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"Oh," said Ron, looking disappointed. "We thought —" Hermione flashed a warning look at Ron, and Ron changed tack at top speed.
"—we thought it'd be something like that." "You did." said Harry, amused.
"Yeah... yeah, now Umbridge has left, obviously we need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, don't we. So, er, what's he like." "He looks a bit like a walrus, and he used to be Head of Slytherin," said Harry.
"Something wrong, Hermione." She was watching him as though expecting strange symptoms to manifest themselves at any moment. She rearranged her features hastily in an unconvincing smile.
"No, of course not! So, um, did Slughorn seem like he'll be a good teacher." "Dunno," said Harry. "He can't be worse than Umbridge, can he." "I know someone who's worse than Umbridge," said a voice from the doorway. Ron's younger sister slouched into the room, looking irritable. "Hi, Harry." "What's up with you." Ron asked.
"It's her," said Ginny, plonking herself down on Harry's bed. "She's driving me mad." "What's she done now." asked Hermione sympathetically.
"It's the way she talks to me — you'd think I was about three!" "I know," said Hermione, dropping her voice. "She's so full of herself." Harry was astonished to hear Hermione talking about Mrs. Weasley like this and could not blame Ron for saying angrily, "Can't you two lay off her for five seconds." "Oh, that's right, defend her," snapped Ginny. "We all know you can't get enough of her." This seemed an odd comment to make about Ron's mother. Starting to feel that he was missing something, Harry said, "Who are you — ." But his question was answered before he could finish it. The bedroom door flew open again, and Harry instinctively yanked the bedcovers up to his chin so hard that Hermione and Ginny slid off the bed onto the floor.
A young woman was standing in the doorway, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room seemed to have become strangely airless. She was tall and willowy with long blonde hair and appeared to emanate a faint, silvery glow. To complete this vision of perfection, she was carrying a heavily laden breakfast tray.
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