George shrugged out of his robes and pulled a jumper on over his t-shirt, then headed out in search of lunch. He'd eaten at nearly every takeaway place in the Alley, and over the past two weeks, some of them several times. His magic was well and truly gone, and he hadn't any desire to fight with Muggle cooking. His mother had offered to send meals over, but that seemed too much like... well, like something he didn't want, right now at least.
So he strolled, hands in pockets, slowing as he neared Quality Quidditch Supplies, noticing a rather fancy looking broomstick in the window. "Looks like she'd tear up the sky, doesn't she?" He glanced at the bloke standing nearby, then grinned.
"Potter. About time you come slumming with us Alley dwellers..."