Percy Jackson and the Locket of Salazar [Book 6]

9) Fred and George Do a Bad Thing in a Good Way

War was scary, but I guess I hadn't been expecting the people of Diagon Alley to look so frazzled. They all looked anxious, tense like Mrs. Weasley, and didn't stop to talk to anyone. No one shopped alone.

I knew that things were to change, of course, I just hadn't expected it to be this much. Camp was different — when we were facing war, we still treated the people around us well, even when knowing that they may be the next to turn up a spy. We had GPS hardwired into us that alerted the monsters to where we were, and we were, for the most part, under eighteen. It was weird to see a bunch of children taking it better than adults, but I guess they were taking it better than when they ignored everything.

"Migh' be a bit of a squeeze in there with all o' us." Hagrid stooped in front of Madam Malkin's, peering through the window. "I'll stand guard outside, all righ'?"

"Okie dokie!" I said and stepped inside, hoping to get this over with. I was not a fan of getting poked and prodded by magical measuring tools, especially when they involved uncomfortable robes I would ultimately refuse to wear.

Of course, any potential discomfort I felt over the robe fitting washed away when a familiar voice washed over me. "... not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone."

Madam Malkin's voice, speaking from somewhere behind the racks of clothing with my boyfriend, was tinged with exhaustion. "Now, dear, your mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own any more, it's nothing to do with being a child —"

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Draco cried, "Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you?" I shrunk, knowing that she must've hit a sore spot. The war had hurt him more than many of us, but he'd insisted on being well enough to head home the same day I had. Of course, he was lying through his teeth.

Draco stepped out from behind the rack, handsome green robes flowing about him. He didn't immediately notice us, another obvious indicator that his health wasn't quite where it should be. I was happy to see him all the same, even if he looked like he was he a zombie freshly reanimated. His cheeks were ever so slightly hollowed out, face paler than normal, and the area beneath his eyes was darker than usual. He looked sick, and I wondered whether he was taking the antidote for the poison on Ethan's blade that Will had given him.

He saw us in the mirror, gray eyes narrowing slightly. I saw his shoulders stiffen as he braced himself to put on his usual persona. "If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, some Mudbloods just walked in."

The word didn't burn as much as it had in my second year, but I hadn't been expecting it, and let out a small puff of air. Draco, of course, had a front to put on. Not so much for himself anymore, but instead for his spying gig. He was good at playing the snobby brat, and so he did, even if it meant he sometimes had to say things that hurt. We'd talked about it before, especially once Voldemort came back to power.

Still, I was a bit perplexed by the wording. Mudbloods. Plural. He had only ever called me that when his father went on a rampage. His father was nowhere in sight, and I knew his mother hated the word just as much as we did.

"I don't think there's any need for language like that!" Madam Malkin clambered out from behind the clothes rack. "And I don't want wands drawn in my shop, either!" I had hardly noticed when Ron and Harry had stepped forward, drawing theirs, Ron looking particularly hesitant.

Hermione whispered, "No, don't, honestly, it's not worth it..."

"Yeah, like you'd dare do magic outside of school." Draco snarled.

"That's quite enough!" Madam Malkin snapped, then looked to Narcissa for support. "Madam — please —"

Narcissa Malfoy was a very regal looking woman, but under her cold exterior, she was very kind. Draco got his acting skills from her, and she'd very quickly picked up on what was probably a shift in his behavior. Heavy was the head that wore the Malfoy crown, but she carried hers high. Her voice was as cold as her demeanor. "Put those away. If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do."