In the Crosshairs
Dragon Voldemort
Chapter 6: Joke Shop
Harry and Gia were woken Wednesday morning, by fourteen year old Andy, jumping on the bed. Right above Harry, Andy's bare knockers swung up and down.
"What the fuck?!" Harry demanded.
"Ant!" Richard shouted, coming toward the open bedroom door.
"Look at them!" Andy protested, pointing downward.
Both Harry and Gia were in their usual skin uniforms.
"Like you're one to judge!" Richard said, glaring at his sister in just a pair of light green panties, "Let them SLEEP!"
Andy jumped off the bed, pulled down Richard's boxers, and shoved. Richard fell backward onto his rear.
Harry pulled the covers back over him and Gia as Kristen came out of her room; dressed in a nightgown.
"Andrea Osborn," Kristen said, "You are on restriction!"
"He started it!" Andy protested, pointing to Richard, with tears flowing down her face.
"Your bedroom, NOW!" Kristen said, her glare caused Andy to back into her green bedroom, the one lacking a door. "Stephen is to leave."
"Mum!" Andy protested.
"Sorry about that," Kristen said into Gia's room, "Good morning." Kristen turned her glare back to Andy's retreat into her bedroom, while the lump beneath the blankets on the bed hurriedly dressed; trousers, a shirt, sucked in by the person below the sheets.
Quickly, a brown haired Stephen Stewart, younger brother to a recently deceased classmate of Gia's, was red faced as he left Andy's bedroom, went down the stairs. Kristen returned to her bedroom; Richard went into his.
Harry and Gia went down the stairs modeling their knickers; made the hard right, and right, to enter the dining room. Kurt Osborn was there, fork to a plate with fruit and pancakes on it; his eyes moved to see the two enter.
"Glad to see you've already made yourself at home," Kurt said between bites.
"It's kind of you," Gia said.
"Relax, you're part of the family now," Kurt said, "I made a bunch, keeping them warm in the oven, help yourself."
Harry and Gia went into the kitchen, grabbed plates. Gia loaded her plate up, added some for Harry's, and they returned to the dining room. They sat on the wooden dining chair with padded leather seats.
"Oh," Kurt said, "We'll expect some help around the house, can you handle that?"
Harry watched Gia's face.
"Suppose it's fair," Harry said.
"Nothing major, just dishes and light cleaning," Kurt said, "From the yelling earlier, Andrea will be taking care of most of it today, tomorrow, and maybe for the next week."
"Are Richard and Ant always like that?" Gia asked.
"I know something's wrong if I don't hear them fighting by nine in the morning," Kurt said.
An hour later, Snuffles followed Harry and Gia as they left the house; they walked along. Harry's unkempt hair covered his scar, he held Gia's hand. Both Harry and Gia kept an eye on Snuffles running around, first checking out a car, then the fire hydrant.
"You make a good hound," Harry said toward Snuffles.
They walked over a small footbridge over a creek; Snuffles plunged into the water, came back out, stood right in front of Harry and Gia; Snuffles shook vibrantly, flinging water at Harry.
"Cut that out," Harry said before he smiled, "If the doggy wants a bath, I'm sure we can find the most embarrassing—"
Snuffles lunged toward Harry, knocking Harry backward onto his butt on the grass; Snuffles towered over Harry, growled.
"If you're going to be like that," Harry said, "We could stop by the vet, get you fixed."
Snuffles whimpered loudly, put his tail between his legs to tightly guard things, and moped off. Gia gave Harry a hand in getting back up, and she was chuckling.
"You two can be so funny," Gia said.
"I'm sure Snuffles will find more ways," Harry said, "After which, he'll need a flea bath tonight."
Snuffles whimpered, Gia laughed.
"So, you're wanting to visit a pet store?" Gia asked.
Harry laughed as Gia led him along.
"Hey, thought we were heading to Hermione's," Harry said.
"Nope, you've got an appointment," Gia said.
"Appointment?" Harry asked, stopping in his tracks.
"Your glasses were destroyed, and I figure you'd need a new pair," Gia said.
"I'd like to try without them," Harry said.
"How many strands of hair do I have?" Gia asked.
"Dunno, lots," Harry said.
"Lets get you fitted up," Gia said, "You need those glasses replaced."
Harry kept his scowl, but followed, slowly. Gia tugged on his arm, and Harry sped a bit back up, but slow enough to make Gia pull him along. They crossed an intersection, Harry tripped on the curb, but caught his balance to recover.
"Get my point?" Gia asked.
"Yeah," Harry said, "Guess I do."
They walked along High Street, came to the optometrist's office, where Harry stopped.
"You need them if you wanna see my boobs in full clarity," Gia said.
Gia opened the door, pulled Harry in, and they approached the desk with the lady receptionist behind it.
"Have a nine thirty appointment," Gia said, "His old glasses were broken."
Gia took the forms, filled them out for Harry, and they sat down on several chairs. Harry trembled; she reached over, caressed his ears.
"It's a simple thing, the exam," Gia said.
"I know," Harry muttered.
"Harry?" asked a girl from the hallway, she had on a white lab coat.
Gia escorted Harry up. They went down the small corridor, into a small office. Gia guided Harry onto the patient chair before she sat on a metal folding one. An slightly overweight with a potbelly optometrist of average height, a Dr. Purdy, entered the room, and laid open manila folder onto the counter.
"How long since your previous exam?" Dr. Purdy asked.
"Dunno," Harry said, "Maybe six or seven years, can't remember exactly."
"So, contacts or glasses?" Dr. Purdy asked.
"Um…" Harry muttered.
"Those glasses were distinctive," Gia said, "Might try the contacts."
"Think it over," Dr. Purdy said, "So—" he moved the retinoscope to Harry "—tell me, better or worse."
Over the next ten minutes, Dr. Purdy adjusted the dials, as Harry repeated, before settling on the correction factor.
"And, glasses or contacts?" Dr. Purdy asked.
"Contacts," Harry said.
"I still recommend a pair of glasses," Dr. Purdy said, "Good as a backup, you shouldn't wear contacts all the time, and, if you want a basic pair, we can have them ready shortly."
Gia nodded.
"Yes," Harry said.
Dr. Purdy took several measurements.
"Let me get this to the optician," Dr. Purdy said, jotting down a note onto a separate form, "And follow me."
Dr. Purdy led them out, across the corridor, indicating for them to wait; left.
"Feels weird," Harry said.
"New looks," Gia said.
Dr. Purdy returned, brought Harry to another machine, measuring the curvature of his eyes.
"Glass or disposables?" Dr. Purdy said, "Glass is cheaper so long as you clean them."
"Disposables," Harry said.
Dr. Purdy jotted this down.
"It'll take probably take fifteen to thirty minutes after you select the frames," Dr. Purdy said, "You can schedule an appointment in a week—"
"Another appointment?" Harry asked.
"Supervise and train you up on using the contacts," Dr. Purdy said, "They'll be here in a week."
"I've got school next week!" Harry said.
"We can rush the order, for a fee, naturally," Dr. Purdy said, "Be ready sometime tomorrow."
"Done," Harry said.
Dr. Purdy led them back to the front; where they went through the limited selection of frames.
"Like your old ones," Gia said, pulling out a pair of round spectacles.
"Cheapest ones, like the Dursleys would buy," Harry said.
"And they were the ones that helped me fall in love with you," Gia said, "Besides, just a backup, cheap means it's easier if they're busted, again."
"True," Harry said.
Harry put the frames on the desk, Dr. Purdy went back, while they waited.
Ring! Ring!
Gia pulled out her mobile. She brought the phone to her ear.
"Hello?" Gia said, "Hi! … Yes! … I think I could. Harry'd be happy … understood, yep. See you shortly. I'm on High Street, in about thirty minutes. Later."
"And?" Harry asked.
"Uncle Marty wanted to visit," Gia said.
"He's the good one, right?" Harry asked.
"I don't see him often," Gia said, "I mean, he's normally all the way in Liverpool! So, can you survive the day without me?"
"Huh?" Harry asked.
"It'd be a bit crowded, besides, thought you wanted to study with Ron and Hermione," Gia said.
"I wouldn't say want to study," Harry said, "Though I suppose I ought to."
"I'll miss you too," Gia said.
Harry stepped closer, kissed. His hands reached beneath her shirt, moved up to her breasts. Gia sat, laid down across the chairs, Harry got on top of her, held her. Her hands worked his butt.
"Ready," said the receptionist, a short while later.
Harry got up, walked over, put the glasses on.
"Whoa!" Harry said, "Much better than the old ones."
"Eight years?" Gia said, "To sixteen, that's a lot of time, your eyes must've changed."
"Guess so," Harry said.
Harry paid for them.
"There they are," Gia said, rushing for the door.
Harry followed a moment later, as Uncle Marty and Cousin Trevor came up to them; Snuffles was nearby, trying to bite into a car bumper.
"Nice meeting you again," Uncle Marty said to Harry.
"He needs to study for school," Gia said.
"I'll see you later," Harry said, giving Gia another kiss.
Harry took the few steps, made his way toward the familiar house.
Harry entered Hermione's house, her eyes were on him from her spot next to the coffee table; Ron stood nearby.
"Ready for Diagon Alley?" Hermione asked.
"So soon?" Harry said, "We can do that tomorrow."
"Good, so that means you've got your books," Hermione said, "Well, you can work on your essay on incubation of dragon eggs."
"Let the dragon do it," Harry said.
"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.
"We'll go tomorrow," Harry said, "Or Friday, I mean, you've got the books already."
"And mark up mine?" Hermione said, before her eyes turned to Ron with a quill, "Quit that!"
"Actually my trunk's back over at Gia's," Harry said, pointing to the door, "I'll be back, later."
"The best use of your time would be to simply go to Diagon Alley," Hermione said.
"Lets see how you take care of dragon eggs," Harry said, sitting down by the coffee table.
"I'll be—just a moment," Hermione said, getting up. She walked over to the fireplace, threw in some Floo Powder.
"You know, it'd be easier to send her with the list," Ron said to Harry.
"I wanted to bring Gia," Harry said, "She's out with her Uncle now."
"Aw, I was wondering," Ron said.
An brown owl swooped in, dropped an envelope, a red envelope, addressed to Harry.
"Who'd send me a Howler?" Harry asked, taking the envelope.
"Well," Ron said, "Open it."
Harry opened it.
=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=v=
Mr. Harry Potter, you are formally invited to visit 93 Diagon Alley; bring your best friend and enjoy the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes experience of a lifetime!
"Those bloody menaces," Ron said, grabbing the letter, "Dressing an advert up as a Howler!"
"Cheers," Hermione said.
Ron and Harry felt the customary jerk at the naval, the letter pulled them out of Noigate, through the air, and dropped them onto a hard oak floor. Two red haired individuals, a Fred and a George, looking down on the two friends.
"Bloody Hell!" Ron said, "You snakes!"
"I'm guessing Hermione was in on this," Harry said, standing up.
Harry glanced around at the shop, multiple floors, with lights, noises, and plenty of others, young and old, looking about.
"Not as dimwitted as she claims you to be Harry," Fred said, "As you were procrastinating, and we, having your best interests at heart—"
Ron snorted.
"But we do," George said, "That and we needed somebody to test out that advert; thank you for volunteering."
"A warning would've been nice," Harry said.
"Keep calm, collect your school supplies, hang out, and go back," Fred said, "Or, we'll yell out, 'Harry Potter', and see how well you fare."
"You wouldn't—" Harry started.
"Don't try us," George said, "I'd recommend a visit to Quality Quidditch Supplies first, though too bad you didn't bring your brooms, you could've gotten them autographed."
"Let's go," Ron seethed.
"You can borrow this," Fred said, handing a familiar backpack over to Harry.
Harry took the backpack, left the shop, and slung it over his shoulders; Ron grabbed the one from George, followed and they walked onto the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley.
"Those weasels," Ron said, "We were about to come!"
"Yep," Harry said, "Hermione was definitely in on it, otherwise, why'd they have our backpacks?"
They noticed black hair, a lot of jet black hair as they walked along; every third to fourth person was wearing black hair along with the familiar round glasses.
"You know, it may be a bit easier to blend in," Ron said.
"That explains it," Harry said, pointing to UHP Gift Shop, where a dangling banner hung across Diagon Alley proclaiming Harry Potter Look Alike Day!"
They moved along, until stopped by a crowd in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies. On an elevated platform in front of the store was a brown and long haired individual.
"Whitehorn!" Ron exclaimed.
Eyes, scowling eyes, burned into Harry and Ron.
"Yes," Whitehorn said, "There is always a prototype, some work, some do not. As to the Firebolt, it will prove to be the best broom for quite some time; you will not be dissatisfied with this broom."
"And we have a pair," Ron whispered, referring to the broom that Sirius had given him during the previous year.
"Will it be discounted?" one gentlemen asked.
"No," the shop keeper, standing near Whitehorn, said.
"How fast can your fastest prototype go?" a lady asked, her pink clothes fluttered and a quill moved.
"Let's go," Harry muttered.
They moved along, around this crowd and the small one around Fourish and Blotts, to pass into Gringotts Wizarding Bank.
"Don't have the key—" Ron muttered.
"Then stay here," Harry said, "Got enough for things?"
"Yes," Ron snapped.
Ron followed Harry into the cart with the goblin; the cart moved along the maze of tracks until it came to a stop in front of Vault 687.
"Don't look," Harry stated.
Harry gave his key and the goblin opened the vault. Ron looked over Harry's shoulder as coins tumbled into Harry's purse. Harry watched Ron's face as they returned to the surface and left Gringotts Wizarding Bank.
"Not again!" Harry grumbled.
"Must be—" Ron exclaimed.
"You came!" Harry snapped.
"You can buy Hogwarts!" Ron replied. He glared at Harry before looking away, he slumped his arms against his chest.
"Fine sour puss," Harry said.
Ron wandered off while Harry went into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. After picking up some new robes, Harry came back out to find Ron sitting at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, eating the smallest of small sundaes. Harry went to Mr. Fortescue, handed him several Sickles.
"I do not think your friend is happy Mr. Potter," Mr. Fortescue said.
Harry sat down, in the corner away from Ron; however, Ron's eyes kept darting at Harry.
"He's jealous," Harry said, "He's richer in many ways—"
"People generally look past what they have and focus on what they do not," Mr. Fortescue said.
"It's going to tear us apart," Harry said.
"Money has destroyed the most treasured of friendships before," Mr. Fortescue said, "Tread carefully."
"Ta," Harry said as he stood, "Any advice on getting him to realize this?"
"You will find the answer," Mr. Fortescue said, "I'm confident of that."
Harry left, Ron followed, only to be brought to a slow crawl outside Fourish and Blotts bookstore.
"Excuse me," Harry said, parting the crowd to enter, "Oh no!"
A sign next to the store read, 'Book signing today by Gilderoy Lockhart'.
People, however, stayed clear of the steam rising from a vat of water outside the store. The manager saw Harry and Ron approaching.
"Hogwarts?" the manager asked.
"Sixth year," Harry said.
"Oh no," the manager said, "And I thought Monster Book of Monsters was bad."
With tongs, the manager reached into the vat.
"Dry one please," Ron said.
"Burned to a crisp," the manager said, bringing out a book that shot out flame, "Have your dragon hide ready?"
Harry grabbed the book, it immediately calmed down.
"H–How?" the manager stammered.
Harry shot a look at Ron, then grinned, he then handed it to Ron.
"Talent then," the manager said, "Good luck."
Harry walked into the store, Ron behind him, avoided the centered desk in the back, and went up the stairs.
"Hi ya Harry."
Harry turned, Neville just below him.
"Hi," Harry said.
"Anything interesting happen this summer?" Neville asked.
"Loads," Ron said, "Mind us getting our school things?"
"Sure," Neville said, "See you at school."
Harry and Ron climbed the rest of the steps, got some of their books before coming back down. The crowd inside the store slowed their walk, able to make a step every ten seconds, to get to the rest of the stacks of the year's books. They paid for them, stored them in their backpacks, before they headed out the door. Hands gripped both of their shoulders before they could make it all the way out.
"Just a minute, boys," said the familiar voice, "We have unfinished business."
Harry and Ron spun around; standing in front of them was Gilderoy Lockhart.
"Absolutely amazing," Lockhart said, "A fortune spent and years later, here I stand, me."
"Ill advised waste of money," Ron said.
"Not our teacher anymore," Harry said.
"True, Mr. Potter," Lockhart said.
"Bye," Harry said.
"You missed something," Lockhart said, "Nothing a good memory charm couldn't solve."
Harry spotted Lockhart's wand showing, the tip peaking out from the robes, and Harry concentrated; the wand flew. Ron caught the wand, dropped it into the vat of smoldering books in front.
"Now boys—!" Lockhart complained.
"Getting it shouldn't be difficult," Harry said, "Not for a wizard with your gifted background, right?"
Ron laughed as he and Harry left the bookstore.
"That was irking," Ron said.
"Got on my nerves," Harry replied.
"Fortunately, didn't see anything by him on the list," Ron said, "He won't be at Hogwarts."
"Good!" Harry exclaimed.
They went to the Apothecary to get potion supplies, stopped by the stationary shop to pick up rolls of parchment, before they headed back. They came back across the UHP Gift Shop, where the crowd was even thicker. Many were there trying to look like Harry, some poor in effort, some good, and some ugly. Ron put up his arms, and shoved first, parting a way for Harry to come up behind.
"Ta," Harry said to Ron.
"Blimey!" came the first harsh remark, along with "Watch where you're going", "Learn to be like Harry Potter," and other worse things.
"Don't tell Fred or George," Ron said as they went into Gambol and Japes .
"Sure these might not be on the official list," Harry said, loading up Dungbombs and fireworks into the basket, "But they're still required. We'll still check your brothers' out, but we can mail order from them later if we run out."
"True," Ron said, delving into the pile of Exploding snaps.
They worked their way through, before paying and leaving. They went down to 93 Diagon Alley, with Weasley Wizarding Wheezes proudly painted on the outside.
"You know, I think Mum would be really proud," Ron said, "Cashing in on their antics."
"They had to practice it," Harry said.
They entered 93 Diagon Alley; Ginny was now standing behind the counter.
"George, Fred," Ginny announced, "We have guests."
"You don't need to announce every customer," George said, coming from a door in the back, "Though—"
"Who?!" Fred shouted, coming down the stairs from upstairs, "Oh,"
"Mind coming into the back?" George said, "Best not to distract the customers. Ginny, keep the money flowing in."
Harry and Ron followed George into the back room, Fred came in behind. Harry spotted a beetle scurrying about the floor; he kicked it out the door, and stuffed a towel into the crack.
Hate bugs?" George asked as he sat on a wooden chair, the rest sat on the sofas in the small common room.
"Not when it's Rita Skeeter—" Harry said, "She's unregistered."
"Based on your gait" Fred said, "That and what we saw back in Romania, you're real wizards."
"Of course," Harry said, smiling.
"Show some tack Gred," George said,
"Do we need to spell it out?" Fred said, "I presume Hermione."
"Like we'd tell you," Ron said.
"You know us." Fred conjured up party hats. "Celebration!"
Tweet!
Some party paper blowouts appeared and were going full swing, fell from the ceiling, balloons floated upward. Ron's face went bright pink.
"Rubbing it in?" Ron asked.
"Rubbing was involved?" George asked.
George's chair started galloping like a bucking horse. George moved wildly as the chair shook him about before it finally threw him against the upward going stairs. His chair walked, ran, the wooden legs moved, taking itself down into the basement.
"Wicked—" Ron asked, "Something new?" He glanced at Harry's eyes, grinned.
"Ow—" George moaned, getting up.
"Still lacking?" Harry asked, "I mean, you're not real wizards, are you?"
"We are!" Fred protested, also getting up.
Ron perked up, looked up at his standing twin brothers.
"Who—?" Ron asked.
"Like we'd ever tell—" George said.
"Ginny—" Ron started to whisper.
"You wouldn't—" Fred said.
"That's extortion!" George protested.
Ron grinned.
"We've got some product ideas," Harry said, "While I don't have the time—"
"Our silent partner at work—" Fred said.
"Ss—what?" Ron asked.
"We had to finance," George said, "We listed Harry as a silent partner—"
"That was eff'ing blood money!" Harry said, "I wasn't keeping it."
"Did you miss Cedric's photo in front?" Fred said, "It's over the front doorway."
"Condoms," Harry said, "Magic em to shrink a man's asset or, using their mother's voice, scold em—"
"And we'd decimate the Wizarding population," George said.
Fred brought a different wooden chair over to Harry, sat on it backwards, but faced Harry.
"We're curious, really curious to exactly when you became real wizards," Fred said, "July?"
"You first," Harry said, trying to bluff.
"Alright," Fred said, "Halloween Dance last fall. Angelina."
"Yeah, right," Ron said, disbelieving, "Where?"
"Broom closet, fifth floor," Fred said.
"Twice," George said.
"No," Fred said, "Only once, unfortunately she dumped me the next morning."
"She thought you did her twice," George said, "She said you were more mature the second time."
"You asshole!" Fred leapt from his chair chasing George partially up the stairs.
"Paris," Harry said.
"Really? Where?" George slipped past Fred to return. "A bathroom in the Louve?"
"Eiffel tower," Harry said, "On top of it!"
"You're pulling my leg," George said.
"We brought our Firebolts," Harry said, "We managed it."
"Which day?" George said.
"The ninth, Gia's birthday," Harry replied.
"I'll have to get the book, see who won the pool," George said.
Ron laughed.
"Ron did too," Harry said.
"You—" Ron started.
"Good," George said, "Mum's good for a lot, but making sure you move on in life, that's what a brother's for."
Harry glanced at the clock.
"I did come to shop," Harry said, "Then we'd be leaving."
"Of course, of course," George said.
George went over, held the door open, while Harry and Ron went out.
It was late Thursday morning when Harry and Gia had already left the optometrist on High Street, sweat followed the straps of the backpack over Harry's shoulders, down his bare chest.
"Still feel a bit weird," Harry said.
"Millions of people wear them," Gia said.
"I know, different," Harry said.
"You'll get used to them," Gia said.
Snuffles pushed up against Harry's legs, dropped a stick by his feet. Harry picked up the stick, gave a fake toss, Snuffles ran. Gia chuckled, glanced to Harry's face, not for the last time, her eyes landed where the glasses used to be.
"Here we go," Harry reached down, picked up a tennis ball.
"You two," Gia said.
"Isn't every boy supposed to have quality time with their godfather?" Harry asked.
Snuffles returned, saw the tennis ball, and Harry threw it. Snuffles ran, lunged after it. Harry stepped around an overturned wagon on the walk.
"Dad's funeral is Saturday," Gia said.
"I'll come," Harry said.
"Ta," Gia said.
Snuffles dropped the tennis ball, barreled into the shrubbery — birds squawked and flew out of the bush.
"Annoying, the homework they assign before school even starts," Harry grumbled.
They paused for a moment. She ran her finger up the ridge of his nose, up to his forehead, smiled.
"Yeah, better," Harry said.
They continued, making it to Hermione's house. Snuffles darted for the back, while Harry opened the door. They entered. Scratching of the quill gave it away, leading Harry and Gia to the dining room, where Ron and Hermione were sitting. Books cluttered, while Crookshanks was sprawled out on top of some pieces of parchment. Harry stood behind Hermione, glanced down at the essays Hermione was preparing.
"Harry," Ron asked, "What happened today?"
"Huh?" Harry muttered.
"Your glasses," Ron said, "They're missing."
"Blimey!" Harry said to Gia, in a mocking tone, "Knew I forgot something."
"You don't forget," Ron asked, "Where are they?"
Harry put his backpack down onto the table, took out Portkeys: Theory and Operation. Hermione rolled her eyes, which Ron spied.
"A guy's got to do what a guy has to do," Ron said.
"You still need your glasses," Hermione said to Harry.
Harry pulled out a case, showed them, and put them back into the backpack.
"You're teasing her, aren't you?" Ron said.
"Not wearing them," Harry said, sitting down.
"Contacts," Gia said as she sat.
A grin crept across Hermione's face. "It's a better look."
Ron raised his eyebrows as Harry took out the Hogwarts pins.
"Contacts replace the need for glasses," Hermione said.
Ron's eyes studied Harry's.
"He just obliterated many lines of the Unofficial Harry Potter Fan Club merchandise," Hermione said.
Harry grinned.
"Ginny'll be very upset," Ron said.
Harry shrugged.
"They have some that change the color of your eyes," Hermione said, "That'd let you go incognito."
A few minutes later, Sirius came in.
"Can you reconsider the collar?" Sirius asked, throwing his dog collar down onto the table, the license tags jingled.
Harry grabbed the collar, checked it.
"Fleas, ticks, or is it lice?" Harry asked.
"What?" Sirius asked.
"Here," Harry said, pointing to a black spec that was moving.
"Fleas?" Hermione said, "Get it out!"
"Glad I burned James' flea joke list," Sirius said.
"I'll let you wash yourself," Harry said as he handed the collar back, "If you want one that guards against those, we'll stop by the pet store."
"No need for that," Sirius said as he left the room.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione continued studying.