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Chapter 5: An Excess of Phlegm Harry and Dumbledore approached the back door of the Burrow, which was surrounded by the familiar litter of old Wellington boots and rusty cauldrons; Harry could hear the soft clucking of sleepy chickens coming from a distant shed. Dumbledore knocked three times and Harry saw sudden movement behind the kitchen window.
"Who's there." said a nervous voice he recognized as Mrs. Weasley's. "Declare yourself!" "It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry." The door opened at once. There stood Mrs. Weasley, short, plump, and wearing an old green dressing gown.
"Harry, dear! Gracious, Albus, you gave me a fright, you said not to expect you before morning!" "We were lucky," said Dumbledore, ushering Harry over the threshold. "Slughorn proved much more persuadable than I had expected. Harry's doing, of course. Ah, hello, Nymphadora!" Harry looked around and saw that Mrs. Weasley was not alone, despite the lateness of the hour. A young witch with a pale, heart-shaped face and mousy brown hair was sitting at the table clutching a large mug between her hands.
"Hello, Professor," she said. "Wotcher, Harry." "Hi, Tonks." Harry thought she looked drawn, even ill, and there was something forced in her smile.
Certainly her appearance was less colorful than usual without her customary shade of bubble-gum-pink hair.
"I'd better be off," she said quickly, standing up and pulling her cloak around her shoulders. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy, Molly" "Please don't leave on my account," said Dumbledore courteously, "I cannot stay, I have urgent matters to discuss with Rufus Scrimgeour." "No, no, I need to get going," said Tonks, not meeting Dumbledore's eyes. " 'Night —" "Dear, why not come to dinner at the weekend, Remus and Mad-Eye are coming — ." "No, really, Molly. . . thanks anyway. . . Good night, every-one.
Tonks hurried past Dumbledore and Harry into the yard; a few paces beyond the doorstep, she turned on the spot and vanished into thin air. Harry noticed that Mrs.
Weasley looked troubled.
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