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"
You
mean
he
's
--
?
"
"
Still
here
somewhere
?
Yes
.
"
And
without
warning
,
Dumbledore
swooped
,
plunging
the
tip
of
his
wand
into
the
seat
of
the
overstuffed
armchair
,
which
yelled
,
"
Ouch
!
"
"
Good
evening
,
Horace
,
"
said
Dumbledore
,
straightening
up
again
.
Harry
's
jaw
dropped
.
Where
a
split
second
before
there
had
been
an
armchair
,
there
now
crouched
an
enormously
fat
,
bald
,
old
man
who
was
massaging
his
lower
belly
and
squinting
up
at
Dumbledore
with
an
aggrieved
and
watery
eye
.
"
There
was
no
need
to
stick
the
wand
in
that
hard
,
"
he
said
gruffly
,
clambering
to
his
feet
.
"
It
hurt
.
"
The
wandlight
sparkled
on
his
shiny
pate
,
his
prominent
eyes
,
his
enormous
,
silver
,
walruslike
mustache
,
and
the
highly
polished
buttons
on
the
maroon
velvet
jacket
he
was
wearing
over
a
pair
of
lilac
silk
pajamas
.
The
top
of
his
head
barely
reached
Dumbledore
's
chin
.
"
What
gave
it
away
?
"
he
grunted
as
he
staggered
to
his
feet
,
still
rubbing
his
lower
belly
.
He
seemed
remarkably
unabashed
for
a
man
who
had
just
been
discovered
pretending
to
be
an
armchair
.
"
My
dear
Horace
,
"
said
Dumbledore
,
looking
amused
,
"
if
the
Death
Eaters
really
had
come
to
call
,
the
Dark
Mark
would
have
been
set
over
the
house
.
"
