Tom's Intervention

"Well, well, well – Arthur Weasley."

It was Mr. Malfoy, who'd managed to quietly make his way over to them, placing one gloved hand on his son's shoulder. He'd magically managed to retain his dignity despite their chaotic surroundings. Harry was impressed. Although...the man was a Death Eater, and had no doubt seen many a battle. So maybe it really wasn't that impressive.

"Lucius," the red haired man replied in a stiff voice - the red haired man who was, apparently, Mr. Weasley - nodding coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," Mr. Malfoy continued, his voice deceptively casual. Harry wasn't sure he liked where this was going. "All those raids...I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into the youngest Weasley child's cauldron and extracted, from amidst the garishly bright, brand new Gilderoy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of what looked to be A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.

"Obviously not," he said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr. Weasley flushed, his cheeks turning a darker red than his hair. "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said pointedly.

"Clearly," Mr. Malfoy drawled, his pale eyes straying to the two adults who'd come up with Mr. Weasley to stand beside Hermione. Her parents, he supposed, who were watching the scene apprehensively. Harry couldn't blame them...he was starting to feel a little uneasy himself.

"The company you keep, Weasley...and I thought your family could sink no lower -"

Well, that was tactless. Harry disliked muggles as much as the next wizard, but he'd never say so to their faces. Apparently, Mr. Weasley thought it was rather tactless as well, because a moment later he heard the thud of metal meeting wood as a cauldron went flying; Mr Weasley was throwing himself at Mr. Malfoy with a furious scowl.

Harry could do nothing but gape as dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on their heads. Amidst the thunder there was a yell of "Get him, Dad!" from Fred or George, or both. In the meantime, a woman who was definitely Mrs Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no!". The crowd around them stampeded backwards, knocking more shelves over.

Those poor shop attendants.

Punches started flying, and Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. It turned out, though, that he didn't need to do anything at all.

"That is quite enough." A sharp feminine voice cut through the chaos, and Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley were tugged apart by an invisible force.

Harry spun around to find Tom's crimson glare flickering between him and the two formerly brawling men in front of him.

Tom's – Miss Jenkin's – glossy pink lips curled in disgust. "Brawling like muggles -" his gaze flickered over to the Grangers for only the slightest moment, "- in public, with children watching no less. The heads of two pureblood wizarding families. It's shameful, really." Tom turned his glare down to Harry. "I told you to stay out of trouble."

"I -" Harry began.

"Can't even follow the simplest of instructions, I'm aware. Come. We're leaving."

And with that, Tom turned on his (shoeless) heel and marched out of the shop.

Harry looked apologetically at the Malfoys, Weasleys, and Grangers.

"Who was that?" Ron said, eyes wide and a bright blush on his face.

Harry grimaced. "Friend of my mum's – long story – see you at school!"

And with that, he ran after Tom.

When he caught up, Tom glared at him. "You foolish, foolish boy. When you see a Malfoy and a Weasley in the same room, you walk the other way."

"I'll remember that for next time."

"See that you do."

Harry frowned. "Of course, I wouldn't have gotten in to trouble in the first place if you hadn't left me."

Tom raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "I had business to attend to."

"And when are you going to tell me about this business?"

Tom didn't bother replying. "Take my hand."

Harry obeyed, and a moment later they apparated into Miss Jenkin's living room.

Used to Tom's sudden apparitions by now, Harry only blinked. "Wait...didn't we still have things to do?"

Impatiently, Tom drew his attention to the small bag in his hand. "I don't want to be walking around London with this."

Harry frowned at the inconspicuous-looking bag. "What's that?"

Tom emptied the bag on the couch. It had contained a small tiara, a gleeming golden cup, a bejewelled locket, a ring, and a small book that looked a lot like Harry's diary. He recognized the items immediately and gaped.

"Your other horcruxes?"

.....

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