Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
"…" Speech
/…/ Parseltongue
Italics Thoughts
Chapter 3:
Harry was currently whirling round and round at dizzying speeds. A loud roaring sound blared into his ears, green flames danced around him, and hot ash filled his eyes and mouth, making him cough and splutter, unable to breath. Therefore it was not surprising that Harry was dizzy, bruised, aching and, most definitely, not happy. As he began to feel as if he was spinning upside down, he clamped his eyes shut in a futile attempt to pretend that he was not trapped in a seemingly endless vortex surrounded by flames, and tried to convince himself that he was certainly not about to lose the contents of his churned up stomach. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, it was not working. Just as Harry was about to completely panic and lose any sliver of rational thought left in his head, he fell, face forward, onto cold stone, his glasses shattering beneath him.
Gingerly, Harry got to his feet, wincing in pain.
"No freakin' way am I ever going to use Floo Powder again," Harry muttered under his breath, brushing soot off his clothes.
/I sssecond that notion. / hissed Nemesis from her position around Harry's neck, looking distinctly nauseous. /And thossse two redheaded doltsss ssssaid that it would be fun. / she said in a tone of utter disgust. Mocking a fake, hearty voice she continued, / 'Oh, don't worry; it won't be a problem. It'sss jolly exciting. You won't feel a thing.'/
/The next time I see those two, they will seriously regret saying that. No way am I going to let this pass without retaliating/ Harry replied, his eyes narrowing. /I feel cold, sore, ill, and exhausted and it's entirely their fault! /
/Well, when you take your revenge, do let me know. I want to make sure I sssee it. / spat Isis, maliciously. /No one shovesss me up a bloody chimney without ssserious regretting it! /
/Uh... Isis? / said Harry, uncertainly, to the bloodthirsty snake who was still spitting threats under her breath. /So sorry to interrupt your delightful plotting, but do you have any idea where we are? /
/What? / hissed Isis irritably, then she noticed her surroundings for the first time. /Hey, thisss isssn't Diagon Alley! /
/Yes, I realise that. The Dark Arts books and bloodstains all over the merchandise alerted me to the fact. / said Harry dryly.
He was standing beside a stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop; but nothing in here was even remotely appealing. A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards and a staring glass eye. An assortment of human bones lay upon the counter and spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Harry really didn't want to know what they were used for.
/I vote we get out of here asss fassst asss we can. / commented Isis, her voice holding a slightly panicked tone.
/For once I have to agree with you, / said Harry, eyeing a particularly grisly item that looked like a human brain, covered in congealed blood. /Right, let's go. /
Harry made his way swiftly and silently towards the door, but before he'd got halfway there, two people appeared on the other side of the glass. One of whom, Harry was extremely relieved to see.
"Draco! Thank Merlin you're here."
"Harry?" said his grey-eyed friend incredulously. His usual drawl seemed to have faded in shock. "I thought we decided to meet up in Diagon Alley. This place is incredibly dangerous. You can't just wander about unaccompanied. And what happened to your clothes?" Draco was eyeing Harry's soot covered top in unconcealed distaste.
"Floo Powder," Harry explained, rolling his eyes in disgust. "I fell out at the wrong gate."
"Typical. Only you could make such a mess of things, Harry," said Draco, his superior Malfoy smirk back in place. "The press would have a field day. I can just see the headlines of the Prophet: 'Boy-Who-Lived Lost Up Chimney'."
"Funny, you really are," Harry replied, sneering.
"Glad you think so, I-" Draco was interrupted by a soft, dangerous voice from behind him. Harry had completely forgotten the second figure that had entered the shop.
"Ah, Mr Potter, I presume," drawled the tall, blond man who looked like an older version of Draco. He held out his hand towards Harry and introduced himself, although Harry already knew who he was. "Lucius Malfoy."
"Harry Potter," replied Harry, shaking hands. A closed expression was present on his face. He knew, of course, that the elder Malfoy was powerful and had once been a supporter of Lord Voldemort, and did not want to let his guard down around him. He also did not want to anger the wizard, as that would no doubt secure heavy repercussions for Draco. A Death Eater's son was not supposed to befriend the Boy-Who-Lived. "Pleased to meet you," Harry said, decidedly careful to keep his voice neutral.
"Likewise," retorted the elder Malfoy with a slight mocking tone to his voice. "So, you are a Slytherin, aren't you." It wasn't a question. "I have to admit I was quite… surprised when I heard. Although I probably should have suspected it. After all, since you look so much like your father it is highly improbable that you inherited his lack of brains as well. You are very fortunate in that respect."
"Some would say quite the opposite, sir," drawled Harry in reply, using his most evasive voice. He did not want to insult his own father, nor did he want to disagree with the father of his friend.
"Such as the Weasleys, I imagine." The wizard had a calculating expression on his face.
"Some of that family, no doubt, but not all," said Harry while at the same time thinking, Shit, He knows I stayed with them. This is not good. The Weasleys and the Malfoys had had a blood feud between them for centuries. It was virtually impossible to befriend both families at the same time.
"Hmm," The older Malfoy staring piercingly at Harry before changing the subject completely. "I take it you wish to go to Diagon Alley? If you wait here with my son until I have finished some business in this shop, I will escort you there."
"Thank you, sir."
With no further comment, Lucius Malfoy swept up to the counter. A stooping man appeared behind it, smoothing grey, greasy back from his face. As the two began discussing the prices of various objects, Harry turned to Draco.
"So, do you think that went well?" Harry asked in a low voice.
"Too early to say," Draco responded quietly. "Just try and act as Slytherin as possible. If he decides that you are like your mother he will probably not dislike you too much."
"Oh yeah… It slipped from my mind that he was good friends with Mum," said Harry. His mother, Lily Potter, had been in Slytherin and, despite being Muggleborn, had had a lot of influence in that house. "Well, you needn't worry about me getting an urge to act like a chivalrous Gryffindor. A whole house full of damn Gryffindors has surrounded me for weeks and it has seriously grated on my nerves. I can't stand their prejudices." He pointedly ignored the hypocrisy of this statement. Slytherins were notorious for their intolerance. "They had the presumption to tell me that all Slytherins are evil, and that I was actually a true Gryffindor!" Harry ranted on to an amused Draco about all that had occurred over his stay at the Burrow. After five minutes of this, Draco's amusement soon turned to boredom and he lazily interrupted.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure it was all very vexing for you. Now, what do you think my chances are of making the Quidditch team this year? Father promised to buy me a new racing broom, a Nimbus Two Thousand and One."
"Well, if you want to get a Chaser position you'll have to be bloody brilliant. Flint won't knock Pucey or Montague off the team without a very good reason. He knows perfectly well that the two of them would murder him. Horribly. And of course, what the hell would he be thinking if he actually let someone take his position? He'd cut off his own arms before he'd do that."
The two continued discussing Quidditch until Draco's father had finished dealing with the shopkeeper. The elder wizard swept past them without a word, leaving them to follow him - equally silent - down the twisted street of Knockturn Alley.
"So," started Harry in an undertone as they were nearing Diagon Alley. "Where's Blaise? You said that she was staying with you."
"Oh, she's going to meet us at Florean Fortesque's. She said she didn't want to go to such a dark area as Knockturn Alley, but personally, I think she just wanted to eat more ice cream."
"Sounds like Blaise," said Harry, smirking. "That girl is more greedy than Crabbe and Goyle put together. It seems to me she only lives for food and nothing else."
"Correction, she lives for food and annoying the hell out of me," grumbled Draco as they sauntered over to the ice cream shop. There was no sign of Blaise. "Where the hell has she got to now?"
"No idea," replied Harry, looking around.
"Son, I need to go to the apothecary," announced Lucius Malfoy, ignoring their search. "I will meet you in Flourish and Blotts within an hour." With that he again swept off, his cloak billowing impressively out behind him, leaving Harry to wonder if it was physically impossible for the man to just walk out normally.
"Thank Merlin he's gone. Let's grab a table and wait for Blaise. She should turn up soon," suggested Draco, walking over to a table in the far corner where there were no other people in earshot. After they sat down he continued, lowering his voice considerably. "I don't know what is wrong with my father. He has been acting very oddly as of late."
"Really, he seems normal," remarked Harry unconcernedly. "He's wandering around Dark Art shops, dresses all in black with a snake motif, and seems to strongly dislike me."
"I'm serious, Harry," said Draco, irritated. There was an undercurrent of worry in his voice that made Harry sit up and pay attention. "It's as if he's possessed. He sometimes looks at me as if he has no memory of who I am. He doesn't recognise me. And he is acting so much… well, colder than usual. Distant."
"Uh, isn't he always cold and distant? He's Lucius Malfoy for Merlin's sake. I mean, err, well, wasn't he a Death Eater?" Harry said this tentatively, not sure how to breach such a private subject. Draco had never spoken of such things to Harry.
"Yes, he was," said Draco, flatly. "But that doesn't mean he acts like an evil git around his family as well. Of course, he's never affectionate or loving, but I could always sense that he cared for me, on some level at least."
"Cared? Past tense?"
"That's the thing. He doesn't seem to feel anything anymore, for either Mum or myself. We just don't seem to be of any importance. Honestly, he's completely changed. He spends his whole time locked up in his study, writing in some book. I just don't know what's wrong." Draco's mask slipped and Harry caught a glimpse of deep concern on his face. Not good. Draco always guards his emotions. He must be truly upset to let anything slip.
Harry opened his mouth, not really knowing what he wanted to say, but was interrupted by a woman walking over to their table. And it appeared to be not just any woman. She was… beautiful, fantastic, sexy, incredible, wonderful... All those words entered Harry's head, and all of them were dismissed as inadequate. Her hair was blonde with a reddish tinge to it. Her eyes were black and entrancing. Her body was… perfect. She was heaven. Hips swaying softly, the witch sashayed up to them and, seeing their dazed expressions, grinned. It was a particularly evil, scheming grin with an underlying hint of smug satisfaction that Harry had only seen on one other person before. He snapped out of his daze.
"Blaise!"
The woman's smirk disappeared to be replaced by a disappointed pout. "How did you know it was me?"
"That's for me to know and you to find out. Now Morph back to normal, there's no one here to see."
"Fine, you always ruin my fun," whined the woman, screwing up her face. Suddenly her features seemed to melt and swirl together, growing smaller and more pointed. Seconds later a black-haired, purple-eyed girl stood there, still pouting. This sudden transformation seemed to wake Draco from his trance, and a rather confused expression found itself onto his face.
"What, where did she go?" he said in a disappointed voice. "Blaise, did you scare her off?"
"No, you dolt. It seems your feeble brain has forgotten that I am actually a Metamorphmagus."
"That woman was you?" drawled Draco in unflattering disbelief.
"Yes, it was," snapped Blaise, clearly annoyed. "Now if you don't mind, I want to buy my school things." With that she flounced away, dragging Harry with her.
"So, how was your summer?" inquired Harry, deciding to stay in safe grounds. "You went to France for a couple of weeks, didn't you?"
"Yeah, it was kind-a cool. But my parents insisted on dragging me around to really boring museums and 'points of interest'. Not what I call fun. Bloody Ravenclaws."
"Well, not everyone is as uncultured as you are. All you want to do is eat, sleep, and chase after dangerous, blood-thirsty creatures," smirked Harry, dodging Blaise's elbow with a grin.
"I'm not the one that keeps the most dangerous snake in existence as a pet," said Blaise, glaring pointedly at Nemesis.
"Yes, but I can actually talk to her," replied Harry.
"I can talk to animals, too," pouted Blaise defensively.
"I meant that I can actually understand her, idiot," retorted Harry, rolling his eyes. "Although sometimes I wish I didn't. She never shuts up, normally."
/I heard that, / hissed Isis, glancing up at him lazily. /You should really check if I'm awake before you start complaining. You won't survive very long in this world if you don't. /
Bickering good-naturedly amongst themselves, Harry, Blaise and Isis made their way up the marble steps of the Gringotts bank. (Draco had disappeared some time ago. They had no idea where he had gone.) After talking to one of the goblins that ran the bank, Harry and Blaise were lead off to their underground vaults. After a break-neck journey along miniature train-tracks through the bank's many tunnels deep under the earth, they reached Harry's vault. Looking in unconcealed glee at the mounds of gold, Harry grabbed his moneybag and began stuffing it with Knuts, Sickles and Galleons. Last year he hadn't realised the true worth of each coin and had taken out a rather small amount of money, but this year Harry was determined not to make the same mistake. One of the ways to get to the top of Slytherin House was to flaunt your wealth and connections. As Harry didn't have many connections, he had to settle on spending as much money as possible on extravagant, and often useless, items.
Back outside on the marble steps, after Blaise had grabbed some money from her own vault, they set off again. Before they could get very far, Fred and George, who came bounding out from a nearby joke shop, accosted them.
"There you are, Harry!"
"We were wondering when-"
"-you'd turn up. I, unfortunately, bet that you'd be lost until Monday at least-"
"-but I told Fred that it would only take you a few hours."
"I owe him twenty Sickles 'cause of that," ended Fred, morosely.
"No 'Oh Harry, we were so worried!' or, 'We're so sorry for trying to get you killed'?" growled Harry in annoyance.
"Floo Powder isn't lethal, you know," commented George. "I thought it was a great lark."
"Where did you turn up, anyway?" asked Fred.
"Knockturn Alley," snapped Harry.
"Wicked!" said Fred and George together.
"We've never been allowed in," said Fred enviously.
"Nor have I," remarked Blaise, "But nothing as trifling as being forbidden stopped me."
"Ah, my dear Blaise," said Fred in an exaggerated posh voice, bowing low. "How do you do, light-of-my-life? My sweet slytherin lady?"
"Aren't you getting a bit confused?" said George, quirking his eyebrows. "Calling any Slytherin sweet is insane, and you can't be in Slytherin and be a lady at the same time. It's a what's-its-name, an oxymoron."
"I thought that was something to do with breathing," said Fred, frowning.
"Well, I might have got a bit mixed-up," conceded George. "But, anyway, very nice to meet you again," he said, turning back to Blaise.
"Thanks, George," replied Blaise with a smirk.
"You know our names," said Fred, gaping. "How the hell can you tell us apart?"
"Well-," began Blaise but her reply was lost as at that moment, Mrs. Weasley bustled up, bristling in indignation.
"Fred! George! What do you think you are doing?"
"Nothing, Mum," protested George as Mrs Weasley herded him away from the two second-years.
"We weren't doing anything-" started Fred only to be cut off by his mother's stern glare.
"Not another word from either of you," she snapped, dragging the twins off towards Gringotts at a furious pace. A couple of phrases drifted back to Harry and Blaise as the three Weasleys left.
"Never been so ashamed! … consorting with Slytherins…what will your father say…"
One last "But Mu-um!" reached their ears before the red-haired family were completely out of earshot.
"Charming woman," said Blaise sarcastically. "You stayed with them for two weeks?"
"Three actually, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley don't consider me to be a true Slytherin. Apparently I'm actually a Gryffindor in disguise."
Laughing, the two friends ambled down the winding, cobbled street, examining shop windows as they passed. Draco and Theodore Nott joined them as they wandered by 'Quality Quidditch Supplies.' Draco had been drooling over the new Nimbus that he was going to get and was extremely smug as a result. Theodore seemed extremely relieved to escape Draco.
"He's been lecturing me on the abilities of that bloody broomstick ever since I met him," he hissed in his soft voice, scowling.
"I sympathise with you," stated Harry with a smirk at the edges of his lips. "I really do. Draco's been all conceited and disdainful about my broom."
"Of course I have," said Draco, overhearing. "Mine is a superior model and-"
"So, are you going to Flourish and Blotts to pick up your new books?" Theodore asked hurriedly before the blond could start all over again.
"Yep, I haven't got anything so far," replied Harry, emphasizing his words to make sure Draco would get the hint.
"Well, just to warn you, there's apparently something major going on in the shop. A book signing or something of that sort," drawled the other dark-haired boy.
He was right. As they approached the store, they saw a large crowd jostling outside the door, trying to get in. A large banner stretched across the upper windows proclaimed in glittering, gold letters:
"GILDEROY LOCKHART
will be signing copies of his autobiography,
MAGICAL ME
Today at 12.30 – 4.30 pm"
A large photo was hanging underneath showing a blonde-haired blue-eyed wizard in fluorescent coloured robes that winked roguishly at them.
"There is no way that that man managed to defeat werewolves and vampires. He looks like a bumbling idiot," snorted Blaise.
"Yeah, and his books don't make any sense," added Theodore. "In one book he wrote about how he heroically defeated a whole pack of werewolves, but he obviously forgot that werewolves are solitary animals. They do not often mix with their own kind."
"How the hell do you know that?" asked Blaise, impressed.
"Cause Theo's a nerd. Never see him without a book or something educational," sneered Draco.
"You're just pissed off cause I got a better Astronomy mark than you," replied his dorm-mate with a self-satisfied smirk.
"Anyway, let's start pushing our way through," said Harry. "We'll just buy our books and leave. I, for one, do not want my books to be signed by a man that looks like he just came out of a Colgate commercial."
The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of middle-aged witches who were all looking extremely flustered and were constantly re-applying their make-up. After they had jostled their way through the crowd, (earning many dark looks from the more law-abiding witches) Harry, Blaise, Theodore and Draco finally managed to grab their schoolbooks, passing some redheaded Weasleys on the way. They then had to battle their way to the cash register that, unfortunately, was right by the desk where the celebrity was sitting. Gradually, Lockhart came into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. Here the crowd was at its thickest, and it was virtually impossible for the four Slytherins to squeeze their way through.
"Watch where you're going!"
"Stop pushing!"
"Do you have no manners, young man?"
The women in the crowd were obviously determined not to let them through and the friends were getting really pissed off. When a particularly thickset woman snapped,
"You have to wait your turn!" and elbowed Draco hard in the stomach, the young Malfoy heir was officially fed up. Giving a slightly apologetic glance at Harry, he shouted back,
"Merlin be damned, Harry Potter wants to pay for his books so bloody well move!!"
The woman heard him, and stared in awe-struck silence. The rest of the crowd heard him, and began whispering excitedly. Gilderoy Lockhart heard him, looked up, and positively yelled, "Merlin! Is that Harry Potter?"
/Now would be a very good time to miraculously disappear/ hissed Isis helpfully, as every single person in the cramped shop converged down on him. Excellent advice, thought Harry. But there's nowhere to run to. He was cornered and had completely run out of options. He sighed in a self-suffering way. His spirits rose slightly when he saw the crowd parting, but it was only to allow Lockhart to throw himself forward, seize Harry's arm and pull him to the front. Harry eyes narrowed in anger as he glared at Lockhart who was pumping his hand up and down, a photographer dancing in front of them, clicking away madly. The crowd burst into applause.
"Smile for the camera, Harry," said Lockhart, through his own gleaming white teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."
The thought of having the whole of Britain know about this incredibly embarrassing situation made Harry really pissed off. By this time his glare was enough to freeze hell twice over. Pulling his hand roughly from Lockhart's grasp, Harry sneered poisonously at the man, inwardly debating whether it was worth killing him outright. Eventually deciding that getting revenge on Draco was more important than torturing the idiot in front of him, Harry ineffectually tried to disappear back into the crowd. Lockhart throwing an arm around his shoulders and clamping him tightly to his side, knocking Harry's glasses askew, stopped him.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he declared loudly, waving his hand for quite. "What an extraordinary occasion this is! The perfect moment for me to make an announcement I've been sitting on for some time!" Surreptitiously, Harry reached for his wand, now completely prepared to curse Lockhart into oblivion in front of dozens of eyewitnesses.
"When young Harry came to buy my signed autobiography-"
"Get real," muttered Harry, fingering his wand and trying to decide what curse to use. Lockhart continued, oblivious.
"– which I will now present him with, free of charge -" Harry had finally settled on a bat-bogey hex, when a pile of books was rammed into his stomach, making him double over in pain.
"Harry had no idea, that he would soon be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me."
Gods, no, thought Harry in horror, guessing where this was going.
"Yes, I am proud to announce that, this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
Harry groaned out loud as his worst fears were confirmed. And the blithering idiot kept ranting on…
"Harry and his friends will now be taking lessons from me, the most talented and knowledgeable wizard in Europe."
After this modest speech (note sarcasm), the newest, and most probably worst, Hogwarts Professor shoved Harry back into the crowd, leaving him to stagger back to his friends, weighed down by the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. What he found when he got there did not improve his mood. Blaise was practically rolling around on the floor in hysterics, Theodore was looking extremely amused (but was too well-bred to be quite as blatant about it as the hyper Metamorphmagus.) and Draco was trying, but spectacularly failing, to look contrite.
"You git," growled Harry, dumping his books down on top of Blaise. "You slimy, disgusting, miserable maggot."
"Come on, Harry," said Draco, beginning to look a bit nervous. "If I hadn't said anything we would still be stuck in that queue. This way, you get publicity, you get out of this blasted shop without fighting through a crowd, and you get a free set of books. Don't you admit it's worth it?"
"I was mobbed, I was hit by the equivalent of half a library, and I had to endure skin-contact with Lockhart," said Harry flatly.
"Well, yes," spoke Draco. "But the books that you were hit with were free. Remember that."
"I don't want any freakin' books!" yelled Harry.
"The Code of Conduct rule #37 clearly states: If fortune has presented you with an unexpected opportunity which you don't really deserve, the last thing you should do is correct the mistake," put it Theodore, calmly.
"Okay, fine, I'll keep the books," conceded Harry reluctantly. "But I'm still going to harbour a grudge against you, Draco, until I take my revenge."
"First of all, it's more effective if you don't actually tell your enemy what you plan on doing," drawled Blaise, who had finally stopped laughing. "And second, don't you think he'll be punished enough by having Lockhart as a teacher?"
"That imbecile wouldn't last a year," snorted Harry. "He's a self-obsessed prat whose only topic of conversation is himself."
"Too true," drawled Draco, his composure back now that he wasn't in imminent danger of being hexed. "We'll just have to make sure that he doesn't stay more than a year. I'll talk to my father about it, he's on the School Board of Governors."
"Good idea," remarked Theodore. Then, looking over Draco's shoulder, he said, "Angry red-heads at 2 o'clock,"
"Well this will be fun," drawled Harry maliciously. Ronald Weasley was storming towards them, his fists clenched by his sides, Ginny trailing along behind him.
"What the hell was that, Potter?" he snapped.
"Uh, what the hell was what?" replied Harry, slightly confused. He hadn't even spoken to the boy in over two months.
"Oh, don't act all innocent with me. Bet you loved that, didn't you. All the attention, the photographs, the free stuff," said the redhead bitterly. "The famous Harry Potter is too important to pay for things like the rest of us."
"Look, Weasley, I'm not bloody interested in your insecurities," sneered Harry. "If you're so poor that you need hand-outs, that's your problem, not mine."
Ronald turned red from embarrassment and was obviously trying to formulate a reply, when Draco caught sight of Ginny.
"Red hair, freckles, patched robes," he drawled. "You must be yet another Weasley, or is she your girlfriend, Ronald? If your family was inbred it would explain a lot."
At this Ron launched himself towards Malfoy, but was met with a wand pointed straight at him.
"Don't touch me, Weasley," sneered Draco. "You probably have fleas, living the way you do."
"Ron!" called Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Percy. "What are you doing? It's mad in here, let's go outside."
"Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley." It was Malfoy senior. He stood behind Draco, sneering in just the same way.
"Where did he come from?" whispered Blaise to Harry. Harry shrugged in reply. The elder Malfoy seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.
"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.
"Still as decrepit as ever, I see," drawled Mr. Malfoy, his eyes lingering on the frayed cuffs of the redheaded wizard's robes. "With all these raids, you would think the ministry would pay you over time, but obviously not." Idly, he picked up a Transfiguration book from Ginny Weasley's cauldron and flicked through it. "Second-hand, what a disgrace."
Mr Weasley flushed, but tried to defend himself. "Your idea of disgrace is obviously not the same as mine, Malfoy."
"So I have noticed," replied the elder Malfoy with a smirk. "No self-respecting pure-blood would behave as you do. And now, as entertaining as this has been, Arthur, my son and I must return home. Come Draco." Laying his hand on Draco's shoulder, he steered him outside, pausing only to throw the schoolbook in his hand back at Ginny.
After he left, the Weasleys gathered together to loudly complain about Lucius Malfoy and to try to soothe their damaged egos.
"Well, that was amusing," said Blaise brightly. "Lucius Malfoy may be an obnoxious bastard, but he does have a certain flair for insults."
"I have to agree," said Theodore, permitting himself a grin. "But unfortunately, I, too, have to leave. I told my parents I'd be back by two o'clock."
"Well, see you in school then," said Harry.
"So, what are you going to do now?" asked Blaise after the young Nott had left. "Are you still going to stay at the Weasleys?"
"Looks like I'll have to," replied Harry morosely.
"How about staying at the Leaky Cauldron with me? I'm renting a room until school starts."
"Really? I'd love to, but first I actually want to buy the rest of my school things. So far I've only got the Lockhart books and that's it."
After another two hours of shopping (of which Harry spent one and a half buying robes under the direction of Blaise), the two friends made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron. Once there, a sleep-deprived Harry was forced to listen to a hyperactive Blaise (who had eaten too much sugar) babble on until three o'clock in the morning, mentally yelling at himself for not barricading the door when he'd had the chance.