Harry grins a little in spite of himself. That is, in spite of the fact that he somewhat suspects she's trying to distract him, when some kind of incredibly painful and sudden manipulation is impending. "'There's power in names,'" he repeats. "I like the sound of that." Thoughtfully, he taps his fingers on the point of his knee, his very green eyes getting a bit unfocused behind his glasses for a long moment. And then--

"I don't want to sound like a snob," he says. "Something sort of regular-sounding-- not like, um. Maybe nothing that starts with an 'X.' But lucky." He brightens slightly at the notion. "I wager we can all use a bit of extra luck sometimes, don't you?" He shifts one knee over his other one, like a[n exceptionally skinny] small bird contemplating the situation from its perch. "Bob. Bob the knob. Larry-- uh. Todd? Meh... Moh... Mack-- I don't think I'm very good at this."