slytherins. That would have been awkward.

He and the Slytherins had somewhat of an "unofficial truce" formed during and right after the war, but that wouldn't cease the situation from being incredibly awkward.

Harry has had enough awkwardness for a lifetime. Or ten.

However, Hermione said she had gotten to teach Theodore Nott, and it was surprisingly not an awkward experience. She had told him her lessons with him mainly were tame, and Nott was incredibly nervous and very polite. He was also, apparently, an incredibly quick learner. Ron was less than comfortable about it for a couple of days but learned to get over it when he realized Hermione wasn't threatened or bothered the least bit by the Slytherin.

And after Hermione scolded him for being judgmental, but Ron doesn't like talking about that.

Harry doesn't know what to make of the situation, mostly because he doesn't believe the "not-awkward-at-all" part.

He outwardly cringed at the thought of teaching Draco Malfoy to drive. Merlin only knows how that would end.

'Probably with a car crash,' Harry thought.

Anyway, Harry loves teaching.

In fact, Professor McGonagall offered him a position as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He considered it since it would be just like teaching Dumbledore's Army, which he very much so enjoyed, but he eventually declined. Although he isn't entirely sure why he rejected the position, he is still content with his decision to remain an Auror for the time being. It was probably that damn hero-complex overtaking his decision-making once again. Harry had told the Headmistress he would most likely be interested in the future when he is older and, therefore, wiser.

She only smiled at him and shook her head.

Shaking out of his thoughts, he glanced at his watch.

7:14. Fucking hell.

He still had time, and his first interview was in Diagon Alley, more specifically Flourish and Blotts, in the same area he met Gilderoy Lockhart, which wasn't far from his apartment building. Harry was told they would clear aside book stacks to make it more spacious.

He practically sprinted to his bathroom mirror to make sure he looked professional, which he very much so thought he did. He then ran out of his bathroom to his kitchen and put on his long light-brown coat, which Ginny bought for him while they were still dating. He hastily grabbed his keys from the kitchen island and proceeded to run out his apartment door to the parking lot where he would find his car.

'One down, five to go,' Harry thought as he shook hands with the interviewer, smiled at the cameras, and did his best not to flinch as they brightly, and painfully, flashed.

His first interview went about as he expected. There were questions about how his life was different, how it felt to be rid of the struggles of being "the Chosen One," what five years later meant to him, etc. It was a small gathering as well. Only about a tad, over thirty people showed up, but since Flourish and Blotts isn't necessarily a large setting, they managed to take up both floors. It was still a rather lengthy interview for such a small turn-out, but Harry hadn't particularly mind.

He knew the interview was played over the radio, and many people must've tuned in to listen to him, especially since it's the anniversary. He also figured snippets of his interview would make it into the Daily Prophet and other newspapers.

After about another twenty minutes of answering questions, shaking hands, and taking pictures with people around the store, Harry walked outside. And wow, was Diagon Alley crowded. If it were about five years earlier, many people would be running up to him asking for autographs or pictures, but after a while, people started to calm down around "The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice," and it became less exhausting for Harry. Though he was still a tad bewildered, people didn't come rushing for a picture or an autograph because, after all, it was the anniversary, and Wizarding World Britain has not taken that fact lightly.

Many people still stole glances at him while scampering about and respectfully nodded at him, but nobody seemed to want to approach him. He looked around the bright and crowded Diagon Alley while attempting to recall what he needed to attend next.

Oh, yeah.

He wasn't very excited about the next one, mostly because he was fairly sure it would be quite uncomfortable for him. He was scheduled to meet with an American author who contacted him because he was apparently writing an exposé on the Second Wizarding War and urgently needed Harry's input. At least, that's what Harry had gathered from the very vague letter he received from the man.

After meeting with the author, he would have to meet with two more journalists (back to back) who were both writing articles about the anniversary of "The Demise of the Dark Lord," as some have found a liking in calling it.

He glanced at his watch, which read 10:03 am. The author had wanted to meet at the Three Broom Sticks in Hogsmeade at 10:30. Harry walked back into the store, where it seemed most everyone, except a couple of workers, had cleared out.

"Uhm, excuse me," Harry said, somewhat awkwardly, as he walked up to the front of the store where the owner was currently restacking the books put aside for his interview.

The small elderly woman turned to him and smiled brightly, "Ah, Mr. Potter, do you need something dear?" She asked in a high-pitched voice.

"Do you, by any chance, have a floo?" He was hoping he could floo into Hogsmede instead of having to apparate. He almost groaned when he realized Hermione's paranoia of splinching had started to rub off on him.

The woman gave him an apologetic look and said, "Oh sorry, dear boy, I am afraid not." He gave her a reassuring look because it really wasn't a big deal since he wasn't expecting the small store too, but the woman looked tremendously upset she couldn't assist him.

"It's alright, I'll find one around here, thank you for your help!" He said in a cheerful voice, hoping to brighten her mood, as he turned around to leave.

Her voice stopped him, "Oh! Well, Mr. Potter, I know Madame Malkin's, and nearly every other shop in Diagon Alley has a floo!"

Harry smiled at her sweetly; she was really trying her best. "Thank you, ma'am, I appreciate it, truly."

She practically beamed at him. "Oh, well of course Mr. Potter! I hope the rest of the day sees you well."

'I hope so, too,' Harry thought to himself wearily. He gave her another grateful smile, walked out of the shop, and decided to suck up his paranoia and apparate. He sighed and pulled out his wand and apparated to Hogsmede.

'Merlin, spare me.' Harry thought for at least the thirtieth time.

The American author, Harry hadn't caught his name, was currently sitting across from Harry in the Three Broom Sticks and sharing his very detailed notes on the Second Wizarding War while asking Harry for corrections and input.

The man was quite talkative, and Harry swore his hazel eyes were going to pop out of his skull by how wide they were. The man also seemed to nervously run his hand through his dark brown hair quite a lot, as Harry often did, and he assumed it was because he was relatively young. He was most likely only a couple of years older than Harry.

Also, Harry was certain this man had talked to some other members of the Order of the Phoenix, or at least someone who knew all of his experiences because there were some details that the public couldn't have possibly known.

They have been there for nearly two and a half hours, and the man was on his third butterbeer and talked relatively fast. Harry glanced at his watch; it was 12:57 pm. He inwardly groaned.

They were on the topic of Horcrux Hunt, where the man didn't have as much information, which Harry hadn't expected him to.

Then again, Harry hadn't expected him to know half the things he did.

Harry sighed and took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, "…during the panic it was reported you, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley disappeared! It is a shame the tent was practically destroyed. It was such a cozy looking wedding. Where did you go though? With Granger and Weasley? Your spotting at the Ministry was the next place you were sighted! But that was weeks later wasn't it? Mr. Potter? Mr. Potter…" The author went on while running his hand through his hair, and Harry realized this might take another two hours.

Harry put his glasses on and smiled politely at the man, and went into full story mode; he tried so-very-hard to keep his patience while the man was gasping and letting out shocked noises as he told his story.

It was about forty minutes of Harry giving a detailed version of his Horcrux journey with Ron and Hermione, and eventually, the Battle of Hogwarts, with the man hastily scribbling down notes with handwriting Harry wasn't sure the man himself would be able to read.

"We were looking for Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem in the Room of Requirement," Harry was saying. "I had told Hermione, Ron and Malfoy to split up to look for the Diadem. I was looking through a pile of bottles, books, crates, chairs, and some other junk when Cra-"

"When the Crabbe and Goyle people showed up with the other Death Eater," blurted the man, and a tad slurry Harry had noticed.

Harry tried his best not to look irritated, but the man had been doing this the whole time, interrupting Harry in the middle of a sentence about facts he definitely would not know unless he was there. Harry slowly grabbed the man's butterbeer and set it aside, but the man didn't seem to mind or notice, for that matter. "Um, yeah. Yeah they showed up after I heard one of their voices behind me and…" Harry went on.

Not even three and a half minutes later.

"There was fire everywhere, and all four of us were on brooms desperately heading towards the exit but then-"

"But then, uh wait n-no don't tell me!" 'What does he mean don't tell him? This is a goddamn interview.' Harry thought.

"It was the…the scream! Yes, that was it wasn't it! The scream coming behind y-you all!" The man had interrupted him yet again.

"Okay, I have to ask!" Harry suddenly found himself asking, somewhat snappishly.

The man's eyes widened once more, and he looked startled at his outburst. He opened his mouth and looked as if he was about to speak, but Harry didn't give him a chance. "Did someone tell you all of this already?"

The man looked struck, "I- s-sorry?"

"It's just-" Harry took a breath to calm himself. "You've been finishing my sentences for the past forty-five minutes. And in your notes you had details the public couldn't possibly know, but somehow you do. So, I was wondering if you somehow knew this information beforehand, and didn't really need my help, but only wanted quotes from me to use in your book-"

"Oh n-no! Mr. Potter, I-I swear she didn't tell me the full story!" The man had squeaked and ran his hand through his hair nervously. "I still needed many details that you are very kindly giving to me and-"

"She? Do you mean Hermione? Why would Hermione tell you without…" Harry slowly trailed off after seeing the man shake his head rapidly at him.

"No, no. She wasn't the one who told me," the man said. Harry raised an eyebrow at him and opened his mouth to ask who told him, but the wide-eyed man started talking. "It was Miss Weasley! I ran into her yesterday and asked if she could sit down with me t-to share some details about the war, and she was very sweet and agreed. She gave me a full story while we ordered some of those British fish and chips…" the man went on, but Harry wasn't listening.

Ginny? He frowned, not entirely understanding why she gave this random American author so much information. He practically knew the whole story! He remembered back to a few months after the war ended when they were dating. He broke down one night and told her everything. Everything. About their camping, the break-in at the Ministry, the locket and the way it was slowly corrupting them, Godric's Hollow, the snatchers, Malfoy Manor, literally everything! She knew most of it already but was patiently listening and didn't interrupt him once that night.

He wasn't particularly angry, it wasn't that big of a deal, but he was confused why she didn't mention it to him. He supposed he would just ask her later that night.

At the party.

Because there was a party, it was the last event Harry had to attend for the night, but he would also have to socialize with people, which he was not really excited about.

He was excited to see his old friends from Hogwarts and have fun with his current friends. However, he was not excited about the number of people who were going to bombard him with questions. He was certain that was going to happen because everyone was going to be there.

Everyone.

Almost all of local Wizarding Britain (and probably many wizards from elsewhere) was going to be there, and Harry was positive he would be doing plenty of talking.

He looked across from him and realized the man was still talking and apologizing. "Er," Harry frowned, realizing he was yet to know the man's name. "It's alright! I'm not angry, I promise," Harry said, attempting to calm the man down.

He took a couple of deep breaths and looked up at him, and nodded slightly. Harry took a breath himself and began telling his story again.

He inwardly sighed, 'I still have three more left.'

The first thing Harry did when he came back to his apartment was take off his jacket and plop on his couch like a child.

He was four down, two to more go.

But the two remaining were extremely important, and Harry groaned when he realized he would actually have to socialize in a little while.

His first event was at the Witch Weekly studio. He still can't believe Witch Weekly turned into a damn studio.

After the war, Rita Skeeter somehow miraculously reclaimed her reputation, became the Witch Weekly owner, and turned it into a whole studio. Instead of a journalist for Witch Weekly, she was now a talk-show host bringing guests on the show in front of a live audience and broadcasted for the Wizarding Community. Very muggle-like.

Witch Weekly was still running a magazine and gained many more subscribers after Skeeter started the show.

And journalists of lesser-known magazines tend to write articles about her show, highlighting the most memorable moments.

Oh, merlin. There were bound to be hundreds of articles and stories about him this week; most of them will likely be from his appearance at Witch Weekly.

Harry groaned and rubbed his temples as he felt his head starting to ache.

He wasn't sure he has ever been more exhausted in his life. He had spent about another twenty minutes with the author (totaling in about three hours and thirty minutes) and basically ran out of the pub when the author said he got what he needed (Harry still didn't know the bloke's name).

After that, he had two more meetings (back to back), which were practically the same interview since they were both looking to write articles about the anniversary. His first meeting with Mr. Mather at 2:15 in some office building Harry's never seen before, which took about an hour and a half, and the second with Ms. Alves at 4:00 at another office building Harry has never heard of also took about an hour and a half. It was more-or-less the same interview twice, except for Ms. Alves' rather blunt question.

"So Mr. Potter, are you sexually active as of recently."

Harry choked on his tea and spent about half a minute coughing like a madman. He looked up at her unimpressed face as she quirked an eyebrow, and he felt his face burning bright red from both his fit and her question.

"Um, I- what- do you mean like- well I'm not really dating anyone, but I-I still go out and have fun, but um, I-I…." He slowly trailed off sheepishly while looking at her amused expression and dark calculating eyes.

"Hmm…quite interesting." She gave a soft chuckle, and Harry felt his face warm up once again since he was sure she was laughing at him. "Do you think any former You-Know-Who supporters-"

He shook his head and snapped out of the memory, and he felt his face burning once more.

Harry had learned the two journalists were both from rival newspapers (even though most witches and wizards read the Daily Prophet ) and insulted each other as if they knew each other personally, which Harry suspected they did.

Harry glanced at his watch.

It was 5:44 pm.

He had time.

He kicked off his shoes and got comfortable since he wasn't planning on moving for the next forty-five minutes.

"Yeah, Hermione I understand," Harry said with a sigh for about the eighth time.

He had overslept.

He had set his alarm clock to wake him up so he wouldn't run late, but when it went off, Harry ignored it. Harry set it for five more minutes.

He ignored it again. And then again.

When it went off the fourth time, he glanced at the time: 6:50 pm. He was meant to be at Witch Weekly at 7:00 pm.

Once he made it to his car at 7:00, after quickly making himself presentable, he immediately received a call from Hermione demanding where he was as soon as he started backing out of his apartment's parking lot. He was currently being berated for not being punctual, and he was certain Hermione was trying to make him feel guilty about it.

"Hermione, Luna is a part of the crew, can you just please ask her to tell them they need to stall for like fifteen more minutes," Harry said, practically whining. Luna volunteered to join the crew at Witch Weekly about two and a half years ago, and she was on good terms with Rita Skeeter; so, Harry was quite confident she could let him get away with being late.

"Yes, yes, I will ask Luna, but Harry this is a very important event for the Wizarding community, you should have been more responsible…." Hermione went on for about five more minutes until she hung up to let him drive without any distraction.

Harry groaned as he was stuck at another red light. It was 7:12, and he was sure everyone on the road was going to the same destination: The Witch Weekly studio.

"Why the hell is traffic so backed up," Harry muttered under his breath as he stuck his head out his window to see if there was any commotion ahead; he saw many doing the same. The show started at 7:30, and he knew many people would be there (Luna informed him they had to use a few Extension Charms for the number of people buying tickets), but this was just ridiculous! He brought his head back in his car and sighed.

'Well isn't this just bloody brilliant.'

Out of all his experiences throughout the day, he knew this would be the most exhausting. It had already proven to be, and it hadn't even begun!

The light turned green, and Harry immediately pressed the gas and hoped that the staff wouldn't be too pissed at him when he got there.

He heard a commotion to his right and saw a rugged-looking witch standing outside a plant shop holding a sign that read, "The Dark Lord Will Return!" and screaming at the top of her lungs. Harry didn't realize he was staring until the car behind him honked its horn. He quickly shook his head and proceeded forward.

It's just one mad older woman. Nobody in their right mind is a Voldemort supporter anymore. Nobody can resurrect him… right?

Harry had a feeling one madwoman wouldn't be the end of it. 'Lord let's hope today will be as tame as Hermione's lessons with Nott.'