Neville approached his mother softly, his voice gentle as he greeted her.
Alice slowly lifted her head from her notebook, her gaze vacant as she stared at Neville, trying to grasp onto a memory that just wouldn't come, but her eyes remained vacant. Neville bit his lip, but kept speaking, even as his voice wavered.
"Mum," he began, still holding tightly to Harry's hand, "I wanted to introduce you to someone." He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to Harry before he continued. "This is Harry Potter. He's my friend from Hogwarts. We'll be going back for our second year soon."
Neville's grip on Harry's hand tightened, his knuckles white from the strain. Still, he continued speaking to his mother, his voice unwavering, though Harry could hear the strain beneath it.
"We're going shopping tomorrow with Hermione and Theodore, for our school things. Harry helped me a lot in Potions this year, with Hermione. You don't have to worry about me, Mum. I'm not the scared boy I used to be. I've... I've gotten better."
There was no response from Alice, her focus already drifting back to the drawing in front of her. Neville's grip on Harry's hand tightened as the sadness and frustration welled up inside him. After a few seconds, he turned towards his father, still speaking quietly. "Dad, it was a good year... I wanted you to know that."
His voice faded, but he managed to hold it together, even as the weight of the moment pressed down on him.
"I... I did well this year at Hogwarts. I've been working hard. I even managed to brew a perfect Forgetfulness Potion in Potions class."
Frank didn't respond, didn't even blink. The emptiness in his eyes was hard to bear, but Neville kept talking, his voice more determined now. "I've made some great friends too. Harry, Hermione, Theodore—they've all helped me. I'm not alone." He paused, then added, his voice breaking just slightly, "I just wanted to make you proud."
He stood there for a moment, hoping for a flicker of recognition, anything that would show his parents were still somewhere in there. But the silence in the room stretched on, heavy and unchanging.
Feeling the weight of the moment, Neville finally turned back to Harry. "Let's go outside," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as though he feared breaking the fragile stillness of the room. "I need some air."
Harry nodded, following Neville out of the room. Augusta, watching them quietly from the doorway, nodded in understanding. "I'll be here," she said softly, letting them know they had her permission to take a moment for themselves.
Outside, the garden was peaceful, a stark contrast to the emotional storm inside. Neville walked slowly, his hands trembling slightly as he rubbed them together. "It's hard," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion, "coming here, seeing them like that. I keep hoping one day they'll... you know... remember me."
Harry, unsure of what to say, simply placed a hand on Neville's shoulder. "You're not alone," he said gently. "And you've got friends now. We're here for you."
Neville froze for a moment, realization dawning on him. His eyes widened as he stammered, "Oh, Harry, I—I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to... I forgot that your parents are..." His words trailed off, guilt and panic rushing over him as he realized the weight of what he'd just said.
Harry, however, stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Neville's arm, stopping him. "Don't, Neville," he said firmly, his voice calm but steady. "The pain we feel—it's not meant to be compared. Your loss isn't any less because my parents are gone. We've both suffered, but that's not why we're here. We're here to support each other."
Neville's lip trembled as the flood of emotions he'd been holding back finally overwhelmed him. His eyes welled up, and in a moment of vulnerability, tears began to fall freely down his cheeks. "I... I miss them so much, Harry," he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of years of pent-up grief.
Without hesitation, Harry stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Neville, pulling him into a tight embrace. "I know," Harry murmured quietly, holding him as Neville let out sobs that echoed in the quiet of the garden. "I know."
For a long moment, the two boys stood there, finding comfort in each other's presence. Harry, who had always longed for the warmth of a family's embrace, felt a strange but deep sense of connection. He understood, perhaps more than anyone, the unbearable weight of loss, but in this moment, neither of them had to carry it alone.
As Neville pulled away from Harry, still wiping the tears from his face, Augusta appeared in the garden. Her expression was starkly different from Neville's. While his grief was raw and written all over his face, Augusta's pain was buried deep beneath a cold, steely exterior, the kind that only years of forced endurance could create. It was as if visiting her son and daughter-in-law had drained her of all vitality.
"We should be going," she said quietly, her voice clipped and formal. She glanced at Harry, studying him for a brief moment before asking, "Where would you like me to drop you off, Mr. Potter?"
Harry, caught off guard by her sudden shift in tone, quickly replied, "The same address where Lozy picked me up, ma'am."
Augusta nodded, Apparated them back to the Longbottom estate. as they made their way back in silence. When they arrived at the Longbottom estate, she called out for Lozy. The small house-elf appeared with a snap of its fingers.
"Lozy, please take Mr. Potter back to where you collected him earlier," Augusta instructed, her voice as firm as ever, though there was an undeniable sadness in her eyes.
Before leaving, Harry turned to Neville. "Take care, Neville," he said softly, offering him a tired but sincere smile.
Neville, looking utterly exhausted, gave a small nod. "You too, Harry. Thanks... for everything," he murmured, his voice barely audible.
Augusta, standing nearby with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, gave Harry a brief nod of acknowledgment. "Safe travels, Mr. Potter."
Lozy stepped forward, grasping Harry's hand, and with a quick "Goodbye," they Disapparated from the estate. In an instant, Harry found himself back in the quiet alley where his journey had begun.
The elf wasted no time. With another snap of its fingers, Lozy vanished, leaving Harry standing alone. He took a deep breath, glancing around at the empty street before heading in the direction of the Dursley house, his mind still heavy with thoughts of Neville and the Longbottom.
As Harry walked alone towards the Dursleys', he glanced at the clock and realized it was only 1 PM. He didn't really want to go to Dusley 's home yet, so he decided to head towards the city center instead. Stopping at a small restaurant, he ordered his lunch, but his mind kept drifting back to Neville's parents and the horrors they had endured.
How could someone torture another human being to the brink of madness? The name that echoed in his mind was Bellatrix Black—the sister of Andromeda. Harry couldn't help but wonder if Andromeda knew the depths of cruelty her sister was capable of. What could possibly drive a person to commit such heinous acts?
He recalled Kreacher's words about the Blacks being willing to do anything for the sake of blood purity. But where was the purity in destroying lives? Where was the power in that? It only confirmed what he had told Draco before: wizards were not better than Muggles, ready to kill any being that was different from them, eager to torture, ready to strip away blood status just for their own pleasure and ego.
They believed themselves superior, but weren't they ultimately weak? The Blacks had prided themselves on their lineage, yet they had ended up following Voldemort, didn't they? He thought of Regulus—was he like that too? Would he have killed Harry if he knew he carried their mother's blood? If Regulus had known of his existence and was still alive, would he have torn apart his own soul? Or was Regulus merely a victim of the same twisted beliefs?
Harry didn't know the truth, and that uncertainty gnawed at him. He felt trapped in a world where the lines between right and wrong blurred, and the darkness seemed to spread further every day.
As Harry looked out the window, he noticed that it had started to rain. It was nothing new for summer in London. He wondered if his parents loved the rain. He had always found comfort in it; the way it seemed to wash away his soul's burdens felt cathartic.
Once he finished his lunch, he called the waitress over and asked for dessert. He chose a chocolate tart, thinking about how much he loved chocolate. He wondered if his parents enjoyed it too and which one of them had passed on his sweet tooth to him.
No matter his age, every action he took in life felt connected to his parents in some way. He pondered who that connection was truly dedicated to—James Potter, the pureblood only son, or Lily Evans, the Muggle-born with a sister. Or perhaps it was Regulus Black, the pureblood with a brother, whose path had diverged from the darkness.
Each thought sparked more questions. Did his parents share a fondness for sweets? Did they indulge in moments of joy that mirrored his own? Harry took a deep breath, letting the sweet aroma of chocolate fill his senses, as he tried to piece together the fragments of their lives he had been left with.
As Harry finished his tart, he paid the bill and stepped out of the restaurant. The rain had stopped just a few minutes ago, leaving the streets glistening and fresh. He took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp, clean air, and began walking toward the park.
Once he arrived, he spotted a swing set in the distance. A nostalgic smile crept onto his face as he made his way over. Sitting on one of the swings, he allowed himself to embrace the simplicity of the moment. He pushed off the ground gently, feeling the swing lift him into the air.
For the first time in a long while, Harry let himself feel like a child again—carefree and loved. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the soft breeze brush against his face, and imagined the laughter of his parents surrounding him.
"I wish you were here," he murmured to himself, gripping the chains of the swing.
sensation of weightlessness, the way it felt as if he could touch the sky. Each push made him feel lighter, as if the worries that had been weighing him down were being left behind with each backward motion.
In that moment, it didn't matter that he was alone. He allowed himself to forget about the complexities of his life, about Voldemort, about Dumbledore . Here, on the swing, he could just be Harry—a boy who loved chocolate, who adored the rain, and who yearned for the warmth of family.
He opened his eyes and looked around the park, taking in the colors of the flowers and the sounds of distant laughter. "Maybe one day," he whispered, "I'll find a way to make you proud."
And with that thought, he swung a little higher, imagining his parents watching him, beaming with pride as they cheered him on.
Harry allowed himself to revel in the joy of swinging for hours, feeling as if time had momentarily stood still. To his delight, the park was empty, giving him the chance to fully appreciate the tranquility surrounding him. The soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds were his only companions as he swung higher and higher, each rise filling him with a sense of freedom and peace.
As the afternoon began to wane, he reluctantly left the swing set behind and walked to a nearby pet store he had noticed earlier. The familiar jingle of the bell above the door welcomed him inside. The air was filled with the comforting scent of wood shavings and animal feed, a place where he could find something for his beloved pets.
"Hey there, !" the shopkeeper called out from behind the counter, wiping his hands on a cloth. "What can I help you with today?"
"Just picking up some snacks for my snakes and my owl," Harry replied, scanning the shelves. He found a bag of treats for Hedwig, filled with her favorite owl pellets, and another for his snakes, stocked with mice and other small snacks.
"Your snakes must be happy with you," the shopkeeper chuckled. Harry smiled, nodding.
After collecting a few grooming products for Hedwig's feathers, Harry paid for his items and headed back outside. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the street, and he felt a contentment wash over him. He had a small bag of goodies for his pets and a lightness in his heart from his time in the park.
With a final glance back at the animal shop, he began the walk toward the Dursleys' house. As he strolled, he couldn't help but think about the contrast between the joy he had just experienced and the challenges that awaited him at home. But for now, he focused on the simple pleasure of knowing he was doing his best for those he cared about.
As soon as Harry entered the Dursleys' house, his cousin Dudley immediately spotted the bags filled with snacks and supplies. A pout formed on his face, and he began to whine to his mother.
"Mom, why does Harry always get everything he wants and not me?" Dudley complained, his voice echoing down the hallway.
Petunia, arms crossed and a furious expression on her face, turned her attention to Harry. "This is just another one of your schemes to make Dudley jealous, isn't it?" she shouted, her tone filled with indignation.
Harry rolled his eyes and then turned to Dudley with a cold demeanor. "If you want money, Dudley, why don't you just bring back a psychopath to kill your parents and take their inheritance?"
Silence fell in the room, and Dudley, looking like the clueless child he was, turned to his mother with an incredulous expression. "Is that true, Mom?" he asked, clearly confused.
Petunia froze, her face going pale at the brutal revelation. The shock in her eyes betrayed her horror at the idea that her son might consider such a thing. Harry couldn't help but smile slyly at the chaos he'd created. He then turned on his heel and started to head upstairs.
"Harry! Get back here!" Petunia shouted, but he ignored her, climbing the stairs with a sense of satisfaction. He left them alone, the tension in the air thickening behind him.
The next morning, Harry woke up in a surprisingly good mood. He remembered the argument with Petunia from the previous day and chuckled to himself, savoring the moment of defiance. He got out of bed, feeling even happier, knowing that today he would be meeting his friends.
Last night, Theo had confirmed that he would be there. Harry grinned at the thought of Theo's letter, which had lightened his mood even more. Theo had written with his usual teasing tone:
"Harry,
I'll be there tomorrow, don't worry. But I have to say, it's a good thing you're meeting up with me, since being taller than you is far too easy—especially considering how short you are. Maybe when you see me, you'll start drinking some growth potions! See you soon, and try not to get lost in the crowd of first-years.
—Theo"
Harry laughed again, recalling Theo's playful jab about his height. It had been in response to Harry's own comment about how Theo always seemed to emphasize how much taller he was.
He decided to dress in one of his favorite outfits, something that would fit the summer heat and still have a touch of wizarding style. He chose a light, short-sleeved button-down in a cool shade of dark emerald green, the fabric soft and airy. The shirt had subtle embroidered patterns near the sleeves, reminiscent of magical runes. For the bottom, he wore dark jeans that fit snugly but comfortably, with his wand discreetly tucked into his pocket.
To complete the look, Harry slipped on a pair of black sneakers that were charmed to resist wear and tear, perfect for long walks in Diagon Alley. As a final touch, he threw on a lightweight cloak—charcoal gray with a silver clasp that resembled a snake, a nod to his pet serpents. It was perfect for keeping off the occasional chill without being too heavy for summer weather.
Harry called Chhavi and asked her to take him to the same alley in Diagon Alley where she had dropped him off last time. She brought him there right away. It was still early, and since Harry had told his friends they'd meet at 9 a.m. near the library, he had some time to spare—it was only 8 a.m.
Feeling his stomach rumble, Harry decided to grab some breakfast since he hadn't eaten yet. He wandered through the alley, eventually finding a cozy little bakery. The bakery had a warm, inviting charm to it. The walls were painted a soft pastel color, adorned with floating magical candles that gave the whole place a gentle, golden glow. Small, round tables were scattered around, each with a vase of enchanted flowers that bloomed in different colors every few seconds. The smell of freshly baked bread and sweets filled the air, making Harry's mouth water.
Harry walked up to the counter, where a friendly-looking witch greeted him with a smile.
"Good morning! What can I get for you today, dear?" the witch asked, her voice warm.
"Morning," Harry replied. "Could I have achocolate bread and a hot chocolate? Oh, and a bottle of water too."
"Of course!" she said brightly. "I'll bring it right over. Feel free to take a seat wherever you like."
Harry nodded and found a table by the window, where he could see the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley outside. He sat down and watched the alley come to life with witches and wizards strolling by, some in a rush, others leisurely enjoying the early morning.
As Harry waited for his breakfast, he thought to himself how incredible it still felt to be part of this magical world. No matter how much time passed, he wasn't quite used to the beauty of it all. The way magic just blended into everyday life here—it felt like a dream.
A few minutes later, the witch brought over his food.
"Here you go, dear! One chocolate bread and a hot chocolate, with a bottle of water on the side," she said, setting everything down.
"Thanks," Harry smiled, his eyes already fixed on the delicious-looking pastry in front of him. He took a bite and savored the warm, buttery taste of the chocolate melting in his mouth. The hot chocolate was rich and creamy, just the way he liked it.
As he sipped his drink, he glanced outside again, thinking about the day ahead. "Theo should be here soon," he thought to himself with a smile. He was looking forward to seeing his friends again, especially Theo, who had jokingly bragged in his last letter.
He took another bite of his pastry, leaning back in his chair. "This is going to be a good day," he thought, feeling the warmth of the bakery and the excitement for his day with his friends filling him up.
Harry had just settled into a comfortable spot in the bookstore, flipping through pages of a book that had caught his interest, when he felt a light touch on his arm. He looked up, startled, and saw Neville standing beside him, looking a bit shy. "Hey, Harry," Neville greeted softly, offering a small smile.
"Hey, Neville," Harry responded warmly, putting the book down. He noticed the subtle change in Neville's demeanor. The boy looked lighter, yet burdened at the same time. It was clear that their conversation about his parents the previous day had been cathartic for Neville, but the weight of the situation was still there, lingering like a shadow.
Neville shifted awkwardly on his feet, glancing at the shelves around them. "I... I didn't know you'd be here early too," he said. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—relief, maybe, or gratitude.
"Yeah, I figured I'd kill some time while waiting for everyone," Harry said, gesturing to the books around him. "I couldn't resist. There's just so much to see in here."
Neville chuckled softly. "Yeah, this place is amazing. Gran used to bring me here when I was younger... before Hogwarts." His voice trailed off, and there was a brief silence.
Harry, sensing Neville's internal struggle, decided to break the tension. "How are you feeling after yesterday? I mean, with everything we talked about."
Neville hesitated, then sighed. "It helped, talking to you. I've never really told anyone about it before, you know? It's always been just... in my head." He bit his lip and added quietly, "But it doesn't change the fact that... they're still the same. I guess... it's easier to carry now, though. A little."
Harry nodded, understanding all too well the weight of memories that lingered, refusing to fade. "We all carry stuff, mate. But it doesn't mean you have to do it alone."
Neville looked at him, his eyes softening with gratitude. "Thanks, Harry. I don't think anyone's ever said that to me before."
Harry smiled. "That's what friends are for, right?"
They both stood there for a moment, absorbing the quiet reassurance that comes from shared burdens. The bookstore was peaceful, the smell of old parchment and ink comforting. Harry thought to himself how much Neville had grown in just the short time since they started at Hogwarts. He wasn't the same timid boy he had met on the train. There was strength in him, even if Neville didn't always see it.
Neville glanced around. "Theo and Hermione not here yet?"
Harry shook his head. "Not yet. We still have some time before we all meet up."
Neville nodded, then glanced at the bookshelves. "What are you reading?"
Harry grinned and picked up the book he'd been holding.
Harry grinned and picked up the book he'd been holding. "It's called The Healer's Guide to Advanced Magical Remedies. Thought it might be useful, you know, with all the injuries we seem to get at school. Figured knowing a bit more about healing wouldn't hurt."
Harry added after a moment, "I've always wanted to be a healer, you know. That's why I picked up this book."
Neville's face brightened a little, clearly touched that Harry was sharing something so personal with him. "That's really great, Harry," he said softly. "I didn't know you wanted to do that."
Harry smiled and leaned in. "So, what about you, Neville? Have you thought about what you want to be?"
Neville looked unsure, his face clouding with uncertainty. He hesitated, glancing down at the floor. Sensing his discomfort, Harry shifted the question. "Or maybe... what do you enjoy? What's something you love?"
Neville's face lit up immediately, as if a weight had been lifted. "I've always loved magical plants," he said with more enthusiasm. "They fascinate me—the way they grow, the properties they have, how they can be used in potions and healing. I could talk about them for hours." He started sharing all kinds of details, from the properties of Gillyweed to the fascinating behavior of Mandrakes.
As Neville spoke, Harry couldn't help but notice something familiar in his expression—the same warm, joyful smile his mother had in the photograph Augusta had shown him. It was a fleeting moment, but it made Harry feel a deeper connection to Neville, understanding that even through all the pain, there were still pieces of happiness that connected them to their families.
Just then, Hermione and Theodore walked in, their faces lighting up as they spotted Harry and Neville. "There you guys are!" Hermione exclaimed, rushing over. "We were looking for you!"
"Hey, we were just talking about future careers," Harry said. "What about you guys?"
"Well, we need to get some books for school," Hermione replied. "But I was hoping we could find some fun ones too! I heard this library has some great bonus reads."
Harry nodded, knowing they'd need to head elsewhere for the required school books. "Let's check out the fun ones here first, then we can go to that other shop for the school supplies."
The group made their way toward the shelves, excited to discover new adventures in the pages of the books waiting for them.
library to explore the nearby shops. They decided to check out some wizarding clothes first. As they browsed, Theodore and Neville eagerly shared tips about wizarding fashion.
"You've got to try this cloak," Theodore said, holding up a deep green robe that seemed to shimmer in the light. "It's totally in style right now!"
"Right, because nothing says 'fashionable' like looking like a walking tent," Harry joked, causing the others to laugh.
Neville chimed in, "You don't know what you're talking about! Wizarding style has its charm. It's not just about being trendy; it's about tradition."
"Tradition? Like your grandma's old dress?" Harry teased, earning a playful shove from Neville.
After an enjoyable morning of laughter and banter, the group headed to a nearby café for lunch. They shared stories and filled each other in on their summer adventures, excited to be together again.
Finally, they made their way to Flourish and Blotts. As they entered the bustling bookstore, Harry noticed that it was packed. People crowded around the front, and he could see a familiar face signing books.
Suddenly, a hand grasped Harry's shoulder, yanking him backward. "Ah, Harry! Look who it is! Gilderoy Lockhart, at your service!" the man exclaimed, pulling Harry closer.
Harry felt a wave of anxiety wash over him as Lockhart continued to chatter, oblivious to Harry's discomfort. "I can't believe I've finally met the Boy Who Lived! A true honor! Just imagine, a photo with the famous Gilderoy Lockhart!"
Harry took a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. "Do you have no shame?" he shot back, his voice firm. "Do you really think it's okay to manhandle a kid just because you want to be in the spotlight?"
Lockhart's smile faltered for a moment, clearly taken aback. "Oh, come now, it's all in good fun!" he insisted, but Harry could see the glint of annoyance in the eyes of the journalists around them, hungry for a sensational story.
Harry managed to pull away slightly, creating space between them. "This isn't fun for me," he said, locking eyes with Lockhart. "I'm not a prop for your publicity. Maybe try respecting people instead of using them."
The moment hung in the air, tension crackling between them, and Harry could feel his friends' eyes on him, supportive but surprised. Lockhart opened his mouth, but Harry cut him off. "You know what? I'll just go get my books without your theatrics."
With that, Harry turned on his heel and strode away, his heart racing. He heard Hermione and Theodore following closely behind, their chatter a comforting presence as they moved deeper into the store.
"Harry, that was brilliant!" Hermione whispered, her admiration evident.
"Yeah, you totally told him off!" Theodore added, grinning widely.
Neville smiled at Harry. "You didn't let him walk all over you, that's for sure."
"Thanks, but I just want to get the books and leave," Harry replied, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. He hoped that the rest of the day would be much more enjoyable.
As they moved through the library, Harry noticed the chatter among the patrons around them. Some people were debating whether they should still be fans of the man who had once been a hero or support the boy who had lived. Harry found the conversation amusing; humans could be so easily swayed. Two groups quickly formed: one insisted that the boy had become too complacent with his fame, while the other, siding with Harry, argued that even a star shouldn't touch someone without permission.
Harry couldn't care less about their opinions. He had already endured the disdain of his neighbors, and as long as his friends were by his side, the opinions of strangers meant nothing to him.
"Let them talk," he said, shrugging it off. "We know who we are."
Neville nodded in agreement, and Hermione chimed in, "Exactly! We don't need their approval. We have each other."
At that moment, Théodore stepped closer to Harry, his expression serious. " Do you want me to cast a spell on the idiot?"
."
Harry smiled, grateful for their unwavering support. "Thanks, but I think I'll manage. I'm not looking for a fight today," he said, shaking his head.
Theodore smirked slightly, "Alright, but just say the word."
"Noted," Harry replied with a chuckle, feeling a warmth in his chest from their friendship.
As they browsed through the bookstore, Harry suddenly spotted a familiar shock of red hair. It was Ron Weasley. Harry felt a wave of hesitation wash over him; he didn't want to engage with the boy who had constantly insisted that he should belong in Gryffindor. It was a shame because, during their first meeting on the train, Ron had seemed nice enough.
Just as he was about to turn away, Ron called out to him. "Harry! Wait up!"
Harry stopped and watched as Ron approached, his face flushed. He ran a hand through his messy hair, clearly nervous. "Look, I... I wanted to apologize," Ron stammered, finally mustering the courage. "About how I acted in our first year. It was stupid of me to say you didn't belong in Ravenclaw. I'm sorry."
Theo, standing silently beside Harry, observed the interaction, his protective instincts flaring but remaining calm.
Ron continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I read all those books about you growing up, and I guess I thought I could have the same adventures as you, just because we're in the same house... I know it sounds silly now."
Harry raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. "What books are you talking about?"
Ron fidgeted, his gaze dropping to the floor. "You know, the ones about your life. Even though I realize now they're mostly just stories, it kind of got to my head."
Harry felt a mix of confusion and annoyance. Books about him? Without his permission? He made a mental note to discuss this with Andromeda and Ted, wondering who had given the authors the right to tell his story. But he quickly redirected his thoughts back to Ron. "It's fine, really," Harry replied, offering a reassuring smile. "Everyone makes mistakes. Just remember that you can't expect things from me. We can start fresh, yeah?"
Ron looked up, relief flooding his features. "You mean it? We could actually be friends?"
"Of course," Harry said, grinning. "I'd like that."
Ron's face broke into a wide smile, and for a moment, the tension faded, replaced by the tentative beginnings of a friendship. As they stood there, Theo relaxed a little, satisfied that Harry was willing to give Ron another chance.
The calm of the library was suddenly shattered when Harry, Theodore, and Ron heard raised voices. They turned their heads to see two adult men arguing near the entrance. One man was impeccably dressed in a sharp, tailored suit with slicked-back blond hair, exuding an air of superiority. His piercing gray eyes glinted with disdain as he faced his opponent. The other man, Arthur Weasley, stood firmly with his tousled red hair and slightly worn-out sweater, looking distinctly out of place but undeterred.
"Oh no, it's my dad!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes widening as he spotted the commotion. Without hesitation, he rushed toward the source of the argument, followed closely by Harry and Theodore.
As they approached, Harry could hear snippets of the heated exchange.
"Really, Arthur, working in the Ministry for Misuse of Muggle Artefacts? How quaint," Lucius Malfoy sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're a disgrace to our kind, associating with Muggles and their pathetic gadgets. How can you even call yourself a wizard?"
Arthur, undeterred, replied with a firm but calm tone, "I take pride in my work, Lucius. Muggles deserve respect, and I won't let you belittle them or their families. Just because you value wealth and status doesn't mean you're better than anyone else."
The confrontation escalated as Lucius stepped closer, his voice low and threatening. "You should watch your words, Arthur. Your pathetic attempts to elevate yourself will only bring shame to your family."
As the argument continued between the two men, Harry could see Ron joining his family. He noticed the white-haired man standing next to his father—Theodore had told him that it was Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father.
Ron hurried over, clearly agitated. "What's going on?" he asked, glancing between the two men.
Lucius sneered, his gaze icy as he addressed the Weasley family. "Ah, the Weasleys, the embodiment of pure-blood poverty." His voice dripped with disdain. "Perhaps you should consider how to manage your finances instead of buying books."
With a flick of his wrist, he threw a worn book at Ginny, who caught it with surprise. The title was Advanced Transfiguration for Beginners, and it landed with a soft thud on the table in front of her.
"Don't strain yourself, dear," Lucius continued mockingly. "You wouldn't want to embarrass your family further."
Ron clenched his fists, his face turning red. "You can't just come in here and insult my family!"
Harry found Lucius insufferable. The man had been so arrogant, especially when he threw the books and boasted about his "gift of the year." After the Malfoy family departed, the Weasleys followed suit, leaving Harry feeling a mix of annoyance and relief.
Just then, Hermione and Neville joined them. Hermione, still visibly upset, looked at Harry. "Did you see that? Even though Ron insulted me a lot, I still think that pale man is more detestable."
Harry nodded, recalling Lucius's condescending demeanor. "Yeah, I couldn't agree more. But you know, Ron came to see me just a few minutes ago to apologize for how he treated me during our first year."
Hermione raised her eyebrows, surprised. "Really? Maybe he's not so bad after all, then."
Neville, standing nearby, frowned slightly. "I don't know… he can still be a bit of a jerk sometimes."
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, but maybe he's just learning. Everyone makes mistakes, right?"
The four of them exchanged glances, the tension easing as they moved toward the library shelves.
As they continued their shopping, Harry felt a sense of camaraderie with his friends. Each of them was buzzing with excitement about the new school year ahead. They spent time browsing through the shelves, discussing their finds, and occasionally teasing one another about their choices.
After a while, it was time for everyone to head home. Harry, with the help of Chhavi, was transported back to his room. As soon as he arrived, he plopped down on his bed, feeling the weariness of the day wash over him.
"Alright, guys," he said, looking at his companions—Kavi, Asha, and Hedwig—who were perched around him. "Let me tell you about my day!"
He began recounting every detail of his adventures, from the delightful pastries he'd enjoyed at the bakery to the heartfelt conversation with Neville about their futures and dreams. He shared the excitement of meeting Hermione and Theo, the little banter they had, and how protective Theo was of him when someone dared to poke fun.
"Honestly, it was a great day," Harry concluded, feeling a warm glow of happiness. "I can't wait for our next adventure together!"
Hedwig hooted softly, as if to say she was looking forward to it too, while Kavi and Asha exchanged excited glances, eager to hear more about Harry's experiences and plans.