long.hehadn’tmeantto,butharrywasn’tlooking,andwathinghimwasmuhmoreiingthanpenilingininformationaboutdeatheatersthatheonlymetone,atsomebewhenhewaseleven.

“idon’tseehowthishelps.”heshovedthejournway,wherehehadsrawledmeaninglessdetailshehadpikedupfromonepartyoranother—whotheyhadanaffairwith,wheretheirsummervaationhomeswere,whihministryoffiialtheyhadreportedlybribed,whattheyhadsoldtobinandburkes.itwastediouswork,butitseemsthatwhendraostoppedtothinkaboutit,hehadgatheredmoretidbitsofgossipthanhethought.“what’sitmatterwhosomeguyheatsonhiswifewith?”

harrysmiledathim,shakinghisheadsohishairfallsoutofhisfae.he’salwayshavingaonstantbattlewithhishairnow,tryingtokeepitoutofhiswaybutalsowantingitlongenoughtooverhissar.fashionversesfuntion,theeternalbattle.“ifyou’regettingtired,youangetabreak.”hewasanaturalleader,butdraohadnotiedthathewasmoreototakealltheresponsibilityonhimselfthanthepareloutjobstoanyoneelse.“thatdoesn’thavetobedonight.”

“onlyifyoudo.”hewasn’twalkingawayandleavingharryinheretopuzzleouttheproblemsalone.hermionehadspeifiallytoldhimnotto,thatitwouldgofasterifharryhadsomeobouneideasoffof,evenifthatsomeonewasaboutashelpfsbrikwall.(itdoesn’tmatterifyouknowwhathe’stalkingabout,anyways,hedoesn’ttakeanyone’ssuggestionsevenwhenthey’regood.)“youan’tpossiblystillbethinkingstraight.”

“thatdoesn’thavetobedonight,butthisdoes.”harrystraightensup,andhisbakpopswhenhedoes,prooftohowlonghehadbeensittinglikethat.“ineedtokeepw.”

“no.”draorossedtheroomandpulledhisworkawayfromhim,andharrymadeahalfheartinggrabbingmotion,butletit