“We'll see each other again,” he said. “You are — truly your father's son, Harry…”

“We don't know anything about werewolves —”

“This cannot wait,” said Dumbledore. “I must insist.”

The Christmas tree beside their table rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways, and landed with a soft thump right in front of their table, hiding them from view. Staring through the dense lower branches, Harry saw four sets of chair legs move back from the table right beside theirs, then heard the grunts and sighs of the teachers and minister as they sat down.

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