Harry stares out the open window, trying desperately to focus his attention elsewhere: the salty breeze, the way it pushes through his curls and makes his eyes water. The grass-and-tree covered mountains that dip in and out of view as they drive further out of the city. The big, old houses: tan stone, pillared balconies, worn wooden window shutters, gated front gardens crowded with ancient fruit trees and blossoming vines.