Harry shows off

The heavy oak doors of the Great Hall swung open with a theatrical bang that seemed timed perfectly with the peak of the morning bustle. It wasn’t an accident; Harry Potter didn’t do accidents anymore. He did entrances.

He stood in the threshold for a heartbeat longer than necessary, his hand possessively tucked around Ginny Weasley’s waist. He wasn't the scrawny, messy-haired boy who had once hidden behind his fringe. This Harry Potter wore his Quidditch robes with a tailored precision that accentuated his shoulders, and his lightning-bolt scar was no longer a burden to be veiled, but a crown to be displayed.

Beside him, Ginny looked every bit the queen of Gryffindor. Her vibrant red hair flowed down her back like a river of fire, and her chin was tilted at an angle that suggested she was looking down on the world, even when she was looking straight ahead.

"Stay close, Gin," Harry murmured, his voice loud enough to carry to the nearby Ravenclaw table. "I don’t want the crowd swarming us before we’ve even had our coffee. You know how they get when they see the two of us together."

Ginny leaned into him, her fingers tracing the fabric of his sleeve. "Let them look, Harry. It’s not every day they get to see the man who saved the world and the woman who keeps him happy. It’s practically a public service."

They walked down the center aisle between the tables, not toward the Gryffindor bench, but toward the center of the room where the light from the enchanted ceiling caught them best. Harry felt every eye in the room track their movement. He saw Romilda Vane’s jaw drop and Dean Thomas look away with a pained expression. Harry smirked, pulling Ginny tighter against his side.

"Morning, everyone," Harry said, his voice ringing with an easy, practiced confidence. He stopped near the middle of the hall, ignoring the seat he usually occupied. "Lovely weather for a flight later, wouldn't you say? I was thinking of taking the Firebolt out. It’s the latest model, of course. Sent directly from the manufacturer for my 'professional feedback.'"

"Oh, Harry," Ginny teased, her voice a melodic lilt that silenced the surrounding conversations. "You’re so modest. They didn't just send it for feedback; they sent it because no one else can fly it the way you do. But then again, you always were the best at everything you set your mind to."

She reached up, delicately adjusting his collar. The movement was slow, deliberate, and entirely unnecessary. It served only to show off the sparkling gold bracelet Harry had bought her during their last trip to Hogsmeade—a piece of jewelry that cost more than most seventh-years' entire school kits.

"Only because I have the best motivation," Harry replied, catching her hand and kissing her knuckles. He didn't look at her; he looked at the crowd, ensuring they witnessed the gesture. "I suppose fame has its perks, but none of them compare to having the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts on my arm."

A group of younger Gryffindors whispered frantically, their eyes wide with adoration. Harry gave them a sharp, dazzling smile—the kind he’d seen Gilderoy Lockhart use, but with the added weight of actual talent and genuine power.

"Is it true, Harry?" a second-year squeaked. "Did you really outfly a dragon during the summer training camps?"

Harry chuckled, a deep, resonant sound. "A dragon? Please. Dragons are predictable. I prefer challenges that actually require effort. But don't worry, I’ll be showing off some new maneuvers at the game this Saturday. Make sure you get there early; the front rows are usually reserved for the press, but I’m sure I can pull a few strings for my fans."

Ginny laughed, a sharp, bright sound that cut through the murmurs. "He’s being modest again. He doesn't just outfly them; he makes them look like they’re standing still. Just like he does with the Slytherin Seekers."

She turned her gaze toward the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was staring into his porridge with a look of profound irritation. Ginny’s eyes flashed with triumph. She ran a hand through her hair, letting the light catch the silky strands.

"It must be exhausting, being you," Ginny said, loud enough for Malfoy to hear. "The fame, the talent, the constant attention. But I suppose that’s why we’re such a good match. I’m the only one who can keep up with the Savior of the Wizarding World."

"You’re the only one I’d want to keep up with," Harry countered. He looked around the hall, his chest swelling with a sense of undisputed ownership. "I was talking to Kingsley Shacklebolt the other day—the Minister, for those of you who don't know—and he was saying that the Wizarding world hasn't seen a power couple like us in a century. I’m inclined to agree."

Hermione Granger, sitting a few feet away, sighed loudly and buried her face in her book. Ron, however, looked caught between pride for his sister and a burgeoning sense of nausea.

"Blimey, Harry," Ron muttered, stabbing a sausage. "We get it. You’re famous, she’s gorgeous, and you’re both brilliant. Can we eat in peace?"

Harry turned his gaze toward Ron, his expression one of amused condescension. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Ron. But I understand. It must be hard, standing in the shadow of greatness every single day. If you want, I can give you some pointers on your Keeper form later. I’ve been studying some professional techniques that might help you keep your spot on the team."

Ron’s face turned a shade of red that rivaled Ginny’s hair. "I’m the Captain, Harry!"

"And I’m the reason people buy tickets to the matches," Harry said smoothly. He didn't say it unkindly; he said it as if stating a fundamental law of magic. "It’s just the way of the world, mate. Some people are born to lead, and some are born to be the face of an era."

Ginny leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder, looking at the rest of the table as if they were museum exhibits. "He’s right, Ron. You should be happy for us. We’re providing everyone with something to aspire to. It’s a heavy burden, being the gold standard, but someone has to do it."

She reached across the table, not to grab food, but to pick up a copy of the *Daily Prophet* that had just been delivered. The front page featured a moving photograph of the two of them at a charity gala in London.

"Look at this, Harry," she pointed to the headline: *THE CHOSEN ONE FINDS HIS MATCH*. "They’ve caught your good side. Though, to be fair, you don't have a bad one."

Harry glanced at the paper and shrugged. "The photographer kept complaining that the light was reflecting off my skin too much. I told him it wasn't the light; it was just the natural glow of someone who has nothing left to prove."

He finally took a seat, though he didn't start eating immediately. Instead, he spent several minutes adjusting his wand in its holster, making sure the expensive dragon-hide leather was visible to the students passing by.

"I think I might skip Potions today," Harry said casually, leaning back in his chair. "Slughorn won't mind. He’s been begging me to come to another one of his little dinner parties. He says the club is 'empty' without its star member."

"Only if I’m invited too," Ginny said, her eyes narrowing playfully. "He knows I’m the one who really brings the talent to the table. That Bat-Bogey Hex of mine is becoming legendary. I’ve had three offers for professional dueling circuits already."

Harry smiled, a genuine flash of pride crossing his face, though it was quickly layered over with his usual bravado. "Only three? We’ll have to fix that. I’ll mention you to the Head of the Magical Sports Department when I have lunch with him next week. He owes me a favor after I helped him with that sensitive matter regarding the Quidditch World Cup security."

The surrounding students were now openly staring, some with envy, others with a sort of weary resignation. Harry and Ginny were no longer just students; they were a brand, a spectacle, a force of nature that demanded acknowledgment.

As the breakfast hour wound down, Harry stood up, offering his hand to Ginny with the grace of a pureblood lord. "Shall we, my lady? We have a busy day of being extraordinary ahead of us."

Ginny took his hand, her fingers interlocking with his. "Lead the way, Harry. I think the hallway near the library needs a bit of a morale boost. There are some fifth-years studying for O.W.L.s who look like they’ve forgotten what success looks like."

"Then we shall remind them," Harry said.

As they walked out of the Great Hall, Harry made sure to drape his arm over Ginny’s shoulders, pulling her close so that their stride was perfectly synchronized. He didn't look back to see the reactions they left in their wake. He didn't need to. He knew that for the rest of the day, the halls of Hogwarts would be buzzing with one name, and one name only.

"You know," Ginny whispered as they reached the marble staircase, her voice dropping into a more intimate, yet still performative tone. "I think people are starting to get the message. We really are the best thing to ever happen to this school."

Harry stopped at the top of the stairs, looking down at the students scurrying below. He felt the weight of his wand, the warmth of the girl at his side, and the intoxicating pull of his own legend.

"The school?" Harry asked, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ginny, darling, we’re the best thing to happen to the entire Wizarding world. And the best part is, we’re only just getting started."

He leaned down and kissed her, right there in the middle of the landing, where the sunlight from the high windows hit them like a spotlight. It was a long, dramatic kiss, designed to be seen, to be talked about, and to be envied.

When they finally pulled apart, Harry caught the eye of a passing Hufflepuff who had stopped to stare. Harry didn't scold him. He simply winked.

"Take a picture, kid," Harry said, his voice brimming with arrogant charm. "It’ll last longer. And it might be worth something one day."

With a final, synchronized toss of their heads, the couple turned and vanished into the corridor, leaving a trail of stunned silence and burning jealousy behind them. They didn't just walk through Hogwarts; they owned it. And as far as Harry Potter was concerned, the world was next.