same pained expression she had worn back in Harry’s bedroom, her nose swelled to a beak-like protuberance that resembled Snape’s, shrank to the size of a button mushroom and then sprouted a great deal of hair from each nostril. Apparently this was a regular mealtime entertainment, because Hermione and Ginny were soon requesting their favourite noses.
‘Do that one like a pig snout, Tonks.’
Tonks obliged, and Harry, looking up, had the fleeting impression that a female Dudley was grinning at him from across the table.
Mr Weasley, Bill and Lupin were having an intense discussion about goblins.
‘They’re not giving anything away yet,’ said Bill. ‘I still can’t work out whether or not they believe he’s back. Course, they might prefer not to take sides at all. Keep out of it.’
‘I’m sure they’d never go over to You-Know-Who,’ said Mr Weasley, shaking his head. ‘They’ve suffered losses too; remember that goblin family he murdered last time, somewhere near Nottingham?’
‘I think it depends what they’re offered,’ said Lupin. ‘And I’m not talking about gold. If they’re offered the freedoms we’ve been denying them for centuries they’re going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Bill?’
‘He’s feeling pretty anti-wizard at the moment,’ said Bill, ‘he hasn’t stopped raging about the Bagman business, he reckons the Ministry did a cover-up, those goblins never got their gold from him, you know —’
A gale of laughter from the middle of the table drowned the rest of Bill’s words. Fred, George, Ron and Mundungus were rolling around in their seats.
‘… and then,’ choked Mundungus, tears running down his face, ‘and then, if you’ll believe it, ’e says to me, ’e says, “’Ere, Dung, where didja get all them toads from? ’Cos some son of a Bludger’s gone and nicked all mine!” And I says, “Nicked all your toads, Will, what next? So you’ll be wanting some more, then?” And if you’ll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all ’is own toads back orf me for a lot more’n what ’e paid in the first place —’
‘I don’t think we need to hear any more of your business dealings, thank you very much, Mundungus,’ said Mrs Weasley sharply, as Ron slumped forwards on to the table, howling with laughter.
‘Beg pardon, Molly,’ said Mundungus at once, wiping his eyes and winking at Harry. ‘But, you know, Will nicked ’em orf Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn’t really doing nothing wrong.’
‘I don’t know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seem to have missed a few crucial lessons,’ said Mrs Weasley coldly.
Fred and George buried their faces in their goblets of Butterbeer; George was hiccoughing. For some reason, Mrs Weasley threw a very nasty look at Sirius before getting to her feet and going to fetch a large rhubarb crumble for pudding. Harry looked round at his godfather.
‘Molly doesn’t approve of Mundungus,’ said Sirius in an undertone.
‘How come he’s in the Order?’ Harry said, very quietly.
‘He’s useful,’ Sirius muttered. ‘Knows all the crooks – well, he would, seeing as he’s one himself. But he’s also very loyal to Dumbledore, who helped him out of a tight spot once. It pays to have someone like Dung around, he hears things we don’t. But Molly thinks inviting him to stay for dinner is going too far. She hasn’t forgiven him for slipping off duty when he was supposed to be tailing you.’
Three helpings of rhubarb crumble and custard later and the waistband on Harry’s jeans was feeling uncomfortably tight (which was saying something as the jeans had once been Dudley’s). As he laid down his spoon there was a lull in the general conversation: Mr Weasley was leaning back in his chair, looking replete and relaxed; Tonks was yawning widely, her nose now back to normal; and Ginny, who had lured Crookshanks out from under the dresser, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rolling Butterbeer corks for him to chase.
‘Nearly time for bed, I think,’ said Mrs Weasley with a yawn.
‘Not just yet, Molly,’ said Sirius, pushing away his empty plate and turning to look at Harry. ‘You know, I’m surprised at you. I thought the first thing you’d do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort.’
The atmosphere in the room changed with the rapidity Harry associated with the arrival of Dementors. Where seconds before it had been sleepily relaxed, it was now alert, even tense. A frisson had gone around the table at the mention of Voldemort’s name. Lupin, who had been about to take a sip of wine, lowered his goblet slowly, looking wary.
‘I did!’ said Harry indignantly. ‘I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we’re not allowed in the Order, so —’
‘And they’re quite right,’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘You’re too young.’
She was sitting bolt upright in her chair, her fists clenched on its arms, every trace of drowsiness gone.
‘Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?’ asked Sirius. ‘Harry’s been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He’s got the right to know what’s been happen—’
‘Hang on!’ interrupted George loudly.
‘How come Harry gets his questions answered?’ said Fred angrily.
‘We’ve been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven’t told us a single stinking thing!’ said George.
‘“You’re too young, you’re not in the Order,”’ said Fred, in a high-pitched voice that sounded uncannily like his mother’s. ‘Harry’s not even of age!’
‘It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,’ said Sirius calmly, ‘that’s your parents’ decision. Harry, on the other hand —’
‘It’s not down to you to decide what’s good for Harry!’ said Mrs Weasley sharply. The expression on her normally kind face looked dangerous. ‘You haven’t forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?’
‘Which bit?’ Sirius asked politely, but with the air of a man readying himself for a fight.
‘The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know,’ said Mrs Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words.
Ron, Hermione, Fred and George’s heads swivelled from Sirius to Mrs Weasley as though they were following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned Butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin’s eyes were fixed on Sirius.
‘I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,’ said Sirius. ‘But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back’ (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name) ‘he has more right than most to —’
‘He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘He’s only fifteen and —’
‘And he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,’ said Sirius, ‘and more than some.’
‘No one’s denying what he’s done!’ said Mrs Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. ‘But he’s
