"Do you want to go to the Three Broomsticks, Harry?"
"Sure. Why not?"
It was the first time Harry had visited Hogsmeade since Christmas, and Draco had allowed him to go out with just Ron and Hermione, probably because his intense protectiveness from the ritual was finally beginning to fade. Harry inhaled a lungful of crisp winter air and smiled at the people walking past him.
A few people stared, but only a few. Harry had found that only those who knew him well could tell the difference between him and Draco when they didn't have the context of school and classes and Houses to remind them. Others didn't think of him as the Boy-Who-lived when they saw him, only one of the Malfoy twins.
It was wonderful.
"Let's go to Honeydukes first! Fred and George said they have these spicy chocolates that can burn your throat all the way down…"
Despite Hermione looking doubtful that that was something they should be buying, they did go to Honeydukes, where Harry bought everything he looked at or Ron wanted. Ron seemed to have got over some of his worries about Harry's money, maybe because it was Malfoy money they were spending. He laughed as he tossed one of the spicy chocolates down his throat, and then promptly started coughing.
"See! I told you!"
Harry wandered down the street to the familiar tune of Hermione's scolding and Ron's protests from behind him. He glanced at Tomes and Scrolls, but he couldn't think of any books that he really wanted to read. Uncle Ted kept him supplied with books on curses and jinxes, the most interesting subject he knew.
"The Three Broomsticks now?" he asked, turning around to walk backwards.
"Yes, why not?" Hermione seemed to have calmed down, and Ron wasn't coughing any longer, although he still massaged his throat.
When they went in, it was crowded, no surprise, but there was a small table towards the back that was free. Harry elbowed his way to it and sat down to hold it while Ron and Hermione went off to shout their orders at Madam Rosmerta.
Harry paused a little when he saw Oliver Wood sitting at one of the tables, arguing with Marcus Flint, of all people. Oliver turned around and grinned as he noticed him.
"Hey, Harry! How's Quidditch going?"
"All right," Harry said. Quidditch was no longer at the forefront of his mind, and he didn't attend practices all that often. He knew he could catch the Snitch, and so did everyone else.
"Good, good," Oliver said, and turned back to arguing with Flint. Harry listened a little, but it seemed to be about the internal affairs of the Puddlemere United team, and Harry lost interest.
Ron and Hermione came back with butterbeer and a tray of sandwiches and soup, and Harry lost himself in conversation with his friends. It was good sometimes to remember that as well as being the Boy-Who-Lived and the lost Malfoy twin, he was just himself, fifth-year Gryffindor and friend to Ron and Hermione.
"Have you started studying for your exams yet, Harry?"
"Uh, yes?" Harry said, blinking at Hermione. "You were there through most of it, I'm pretty sure."
Hermione blushed a little while Ron laughed. "Not like that, Harry! I meant, have you started studying in depth? Revising the course books? Practicing spells other than the curses and jinxes that Mr. Tonks was teaching you?"
"Yes," Harry lied.
"Harry! These exams are going to be some of the most important of our lives! It's incredibly useful to study for them and to get good marks! If you don't study, then you won't get good marks—"
Harry sat back and let Hermione's words watch over him. He caught Ron's eye, and Ron snickered and shrugged. He'd had his share of fights with Hermione over OWL exams already, Harry knew, and he seemed to think it was fair that Harry get a turn, now that Hermione wasn't being held back anymore about what had happened to Harry over Christmas.
Or the fight that we had before that, Harry thought idly.
He sipped his butterbeer and looked around. Oliver had left at some point, and Flint was sitting alone at the table, scowling down into his mug. Harry saw Hagrid toasting the air, and Flitwick making his mug dance across the table in front of him, and Shacklebolt in a corner with his arms folded.
He didn't know exactly what changed, what warned him, but something in the pub's atmosphere did. Harry found himself falling flat on the floor, while a spell whistled overhead and collided with the wall behind him.
"Harry!"
There were more screams than just Hermione's as the pub dissolved into chaos. Harry scrambled forwards on his hands and knees, getting under the table and in front of the chairs, and leaned out to try and get a good view of the person attacking him.
It was Flint, his spells going wide and marking the walls with craters, while he roared and swung his wand as though he couldn't control it. Staring at him incredulously, Harry wondered if he was drunk.
"Harry!"
Hermione was pulling at his arm. Harry nodded grimly. They had to get away, and he had no idea if the professors in the room would manage to calm Flint down, or if the charm still embedded in his skin and ringing would bring help soon. He didn't even know who would be warned by the charm today, Uncle Ted or Tonks or Mother or Father.
Harry slid out from beneath the table and straightened up. Flint immediately focused on him, and his wand swung around with what seemed to be deadly precision this time to point straight at Harry's chest.
Harry's world abruptly narrowed down to a crystal-clear tunnel. This was the sort of situation he had practiced for so many times with Uncle Ted. He knew exactly what to do. He aimed his wand at Flint.
"Serpens ignis."
....
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