Harry Potter and the Heir of Slytherin

There was another man sitting there with a little girl, his daughter presumably, who kept sneezing. Every time she sneezed something would happen; her hair would change color, her father's hair would change color, the carpet and seats would change color. There was even one time where the items near her had sprouted wings and start flying after a particularly loud sneeze.

At the end of the tiled side of the room was a reception desk marked 'Inquiries'. Sitting behind the desk was a middle aged witch with a slightly protuberant nose, black hair and eyes filing her nails.

It was the reception desk that Harry walked up to.

"Please state your name and reason for being here," the witch said without looking up from her nail filing. Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering whether he should be amused or appalled by the lack of professionalism this woman exuded.

He recovered quickly though, deciding that her lack of decorum wasn't important.

Besides, revenge was a dish best served cold. Or with blood. But since she was not a vampire, served cold would have to do.

"Harry Potter."

Watching the woman's head whip upwards quick enough that her neck emitted a loud crack was almost as amusing as watching her mouth drop and her eyes pop wide open when she saw his scar. Over in the waiting room, the other patience there had stopped what they were doing and stared too. Except for the little girl who was pointing him out to her father, still sneezing and making both her and his hair color change.

"And I am here for my twelve fifteen appointment with Emily Smith."

"Mister Potter," the witch breathed in shock. It took her a moment to remember what he said. When she did, the woman hastily placed the tip of her wand in a small microphone device and spoke into it. "Misses Smith? There is a Mister Harry Potter here to see you, ma'am."

There was a moment's pause before a familiar voice made itself known through the microphone, which seemed to also double as a speaker.

"Thank you. Tell him I will be down in a moment."

"I heard her," Harry said before the witch could speak. "I'll just grab a seat and wait."

"Of course, just relax Mister Potter," the witch was looking awfully flustered by his presence now. Such was the price of being a celebrity before he could properly pronounce the word. It was annoying, but it had it's uses. "She will be down in just moment."

"Thank you."

"Also..." the woman trailed off, causing Harry to raise an eyebrow. When she flushed, his eye almost twitched." I just wanted to say it's a pleasure meeting you, Mister Potter. A real honor."

"The pleasures all mine," Harry gave her an incline of the head. Best not be rude. This was a public place. "Keep up the good work."

The woman preened under his words, almost causing him to shake his head. Instead he walked over to one of the seats in the waiting room and sat down. It really was quite comfortable. They must have put cushioning charms on them.

While he waited for Emily Smith to come down and meet with him, the little girl that kept on sneezing took this opportunity to move away from her father and over to him.

She was a cute little thing, with wide blue eyes and a small button nose. Her hair was currently blue.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" she asked with the inquisitive innocence only a child could pull off. She sneezed again and her hair turned pink.

Before Harry could answer, the girl's father came over and made to grab the girl.

"Miley, don't bother him now. Mister Potter is a very important person and too busy to deal with sick children." The man, an average looking fellow with graying hair, a goatee and gray eyes looked at him apologetically. "I am terribly sorry about her bothering you, sir."

"It's quite alright," Harry said, containing his amusement at being called sir by someone at least a decade older than him. His words just went to show how most people in the wizarding world really were nothing more than simple minded sheep.

He turned back to the little girl, deciding to humor her a bit. There was nothing wrong with a young child's curiosity after all.

"I am," he said, leaning over in his seat as if he were about to share some great secret with the girl. "Would you like to see my scar?"

"Can I?" the girl asked, excited. Harry looked over at the father, silently asking permission. The man looked grateful that he was humoring his daughter and gave a nod.

Lifting the fringe of his bangs, Harry showed the girl the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead that had made him so famous. She was suitably awed.

"Wow... you really are Harry Potter."

Harry's lips twitched.

"Yes, I really am Harry Potter."

"I know all about you, you know."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Do you?"

"Yes," Miley nodded her head once. "Mommy and Daddy have told me so many stories about you, and I have all of your books and Daddy reads them to me every night. My favorite is Harry Potter and the Twilight Princess."

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