Harry was sitting on the swings in a park in normal London, taking in the summer day. It was July 1995. He glanced briefly at the person who approached him, wondering what they wanted.

"Hello," Harry eventually said, trying to break the awkward silence. He continued to swing slightly, gazing at the sky. Harry was 18, having been forcefully aged up by the Goblet of Fire due to the tournament rules and being forced to compete.