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"Your scar's not hurting again, is it?" asked Ron nervously.
"When we were in Diagon Alley," Harry began, but Mr. Weasley forestalled him with a grimace.
They shook hands, and Mr. Weasley dropped into the chair beside Harry as Mrs. Weasley set a bowl of soup in front of him too.
They scurried along, peering left and right, through shop windows and doors, until Hermione pointed ahead.
"Your punching telescope," she said ruefully.
“Dumbledore mentioned Voldemort at all?" Not yet, but he always saves his proper speech for after the the feast doesn't he? It can't be long now."
She was not the only one who had noticed. Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night he had come to fetch Harry from the Dursleys. Whispers it the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.
"Yes, I am," said Ginny. "And last time I looked, he was definitely one boy, not five. What are those?"
"I'm going to see whether any owls have come. ..."
"Is it just you who's stationed up here, or — ?"
Chapter 6: Draco's Detour
"We never heard a prophecy," said Neville, turning geranium pink as he said it.
"This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you've come across each other ?? No?"