Chapter Thirteen: Mundungus Fletcher

A month soon passed by, uneventfully and painfully. Ron and Hermione hadn't been able to formulate a plan to rescue Narcissa Malfoy from Malfoy Manor in that time. And Harry found himself quickly taking to watching Draco from afar, that was, when he wasn't reading from the Half-Blood Prince's book, Advanced Potion-Making.

"Harry Potter," Hermione Granger said from her seat, "you will not convince him to hang out with you by staring at him like a swooning baboon."

They had found themselves a quiet table in the corner of the Library. Ron was sniggering behind his book. For once, he wasn't the one at the receiving end of Hermione's complaints.

"Draco is studying with Seamus, Hermione. Again," Harry whispered. Draco and Seamus were currently seated at a table by the far window. "What if they start dating?"

"I'm sure Draco has too much on his mind to think about dating anyone." She shook her head. "Harry, please pay attention. How are you going to pass your NEWTS? By telling the examiners you're the Chosen One?"

"But I am the Chosen One," he replied.

Hermione slapped him on the head with her book. Harry grinned in spite of the pain and rubbed his head. He saw Ron lowering his own book, the boy instead now covering his mouth to hide his laughter.

"Hello, Ron."

Harry looked up to see Lavender Brown and her best friend Parvati Patil approaching their table. The pair were dressed in casual clothes, loose jumpers and trousers. They weren't carrying books or their bookbags, which made Harry wonder what they were even doing in the Library. He'd never seen Lavender Brown reading during the weekend before.

"Err. Hi, there, err, Lavender," Ron said. "What's up?"

"Parvati and I were going to look at the section on Defence Against the Dark Arts books. NEWT exams, you know," she said, sounding flippant. "I just wanted to say, I'm sure you'll do brilliantly in your first quidditch game. I saw you play in the trials."

He grinned, no doubt happy to stop studying in favour of talking about quidditch. "Yeah, well, it was all natural talent, wasn't it? Keeping the quaffle from going in the hoop, that's easy for a well-trained Keeper."

"Natural talent, was it, Ronald?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, all talent, that's me." Ron turned back to Lavender. "Our first game isn't until after the Hogsmeade trip. Bit of a while away yet."

"We were wondering, would you like to join us in a study group? You were so amazing in Dumbledore's Army, and it's been just awful trying to study with the meetings now stopped."

Ron's face turned a boiling, scarlet colour. "Err, yeah, sure. I can help you remember a few spells."

"You don't have any reason to study Defence Against the Dark Arts though, Ron. You're proficient in that already," Hermione said. "We were going over Potions. We have that essay due in tomorrow, you know that."

"I'll finish it tonight, 'Mione. Promise."

Ron proceeded to pick up his books and his half-finished essay and shove them into his bookbag. He then followed Lavender and Parvati around the bookshelves, heading further on into the Library. Harry glanced away from the bookshelves, his attention returning to Draco Malfoy across the room.

"Hey, 'Mione. If I was still a Seeker on the Gryffindor Team, do you think Draco would ask for a study session with me?"

"Oh, shut up, Harry," Hermione grumbled. "Finish your damn essay."

That night, as Harry lay on his bed in his dorm, reading his copy of Advanced Potion-Making, a tiny barn owl came flying towards the balcony. He sat up and watched the bird crash into the glass doors. A loud bump! resounded from the doors, hinges and glass somehow managing to withstand the impact.

"What the hell was that?" Seamus asked, sitting up. The boy had been reading a gossip magazine on quidditch stars, the cover image displaying a moving picture of Victor Krum kissing a red-haired woman.

"Doesn't look like any of our owls," Corner muttered from his bed, having a clearer view of the balcony. "Who would send something now, anyway? Filch must've been overjoyed to search it this late in the evening."

Filch had been checking their mail, much to Harry's annoyance. His responsibilities now included checking for security concerns at the castle gate, scanning mail, and at times, interrogating students and professors. The owl outside on the balcony wouldn't have been able to enter Hogwarts' wards without first being checked over.

Harry grabbed his wand and clambered off his bed. It was quite late, and the lack of light pouring through the balcony doors meant that he and the others were now having to use their wands. Harry used his wand to look for treats in his trunk and then guide his way to the balcony safely, not wanting to trip on the floorboards or whack his foot against a trunk by accident.

He opened one of the balcony doors and untied the letter from the owl's leg. He fed and petted the owl, and then left it to return to the dorm. The letter was addressed on the front to Harry Potter, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He tore at the paper and read the contents.

Harry,

Hope you're well? I'll be floo-calling your common room tomorrow night. 11 p.m.
I would appreciate it if you could include Hermione and my cousin Draco. I know they live in your Tower.

Your beloved godfather,
Sirius Black.

"Who is it from, Potter?" Draco asked from his side of the dorm.

The prefect was lying propped up by pillows on his bed, reading his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. Harry didn't know what Draco would say if he ever found out that Harry's copy was the only reason that he'd won the phial of Felix Felicis in Potions.

"It's Sirius. He says he'll Floo call tomorrow night." Harry walked over to Draco's bed, leaned against the nearby wall casually, trying to hide his nervousness, and then passed the letter to the prefect, who put down his book to read the letter. "He'd like to speak to you. And Hermione, too."

"Both of us?" Draco frowned at the letter. "I'm not sure, Potter."

"Why is Harry's godfather asking to speak to you, Draco?" Seamus called from his bed.

Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek at hearing his fellow Gryffindor be familiar enough with Draco as to call him by his first name. It wasn't enough that Harry saw the two hang out together regularly, he was now having to deal with it also in his dormitory. Draco doesn't even like me calling him by his first name, he thought.

"Draco is a second cousin of my godfather's, Seamus," he replied, hoping that would silence the Gryffindor, before turning to address the Slytherin again. "You're not sure of what exactly?"

"Granger and you will be there, I'll just be intruding." He held out the letter for Harry to take back.

"You won't be." He took the letter. "I insist you join us, in fact."

"The Boy Who Lived, giving me orders?" Draco asked, chuckling. He leaned further back into his pillows, his arms lingering lazily over his kneecaps. He wore a black, long-sleeved pyjama shirt, and black bottoms to match. The shirt was a button-up, but the top two buttons were undone and his neckline and shoulders were on full display.

"I guess, yeah. Err, I don't want to force you or anything," Harry stuttered. Ashamed that he'd been staring, he glanced away from Draco and took to staring at the Slytherin's bedside table instead, the man having numerous books upon it. "Sirius - well, you know, he is your cousin and all, and I don't wanna be the reason you two don't talk. I think Sirius wants to get to know you."

"It's okay, Potter. I'll go down into the common room tomorrow with you." Draco picked up his book again, and sighed. "I want to check and see how my own godfather is treating yours, in any case. I'd hate to think if Severus was still mistreating Sirius."

Seamus then went into a tirade, asking how Professor Snape could possibly be Draco's godfather. Harry, knowing he'd nothing to speak to the Slytherin about now without raising the alarm of his dorm mates, particularly Corner, who was lying awake in his bed and would no doubt be gossiping about their conversation tonight to his friends, then retreated back to his four-poster bed to continue reading from his copy of Advanced Potion-Making.

"I'm tired," Draco responded to Seamus. "I'll tell you why Severus is my godfather tomorrow, maybe. Or some other time." He groaned, and laid his book down to rub his forehead.

"You all right, Draco?" Seamus then asked.

Harry lowered his book to peek over the top of it, not wanting Seamus and Corner to know that he was worried. The prefect looked sick, his skin greyish. Harry had been bringing him sandwiches and apples occasionally, at least once a week, trying to encourage Draco to eat, but there was only so much he could do without arousing suspicion. Corner was still a gossip, and there were times Draco stayed out the entire day, only returning to their dorm to keep within curfew.

Draco shrugged. "I'm just tired, I think."

Harry narrowed his gaze at the prefect. Has he been sleeping well? Why didn't I notice?

"Maybe you could shut your curtains," Harry said. "And Seamus and I could dim our lights?" Seamus nodded, and dimmed the light of his wand almost instantly at Harry's suggestion. "Don't want you nodding off in class tomorrow, huh, Malfoy?" he went on with a lame joke, trying to get the prefect to smile and sleep.

"I need to study, Potter. I can't afford to sleep."

Harry frowned, and envisaging no possible way he could get Draco to put down his book without making Seamus and Corner suspect his intentions, he went back to glumly reading his own. He did dim his own light, though. I wish I could grab that book. Draco would tug it back and then...then we'd get into a childish squabble or something, and he wouldn't be able to get it back and he'd have to listen to me and sleep. He tried paying attention to his Potions book again, but that proved impossible, given that all he wanted to do now was yell at Draco because the blond was looking after himself so poorly.

Corner didn't dim his light or shut his curtains, to Harry's anger. It was another hour before the Ravenclaw finally decided to dress for bed and shut his curtains. Seamus followed then, shutting his curtains as well.

Harry sighed, and settled beneath his quilts. He didn't close his curtains, though, wanting to keep an eye on the prefect and keep reading. The previous owner of the book had written a spell in the margin of his book. Levicorpus, use non-verbally. Harry rubbed his eyes, and dug deeper into his quilts. He put the book down by his side, figuring he would close his eyes for a moment.

Only a moment.

He awoke the next day with the quilt tucked around his shoulders, and his book and glasses sitting on his bedside table. He'd fallen asleep many a time before with his glasses on. He didn't want to be late for his first class, Transfiguration, however, so he didn't have the time to think further on how his things had safely ended up on his bedside table.

He did have one suspicion, though: Draco Malfoy, the only one who had still been awake at the time Harry had fallen asleep. The thought stayed with Harry until nightfall, when he could finally find a moment alone with Draco in the common room. Draco had spent the entire day with his friends, and no doubt, in the Room of Requirement as well.

Harry bit the inside of his cheek as the blond sat down on the sofa beside him. He couldn't ask the Slytherin if he'd been trying to repair the Vanishing Cabinet, that would send the man running.

Thankfully, Hermione had tucked herself away in the seat by the window. She'd said she was already feeling too hot and didn't want to sit so close to the fireplace until Sirius called them through the Floo network. Or so she claims. Harry wondered if she was just allowing him some privacy with Draco. I have gone on about him a bit, lately, he thought guiltily.

Harry gave an awkward cough. "So, I found my glasses on my table this morning. Did - were you the one who removed them last night?"

Draco shuffled on the sofa. "I did."

Harry was glad for the fire. He was sure he'd be blushing, were it not for the heat already reddening his cheeks. "Why?"

"If you laid on your glasses, they would've hurt you, or worse, shattered. And your Potions book, that could've fallen on the floor. Nice read by the way, lots of notations. And I saw that spell. Levicorpus, whatever it was." He titled his head. "Could I burrow it sometime? Only for Potions. Better marks, you know."

"Why? You're good at Potions?"

"St. Mungo's don't typically hire Death Eaters, Potter. I'll need the best grades I can get," he said sourly. He raised his arm and examined it idly. "I hate this Mark with every thing that I am."

"Sure. Yeah - you, err, yeah, you can burrow the book." Harry couldn't believe what he was saying; he didn't even like it when Ron and Hermione looked at his book, never mind reading from it. He didn't regret the offer, though. "Hermione knows. About your Mark, I had to tell Ron and Hermione, I'm sorry. We're trying to work out a way to keep you and your mother safe."

"It's fine, Potter. I imagine you three can keep a secret. Although it does surprise me, that your friend, err, Weasley - sorry, no - Ronald, he wants to protect me?"

Harry smiled inwardly at Draco acting friendly and trying to address Harry's best friend by something other than his last name.

"You'd be surprised, Ron is willing to give you a chance, Draco. Just keeping protecting first years and casting magic at Snape in class, you'll win him over." Harry grinned as the prefect looked down and rubbed his neck, presumably from nervousness. Harry frowned, and then thought to change the subject. "Hey. You said you wanted to work at St. Mungo's? As what, a Healer?"

"If I end up surviving the year, yes. Not sure if you heard the commotion, but the first day back, I announced my decision to change my career path. Snape and my friends where not too pleased about that, and neither will my father be happy once he finds out. Healers are incredible, the depth of knowledge required is unfathomable."

"Did I hear you speaking about becoming a Healer, Draco?" Hermione asked. She was walking over, book in hand, finally having left her window seat. "I hear you need top marks for that."

"Outstanding in Potions and Transfiguration. And at least Exceeds Expectations in Herbology, Charms, and Defence Against the Dark. I'm also taking Arithmancy, as you know, Hermione, though that subject isn't a requirement." Draco leaned back into the sofa. "I'm well advanced in Potions, but Transfiguration...the spells this year, they're so complex. I'm struggling, I'll admit."

"I'd be happy to study with you, if you like?" Hermione said tentatively.

Draco looked pained by her question then. "Hermione Granger," he said, shifting to lay his hands on his lap, "I must apologise to you for all those names I called you in the past years. Mudblood, especially. And my pranks and teasing. I was...unkind." He looked back at the fire. "And thank you for your offer to study together, I would accept it but the Dark Lord would hear of our study sessions eventually. It would end in my mother's death, mine, and perhaps yours."

"Malfoy -" Hermione began.

The flames in the fireplace flashed and roared loudly, interrupting whatever reply Hermione meant to give. It was another moment, and then the fire turned green and Sirius Black's face appeared in it.

"Harry, my boy! And you brought Hermione and Draco, too. Good, good."

Harry grinned. "How are you, Sirius?"

"Well, as well as can be expected really, with Professor Snape constantly knocking at my door." He snorted. "Tonks informed me that Dumbledore has insisted that Snape see to my mental healing. Not that I see how ol' Snape could help with that."

"Severus is the only one trustworthy enough to treat you," Draco said. "He kept refusing until we intervened. Harry got Dumbledore to agree with us and force Snape to see you."

Sirius huffed. "Did Harry do that, now? Yes, I can see that. Typical, Snape would only help me when forced to." He sighed and went on, "I hope you're all doing well. Thought I'd give you a call."

"We're okay," Harry replied. "Not much on, other than Hermione making us study for NEWTS."

He chuckled. "And you, Draco, how is Malfoy Manor? Your mother well?"

The prefect looked down at the floor. Harry reached for his hand. He took it gently and squeezed it, getting the man's attention. "You can trust Sirius," Harry told him. "He's your cousin, and my godfather. He won't tell Mr Weasley or anyone at the Ministry." He turned to his godfather. "Isn't that right?"

Sirius was staring at their entwined hands. He coughed, and said, "Of course. Only recently declared innocent, wasn't I? The morons at the Ministry of Magic couldn't work it out for themselves that I didn't kill anyone. No - no indeed, the Ministry and I are most certainly not on friendly terms."

Draco scoffed. "The Ministry wouldn't be able to help. My mother is being kept in the Manor against her wishes, although no one would imagine it."

"Why? What's going on with Narcissa?"

"The Dark Lord forced me into taking the Dark Mark. He...he tortured my mother with the cruciatus." Draco slid the sleeve of shirt up, revealing the bandages enveloping his wrist. "Veelas don't take too well to Dark Magic, hence the bandages. A human could accept the Dark Mark, but a veela...my body is refusing to heal the wound." He hid his wrist again. "The Dark Lord's also given me the mission to kill the Headmaster, and if I fail, he'll murder my mother and myself. I don't really have a lot of options."

Hermione nodded. "Voldemort and Bellatrix are essentially blackmailing Draco with threats against his mother."

"We need to help Draco, Sirius. Him and his mother," Harry said, tightening his grip on the prefect's hand. He didn't want to let go, and since Draco hadn't taken his hand away yet, he didn't feel the need to either.

"I'm not overly fond of your mother, Draco, she did marry Lucius. But if you could find a way to get her to my residence, you and her are welcome to stay." Sirius smiled grimly. "There is a Fidelius charm on my home, though, so I can't tell you the location of my place, only Dumbledore can. He is my official Secret-Keeper."

"I would need to inform the Headmaster then, about the whole of it," Draco said quietly, the realisation hitting him. Harry wished that he could take the pain away; the blond looked so demoralized, it was heart-breaking to watch.

"Dumbledore will understand. He cannot begrudge you wanting sanctuary from Voldemort, and if he refuses to tell you, then I'll find a way to replace him as my Secret-Keeper." Sirius sounded serious in his promise. "The other members of the Order may not like it, but this is my residence. My roof."

"The Order?" Draco inquired, frowning.

"The Order of the Phoenix. A secret organisation founded by Dumbledore for those who oppose Voldemort and his followers," Hermione answered. She moved from the window-seat to sit on the sofa beside Harry, and continued, "Ron, Harry and I only discovered the group existed last year, no one wanted us to know. Everyone in the Order tried to keep it a secret."

"I'll be going home for Christmas," Draco announced then. "The Dark Lord, he'll expect results. If I can't show anything, he'll torture my mother again. My mother has nowhere to go. Nowhere that Bellatrix doesn't already know about."

Sirius nodded. "Listen, if you can get Dumbledore to tell you the site of my residence, and find a way to safely get you two out of the Manor, then you're more than welcome to live here permanently. It's not often I invite family home, I don't abide by pureblood purists, and most of them are that, but you're not. And I refuse to let you suffer - you're sixteen years old. In Merlin's name, why is Voldemort making a child do his dirty work?"

"That is what we've been trying to figure out," Hermione said.

The following morning, students poured out from the Entrance Hall. The first Hogsmeade trip of the year was always popular; students had to restock on chocolates, books, quills, etc. It was taking longer than usual to leave the castle, though, because Filch was triple-checking every student with a Secrecy Sensor. Harry wanted to tell Filch that triple-checking wasn't necessary, since students were more likely to try bringing illegal objects into the castle rather than leave with them, but he thought better of it when he quickly remembered that Filch wouldn't appreciate being talked back at. Not with his massive workload now.

The walk was bothersome, too. The sky had clouded over, and the temperature was freezing. Hermione had forced Harry into his leather coat, which he'd brought from Caroline's shop but hardly worn, a scarf, woolly socks, a thick pair of gloves, and she had cast a warming charm on him that would probably dissipate later and would need to be recast.

On reaching Hogsmeade, they found Zonko's Joke Shop boarded up. Draco isn't missing anything, nothing is open. Ron drew them over to Honeydukes, where a security guard stood at the front entrance, wand in hand. Harry slipped inside, and immediately made to find a selection of Chocolate Cauldrons, thinking that Draco might appreciate a gift from the shop since he couldn't visit himself. He might not accept the chocolates from me, though; he only accepted them as a gift because they were from Pansy last time.

Groaning, Harry thumped his head against the shelf. Why is this so difficult? Draco was likely used to receiving fancier sweets from his mother, so anything from Harry would seem mundane in comparison. And he wasn't even sure if getting the chocolates for Draco would be a good idea - the Slytherin was supposed to be eating healthily and he couldn't accomplish that on his own.

So occupied with his thoughts, he didn't see Professor Slughorn approach. The professor greeted Harry merrily and inquired after why he hadn't attended the latest of his evening suppers, to which Harry could only think of one excuse: that he was so focused on controlling his vampirism, he didn't have time for socialising.

"Being a vampire isn't an excuse, Harry," Hermione scolded him on leaving the sweet shop. "Slughorn loves creatures. He plans to invite one to his Christmas party, I think."

"Brilliant. Then he doesn't need me there."

They made their way to the Three Broomsticks, the wind pelting their faces like knives, their bags of Honeydukes sweets swinging. Harry himself had bought two boxes of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and a dozen Blood-Flavoured Lollipops.

Outside the pub were two men. The tallest was the landlord of the Hog's Head, another pub in Hogsmeade. He was dressed in a coat, his mouth and neck hidden by a dark blue scarf. The shorter, scraggier looking man, carrying a suitcase, Harry quickly recognised.

"Mundungus!" he shouted.

The man squealed. "Harry Potter, what - I thought you were still at Honeydukes?" He retreated in shock until his back hit the outside wall of the Three Broomsticks. His suitcase swung with his hasty movements, and hit the wall as well, making a clapping noise. The suitcase's clasps at the top sprung open, and numerous pieces of grubby ware fell out onto the ground.

The landlord of the Hog's Head gave Harry a deep grunt, and then walked around them to leave, not wanting to continue his conversation with Mundungus now that there was an audience.

"We left the shop to grab a drink here," Hermione replied, frowning. "Are you selling this stuff?"

"Well, I gotta scrape a living."

"Hang on," Ron said, stepping forward. "This looks familiar -" He picked up a silver goblet and turned it over in his hands. "Hey, isn't this - ?"

Harry dropped his bag of sweets. He grabbed Mundungus by the throat and pinned him to the wall. Holding him fast with one hand, he leaned in. "Why are you selling Sirius' stuff, Mundungus?" he asked, his voice deeper, rougher, than planned. "Did you steal his things? The Black family silver?"

"I - no -"

"Did you steal his things whilst he was lying in hospital? Did you?"

"Harry, stop!" Hermione shrieked, as Mundungus started sweating.

"Yes! Yes, I did, but Black knows. Black caught me, and as - as payment, he wants me to keep an eye on you," he spluttered. "You were in Honeydukes talking to that professor - you left - you weren't supposed to see -"

"Didn't think we'd leave and come here so soon?" Harry spat. "You thieving, spoilt -"

Briefly, stopping him from speaking, a sharp stab of pain swept through the upper part of jaw. He knew his fangs had come out then. He was more glad than surprised, however, the anger in him boiling past the point of caring.

"You - how - vampire? You're a vampire?"

"Yes, I am. It happened during the summer, when you were meant to be watching me."

"No, no, I'm sorry." Mundungus was shaking in his grip now. "What - what do you want? I can get you anything. Anything at all."

"Anything?" Harry squeezed his fingers. "How could you help me? You allowed dementors to attack my cousin and I last summer, you let us get attacked again by vampires this summer, and now you're selling my godfather's things -"

"I heard you need transportation! I can get it, I can."

Hermione scowled. "How did you hear? Sirius only floo-called yesterday."

"I crept into the house, didn't I? Quiet, I am, right. Overheard the last of the conversation, him speaking to you, lass. Was somethin' about a Manor. And needing to convince Dumbledore to let a sixteen year old and someone else know where Grimmauld Place is, and trying to get them there. All hush-hush, sounds like."

"Is that all you heard?" Harry demanded, tightening his grip on the man's throat. I could bite him. If he heard Draco's voice, he could tell anyone. Draco would be compromised; he could be killed.. That can't happen, it can't. "Say it, what else did you overhear?!"

"Nothing! I just heard the last of it, I swear. Sirius and the lass talking, that's all." Harry released Mundungus then. The man bent over, panting, and yet, in spite of that, continued on, "You have money. I can't help you with convincing ol' Albus Dumbledore, but I can get you transportation. I can get you whatever you want, portkey, broom, floo -"

Harry grinned. "Portkey, that's it! You can get one?" If he could give the portkey to Draco, then the Slytherin and his mother would be able to travel from the Manor to Grimmauld Place safely during the holidays.

"Harry!" Ron shouted. "No, that's too much. He'd be creating an illegal portkey!"

"Nah, I can get a legal one, Weasley. I got a woman in the Department of Magical Transportation who owes me a favour, she does. She can authorise the use of a portkey for you. You just tell me what day and time you need the portkey to leave, where the portkey should land with the travellers, and I'll have her set it up."

"The drop-off point will be the street outside Grimmauld Place," Harry said. "And I'll owl you the day and time, I don't have that yet."

"And I'll owl you the price-tag. This will be an expensive, Potter."

Harry didn't care if he had to empty his entire vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank. He had to prevent Draco from being blackmailed by Voldemort and murdering Albus Dumbledore.

"I can afford it. This needs to be your sole focus, Mundungus. I don't want to see you selling stuff here until you acquire that portkey, and I want you to return Sirius' things."

People were beginning to gather around them, no doubt waiting to enter the Three Broomsticks. Or, more likely, they were too interested in overhearing their conversation to attempt to walk around and enter the pub.

"Any other stipulations?" Mundungus asked, becoming ambiguous now. He'd noticed the increasing number of people, too.

"Your word you won't tell anyone. Only us, you, and Sirius can know." Harry gritted his teeth, making his fangs lay threateningly over his bottom lip. "Are we clear?"

"Clear as crystal."

The scraggy man bowed. He collected his wares from the ground and placed them back into his suitcase, then took his wand out from his pocket and waved it. With a clicking sound, he apparated.

Harry turned and looked on the small crowd that had gathered behind him. Paying attention now, he could see Colin Creevey in amongst a group of Gryffindors. Michael Corner and Cho Chang were standing aside, too, whispering to one another. There were also a few adults around. A flash went off, blinding Harry momentarily. Someone was taking pictures.

Ron groaned. "Bloody hell, let's go."

Harry bent down to pick up the forgotten bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and Blood-Flavoured Lollipops. He raised his scarf to cover his fangs and then followed Ron and Hermione, shoving his way past the onlookers, crumpled bag of sweets in hand.