What was someone supposed to do when encountered by an Arabic Death Eater with a good range of magical knowing? Nothing. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived – and luckily kept on living, finally gave up. He didn't feel like dueling, but ironically was in the mood for riddles. Thoughts of Luna ran through his mind, making the boy even more irritated. Why, she'd already made everyone else hate him, why did she have to invade his mind as well?! It was his only place where he could be alone!
"Well, Mr. Potter," the Arabic man said, his tongue clicking on his top teeth. Aban's lip was more narrow than any that Harry had seen, it was like he'd gotten into a fight with the dental hygienists and... well, the dentists had a bit of difficulty getting to his teeth. "We meet again."
This man was good – almost too good for Harry's liking. "Again? I think I would've remembered a slob such as yourself," he spat out, annoyed more than he could put into words or thought.
Aban didn't like this comment much, apparently. "Why don't you keep your mouth shut, Potter?"
"Don't really like to do that," Harry confessed, a grin on his face, eyebrows raised. "Talking keeps my mind off of you."
SLAM! Harry's attention was drawn to the door. And who had he been expecting this time? Voldemort.
Fortunately, his expectations had been wrong. It was none other than the teary-eyed Luna Lovegood, her face red with annoyance, embarrassment and sadness. "Harry Potter, you two-faced jerk – what's going on?!" Her face went blank as she looked back and forth from Aban to Harry twice over.
"Not much time to explain," he muttered quickly, his eyes remaining on the Arab.