Harry, on his way home from visiting with Ron and Rosie, is lost in thought. Perhaps he should pick up something to eat on the way home for him and Sirius; pizza, or Thai food, perhaps. Or good old fashioned fish and chips, even. The night, by some standards, still feels rather young; Harry finds himself hardly in any sort of rush. Though Hedwig will probably be expecting him by now.

He manages to glance up when a familiar voice calls out to him. Maria, his neighbor. Wearing a very fanciable outfit, he thinks, grateful for the cold as an excuse for his slightly reddened cheeks. Red seems to suit her, he thinks. Gryffindor colors.

"Yes, I am. Walking, I mean," he says with a grin. She does look rather burdened with all of her parcels. He moves to help take some of them off her plate. "I would be glad to be of assistance. I didn't know it was your birthday. Happy birthday!"

He thinks he ought to at least get her a cake, or something, on the way back to Candlewood.