CHAPTER TWO
Late Night Discoveries
The days passed quickly, though Sirius grew evermore impatient to leave the hospital wing. Even Harry had to admit that Madam Pomfrey's watchfulness was reaching new heights, as she had three patients and nearly twenty-four hours to devote to them (she lived at Hogwarts like the professors).
Sirius also grew more restless as each day passed, for he would have liked nothing more than to rise and at least walk around the wing when Madam Pomfrey was out of sight, but for most of the daylight hours Harry seemed to channel the nurse's spirit, protesting and pleading with Sirius to stay in bed. Sirius, who hadn't the heart to say no to Harry, sullenly succumbed to his godson's wants.
Harry saw Sirius's moods changing day by day, and sensed that he couldn't get much moodier or surlier. However, his own days were spent not in bed, but listening to snips of conversation between Lupin, Sirius, and Moody. Madam Pomfrey actually joined in a few times, and it didn't take long for Harry to catch on what they were talking about -Voldemort.
Dumbledore occasionally dropped by to discuss things more officially with the Order of the Phoenix members in that hospital wing. Even though they discussed things in minute voices, heads bowed, Harry still had to pretend to be in a deep sleep or else, he expected, they'd force sleeping potion down his throat.
"Lucius Malfoy went to Azkaban?" whispered Lupin.
"Yes," replied Dumbledore. "He knew better than to renounce Voldemort (Madam Pomfrey gasped at the name) again."
"Smartest thing he's ever done," growled Moody in an undertone. "Voldemort would've tortured him if he pleaded innocent -not that he could," added the ex-Auror. "Lying on the floor with other Death Eaters didn't help his case."
The foursome paused their conversation to check if Harry was still sleeping. He breathed as deeply as he could, stilling his eyes beneath their lids. Seeming satisfied, they resumed their conversation.
Harry didn't dare move, for he felt Moody's magical eye on him.
"His son, Draco, won't be pleased with Harry," said Lupin with a small smile.
"Tried to curse him last year, didn't he?" Moody said, making a disgusted noise. "McGonagall tells me Barty Crouch turned the kid into a ferret and bounced him around. Can't say I would've given him just detention, either."
"Did he?" asked Sirius sharply. "To Harry?" He sighed. "The tournament was bad enough, without having to worry about getting hexed in the hall .."
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "But I seem to recall, Sirius, that you did quite the same."
Sirius grinned and nudged Lupin, who smiled slightly. "Yes I did," remarked Sirius proudly. "Not Lupin, though -he was the good boy."
"The number of times you and James were in detention is second to nobody else," said Dumbledore tiredly.
"Moving on," said Moody.
"Yes indeed, Alastor," replied Dumbledore.
"No, Potter is up."
Harry cursed under his breath. He'd chanced a blink, for there was something in his eye, but Moody had still been watching him from before. He opened his eyes and glanced over to the small group huddled around Sirius's bed to his right.
"Have a good rest?" asked Lupin kindly.
"Er ..yeah," said Harry.
"How much did you hear?" Lupin inquired.
"Not much," mumbled Harry sheepishly.
Sirius sat up straighter. "You're sure? It's okay Harry, just tell us."
"A lot," admitted Harry, watching Dumbledore's face for any clue to what the headmaster was feeling. "From the part where Lucius Malfoy went to Azkaban."
"Oh." Sirius exhaled loudly, and Harry just noticed a tinge of relief on his godfather's face. Dumbledore's expression was unreadable, any expression was lost in Moody's gnarled face. Lupin wore an expression similar to Sirius's.
Harry's brows drew together in a frown. He'd clearly missed something important, something the others didn't want him to know about. He shrugged it off, he'd ask Sirius after Dumbledore had left and Lupin and Moody went back to sleep. His godfather had always risked everything to see him, talk to him, so Harry was confident that he wouldn't be in the dark for long.
Later that night, Harry rolled over, facing Sirius's body which was sprawled across his cot.
"Sirius," he whispered. When Sirius didn't respond, Harry repeated, as loud as he dared, "Sirius!"
Sirius started and cracked open an eye. Harry was watching him intently. "Yeah?"
"What did I miss earlier?"
Sirius's heart constricted in his throat. "What do you mean?" he said casually.
"You and Lupin were relieved that I didn't hear something .."
"Nothing, just private business for the Order," responded Sirius nonchalantly.
Harry studied Sirius's face carefully. His godfather was staring back convincingly, willing Harry with his eyes to believe what he'd just said and think no more of it. Heaving a great sigh, Harry lay back down.
The next morning dawned glum and rainy. Its mood seemed contagious, or perhaps it was just his pent up frustration at not being able to do anything for so long, but Sirius, Harry noticed, was extremely surly.
"Aren't you happy, Sirius?" Harry asked, voicing his concern. "We're leaving today."
Sirius shrugged moodily, slapping his messy sheets down on the cot where he'd spent the past week and a half. The bandaging had finally come off his head, and he was given a clear bill of health by Madam Pomfrey, to which Harry was immensely relieved.
"I guess so." Then, as though he thought better of what he'd just said, Sirius added, "Listen, do you want to go to Diagon Alley and get your school things?"
Harry stared incredulously. "With you?"
Sirius replied, "Then with who else?"
"Sirius, you're supposed to be in hiding! Remember last year, Malfoy saw you at the train station and you were nearly arrested! You can't go anywhere!"
"All right, all right, I've got it," said Sirius, scowling slightly.
"I just don't want you getting thrown back into Azkaban with the dementors," continued Harry fervently.
"I said, I -"
"I know you backed out of the fire last year because you were mad at me," said Harry, the words coming more quickly now. "Sirius, I really care about you, and if you got caught I -well, I don't know what I'd do."
Sirius gazed back at Harry, scowl receding slightly. "All right," he repeated, though in a softer tone than before. "Remus can take you, I guess."
Harry awoke suddenly to shouting muffled by walls and doors. Quietly, he slipped out of bed, inching down the hallway cautiously. He peered into the kitchen, and what he saw made his blood run cold.
Sirius was slumped over the table, empty bottles of beer rolling astray across the table. When Lupin tried to help his friend to his feet, Sirius flung out a fist, catching Lupin in the stomach.
"Sirius, you can't carry on like this -Harry," argued Lupin breathlessly.
"I'm fine," Sirius drawled, still in his day clothes. He looked a mess -his long black hair was ragged, falling well past his shoulders. He was unshaven. "Don' worry 'bout me. 'Arry's fine, 'e hates me anyway."
"That's a lie and you know it, Sirius," said Lupin, hurriedly filling a glass with cold water. "Harry loves you .." He thrust the cup towards Sirius, the icy contents splashing Harry's godfather in the face. "Why are you doing this?" Lupin asked urgently.
Sirius only shook his head, face in his hands.
"Did you and Harry have a fight?" asked Lupin, filling the glass again and splashing Sirius's face with the water again.
"Don' remember why," mumbled Sirius miserably. "I must've said something .." He sat upright, running a hand through his messy hair.
Horrified, Harry backed away, running back to his room and standing by his bed. He hadn't realized that what he'd said had hurt Sirius so badly. He pressed his fingers to his temples, willing the image to go away. He walked numbly to the bathroom, and spotted Sirius's razor lying on the counter. So simple, all he had to do was cut ..
Harry drew a tentative line with the razor across his wrist, then stopped. No, he couldn't ..so stupid, being stupid, he told himself firmly. He ran the cut under the faucet, then held his face cloth to it until the bleeding stopped. Dismayed, he realized that he couldn't undo what he'd just done ..anyone could tell that the wound was self-inflicted. Harry grabbed the bloodied towel.
He returned to his room, and pulled one of Dudley's long-sleeved sweatshirts form his trunk and eased it on. To his relief, the long cuff on the sleeve hid the cut from sight. Harry then stowed the towel beneath his bed.
The next morning at breakfast, Harry ate his cereal in silence, willing himself to forget the events of the night before. As of yet, Sirius showed no signs of having been drunk; indeed, his long hair was clean, most of the tangles combed out. Sirius looked on concernedly.
"Harry?" he said finally. "Are you still mad at me?"
Sighing, Harry looked into his godfather's tired eyes, knowing full well why he was silent. It wasn't because he was giving Sirius the cold shoulder after their argument the day before, but because he was almost afraid that something he might say would trigger such a desire in Sirius as to drink again
Harry shook his head while Sirius lifted his fingers to his temples, elbows on the table. Reaching across the table for more milk, his sleeve slipped, exposing his wrist. He froze as he heard Sirius inhale sharply.
Harry made to cover his wrist again, but Sirius was quicker and grasped him by the forearm firmly, running a finger lightly over the self-inflicted cut.
"Harry," he breathed, brows furrowed together. "What -why? Was it the row we had yesterday?"
Harry hesitated. Should he divulge what he'd seen last night?
"Tell me the truth," Sirius pressed, eyes full of an emotion that Harry could not yet recognize.
Lowering his eyes, Harry heaved another sigh. "I saw you last night, Sirius," he began. "I can't believe you thought I hated you," he continued, a note of hurt in his voice. Or was it panic? "I thought I'd left abuse behind with the Dursleys, but .." Harry broke off, recalling how Sirius had punched one of his greatest friends in the world without second thought, or even an apology.
Sirius's face blanched visibly, clearly stricken. "Harry, I -"
"Why did you do it?" asked Harry, more urgently this time.
"I'm so sorry you had to see that," whispered Sirius hoarsely. "I wasn't thinking when I said that stuff, Harry, you have to understand .." Sirius paled even more, eyes fixed on his godson's wound. "You did this because of me?"
Harry averted his gaze, attempting to pull his hand away from Sirius's grasp. Then something stirred in his memory.
"Is this what you didn't want me to find out about at Hogwarts? You have a drinking problem?"
"I don't, I just -"
"I'm really sorry you aren't the person I thought I knew," said Harry, wrenching his arm away from Sirius. "I never thought you'd take the easy way out like that. I thought you were stronger than that." Eyes boring holes into his godfather, Harry stood and hurried to his room.
As he sat on his bed, flipping absently through Quidditch Through the Ages, Harry felt a pang of guilt at the look of mingled hurt and shock he'd caused on Sirius's face. But then again, that same face full of anger and depression had been enough to send Harry running in the opposite direction the night before.
Harry put his face in his hands, trying to think. But Sirius's face had an annoying habit to keep popping into his mind, interrupting his trains of thought and sending Harry back to square one. He lay back, spread-eagled on his bed now. There was a knock on the door.
Harry didn't bat an eye. He knew who it was -he and Sirius were the only ones in the house besides Kreacher, and the house-elf wasn't polite enough to knock.
The door creaked open, and Harry braced himself, rolling his eyes back to the pillow behind his head. The bed sank a few inches as Sirius eased his slender frame onto it.
"I don't deny it, Harry, and I know I made a mistake -I'm not proud of it," said Sirius quietly.
Harry sat up, ignoring the prickle in his scar which had been aching for the past year and a half. "You know what? I'm not sure you are."
With a coolness in his voice that suggested he was refraining from shouting, Sirius responded, "But this isn't just about me and ..drinking. You shouldn't have done this to yourself," he continued, tracing the outline of Harry's cut with a finger, like he had done earlier at breakfast. "Look ..can we forget about all this and just get on with our lives?"
Harry, detecting the tone of urgency in Sirius's last request, nodded his head numbly, though he doubted he could ever erase the memory. He found he still wasn't sorry about slashing his wrist, though.
Sirius gave him a small smile, running a hand wearily through his dark hair. "Molly's coming over later today."
Harry's heart leapt. "Is Ron coming too?"
"Dunno," said Sirius. "I could ask her, if you want."
"Thanks," said Harry gratefully, leaning back onto his bed again.
An hour later, the doorbell rang, and ignoring Mrs. Black's screeches, Sirius and Harry hurried to the door and let in Ron and his mum. Two conversations began. One was Harry inviting Ron up to his room to play a game of wizard chess, the second Sirius discussing Order business with Mrs. Weasley.
"Squash it, it's just a pawn," muttered Harry ten minutes into the game. To his delight, his castle took his order and, a moment later, Harry swept the battered pawn off the board.
Dinner that night was magnificent. Mrs. Weasley had cooked it for the four of them, potatoes, chicken, steak, tart, seasoned bread ..
Harry and Ron were in a heated discussion about the Quidditch League.
"They're idiots, I'd like to see 'em play Ireland," Ron said, taking a swig of butterbeer.
"The Tornadoes aren't half bad," replied Harry fairly. "I wonder if they could take Bulgaria?"
"Not a chance, not if they have Krum."
"I guess you're right, Krum almost got Ireland in the World Cup." Harry tore a chunk of meat off his chicken leg.
Mrs. Weasley and Sirius were eating in complete silence. Harry shook his head. They couldn't possibly still be upset with each other over the events of the previous summer! Lowering his hand into his lap, Harry checked to see that his wrist was fully concealed. If Mrs. Weasley saw it, it'd be the end of him.
Late Night Discoveries
The days passed quickly, though Sirius grew evermore impatient to leave the hospital wing. Even Harry had to admit that Madam Pomfrey's watchfulness was reaching new heights, as she had three patients and nearly twenty-four hours to devote to them (she lived at Hogwarts like the professors).
Sirius also grew more restless as each day passed, for he would have liked nothing more than to rise and at least walk around the wing when Madam Pomfrey was out of sight, but for most of the daylight hours Harry seemed to channel the nurse's spirit, protesting and pleading with Sirius to stay in bed. Sirius, who hadn't the heart to say no to Harry, sullenly succumbed to his godson's wants.
Harry saw Sirius's moods changing day by day, and sensed that he couldn't get much moodier or surlier. However, his own days were spent not in bed, but listening to snips of conversation between Lupin, Sirius, and Moody. Madam Pomfrey actually joined in a few times, and it didn't take long for Harry to catch on what they were talking about -Voldemort.
Dumbledore occasionally dropped by to discuss things more officially with the Order of the Phoenix members in that hospital wing. Even though they discussed things in minute voices, heads bowed, Harry still had to pretend to be in a deep sleep or else, he expected, they'd force sleeping potion down his throat.
"Lucius Malfoy went to Azkaban?" whispered Lupin.
"Yes," replied Dumbledore. "He knew better than to renounce Voldemort (Madam Pomfrey gasped at the name) again."
"Smartest thing he's ever done," growled Moody in an undertone. "Voldemort would've tortured him if he pleaded innocent -not that he could," added the ex-Auror. "Lying on the floor with other Death Eaters didn't help his case."
The foursome paused their conversation to check if Harry was still sleeping. He breathed as deeply as he could, stilling his eyes beneath their lids. Seeming satisfied, they resumed their conversation.
Harry didn't dare move, for he felt Moody's magical eye on him.
"His son, Draco, won't be pleased with Harry," said Lupin with a small smile.
"Tried to curse him last year, didn't he?" Moody said, making a disgusted noise. "McGonagall tells me Barty Crouch turned the kid into a ferret and bounced him around. Can't say I would've given him just detention, either."
"Did he?" asked Sirius sharply. "To Harry?" He sighed. "The tournament was bad enough, without having to worry about getting hexed in the hall .."
Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "But I seem to recall, Sirius, that you did quite the same."
Sirius grinned and nudged Lupin, who smiled slightly. "Yes I did," remarked Sirius proudly. "Not Lupin, though -he was the good boy."
"The number of times you and James were in detention is second to nobody else," said Dumbledore tiredly.
"Moving on," said Moody.
"Yes indeed, Alastor," replied Dumbledore.
"No, Potter is up."
Harry cursed under his breath. He'd chanced a blink, for there was something in his eye, but Moody had still been watching him from before. He opened his eyes and glanced over to the small group huddled around Sirius's bed to his right.
"Have a good rest?" asked Lupin kindly.
"Er ..yeah," said Harry.
"How much did you hear?" Lupin inquired.
"Not much," mumbled Harry sheepishly.
Sirius sat up straighter. "You're sure? It's okay Harry, just tell us."
"A lot," admitted Harry, watching Dumbledore's face for any clue to what the headmaster was feeling. "From the part where Lucius Malfoy went to Azkaban."
"Oh." Sirius exhaled loudly, and Harry just noticed a tinge of relief on his godfather's face. Dumbledore's expression was unreadable, any expression was lost in Moody's gnarled face. Lupin wore an expression similar to Sirius's.
Harry's brows drew together in a frown. He'd clearly missed something important, something the others didn't want him to know about. He shrugged it off, he'd ask Sirius after Dumbledore had left and Lupin and Moody went back to sleep. His godfather had always risked everything to see him, talk to him, so Harry was confident that he wouldn't be in the dark for long.
Later that night, Harry rolled over, facing Sirius's body which was sprawled across his cot.
"Sirius," he whispered. When Sirius didn't respond, Harry repeated, as loud as he dared, "Sirius!"
Sirius started and cracked open an eye. Harry was watching him intently. "Yeah?"
"What did I miss earlier?"
Sirius's heart constricted in his throat. "What do you mean?" he said casually.
"You and Lupin were relieved that I didn't hear something .."
"Nothing, just private business for the Order," responded Sirius nonchalantly.
Harry studied Sirius's face carefully. His godfather was staring back convincingly, willing Harry with his eyes to believe what he'd just said and think no more of it. Heaving a great sigh, Harry lay back down.
The next morning dawned glum and rainy. Its mood seemed contagious, or perhaps it was just his pent up frustration at not being able to do anything for so long, but Sirius, Harry noticed, was extremely surly.
"Aren't you happy, Sirius?" Harry asked, voicing his concern. "We're leaving today."
Sirius shrugged moodily, slapping his messy sheets down on the cot where he'd spent the past week and a half. The bandaging had finally come off his head, and he was given a clear bill of health by Madam Pomfrey, to which Harry was immensely relieved.
"I guess so." Then, as though he thought better of what he'd just said, Sirius added, "Listen, do you want to go to Diagon Alley and get your school things?"
Harry stared incredulously. "With you?"
Sirius replied, "Then with who else?"
"Sirius, you're supposed to be in hiding! Remember last year, Malfoy saw you at the train station and you were nearly arrested! You can't go anywhere!"
"All right, all right, I've got it," said Sirius, scowling slightly.
"I just don't want you getting thrown back into Azkaban with the dementors," continued Harry fervently.
"I said, I -"
"I know you backed out of the fire last year because you were mad at me," said Harry, the words coming more quickly now. "Sirius, I really care about you, and if you got caught I -well, I don't know what I'd do."
Sirius gazed back at Harry, scowl receding slightly. "All right," he repeated, though in a softer tone than before. "Remus can take you, I guess."
Harry awoke suddenly to shouting muffled by walls and doors. Quietly, he slipped out of bed, inching down the hallway cautiously. He peered into the kitchen, and what he saw made his blood run cold.
Sirius was slumped over the table, empty bottles of beer rolling astray across the table. When Lupin tried to help his friend to his feet, Sirius flung out a fist, catching Lupin in the stomach.
"Sirius, you can't carry on like this -Harry," argued Lupin breathlessly.
"I'm fine," Sirius drawled, still in his day clothes. He looked a mess -his long black hair was ragged, falling well past his shoulders. He was unshaven. "Don' worry 'bout me. 'Arry's fine, 'e hates me anyway."
"That's a lie and you know it, Sirius," said Lupin, hurriedly filling a glass with cold water. "Harry loves you .." He thrust the cup towards Sirius, the icy contents splashing Harry's godfather in the face. "Why are you doing this?" Lupin asked urgently.
Sirius only shook his head, face in his hands.
"Did you and Harry have a fight?" asked Lupin, filling the glass again and splashing Sirius's face with the water again.
"Don' remember why," mumbled Sirius miserably. "I must've said something .." He sat upright, running a hand through his messy hair.
Horrified, Harry backed away, running back to his room and standing by his bed. He hadn't realized that what he'd said had hurt Sirius so badly. He pressed his fingers to his temples, willing the image to go away. He walked numbly to the bathroom, and spotted Sirius's razor lying on the counter. So simple, all he had to do was cut ..
Harry drew a tentative line with the razor across his wrist, then stopped. No, he couldn't ..so stupid, being stupid, he told himself firmly. He ran the cut under the faucet, then held his face cloth to it until the bleeding stopped. Dismayed, he realized that he couldn't undo what he'd just done ..anyone could tell that the wound was self-inflicted. Harry grabbed the bloodied towel.
He returned to his room, and pulled one of Dudley's long-sleeved sweatshirts form his trunk and eased it on. To his relief, the long cuff on the sleeve hid the cut from sight. Harry then stowed the towel beneath his bed.
The next morning at breakfast, Harry ate his cereal in silence, willing himself to forget the events of the night before. As of yet, Sirius showed no signs of having been drunk; indeed, his long hair was clean, most of the tangles combed out. Sirius looked on concernedly.
"Harry?" he said finally. "Are you still mad at me?"
Sighing, Harry looked into his godfather's tired eyes, knowing full well why he was silent. It wasn't because he was giving Sirius the cold shoulder after their argument the day before, but because he was almost afraid that something he might say would trigger such a desire in Sirius as to drink again
Harry shook his head while Sirius lifted his fingers to his temples, elbows on the table. Reaching across the table for more milk, his sleeve slipped, exposing his wrist. He froze as he heard Sirius inhale sharply.
Harry made to cover his wrist again, but Sirius was quicker and grasped him by the forearm firmly, running a finger lightly over the self-inflicted cut.
"Harry," he breathed, brows furrowed together. "What -why? Was it the row we had yesterday?"
Harry hesitated. Should he divulge what he'd seen last night?
"Tell me the truth," Sirius pressed, eyes full of an emotion that Harry could not yet recognize.
Lowering his eyes, Harry heaved another sigh. "I saw you last night, Sirius," he began. "I can't believe you thought I hated you," he continued, a note of hurt in his voice. Or was it panic? "I thought I'd left abuse behind with the Dursleys, but .." Harry broke off, recalling how Sirius had punched one of his greatest friends in the world without second thought, or even an apology.
Sirius's face blanched visibly, clearly stricken. "Harry, I -"
"Why did you do it?" asked Harry, more urgently this time.
"I'm so sorry you had to see that," whispered Sirius hoarsely. "I wasn't thinking when I said that stuff, Harry, you have to understand .." Sirius paled even more, eyes fixed on his godson's wound. "You did this because of me?"
Harry averted his gaze, attempting to pull his hand away from Sirius's grasp. Then something stirred in his memory.
"Is this what you didn't want me to find out about at Hogwarts? You have a drinking problem?"
"I don't, I just -"
"I'm really sorry you aren't the person I thought I knew," said Harry, wrenching his arm away from Sirius. "I never thought you'd take the easy way out like that. I thought you were stronger than that." Eyes boring holes into his godfather, Harry stood and hurried to his room.
As he sat on his bed, flipping absently through Quidditch Through the Ages, Harry felt a pang of guilt at the look of mingled hurt and shock he'd caused on Sirius's face. But then again, that same face full of anger and depression had been enough to send Harry running in the opposite direction the night before.
Harry put his face in his hands, trying to think. But Sirius's face had an annoying habit to keep popping into his mind, interrupting his trains of thought and sending Harry back to square one. He lay back, spread-eagled on his bed now. There was a knock on the door.
Harry didn't bat an eye. He knew who it was -he and Sirius were the only ones in the house besides Kreacher, and the house-elf wasn't polite enough to knock.
The door creaked open, and Harry braced himself, rolling his eyes back to the pillow behind his head. The bed sank a few inches as Sirius eased his slender frame onto it.
"I don't deny it, Harry, and I know I made a mistake -I'm not proud of it," said Sirius quietly.
Harry sat up, ignoring the prickle in his scar which had been aching for the past year and a half. "You know what? I'm not sure you are."
With a coolness in his voice that suggested he was refraining from shouting, Sirius responded, "But this isn't just about me and ..drinking. You shouldn't have done this to yourself," he continued, tracing the outline of Harry's cut with a finger, like he had done earlier at breakfast. "Look ..can we forget about all this and just get on with our lives?"
Harry, detecting the tone of urgency in Sirius's last request, nodded his head numbly, though he doubted he could ever erase the memory. He found he still wasn't sorry about slashing his wrist, though.
Sirius gave him a small smile, running a hand wearily through his dark hair. "Molly's coming over later today."
Harry's heart leapt. "Is Ron coming too?"
"Dunno," said Sirius. "I could ask her, if you want."
"Thanks," said Harry gratefully, leaning back onto his bed again.
An hour later, the doorbell rang, and ignoring Mrs. Black's screeches, Sirius and Harry hurried to the door and let in Ron and his mum. Two conversations began. One was Harry inviting Ron up to his room to play a game of wizard chess, the second Sirius discussing Order business with Mrs. Weasley.
"Squash it, it's just a pawn," muttered Harry ten minutes into the game. To his delight, his castle took his order and, a moment later, Harry swept the battered pawn off the board.
Dinner that night was magnificent. Mrs. Weasley had cooked it for the four of them, potatoes, chicken, steak, tart, seasoned bread ..
Harry and Ron were in a heated discussion about the Quidditch League.
"They're idiots, I'd like to see 'em play Ireland," Ron said, taking a swig of butterbeer.
"The Tornadoes aren't half bad," replied Harry fairly. "I wonder if they could take Bulgaria?"
"Not a chance, not if they have Krum."
"I guess you're right, Krum almost got Ireland in the World Cup." Harry tore a chunk of meat off his chicken leg.
Mrs. Weasley and Sirius were eating in complete silence. Harry shook his head. They couldn't possibly still be upset with each other over the events of the previous summer! Lowering his hand into his lap, Harry checked to see that his wrist was fully concealed. If Mrs. Weasley saw it, it'd be the end of him.