"Pretty good," George said, "though Flourish is notoriously forgetful."
"He's banned us for life twice and still lets us in," Fred grinned.
"And what did you do to get ban-," Hermione began scolding before her balloon was quickly popped.
"Puckle," her father said from behind them, drawing the boys' eyes to him.
As cool as a cucumber, the ditsy dentist continued to worm his way through the book he was reading as if he hadn't said anything at all.
"So… ," George said to fill the uncomfortable silence that descended. "What do you think of this Lockhart?"
"I think he's being completely unethical," Hermione said. "Making everyone buy his-"
"Puckle," her father said again.
Hermione's shoulders hunched like she really wanted to hit something. The Weasleys' eyes darted between her and the odd muggle man behind them and seemed to collectively decide not to mention him lest Hermione explode on them.
"He certainly has a lot of witches around him," Fred said with a casualness Harry admired. "Probably be popular at Hogwarts this year."
"Oh please," Hermione said irritably, shooting daggers at the teacher in question through the bookstore's shelves. "He's not that attractive."
Ron struggled to keep his short snort quiet but all it did was draw the girl's attention.
"While he may have certain aesthetic qualities-," Hermione started.
"Puckle," Mr. Granger said again bravely, drawing a full-strength flared-nose Hermione glare for his comment.
Suddenly Hermione seemed to relax and draw herself up defiantly as she turned to look at Ron.
"I like my hair messy," she stated before darting her hands to Harry's hair and messing it up for all she was worth.
The Weasleys looked at her dumbfoundedly while Harry didn't know what to think. Whatever it was that just happened though must've been right because Mr. Granger just laughed and walked away towards the front of the store.
"Are all muggles this mental?" Ron asked astonished.
"Well we do do everything backwards," Hermione said sarcastically.
With a quick look at Harry showing a glint in her eye, she smiled and turned back to Ron.
"Harry and I've been talking about the uncomfortable event at the end term and he seems to think-"
"What happened at the end of term?" Fred asked with a smile like Christmas had come early.
"Nothing happened," Ron said panicking.
"Oh, well, now we know it's good," George added. "What'd he do?" he asked.
"Nothing!" Ron cried, trying to physically drag his brothers away. "We're fine," he almost seemed to plead. "Nothing happened at all."
"My mistake," Hermione said, brushing past them with her small stack of books. "I must be imagining things. You know how mental we muggles are. Coming Harry?" she called back to him.
Harry followed behind her thinking this was shaping up to be a very interesting year.
"I was curious," he heard one plump-looking witch say as she fawned over Lockhart's grotesque desk as Harry stopped to listen. "How was it you were able to investigate the Wagga Wagga Werewolf when Voyages With Vampires has you in Romania at the time?"
"Well, as to that," Lockhart said with a smile. "With a wizard as talented and famous as myself, we have acquaintances all over the world. We can't be pestered with ordinary owls dropping in at all hours of the night, we need a more instant and reliable means of communication than just your standard floo," he said with a condescending smirk the surrounding witches didn't see.
"Well," he ostentatious man continued, preening his hair once again. "Once I got the distress call from down below I popped off to Wagga Wagga on the next international portkey. It wasn't noted in Voyages because those print people didn't think it 'flowed quite right.' It's clever of you to pick it out. Everyone, let's give her a round of applause," he called to his audience.
Harry got up to the counter just in time to see Mr. Granger add the Practical Runemaking book to Hermione's stack and for her to look up at him quizzically.
"I want to compare them to the Futhark," he said with a bit of a mad grin. "Just to see what those old Vikings were up to."
"My word!" Lockhart's sultry tones washed over the store. "It can't be Harry Potter!"
Harry's eyes rolled uncontrollably as he stifled a groan. The last thing he wanted was to be latched on to by some lilac-loving lunatic. He opened his eyes just in time to see the coiffed blonde beckon the photographer over as he swooped down on him.
"Together you and I rank the front page," the man said with a predatory gleam in his eye as he put his arm around Harry's shoulder to lock him in place.
Before he could even think of what to say there was a movement to his left and Lockhart spun away in a lilac colored swirl.
"No hands on the kid, lad," Lichfield's gruff bark of a voice said as he twisted their would-be Defense professor's arm into the middle of his back.
"Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow! Not the pinky, it hurts!" Lockhart cried as the ever-present cameraman took another photo before Lichfield shoved the man away.
"Get back where you belong, you puffed-up peacock before you get plucked," the litigator growled before he turned to Harry. "You alright?"
"Fine," Harry said relieved.
"Fine," Harry said relieved.
"Good. You there!" Lichfield pointed at Mr. Flourish. "You hold these books on reserve; we'll be back."
"W-we don't really do that here," the cowardly Mr. Flourish stammered, making Harry wonder what he'd done to break up the fight in the first place.
"You do now," the old bailiff barked as he surveyed the scene. "Ready to go?"
"Absolutely," Harry said. "You ready?" he asked Hermione who nodded and looked again at their suddenly weak-chinned professor before shaking her head.
"By the way," he asked as they left the shop with Lichfield and her dad. "What's a Puckle?"
.....
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