"Let's get some late lunch," Dave suggested. "I don't know about you, but I'm quite hungry by now."
Luckily, the rain turned into merely a drizzle, making their stroll to the restaurant that Dave had in mind quite pleasant. Dave and Jean walked under one umbrella, hugging each other, while Harry held the other umbrella for Hermione and himself. They didn't hug but stayed very close to each other, and Hermione held his arm. Harry felt quite chivalrous this way, protecting the damsel in his company.
They found a modest restaurant. Not really knowing what to order, Harry asked Hermione to order for him. She didn't agree. "If you're going to live on your own for the rest of the month, you need to be able to order for yourself at a restaurant. I'll teach you." She put the menu in front of them both and started explaining the choices, one by one, until she too encountered an unknown entry.
"Dad, what is this?" she asked, turning to her father.
"Oh, that's just a spicy steak, named extravagantly. A bit too spicy for my taste, actually."
"Why do they use these complicated names on menus?" Harry asked.
"Every restaurant tries to seem special. Had they all named it 'spicy steak' it would have seemed mundane. Using French words and designations makes them look special, but they're still the same."
"Aren't there places that use simple names?" Harry insisted.
"Well, there are, but they cater mainly to the lower working class, people who couldn't possibly understand or appreciate the elaborate names. These are usually cheaper as well."
"Then why eat in a place like this and not at one of the cheaper restaurants?"
Dave smiled. "Unfortunately, the food in those places is of lesser quality and taste and not served as nicely. In a way, you usually get what you pay for."
"Are you saying, sir, that the more expensive, the better?"
Dave smiled at the boy. "Please call me Dave. As for your question, that is usually the rule, although not always. Some places ask for higher prices just to seem more prestigious, and some manage to give high quality at much lower prices, but usually, this isn't the way things work."
This gave Harry some food for thought, to be considered later. With Hermione's help, he managed to choose quite wisely and he really enjoyed the meal, and not only the company. By the time they finished their meal, the rain stopped. Harry decided to walk back to his hotel and enjoy some window shopping.
"We may need to buy some more books," Hermione said before they parted. "Shouldn't we go to Diagon Alley again?"
"Let's see tomorrow. You know I loathe to attract attention," he said.
"And I still want to understand why. See you tomorrow."
Harry looked after the car as it moved on. He had not yet told her about Dumbledore, the Dursleys, and Hagrid. He wondered if he should.
The Talk
When Harry returned to the hotel, Selma's mother was at the reception desk. "Mr Potter, may I have a moment of your time?" While the question was very polite, her tone indicated that refusal would not be welcome.
"Of course. Can I help you in any way?" he asked politely.
"We need some privacy for our discussion," she said, opening a door behind her and motioning him to come.
It was just a small office. The desk was piled high with various papers. There was a chair behind it and another in front of it. A large cabinet completed the furniture. The woman didn't mind the chairs. She sat on the desk, motioning Harry to the chair. She didn't bother with niceties, going straight to the point. "How come the famous Harry Potter is staying in our hotel, practically incognito?"
"What do you mean?" he blurted, not feeling ready for this question.
She sighed. "My parents are… were… magical. They died about eleven years ago. I was their shameful daughter, expelled from Hogwarts after the third year, my wand snapped and my magic tied. I was forced to live like a muggle, but I was still aware of everything that happened in the magical world. You know the rest. Now, the saviour of the magical world is staying in one of my rooms. I think I deserve an explanation."
It was Harry who sighed next. "Well, after that Halloween, I was left with my relatives, who hate magic. They told me nothing and punished me when 'weird' things happened near me. I only found out I was a wizard when my letter came. I then found out that I had a bit of money, enough to no longer live with these hateful relatives of mine. This is how I ended here. I hope you let me stay until I need to go to Hogwarts."
She looked at him with a sad smile. "I know that relatives are not necessarily loving or caring. I had my parents for example. You may stay with us for as long as you wish, provided you can pay." Her face turned stern now. "I also need to know what happens between you and Selma. She takes too much after me, and I'm afraid she might tempt you to do something foolish, even if you don't want to."
Harry looked alarmed. "Nothing, really. She wanted to help me, seeing I have almost nobody to care for me. I consider her a friend."
She still looked stern and more than a bit worried. "You may be young, but someone as magically powerful as you is bound to attract girls much earlier than other boys. You look so much like your father, that almost any girl is sure to fall for you, and Selma is no exception." She bit her lip and continued. "Please promise me you won't lead her astray."
Harry nodded solemnly. "I'll not let her misjudge my intentions and I'll try to be as truthful as possible with her."
"Selma knows you are magical," the woman continued. "She's seen your owl and she knows enough about me to make the connection. You should tell her, next time you talk with her."
"I'll do as you say," he promised solemnly.
"Fine! Enjoy your stay…" She smiled reassuringly at Harry.
–..–
When Harry approached his room he found Selma waiting on a bench in the corridor near it. "What took you so long? I heard you arriving and came here immediately, yet I waited and waited and it took you an eternity to arrive."
"Sorry, your mother held me. She told me a bit about herself."
Selma grimaced. "She told you that she used to be a witch and that I don't have any magic in me. Right?"
Harry nodded.
Selma looked a bit thoughtful, and then she smiled with some mischief. "I bet she had her eyes on your father when she was at school!"
Harry wasn't sure the Math was right, but he nodded just the same. Indeed, if Selma's mother was older than his father, it became more understandable why Selma was attracted to him.
"Care to tell me about your day?" she asked.
Harry shrugged. "My friend's parents took us to see My Fair Lady and then to a restaurant. How about you?"
Selma smiled widely. "My parents let me spend the whole afternoon with my boyfriend. We saw a nice musical comedy at the cinema and then went to Soho, where we watched some street performers and later had some pizza before he escorted me back. I enjoyed it very much."
Selma enjoyed talking to Harry and he liked having company. She kept talking, telling him more details about the film, the street performers and the funny people she had seen on the way. Harry only encouraged her with a few words whenever she stopped for a breath. He still enjoyed it.
Harry was still awake in bed long after he finished the conversation with Selma. As he was contemplating the day's events, his thoughts wandered to Hermione. For some reason he couldn't understand, her friendship was becoming more important to him. Merely being near her made him calmer and happier. He wondered if that was what friendship was all about. He didn't feel that way about Selma.