“Letmeseethat,”Malfoywhisperedinhisear,andHarrypracticallyjumped.Hehadn’tnoticedhimcomeupbehindhim.HehandedMalfoythepaperandwatchedthegreyeyesfocusononeofthefrontpagestories.GariusSantinamedrunner-upintheMissWizardingWorldPageant—breaksrecordforoldestcontestantandfirstevermalerunner-up.Harryrecognizedthemiddle-agedmanpicturedinanalluringposeinafuschiaballgown.“That’sthetopmostUnspeakable!”
Malfoyshothimaglare.“Whenyourammedintome,yousentusintothefuture,Potter.”
“Oh,”wasallHarrycouldthinktosayinresponse.Thenhelookedbackatthephoto.“HowisthatyourfirstreactiontoSantiplacingsecondinabeautycompetition?”MalfoyshovedthepaperintoHarry’schestandstalkedoutofthehotelmutteringsomethingabout“BloodyNarcissus”.
Sighing,Harrywentafterhim.Whenhecaughtup,MalfoywastuningtheTimepiece,adjustingseveralsetsofarrowsondifferentdialsonthefaceofit.Hislipswereparted,asifbaitedandwaitingfortheculminationofsomethingimperative.“Grabaholdofme,Potter.”
“What?”Harryburst.
“Lasttimeyouhadbarrelledintome,”Malfoysmirked.“I’msureifyoutreatitlikeaside-along,it’llworkjustfine.”
HarrysteppedupandgraspedMalfoy’supperarm,theslighttouchwarmandelectric.
“Where—whenarewegoing?”Harrystammered,stilltakenabackbythetingleinhishand.
Malfoy’ssmirkdeepenedandhiseyescrinkled.“Back,”hesaid.
“Backwhenexactly?”Harrysaid.Malfoywinked,andthenHarrywasoverwhelmedbythefamiliarfeelingoffallingwithhisfeetplantedfirmlyontheground.
Therewasonlysomuchone-sidedconversationthatonecouldhavewithagoddaughterwhosesoulwastrappedinakneazle’sbody.PansyhadwaitedalmosttwentyminutesforDracoandPottertocomeuptotheroom.She’dspenthalfofthattimechangingintosomethingmoreappropriateforaransomdropoffandinvestigativetrekkingacrossScotland.Staringatherselfinthemirror,shesmoothedthelinesofhersoftcameltrenchcoatandlinedthecollaroverthewhitesilkblouse.Thick,blackwooltrouserscompletedthelook,toppedwithablackfedora.Ifshewasgoingtoexperienceherundoing,shewouldatleastlookamazing.
Shecheckedthetime.Theystillhadalmostfourhoursuntileveryonewassupposedtobeback.Pansy’snervesweremakinghersick.WhatifHermioneactuallyacquiredalloftheransomdemands?WouldtheytakeeverythingexceptthedamnedplantinexchangeforBertrice?Howwouldtheyswitchthemback?Shewasgoingtotalkherselfintoaoblivionifshekepton.
PansydecidedtoflipthroughthebooksLongbottomgavethem.Shereadaboutthehistoryofinquollisanicorpus.Apparentlyatsomepointinthefifteenthcentury,aterriblewizard,AlexandrtheHornswoggler,triedtotakeoverRussiausingthesoul-catcher.HisattempttogetIvanIIIalmostsucceededbutwasstoppedwhenoneofhisvictimsattackedhim.Thetextwasvagueaboutwhothevictimwas,merelystatingthatAlexandrdiedduetoinjuriesfromawildgoatstampede.
“Adrink,”shesaidasBertieslidagainstPansy’sboots.Sheclosedthebookandstood.“Ineedadrink.”
Pansyfoundthehotelbarjustascrowdedasithadbeenthatafternoon.ShemanagedtostealaseatandorderaFinisterialCalamité,herfavoritedrink.Thebartenderhadjustbroughtherthedelightfulgreenconcoction,whentheseatnexttohervacatedandanotherwarmbodyshimmiedupintoit.
“Hello,Pansy,”Lovegood’smusicalvoicerangacrossthebar.
Turning,shetookinthesightoftheRavenclawwoman.Lovegoodhadtamedherhairbackintoabun,butotherwiselookedexactlythesameaswhenPansyhadseenherlast,whichhadbeenalittlemorethanhourago.“Hello,Lovegood.”Pansyraisedaneyebrow.“CometocheckmeforTinselGnats?”
“Ididn’tbringanygolddust,”LovegoodputherhandonPansy’sarm.“Why?Doesyoursweatsmelllikeeggnog?”
Pansysnorted.“Lovegood,whatareyoudoinghere?”
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