At the beach, Harry, tanned and watching Farkas flirt with Muggle girls, kept an eye on Luna. She wandered chaotically, burying herself in sand between Muggle couples. Her father, Xenophilius, a free spirit who loved her, attached a buzzer to alert him if she strayed, its motorcycle-like hum drawing suspicious Muggle stares. Azrael and Hermione, buried in sand, whispered plans, while Farkas bonded with a Muggle girl. Hogwarts' nutrition had bulked him up, unlike his once-scrawny self. Harry wanted to join but didn't want to interrupt Farkas's budding romance, so he rested.
When Luna swam far out, Sirius and Marida, both athletic, crawled to fetch her. They later dazzled Muggles in beach volleyball. After lunch, on Azrael's father's cruiser, Harry watched seagulls. Farkas, with his new friend, nudged him. "Not having fun, Harry?"
"I'm good. First time at the beach with everyone. You're thriving," Harry said, half-lying. Sirius was great, but Zabini's absence dampened his mood. Azrael slacked, Farkas was smitten with plain Fina, and Hermione and Luna lacked competitive spirit. Zabini would've raced him.
"Your friend, Fark?" Fina asked. "Where you from? Same as him?"
"Privet Drive… no, my godfather's flat now," Harry said.
"You guys are from all over! Boarding school sounds cool. My town school's all familiar faces—boring," Fina said.
"Dorms bring variety, but long enough, everyone's familiar. It's stifling," Harry replied.
"No way! Public school's better then," Fina laughed.
Farkas, once prejudiced like Harry, had shed his Muggle bias. Without Slytherin's peer pressure, kids could be themselves. Harry gazed at the cloudless sky and sunlit sea, wishing Zabini could see it.
Harry borrowed the cottage phone to check on Zabini. His voice lacked energy, tinged with apathy. Harry tried cheering him but angered him instead. "How'd it go?" Azrael asked.
"He doesn't want to talk," Harry said, ruffling his hair.
"Wish I'd said something better…"
"We can't say much to help. I've known him longer—he hates pity. He's prideful," Azrael warned. "Your concern might hurt his ego."
"I'm not pitying him," Harry protested.
"But you upset him, right?" Azrael pressed.
"Yeah…" Harry admitted.
"Let him be for now. At Hogwarts, act normal. We're in this together. He'd rather you rely on him in a pinch," Azrael said.
Harry knew Azrael's keen insight—last year's Hermione missteps proved it. "It's frustrating messing up people stuff more than tough homework," Harry grumbled.
"You need better language skills," Azrael teased.
"Harsh," Harry laughed, turning to him. Azrael always guided from the shadows, minimizing Harry's mistakes with sage advice.
"I'm not always right. No one truly gets another's mind," Azrael said seriously. "Especially you—I keep misreading you."
(He's got me there), Harry thought. His reckless Hogwarts antics, ignoring others' eyes, had dulled his sensitivity.
That night, Harry offered to help Sirius and Marida unpack but was waved off. Their cottage rooms were separate, but Marida's spacious room, with a beach view, hosted them. As Sirius brewed tea, he sensed Harry's concern. "Zabini's the sharp-tongued, good-looking kid, right?"
"Yeah. Rode a broom last year—remember?" Harry said.
"Mediocre flyer," Sirius mused, recalling Zabini's appearance-based attitude shifts. (A bit of a brat, but maybe decent underneath.)
Zabini's mother's notorious history was public knowledge. Nine out of ten parents would call her a bad influence; the tenth was her equal or worse. "Seemed like a normal kid. Saw him at parties, swarmed by girls," Sirius said.
"Multiple? Promising," Sirius joked.
"A little bad-boy charm works, but prioritizing friends over girls—like you—hurts," Marida teased, sipping tea.
(Adults…) Harry resisted prying into their banter. "Zabini's struggling," he told Sirius. "He's at his dad's mansion."
"Want to visit via Floo?" Sirius suggested.
"Floo? To Zabini's? Is that okay?" Harry asked.
"Barging into a Muggle home with magic, post-tragedy, is an insult. It'd worsen his situation," Marida interjected, then offered, "What about contacting Sirius's child welfare friend?"
Harry liked the idea. Yurgen wouldn't intimidate Muggles with magic and would help Zabini. "Yurgen's on vacation in Germany for two weeks," Sirius said.
"What did Zabini say?" Marida asked.
"To enjoy the beach. I feel guilty," Harry said, recalling Zabini's words: "Not everyone's parents are great like yours." Harry felt torn, enjoying himself while his friend suffered.
"Enjoy now. Zabini needs time to heal before seeing you," Marida said. "His mother's reputation preceded her. He knew this day might come."
"Do nothing while a friend struggles?" Sirius frowned.
"If Zabini doesn't want it," Harry said.
Sirius relented, displeased. "Fine."
"Everyone has untouchable topics, even friends—especially friends. Ignoring his wishes is wrong," Marida said.
Harry, recalling Azrael's and Zabini's words, agreed. A knock interrupted. "Harry here? Not in his room," Azrael called.
"Here. Can I open the door?" Harry asked, then let Azrael in.
"TRPG with Hermione and others? Got time," Azrael said, holding a thick rulebook.
"Sounds fun. Everyone?" Harry asked.
"Farkas's room. Luna's there. It's Muggle-style, no magic—Fina's joining," Azrael said.
"Cool. Sirius, okay if I go?" Harry asked.
"Back by ten. No staying up," Sirius said.
Azrael's rulebook was a Muggle classic. They invited Hermione, but her parents said she was in the lobby. "She's on the phone, ignoring us. Sorry," they said.
"No problem. Thanks for playing with her," they replied.
"Maybe calling Ron?" Harry guessed.
"They're tight. Hope it's not a long call," Azrael said.
In the lobby, Hermione was heatedly arguing on the phone. "That's ridiculous! We don't care about caste! You know that! We're friends!"
Her rapid-fire persuasion lasted three minutes. When she switched to listening, her tone softened. She promised to call tomorrow and hung up as Muggle elders queued behind her.
"Good talk with Ron?" Harry asked, startling her.
"Hya!?" Hermione yelped.
"Don't sneak up on ladies, Harry," Azrael laughed.
"What's up? You two calling someone?" Hermione asked.
"Azrael suggested TRPG. Join us?" Harry said.
"I've never played board games," Hermione said.
"Just roll dice," Azrael said, showing the rulebook.
Hermione's eyes lit up. "We're meeting in Farkas's room. Fina and Luna too," Azrael added.
Hermione's expression hardened. "I'm in. If Luna slips, I'll have to erase Fina's summer memories."
Harry and Azrael paled but laughed it off. "Luna knows our secrets. Fina'll just think she's quirky," Harry said.
Placating Hermione's grim resolve, they headed upstairs. At the entrance, a boy pointed at Harry—taller, black-haired. Harry froze.
"Who's that?" Hermione asked nervously.
"Know him?" Azrael said.
"Wrong guy. Let's go," Harry urged, desperate to leave. But the boy, with a mix of confusion and glee, called to a stout companion in a shrill, grating voice: "Yo, Big D! Your punching bag's here! Why didn't you tell me?"
Dudley Dursley's friend, Piers Polkiss, had spotted Harry with Dudley. In the worst place, Harry faced his least desired reunion.
Harry… Those who tread on others' sensitive wounds often face that pain themselves.
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