Welcome to Gaia! ::

*Shuts the door to the Broomsticks behind himself before jogging up beside James, resting a light hand on his shoulder* Alright, Jamie?

No, 'm not, actually. *Shrugs* I don't think he should have left. His parents had all sorts of relationship problems, but they stuck with the "til death do us part" bit, and even then, they were still there for each other.

And I do care, don't be a wanker. *Ruffles his hair, making it messier*

Why would I fix your Mum's roof or help babysit if I thought Harry had been in the right?

I think you should try to like him a little more and give him the benefit of the doubt, but that's your call, Jamie. No one else's.

Just don't push Al away, you'll regret losing him. Might not seem like it now, but when you get older you will.

*Puts an arm around him* You just have to start with small things...

Hm.. Well, you and your Dad both play Quidditch... You're all three in the same House.. Could always compare party stories...

Maybe you could get him to go to a regular club in London, have the three of you do something cool, yeah? *Hugs him a bit*

It's just gonna take some work, Jamie. Don't stress over it too much.

No, it's a family sort of thing. Never wait on someone else to fix a problem, Jamie.

You've got to get right into it with them and get it started... Otherwise you might as well s**t on yourself and sit there waiting looking like a bloody fool. *Scowls a bit*

Harry's not a bad person, don't get me wrong, but never expect him or anyone else to just magically fix anything...

...*Pauses then grins a bit* Can I please stop talking like an adult now, eh? You're making me feel old, Jamie.

I'm supposed to be the cool one.

Who in the bloody hell said I had wrinkles?? *Laughs, but nods*

Fine, fine.. But you're helping me pick mine out. I want something fast. Might get Spica one too while we're out. Gotta stop by the book shop too, don't let me forget.

Godfrey, carefully looking as if he wasn't up to any sort of mischief, was indeed up to mischief. Very mischief-y mischief, of the most mischievous type. If anyone was paying attention to him, they might find it a bit weird that he was venturing out near the Hog's Head, since he didn't even live in Hogsmeade, and obviously wasn't half-haltedly skipping to his house. Not old enough to drink, he also had no real business to be anywhere near the Hog's Head. But he did indeed have business, business that was indeed very, very important.

To Voldemort's house he was a-going!

He hadn't really thought much about clothes, just tossing on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, socks, shoes (And underwear, of course.) But then he thought Voldemort's place might be rather chilly, so shouldn't he wear pants? And, likely, he should wear a robe or sweatshirt as well. So an hour or so later he'd finally decided on a pair of black jeans, a dark blue shirt, a plain black belt, and a comfortable black hoodie- adorned with adorable white and black hearts and a few flying skulls. He felt it was rather appropriate.

At the moment he was walking rather awkwardly, repressing the urge to skip/run gaily down the street, so eager he was to see Clementine and Voldemort again. But of course he couldn't look suspicious, and resorted to a, sprinting, halting, starting, stopping, skipping, hopping, dancing, twirling, grinning walk. He also clutched a present under one arm, wrapped smartly with a bow.

It was bright pink, and most importantly sparkle-y.

Godfrey almost missed his destination, and halted to a stop, wobbling back and forth a little and staring down the dingy alley. His demeanor went directly from insane and bubbly to cautious, and he glanced around to see if he was watched.

It appeared not. The street seemed rather deserted, though there had to be people inside the Hog's Head. With another quick check around, Godfrey darted into the alley.

It was dark and dingy, there were a few old stacked wooden crates, a dumpster, a few bags of questionable things. Your rather typical wizard-like alley atmosphere.

Godfrey looked around, brows furrowed. Now... what in the world would the portkey be? What was he supposed to do, run around touching things? Was the portkey obvious? Was it blended into the scenery?

Randomly, Godfrey reached out a finger and, breath held, touched a finger to the greasy side of a trash can.

..... nope. He was still here. The crate? No. The dumpster? No, surely not. And it wasn't. A brick? A rock? A stick? And old shoe? A plastic bag full of... ew... what in the world was that? A broken plate, the end of a hammer, an old iron door knock-

And he promptly disappeared from sight.

Oh, yeah? *Grinning arrogantly, the hood of his sweatshirt bouncing on his shoulders as he strides* And no problem, Tave. My pleasure.