This ficlet is a scene I wrote for a writing competition celebrating the release of OotP – to write a scene you would include in the fifth book. I won, and got to unveil the book in my local bookshop and got the very first copy in my town! Yay! But anyway, that's beside the point. This is a humourous fic, developed from an idea I got from reading Ari Munami's 'Seamus is Seamus and You are Yourself', which is an amazing fic, and kudos to her! This little scene has been floating around in my head for a while. The first section is really just to set the scene. Oh, and don't take it too seriously, either…
It surprised no one more than Harry when, over the summer before fifth year, he finally got his long-awaited growth spurt. He filled out, too, after endless hours of Dursley-induced labour. His skin now glowed golden from the hours out in the sun, and he'd finally grown into his huge green eyes.
It was his friends, however, who were in for a shock when they met him in Diagon Alley on the last day of the holidays. Ron and Hermione waited impatiently, sat at one of the small tables outside Florean Fortesque's ice-cream parlour. Their best friend was rather late, and their imaginations, rather paranoid after four years of near-death experiences, were running riot, full of images of torture at the hands of Deatheaters or the Dursleys.
The streets seemed rather empty, and the reason soon became clear as a huge chattering crowd rounded the corner. They waited impatiently for it to pass them by, peering over the heads of the mob in a effort to see if Harry was behind them. That was until Hermione's sharp ears picked up on the words "Harry Potter" among the excited gabble.
She rounded on the nearest person, a slight, nervous-looking witch of about fourteen, who was trying in vain to force her way towards the centre of the crowd.
"All right, what's this about?" Hermione demanded. "What about him? Where is… Harry!?" her voice trailed off in a shocked squeak as her mouth dropped open. She didn't need to turn and look at Ron to know that his had done the same.
Instead of the scrawny, messy-haired teenager she remembered from only a few months ago, standing before them was absolutely the most devastatingly gorgeous man she'd ever seen. Tall – even taller than Ron, by several inches – with long, silky jet black hair and a body to die for, was her best friend Harry. Her breathing quickened and she began to feel rather warm as her shocked gaze travelled up his body to his face. Harry's sparkling emerald eyes were breathtaking, having finally lost the haunted look that had darkened them at the end of their fourth year. Harry, who hadn't yet noticed her and Ron, was blushing slightly from the attention he was getting, but there was an imperceptible difference about him. He was more confident, more comfortable with his fame, that was certain, and seemed to radiate a golden aura of power and warmth. Charismatic was perhaps the word Hermione was looking for, although it seemed inadequate. Harry definitely had presence.
But then he turned and saw them, and as his chiselled face split into a wide smile, Hermione felt her knees weaken and had to stumble backwards into the table to support herself. Beside her, Ron's legs had given out completely, and he collapsed awkwardly into his chair, still gawping open-mouthed. Harry called over to them as he made his way through the crowd, who were reluctant to let him go. "Ron! Hermione! It's great to see you guys!"
Hermione just about managed to stammer out a greeting before Harry sat down beside her and began to chatter about his summer.