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Harry glanced up at Hermione and saw that her mouth was fully open now. She was gazing at him with a mixture of alarm and pity.

¡°Where are you?¡± Ron kept muttering out of the corner of his mouth. ¡°Are you still there? This feels weird¡­¡±

¡°Aah,¡± said Aunt Marge, smacking her lips and putting the empty brandy glass back down. ¡°Excellent nosh, Petunia. It's normally just a fry-up for me of an evening, with twelve dogs to look after¡­¡± She burped richly and patted her great tweed stomach. ¡°Pardon me. But I do like to see a healthy-sized boy,¡± she went on, winking at Dudley. ¡°You'll be a proper-sized man, Dudders, like your father. Yes, I'll have a spot more brandy, Vernon¡­¡±

¡°This one's got a mean, runty look about him. You get that with dogs. I had Colonel Fubster drown one last year. Ratty little thing it was. Weak. Underbred.¡±

¡°What did he do to him?¡± Hermione whispered. Ron's eyes were only half-closed, his mouth hung open; he was definitely alive, they could hear him breathing, but he didn't seem to recognize them.


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