And whoosh, right over the top of his head. Harry misses the point, and the point lets out a faint whee as it sails off into the distance and the wizard doesn't seem to be concentrating on putting two-and-two together. He's living in a little bower of ignorance. It's safer there.

"Ha ha," Harry mutters, closing his fingers around the hairs carefully. That was one problem down. At least now he'd be able to track Marcone down, in case there was a Situation like the one just now. It put him at relative ease - the idea of doing something unwholesome or unsavory with it simply did not occur to him. For starters, Harry wasn't the sort who pulled covert assassinations. He was a student of the school "you'll be awake, you'll be facing me, and you'll be armed". A painfully noble trait, and not the most intelligent when dealing with a man as cunning as Marcone.

"Go get some sleep," he finally replies, and glances up - almost ready to say something more. Instead, Harry just flaps a hand and wanders off towards their battered couch to crash for an hour or two.