Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Having a roommate for the first time since university is an adjustment. Not an unpleasant one, thankfully, but an adjustment nonetheless.

It helps that Harry can magic up more space for them. What used to be a closet with a tiny kitchen and bathroom attached is now a three-bedroom apartment with two point five bathrooms and a kitchen with a small dinette. They each get their own space and don’t have to worry about using each other’s toothpaste or anything mundane like that.

Harry cooks, does the shopping, does the laundry, and whatever miscellaneous chores that if they don’t get done he gets stressed about. Reigen does the dishes, dusts, and has, quite bravely, taken up cleaning all of their bathrooms. They both deal with their own space and clean the office together every other week.

It’s a good system, overall. They get along better than Reigen has ever gotten along with someone in the same age bracket as him if he’s being honest. Harry’s an easy guy to like, and for whatever reason, he seems to tolerate Reigen despite him very much not being an easy guy to like.

Work is a little more complicated of an adjustment, but again, not an unpleasant one. Since Harry officially joined the roster, Spirits and Such Consulting has had to go through a bit of a re-branding - apparently, despite Jun keeping her word and not spreading rumors about Harry’s presence, the entire underground wizard civilization believes that Reigen is now knowledgeable about magical matters. Spirits and Such Consulting is officially listed as a “curse-breaking” consultation office in the Japanese Ministry of Magic’s business roster, pending official approval from a certified Ministry auditor.

Anything that brings in more business is great, but it does leave Reigen in a bit of a conundrum. For the first time since starting his company, he has an entire customer base that consistently, actually needs the help that they’re looking for. He’s gotten used to having to read between the lines - it used to be that if he had a client that believed they received a curse from an ex-lover, he would soon realize that more often than not they needed a lesson in self-confidence and a decent rebound moreso than any cleansing ritual. He’s gotten good at providing comfort and assistance to these kinds of customers.

Now, when Mr. Tanaka wanders in, bellowing about his bitch of an ex-wife that cursed him with “performance issues” after he took their niffler in the divorce - well, it’s just as likely that he actually was cursed rather than being insecure about his virility and just needing to ask his doctor for a Viagra prescription.

He also still hasn’t figured out what the hell a niffler is, but that’s a minor issue compared to everything else Reigen has been struggling to learn since Harry became a fixture in his life. Right now, his main stress comes from not knowing which of his clients have true paranormal problems or normal, everyday problems that Reigen can handle without one or both of his assistants.

It doesn’t help that Harry’s magical knowledge is limited to battlefield magic and some random, miscellaneous knowledge he must’ve picked up in fits and starts. There’s also a huge hole residing in his brain where normal human beings keep all of their common sense.

For example:

“Okay, but I still don’t understand why you couldn’t use a pen,” Reigen says, baffled.

“I can use a pen!” Harry retorts. “It’s just been awhile, okay?”

“Because you use quills. Like something out of a Jane Austen novel.”

“A what?”

“The point I’m getting at is that instead of using a pen, which I have plenty of, you turned my computer mouse into a quill. And now you can’t turn it back.”

“It didn’t look that important,” He says defensively. “I didn’t know you needed it. I’ll replace it.”

Reigen thinks, longingly, of the pack of cigarettes hidden in his desk. He’s already used his tobacco quota for the month, but it’s tempting to risk Mob’s disappointed puppy-eyes for some instant relaxation. “Alright, I guess we’re having a computer lesson today. Pull up a chair, this probably should’ve been one of our first lessons.“

He sighs and starts to say, “Arataka - “ before sighing again and grabbing the chair. He’s learned, at last, that Reigen’s stubbornness will outlast his own.

He hasn’t learned, yet, of Reigen’s odd, flustery reaction to him using his first name. It’s his own fault, telling Harry that he could drop the honorifics. He hadn’t really meant for it to be permission for first-name basis, but he can’t tell Harry to knock it off after they’ve been living together for a month.

And it’s not a bad thing, necessarily, but - Well, it’s been awhile since anyone has been close enough to call him that, but really, that’s neither here nor there. It’s just a name.

“Alright, so a computer. How much do you know about them?” Reigen asks, booting up his laptop. He tries to make it sound as casual as possible, but Harry still flushes red with embarrassment. He’s extremely sensitive about his perceived ignorance and gets upset when Reigen has to explain basic “muggle” items, no matter how careful Reigen tries to navigate the conversations.

Reigen’s found that ignoring Harry’s shame is the easiest course for both of them, but it doesn’t stop him from pitying his roommate just a little, every time he gets flustered over his lack of common knowledge. No matter how separate the two worlds are, it’s sad that between both of them, Harry knows so little that isn’t tied to basic survival. He rattles off dozens of ways to incapacitate an opponent at the drop of a hat, can cook a meal using nothing but some transfigured mushrooms, and is, eerily, almost as good at seeing through people’s lies and bluster as Reigen is. Ask him to talk about wizarding culture, or anything fun he’s done (ever), and he tends to look like a very pathetic, droopy and confused puppy for a split-second before getting defensive.

This isn’t even getting into the fact that he apparently grew up outside of the magical world and still doesn’t have basic knowledge about how society works. He hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask Harry why he knows so little if his formative years were “muggle,” because it doesn’t bode well for Reigen’s own peace of mind.

“My cousin had one that he’d play games on,” Harry says, bringing Reigen out of his contemplation. “That’s pretty much it. I wasn’t - I didn’t do anything with it myself.”

Reigen tries to find a good place to start - he didn’t grow up with computers the way that Mob did, but they’ve been a part of his life long enough that it’s hard to know how to explain them. “So. They’re probably one of the most important things that us muggles have made in the past couple of decades. You can use them to do a lot of things - it’s like having a library at your fingertips that’s connected to every other library in the world.”

Harry blinks. “So it’s a ton of books?”

“Well, there are - kind of. It’s not just that. There’s a lot of information, but it’s also like a social thing? Like, here - you know how I showed you texting on your new phone?” When he receives a dutiful nod, he continues, “You can do that on computers as well. Your phone’s pretty much a mini-computer.”

“Oh. So why have a computer when you can just use your phone?”

“Computers can do more than your phone can, so they have a lot more hardware than a phone. The mouse - “ He picks up the quill that used to be his mouse, tapping Harry’s face pointedly with the end. “Is what you use to navigate on the computer. Basic, right? You’re lucky this is a laptop and it has a mouse in it, or else I’d be shit out of luck today when our clients get here.”

Harry nods, but is clearly not getting it. Reigen sighs, which is quickly followed by Harry sitting up straighter, and saying, affronted, “Wait, if you have another one - then what’s the issue with me transfiguring that one?”

“The issue is that I had an entire thing of pens RIGHT here!” He holds up the mug and waves it for emphasis. “And it’d have been a lot easier for you to use that than it was for you to transmorgify my mouse! Use your head, idiot! Why would you use your powers so superfluously?”

Harry, conspicuously, doesn’t respond, but his face turns red again.

“Superfluously means unnecessarily,” Reigen explains helpfully after a long pause.

Perhaps too helpfully, as Harry stands up abruptly and bites out, “Text me what you want for dinner.”

“Aw, Harry - “

His sensitive roommate spins on his heel and disappears with a harsh CRACK before Reigen can try to defuse the situation.

Chapter Text

Reigen, spitefully, slams his laptop lid shut in response to Harry’s abrupt departure and starts fussing with the debris and papers on his desk.

“You try to help a guy,” Reigen mutters to himself a few minutes later, flinging himself back in his seat. He tries to convince himself that he doesn’t feel the tiniest sliver of guilt. “Really, he should be grateful - I try to be gentle, but it’s not my fault he grew up in a goddamn cult, and really -“

His tirade is cut off by a knock at the door. A walk-in, he thinks, since it’s too early for Mob to arrive yet. Running a hand through his hair to try and straighten it, he hurriedly brushes his suit jacket down and strides to the door.

“Welcome to Spirits and Such Consulting!” He says brightly, opening the door. “You’re in luck, today is our biannual sale - oh, Jun,” He deflates. “Or, uh, Ms. Nakamura -“

“Jun’s fine,” She corrects, stepping past him without further prompting. “How have you been, Reigen?”

“Well, thank you,” he says automatically. “And yourself?”

“I’d be better with a cup of tea,” She says, winking. He gives her his “polite-and-charmed” smile and waves her over to the couch in response, moving to start his cheap electric kettle.

“Hope you’re okay with English breakfast - Harry won’t drink anything else, so that’s all we have right now.”

It’s a white lie - Harry will drink whatever Reigen puts in front of him, but after Reigen left his dirty laundry sitting around for a week instead of collecting it for Harry to wash, Harry spitefully transfigured all of their drinks into Reigen’s least favorite brand of leaf juice. And Harry refuses to buy any more tea until they drink all of what they have, in that weird, miserly way Harry gets about food.

Reigen sometimes has to count all of Harry’s fingers at the end of a meal to make sure he didn’t accidentally gnaw one off. He eats like a starving teenage boy, constantly. If Reigen didn’t spend almost every meal with him, he’d /think/ he was a starving teenage boy, to be honest. He wonders if Harry should go see a doctor about the neverending pit that’s his stomach.

He prepares the tea tray that Mob always puts together for their clients and places it on the coffee table in front of her, all with his best, calm customer look.

“What can I help you with today, Jun?”

She sips at her mug with obvious contentment. The difference between this Jun and the one trapped inside her home is surprising, but ultimately satisfying. She’s clearly much more well now that her home has been cleansed and she’s no longer tied to the will of an abusive, dead father. Maybe naively, he hadn’t really thought about how much freedom would change her.

Jun, after a few dainty gulps, says, “I’m mostly here to apologize for throwing you into the wizarding world without any warning - it wasn’t my intention, honestly. But I had old friends asking what had happened, and I thought I was providing free advertising, so…” She shrugs and grimaces. “I didn’t consider that you weren’t magical yourself and that Mr. Potter was working with you specifically for that reason.”

Reigen waves her concern off. “Apology unnecessary but accepted. Admittedly, this is new terrain for me, but I’ll never say no to a broader client base.”

“Not that I’m one to say what non-magicals can or can’t do - it’d be rather hypocritical of me - but do you fully understand what services wizards and witches are expecting from you as a curse-breaker?” She smiles, a little pityingly, at whatever must show on his face. “Yeah, I figured. I’m assuming Mr. Potter hasn’t explained anything very well either, considering his circumstances - “

“His circumstances?” Reigen cocks his head to the side, zeroing in. “What do you mean by that?”

Jun’s look turns thoughtful, and she takes another long swig of her drink. Clearly buying time, but Reigen doesn’t push.

“I grew up in a magical household,” She finally says. “But I’m something called a Squib - My entire family is magical, but I’m not. Which comes with a host of outdated prejudices, as I’m sure you can imagine. The wizarding world is pretty traditionalist no matter where you go - Japan’s one of the more forward-thinking areas, and they still only just started using phones. And I don’t mean cell phones, I mean the rotary ones.

“I was able to grow up half in the magical world and half in the muggle world because my mother was supportive, but in general, it’s not easy to straddle the two. Muggleborns - magical children born to nonmagical parents - rarely return to the muggle world once being introduced to the magical world. And Squibs like myself rarely return to the magical world unless they find a trade early on that they can make a living off of.”

As she finishes her cup of tea, Reigen valiantly refrains from pestering her to talk faster.

“Mr. Potter grew up in the muggle world, but there’s rumors that he was - well. Extremely sheltered to keep him safe from You-Know-Who’s followers who were out for revenge. So he doesn’t have any muggle background, really, but he doesn’t have any magical background outside of his schooling. It leaves him in a weird position where he hasn’t assimilated to either culture fully. It isn’t surprising that he wouldn’t know how to explain any of this to you.”

“Extremely sheltered, huh?” He mumbles thoughtfully. It fits with what he’s seen so far, but something about it rings false. “Well. I suppose that makes sense. But can we take a quick step back?”

“Sure.”

“You-Know-Who?” He asks. “I, uh - I don’t? Know who, that is.”

She grimaces, and reluctantly clarifies, “The Dark Lord. Um. Voldemort.” She shivers as she says it and shakes her head as if to rid herself of unwanted thoughts. “It used to be dangerous to say his name out loud. You-Know-Who’s how he’s normally referred to, even after Mr. Potter’s most recent victory.”

“Ah. That guy.” He tries not to get too caught up on the fact that he’s out of his depth, as it happens rather frequently. Here, though, there’s a weird sense of menace that he’d feel a lot better having some context for. “So, Harry was raised in the muggle world to keep him safe from this guy? Did his parents piss the guy off or something?”

Jun stares at him like he said something spectacularly stupid. He blinks.

“Reigen,” She says slowly. “Did Mr. Potter explain any of his history to you?”

“Well - we’re busy, you see. There’s not much time for us to share our life stories, and I’m not one to stick my nose into other people’s business if they don’t want to talk about it,” He lies. “All I know that I’m comfortable repeating is that due to a prophecy, he became involved in a war against this Voldemort character, and in the end Harry defeated him.”

Jun scrubs a hand over her face and sighs. “I guess it would be awkward for him to explain everything, but. Geez. That’s a vast oversimplification. Pour me more tea while I figure out where to start.”

“Maybe you can start with why you look at him like he’s the second coming of Jesus,” Reigen mutters, picking up the kettle.

She bluntly says, “You may not believe me, but he essentially is the wizarding world’s equivalent of that. As a baby, he was hit with the Killing Curse - it’s impossible to survive. It’s the same thing as putting a gun to someone’s forehead and shooting them point blank - if you get hit by it, you’re dead. And in the final battle against You-Know-Who, he survived it a second time.” She takes the teacup from Reigen’s grip, looking him dead in the eyes. “Your roommate is the closest thing to a god the wizarding world has. He’s a legend, Reigen.”

Reigen can’t help but scoff. “Him?” He jerks a hand towards Harry’s bathroom. “Listen, I’ll admit he’s skilled. He’s a great employee.” It’s true - Harry works his ass off, and he’s damn good at comforting distraught clients if Reigen’s busy. And that’s outside of the actual cursebreaking he does. “But we’re talking about the same guy who gets all twisted up trying to order food at a restaurant - the same guy who trips over the same loose floorboard every damn day! Hell, this morning he ruined my computer mouse to make a quill instead of using a pen like a normal person.

“Besides which, nothing’s REALLY impossible. There’s always workarounds - even a bullet to the brain, there’s instances where people have survived that. Maybe some weird genetic thing happened, or he has some extra power that other wizards don’t, or, hell, maybe his parents did something, but whatever the reason, he’s just a guy. A veteran, yeah, and maybe an exceptionally dumb pain in my ass - but overall, just a guy.”

“He’s a guy who saved the world and did at least three impossible things to do so - and cut him some slack,” She snaps suddenly. “He’s not an idiot, Reigen. You see how you’d be doing if you got dropped into the magical world out of nowhere after your entire life has been devoted to a war no one even knew still had to be fought. You’d seem just as dumb as he does, if not dumber.”

After a long pause, during which Reigen feels the same stab of pity he always feels when Harry flushes red with shame, she says, “I’ll see if I still have a copy of his biography for you to read. There’s too much for me to explain, and it seems he doesn’t want to.”

“If he doesn’t want to, maybe I shouldn’t - “

“If you’re involved in the wizarding world, you have to know,” She says seriously. “There’s very little wizarding history that you have to know if you’re going to be working in their world, but this is important. It explains a lot of the prejudice and garbage that’s always underlying the pretty side of wizards.

“Besides that, there’s a ton of fallout that’s still being dealt with. There’s tons of factions splitting off from the remainders of both sides of the war causing problems, and you could get into trouble if you don’t know how to recognize Mr. Potter’s enemies from his devoted followers from more enemies. And with the cursebreaking - well, I wouldn’t put it past some people to try to deliberately trick you two if they recognized Mr. Potter.”

Reigen really hates how ominous this all feels. He grimaces and says, “Fine. I see where you’re coming from.” He rolls his neck from side to side to crack it, and claps his hands together. “Well, until you can get that - Let’s get back to the original point of this conversation - expectations of a normal cursebreaker. What kinds of jobs i should be expecting and the like.

“Ideally, you could let me know what I have to do to not piss people off, but I’ll take what I can get here.”

The tension between them breaks, thankfully, and she laughs and nods. “Yeah, alright.”

“So?”

“So the first thing you should know is that you’re way in over your head.”

He barely resists the urge to slam said head into the wall.

Chapter Text

Harry knows that he isn’t smart. Growing up with Hermione and Ron as his best friends always made that abundantly clear - Hermione, who Harry would swear is the smartest person on the planet, and Ron, who is a strategic mastermind who could give Hermione a run for her money if he was a little more motivated. Between them all, Harry’s always been the brawn.

Ron figures out the big picture, Hermione figures out how to actually enact the big picture, and Harry does said enacting. Then they move onto the next crisis.

Right now, though, Harry doesn’t have Hermione or Ron to be smart for him. He’s on his own, relying on a translation charm and a lot of bullshit.

It hadn’t been easy to send Pigwidgeon back to the Weasleys saying that he won’t be home anytime soon and no, he won’t tell them where he is. And no, he won’t explain why. It was irresponsible to stay, he admits to himself, and that’s mostly why he didn’t explain it.

He stayed because he wanted to. Because Arataka was right, in the end, and Harry had never done anything just because he wanted to, and this time it was too tempting to do so. In this particular case, Harry really wanted to run away from his problems and stay in Japan, helping Arataka help other people. He doesn’t want to think about the mess that is magical Europe, he doesn’t want to think about the repercussions from the final battle that he’s still dealing with years later, and he doesn’t want to think about all of the people who keep looking to him to have some miracle solution to fix the political turmoil that’s still in effect.

With Tom out of his head, everything that he had been avoiding in favor of dealing with Tom suddenly came crashing down on him. And Arataka threw him a lifeline - he said, “You’re nothing special,” and “You’re just some guy,” and Harry, who’s always craved normality, wanted to glue himself to this man’s side who didn't expect anything from Harry except to be "some guy".

Just for a little while, he told himself at first. Now, a month later, he can admit that he doesn’t know how long “a little while” will be.

He doesn’t know exactly why staying with Arataka is so appealing or why going back to Europe makes him feel unbearably claustrophobic. Maybe part of him is still struggling to deal with the fact that a man he trusted more than anyone else had been raising him to die. Maybe a lot of him is still waiting for Death to pop around the corner and say, “Yeah, you really weren’t supposed to make it. Sorry for the delay, let’s get you where you need to be.” Maybe it’s the expectations everyone has of him that he had, stupidly, thought would at least diminish somewhat after defeating Voldemort.

Whatever the reason, Harry wanted to run away from everything for a bit, and Arataka was the first person to say, “Yeah, that’s fine. Do what you want to do,” without any caveats. And really, Harry was just looking for someone (anyone) to give him permission to relax.

He likes Arataka, and not just because he was the first person to not harp on about what Harry “should” be doing with his life. Arataka looks at him like he’s nothing special, and it’s intensely freeing after the past four years of relentless expectations and burdens. He opened up his home to Harry without a second thought and would give the shirt off of his back to anyone if they were in need. He has a strict moral code that’s half based on issues that Harry had never thought in-depth about, if he’s being honest.

Whether Arataka has any kind of psychic powers like Shigeo has, Harry couldn’t say. He hasn’t seen any proof of them despite spending hours and hours a day together, so he’s inclined to assume he’s faking.

But the man’s smart and kind and he’s pretty fun to be around. He likes Arataka for more than just the opportunity the man’s given him. More importantly, though, Harry respects him.

That might be why, even though Harry has always known that he’s not very smart, it really hurts when Arataka points it out.

Storming out is better than hexing him, and with his head officially Tom Riddle-free, it’s easier to walk away than ever. Even with a few sleepless nights behind him, his temper is slow to rise. It’s kind of refreshing, feeling like his emotions aren’t as out of control as they had been for most of his life.

Now, though, he’s worked up and a strange mix of hurt, angry, and upset, so he focuses on letting some of that go. He takes deep breaths - in, 2, 3, 4, and out, 6, 7, 8, in 10, 11, 12, out, 14, 15, 16 - and by the time he’s through a few (hundred) sets of that, he’s calmed down a significant amount.

At almost the exact moment he realizes that, he runs straight into Shigeo. He’s even smaller than Harry, which is saying something - the poor kid gets sent sprawling onto the ground when they collide, his bookbag spilling out some of its contents.

“Oh! Shigeo, sorry about that,” He says sheepishly, holding out a hand to help him up. “I was - well, anyway, sorry.” He crouches down to help pick up the various papers that fell, making a face at it. “Homework?”

Shigeo nods, shoving his stuff back into his bag. “Yes.”

“That might be the only thing I don’t miss about school. I was always the worst at finishing homework on time.”

“I’m not the best either,” Shigeo admits. “Especially with math.”

“Do you like school?” Harry asks curiously. “Aside from the homework, I mean.”

Shigeo is careful with his words, unlike almost everyone Harry has ever known. He waits, and is eventually rewarded with a thoughtful, “I never really thought about it. I have to go, so I do. I suppose I don’t dislike school right now. My friends are there, after all.”

“Friends can make bad situations a lot more tolerable,” Harry agrees. “Hermione and Ron - my best friends back home - are pretty much the only reason I’ve made it as far as I have.”

Shigeo nods. They fall into silence that’s just slightly uncomfortable.

“I should get going to work,” Shigeo says, finally. Strangely, he sounds a little reluctant, which is surprising when taking into account how devoted he is to his mentor. When Harry looks closer, Shigeo actually looks pretty exhausted. “But it was nice to see you, Harry.”

Before he fully turns to start walking away, some instinct pings in Harry’s chest. He trusts it, as he always does, and asks quickly, “Hey, wait - Do you want to skip today?”

“Oh, um. I think Master Reigen would be upset if I didn’t show up for my shift.”

“The office was pretty slow today,” Harry lies. “And between you and me, he was in a mood before I left.”

“A mood?” Shigeo parrots, eyes turning a little concerned.

“Yeah, he was pretty grumpy. I left because I thought he might appreciate some alone time.” He pauses and adds, “And he was being an asshole. But really, I think you can play hooky for a bit today without him getting too bothered.”

At Shigeo’s uncertain look, Harry says, “I’d appreciate the company, honestly. I’m feeling a little homesick, and with Arataka being a jerk - well, I wouldn’t mind grabbing a late lunch with you if you’re feeling up to it.”

Shigeo, once again, takes time to deliberate. After a long, thoughtful silence, he says, “Alright. Let’s go.”

“You’ll have to lead - I’m still shaky with directions around here.”

They walk side-by-side, and Harry, taking a page from Shigeo’s book, takes a moment to choose his words carefully. They’ve walked three blocks before Harry finally has his thoughts in order.

Shigeo looks dreadfully tired, at least to Harry’s eye. The kid is pretty stoic, but Harry has seen that dull, glazed look in the mirror more times than he can count. He knows what sleepless nights look like, if nothing else. It makes his heart hurt, to see that look on someone so young.

“Is everything alright?” Harry finally asks, scrapping most of his carefully constructed speech. “You look a little out of it.”

Shigeo nods and doesn’t look at Harry. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure about that? Have you been sleeping?”

After ten seconds of nothing, Harry has to chomp down on his tongue to not press Shigeo to answer faster. His patience is rewarded, almost a full minute later, with, “I’m really lucky to have friends like you who are concerned about my well-being. Thank you for your care, Harry.”

Startled, Harry says, “Uh, sure. I mean. That’s what friends are for.”

“I’m glad we’re friends.”

None of this answers Harry’s concern even a little bit, and if anything, has only raised it. He carefully reaches out and ruffles Shigeo’s hair, grinning at the bland look he receives because of it. “If anything ever is bothering you, or if you can’t sleep, you can talk to me. Arataka got me a phone, so you can call me… Pretty much whenever. I don’t sleep much, so if you’re up, I’ll probably be up too.”

Shigeo’s bland look doesn’t change, but a measure of warmth enters his eyes. “Thank you.”

It’s the “Thank you” that says, “That’s really kind of you, thank you, but I’ll never take you up on it. The sentiment will comfort me when I’d like to take you up on it, but my pride and dignity won’t let me take advantage of your offer.”

Harry suddenly realizes why the Weasleys would get randomly frustrated with him. He thinks back to when Mr. Weasley invited him out to his tinkering shed and taught him how to make a simple circuit - how Mr. Weasley said he was welcome anytime, really, son. He remembers Mrs. Weasley letting him help cut biscuits last Christmas and how she said she’d be more than happy to bake with him anytime, really.

It fills him with a warm kind of melancholy. He misses them, but not enough to go home. He does promise himself to send them a longer letter and to send Mr. Weasley a cell phone the next time he goes into town.

They’re still a few blocks away from the ramen restaurant that Arataka had said was Shigeo’s favorite when Harry draws on his Gryffindor courage.

He says, apropos of nothing, “Before we got Voldemort out of my head, I used to wake my friends up constantly. I’d be afraid that something had happened to them - it gets really hard to tell reality from dreams when you can’t fall asleep. Everything’s blurry, and you can’t get your thoughts straight. So I’d be afraid that the war wasn’t over or that they had abandoned me and I was all alone. I’d spend hours just pacing and worrying and trying to figure out what was real. The only thing that ever separated life from the nightmares was going and finding Hermione or Ron and getting that reassurance in person.” The silence that follows is heavy, and it makes him feel older than he is.

He eventually rubs the back of his neck and, sheepishly, says, “Sorry, that was - I just wanted to get across that I wouldn’t think less of you. Relying on your friends isn’t easy, but having people that care is valuable when you’re struggling. And because they care, they want to help. And they wouldn’t look down on you. At the very, very least, I wouldn’t. If you needed some kind of support. Not that I’m saying you do, but. If you did. I wouldn’t mind.”

He feels kind of preachy. It’s not like he’s smart like Hermione or Arataka, so his advice is probably pretty useless. And for all he knows, Shigeo is perfectly fine and just had a restless night - he’s a tough kid to read, after all. Maybe Harry misread the situation. Maybe he's overreacting.

He's about to apologize again, when Shigeo asks abruptly, “Do you have other tips for telling reality from… not?” He skids to a stop in the same breath. Harry hurriedly stops as well, turning to look at him. HIs head is tilted towards the ground, hair hiding his eyes.

People walk around them, a few looking disgruntled at their sudden pause. Harry absentmindedly casts a Notice-Me-Not and invokes Muffliato without thinking - it’s become instinct to do so when there’s any serious topic to be discussed, regardless of where he actually is.

“For me, there are things that I can do in reality that I couldn’t do when Voldemort was sending me visions or messing with my head,” He finally says slowly. “The really obvious one was that I couldn’t count. He’d have some of his followers around, and if I tried to count them, I’d only get to two before I couldn’t keep track anymore. If I really can’t tell if something’s real or not, I count anything around me. If there’s nothing around me that'll work, I count my breaths.”

Shigeo’s hands are clenched, tightly, on the strap of his bookbag. Harry notes this but continues anyway, saying, “Hermione introduced me to some breathing exercises a few years ago that helped and would ground me. I always have had a temper, and it was worse when I was sleep-deprived and had a spirit half-possessing me, so it helped me with that too. It’d calm me down enough to think clearly.”

“And it helped?” Shigeo murmurs.

“Tons,” Harry admits, honestly. “I was really stubborn for awhile and didn’t want to learn. I finally got desperate enough to try, and I still use them now.” He laughs a little and says, “I forgot our golden rule: Hermione’s always right.”

Shigeo nods obligingly, as if he does know Hermione and agrees that she's never been wrong.

“I can teach you, if you’d like - “

“Please,” Shigeo interrupts quickly. He finally looks up, and Harry’s gut twists at how empty he looks. The way he’s acting, Harry would expect to see some kind of desperation or anguish. Instead, it’s just an impassive, bleak face staring back at him.

Swallowing thickly, Harry says, “Of course,” and wonders why this part of the conversation has felt extraordinarily painful.

The need to avoid the subject overwhelms him, but his mind is blank of any ideas. He blurts out, “Do you want to try magic ice cream?” because that generally worked to placate Teddy and Victoire when they were upset.

“Magic?” Shigeo blinks. “I thought Master Reigen and I weren’t allowed to go to your community.”

Harry says, “Technically, no, but I don’t think anyone will notice as long as we’re careful. And it’s just for a quick trip. It’ll be alright, I think.”