May 2nd, Wednesday.
Michael had left for work early that morning.
An Auror, assigned to security duty for the Victory Anniversary of the Great Battle.
Chloe had no appointments that morning.
The sky was overcast, a soft drizzle tapping at the window, and the whole grey weight of it made staying in bed feel like the only reasonable option.
So she slept straight through to noon.
When she finally checked her phone, Michael had texted her two hours ago.
[Chloe, I should be done a little early today. Got my pay, I’ll stop by Gringotts to exchange it for pounds. Dinner’s on me tonight.]
She smiled.
[Sounds good. Call me when you’re on your way. How’s work going?]
[Pretty smoothly. Loads of war heroes here. Our boss even gave a speech, though he does that every year. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley spoke too, and there were some memorial events… I also spotted the boss’s godson. So jealous, a Metamorphmagus. If I had that ability, I’d have aced Stealth class for sure.]
[Hope you don’t get pulled into any other missions today. Stay safe.]
[OK, love you sis]
The smile on her face stretched wider.
She and Michael had missed a lot of time together growing up, so Michael never held back when it came to saying what he felt.
They were close, even after their parents separated, they had kept in touch in secret.
While Michael was at Hogwarts, they wrote to each other four or five times a week and talked about everything.
It was through those letters that she had come to know the wizarding world as well as she did.
Michael idolized Harry Potter.
Almost from the moment he arrived at Hogwarts and learned about the Savior’s deeds, he had become a devoted fan.
Three years below Harry, and like Harry, a Gryffindor.
During the Battle of Hogwarts, Michael had only been in fourth year, so he was among those evacuated from the castle.
But the moment he heard that Harry Potter had killed Voldemort, the admiration only deepened.
After graduating, Michael followed him without a second thought, joined the Aurors, and carried out missions in the action squad under Harry’s command.
Chloe knew the story of Harry Potter, the wizarding world’s Savior, practically by heart.
For a long stretch of time, every letter Michael sent her had been filled with an endless stream of talk about Harry Potter.
By the time she reached the consulting room it was already two in the afternoon.
She hadn’t even wanted to come in, but a client had called to reschedule.
She’d half-expected it, grey, rainy weather like this, and clients often resisted leaving the house.
Still, the potted plants in the office genuinely needed watering.
And she figured she might as well step out and pass the time while waiting for Michael to finish work.
She was mid-task when noisy voices and footsteps cut through the quiet.
Then the bell at the front desk rang.
To keep costs down, Chloe had only installed a single bell at the reception counter and hadn’t hired anyone to staff it.
Most of her clients booked by text or phone, so the bell sat idle most of the time.
“Hello — how can I help you?” She opened the door to the consulting room and stopped dead.
She recognized the three people standing in front of her.
Harry Potter.
Hermione Granger.
Ron Weasley.
Harry was sandwiched between Hermione and Ron, each of them holding one of his arms, like they were making sure he couldn’t bolt.
All three of them were soaked through.
Harry’s black hair was plastered to his forehead, just barely revealing part of his lightning-bolt scar.
Water droplets clung to the lenses of his black-framed glasses, blurring his green eyes into something hazy and soft, like moss on stones in a mountain stream.
Chloe found herself thinking of George Weasley, two years ago.
A rainy day just like this one.
George had looked just as bedraggled as the three of them did now.
George wasn’t someone Chloe had recognized at first, not until the name was given.
Only then had she matched the person in front of her to the story she already knew.
George had told her a great many things she already knew, and some things she didn’t.
George hadn’t revealed being a wizard, explaining the Great Battle through other means instead.
For a Muggle, those explanations hadn’t made much sense.
But she hadn’t pressed.
Maybe that was exactly why George had trusted her so completely.
And today, history was repeating itself.
Chloe lightly bit the soft flesh inside her cheek.
Hadn’t Michael said wizards weren’t exactly common?
So why did this small therapy practice of hers keep running into so many of them.
“Excuse me — are you Dr. Chloe Aiken?” Hermione spoke first.
Chloe noticed something in Hermione’s hand that looked like a business card.
The question brought back something George Weasley had said not long ago.
“That’s me.” Chloe’s gaze moved quickly across all three of them, and then she put on the smile she always wore, steady, professional, easy.
“We were referred by George Weasley.”
Chloe could already tell that Hermione seemed to think quite well of her.
“Ah, Mr. Weasley mentioned he might.” Chloe gave a small nod, her smile softening into something more genuine.
She looked them over and asked, “Can I get you some towels and hot tea? It looks like you got caught in the rain.”
➤ Next: The First Session