Harry gripped the handlebars of the flying motorbike tightly.
Though the flying motorbike was incredibly powerful, it was nowhere near as fast as a Thestral. They did not reach London until close to midnight.
Ron had already fallen asleep in the sidecar. He did not wake until Harry brought the bike down to the ground.
"Merlin's beard, couldn't you land a little more smoothly? I thought we'd crashed!" Ron shouted.
Harry found a spot by the roadside to park and unfastened his helmet strap.
"I think I did better than you did last time. That mad Whomping Willow nearly killed us."
"That was my first time driving."
"So was mine."
"So what are you trying to say? That you're better than me at everything, right? Director!"
"You know I never wanted to be Director! Ronald!" Harry glared at Ron.
"Yeah, you never wanted it at all," Ron said perfunctorily, looking around the alley. "Where are we?"
"London. A Muggle neighborhood," Harry said coldly. "This intersection is part of our patrol route. We're Aurors on duty now."
Ron fell silent for a while, then said, "Why do you get to wear a jacket while I don't?"
"You can ask Hermione to buy you one too," Harry said stiffly.
"She's a busy woman now. How could she possibly remember me?" Ron complained indignantly.
"You could buy one yourself," Harry added.
"That wouldn't be any fun."
"Then what do you think would be fun?"
Ron looked up at the sky. The full moon flickered in and out behind the clouds.
"Do you think it'll rain?"
"The motorbike doesn't have a roof. If you want to stay in a car with a roof..."
"I should buy myself a flying car, right?" Ron interrupted Harry, then stood up in the sidecar.
"Where are you going?"