"Come get it, Ashworth!"
With an annoyed groan, Harry rolled onto his side and sat up, reaching over to the night stand for his glasses. "It's too early to deal with you."
"Why, I would think you don't enjoy my company!"
"I don't," Harry mumbled quietly. Out loud, he said, "How did you get into my room, anyway?"
She gestured towards the door. "You think locks like that can keep me out?" She almost looked insulted at the prospect that he might think that.
"Apparently I need to put up wards if I want any privacy from you."
"Ah-ah!" Bellatrix held up a finger. "Is that any way to speak to someone who's come to invite you to a party?"
"Wha-?"
Bellatrix stepped back, performed a small curtsy, and twirled around grandly. "You have been invited to a small family gathering this evening," she declared with a wide, dramatic sweep of her arms. At Harry's odd expression, she stemmed her fists into her hips and glared at him. "What?"
Harry suppressed a grin, though he wasn't entirely successful, and he was sure she could see the faint smile on his lips. He couldn't help himself. Bellatrix Black had just done something incredibly silly.
"What?" she repeated.
"Nothing, nothing." He waved her off. "What's this about a party?"
"A family gathering," she emphasized carefully.
"What's the difference?"
It took her a moment to think about that. Finally, she settled on, "I don't think there's as much getting drunk as there would be in a party."
"I see." He didn't, not really.
"It took surprisingly little effort on my part, especially thanks to the little stunt you managed to pull yesterday."
"What're you talking about?"
Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't know. How many groups of boneheads did you destroy yesterday?"
"I didn't 'destroy' anyone!" Harry groaned. If that was what the press had been reporting, then he could kiss his blessed anonymity bye-bye.
"Well, they sure talked like you did."
"They're out already?"
"Aha! So that was you!"
Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Please tell me I haven't made the front page of the Daily Prophet yet."
"You haven't made the front page of the Prophet yet."
"Good."
There was a long silence as they stared at each other, both of them resolved not to squirm despite the searing need to say something, anything to get rid of the silence. Harry sighed and shrugged. He hadn't wanted this much public exposure quite this soon, but it couldn't be helped. He wasn't about to back down and let a firefight get out of hand. Maybe it would even benefit him, if it had gotten him invited to a social gathering this quickly. And he could only imagine the sorts of people that associated themselves with the Blacks. It could potentially lead him straight to Voldemort.
Finally, Bellatrix spoke up, fed up with the silence. "So, did you pick up your documentation?"
"I have everything, except the license," Harry replied.
Bellatrix smirked. "So, how much did they rip you off for?"
Harry cringed. He felt like he'd done well, and the forgers had seemed like honest people, but under Bellatrix's inquisitive gaze, he wasn't quite so sure anymore. "Ten thousand."
Bellatrix involuntarily raised her eyebrows, displaying her increased respect for the strange time traveler. "Not bad, Ashworth."
"Thanks," he said sarcastically. If she noticed, she didn't show.
"Well, the party's at No. 12, Grimmauld Place. Show up at seven for dinner - oh, and wear something nice. I'd hate for you to do something stupid or embarrassing," she said, pulling out her wand to apparate away.
"I'll be there."
Bellatrix nodded in approval, a glint in her eyes. "Good to see you're familiar with the location." She waved her wand and was gone, leaving Harry with the realization that he'd inadvertently revealed more than he'd wanted her to know. On the other hand, she already knew he was the Black family heir, so knowing the location of No. 12 Grimmauld Place was almost a given. Deciding not to think about it any further, since he couldn't take back his words, he showered and cleaned himself up for the day.
It was only when he walked down into the pub for breakfast, and caught sight of a copy of the Daily Prophet, that he screwed up his eyes and cursed her name.
"You lied!" he hissed at the ceiling. There, on the front page, was a moving image of yesterday's firefight. And he was right in the middle of it.
....
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