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Standing where the twins had left him, with nothing but a guilty weight in the pit of his stomach for company, Harry caught the sound of his own name. Kingsley Shacklebolts deep voice was audible even over the surrounding chatter.
'. . . why Dumbledore didn't make Potter a prefect?' said Kingsley.
'He'll have had his reasons,' replied Lupin.
'But it would've shown confidence in him. It's what I'd've done,' persisted Kingsley, ' 'specially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days . . .'
Harry did not look round; he did not want Lupin or Kingsley to know he had heard. Though not remotely hungry, he followed Mundungus back towards the table. His pleasure in the party had evaporated as quickly as it had come; he wished he were upstairs in bed.
Mad-Eye Moody was sniffing at a chicken-leg with what remained of his nose; evidently he could not detect any trace of poison, because he then tore a strip off it with his teeth.
'. . . the handle's made of Spanish oak with anti-jinx varnish and in-built vibration control - ' Ron was saying to Tonks.
Mrs Weasley yawned widely.
'Well, I think I'll sort out that Boggart before I turn in . . . Arthur, I don't want this lot up too late, all right? Night, Harry, dear.'
She left the kitchen. Harry set down his plate and wondered whether he could follow her without attracting attention.
'You all right, Potter?' grunted Moody.
'Yeah, fine,' lied Harry.
Moody took a swig from his hipflask, his electric-blue eye staring sideways at Harry.
'Come here, I've got something that might interest you,' he said.
From an inner pocket of his robes Moody pulled a very tattered old wizarding photograph.
'Original Order of the Phoenix,' growled Moody. 'Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn't had the manners to return my best one . . . thought people might like to see it.'
Harry took the photograph. A small crowd of people, some waving at him, others lifting their glasses, looked back up at him.
'There's me,' said Moody, unnecessarily pointing at himself. The Moody in the picture was unmistakeable, though his hair was slightly less grey and his nose was intact. 'And there's Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side . . . that's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. That's Frank and Alice Longbottom - '
Harry's stomach, already uncomfortable, clenched as he looked at Alice Longbottom; he knew her round, friendly face very well, even though he had never met her, because she was the image of her son, Neville.
' - poor devils,' growled Moody. 'Better dead than what happened to them . . . and that's Emmeline Vance, you've met her, and that there's Lupin, obviously . . . Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him . . . shift aside there,' he added, poking the picture, and the little photographic people edged sideways, so that those who were partially obscured could move to the front.
'That's Edgar Bones . . . brother of Amelia Bones, they got him and his family, too, he was a great wizard . . . Sturgis Podmore, blimey, he looks young . . . Caradoc Dearborn, vanished six months after this, we never found his body . . . Hagrid, of course, looks exactly the same as ever . . . Elphias Doge, you've met him, I'd forgotten he used to wear that stupid hat . . . Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes . . . budge along, budge along . . .'
The little people in the photograph jostled among themselves and those hidden right at the back appeared at the forefront of the picture.
That's Dumbledore's brother Aberforth, only time I ever met him, strange bloke . . . that's Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort killed her personally . . . Sirius, when he still had short hair . . . and . . . there you go, thought that would interest you!'
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