You're the worst
The lights in the cabin windows flickered along with laughter, inside, a black-haired boy with green eyes and a prominent scar defended his point.
—Oh, Harry! —Lavender cried, letting out a loud laugh that echoed through the room, Parvati fell on her lap laughing, her friend snorted from an armchair at her side.
—He's self-centered! For having more than two gifts? He's unbearable!
The fries on the table levitated before falling dirtying the area, Parvati was laughing her head off her slapping her thigh.
The gifts weren't rare, but it was rare to have more than two; Parvati had the gift of divination and gravity fall (which she didn't know how to control very well, you can see it), Lavender also had sight, but different from Parvati's.
And the center of conversation-
They had been discussing for a while about Tom Riddle, the heir of the rich family who lived in a mansion on the hill above the town and possessed a fortune that they boast to those who do not possess great legacy and who had no less than seven gifts. Parvati thinks that Tom can't be that bad, but Harry disagrees. Lavender finds it extremely funny.
—I'm serious! He's the worst! And I'm not joking, I'd even say it to his face. —Harry said, grimacing as I heard the knock on the door. He threw a nearby cushion at Lavender, standing up to open it, walking over the pillows and open sweets scattered on the floor.
Having a sleepover was so messy... Harry looked at the person at the entrance with an indifferent expression, frowning slightly. Talking about the king of Rome!
Tom hadn't changed much since Harry last saw him, although he was now wearing a long, hooded coat and dark glasses that made him look very pale (and ridiculous, in Harry's eyes), his dark eyes narrowed, his serious face twisted as he released:
—I need your help.
—You're the worst. —Harry cut him off, slamming the door on his straight nose.