A Change of Feeling

Dit des Trois Morts et des Vifs

"Harry!" said Draco sternly, tapping his finger on the wood of the desk in front of Harry's face. "Do you want to know what happened, or are you not interested in our families?"

Harry sighed at his friend's antics, his mouth curling into an indulgent smile. "Tell me, Draco. please?"

Draco smiled with satisfaction. "Because you insist, Potter." He leaned back and crossed his legs regularly, enjoying the attention of the emerald eyes on him. "Your father, Sirius, fugitive criminal and present Lord of Most Ancient House of Black; sat with his big bum on the desk - with my father between his legs - plaiting father's hair. They were apparently drunk - my mother wrote about two empty Firewiskey bottles and an open bottle next to the pair - and talked loudly about the old custom where the number of braids in the hair indicated how many enemies had been vanquished by the wearer of the hairstyle. They were discussing how many braids father should wear; Father spoke of one hundred and twenty-four plaits, to which Black reacted with insults. According to him, father was only entitled to fifty braids, while he himself was entitled to seventy-three braids."

Harry shook his head and laughed softly at Sirius' strange fantasies. "Siri may be entitled to about twenty braids, I like to believe that as Auror he defeated some wizards, but seventy braids are very exaggerated."

Draco laughed along with Harry. "My mother thought so as well, although she also thought father's claims on the strong side," he shared with a wink. "In the end, the two settled for a construction each with one hundred and fifty braids that skilfully blended into each other. However, my mother thought they looked like two dolled-up poodles, after which father banned her from the study; supposedly in the name of 'elevated' conversations."

Harry chuckled, "Would your mother be willing to relinquish a memory of this event? I would like to see this with my own eyes."

"Then you should stop your research first, Harry," Draco said suddenly seriously. "You have been hiding in the library for several days now. It's that your schoolwork doesn't suffer because otherwise, I would have come to you sooner."

Draco gestured at the open books, with all sorts of parchment sticking out of them. "This research of yours is starting to look more and more like an obsession."

Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know, Draco... I know."

He squeezed his eyes shut and thought back to the past few days. The news of Umbridge's death had spread like wildfire, everyone knew the professor had come to her end in a bizarre way. Not only that, it seemed as if all the students knew that Harry had been lifted from his bed to be interrogated.

Harry had heard several rumors, though they were all variations on the prevailing view; Harry had somehow been involved in the death of Professor Umbridge. The only reason he wasn't in Azkaban was a lack of evidence or a huge sum of hush money Harry had paid to some senior members of the Ministry. Harry's favorite, however, was the rumor that Harry had already escaped from the wizard prison- with the help of Voldemort, or the Dementors- and that no one dared take him for fear of their own lives. Though the latest rumor was too outlandish to believe, most of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff seemed to value this line of thought.

A cool hand on his neck startled him from his musings. "Harry, come to dinner tonight in the Great Hall. Close your books for the weekend. Saturday is another Hogsmeade outing, maybe that will help you with your research," Draco said, referring to the upcoming conversation with Voldemort.

Harry nodded and smiled thinly at Draco. "Thank you, Draco. I'll tidy up my things here and meet you in the Great Hall."

Draco nodded in satisfaction and left the library, which was deserted except for a few Ravenclaws.