Filch stopped a few steps below Harry and turned. At the foot of the stairs stood the only person who could make Harry's situation worse: Snape. He was wearing a long gray nightshirt and he looked livid.
He was wearing a magnificently embroidered purple and gold dressing gown over a snowy white nightshirt, but seemed wide-awake, his penetrating light blue eyes fixed intently upon Professor McGonagall.
Snape in his nightshirt, Filch clutching the egg, and he, Harry, trapped in the stairs behind them. Moody's lopsided gash of a mouth opened in surprise.
It was a cold morning, and he shivered a little; but he had been taught by his uncle that his prayers were more acceptable to God if he said them in his nightshirt than if he waited till he was dressed.
When he saw her appear in a madapollam nightshirt and with her hair loose over her shoulders, the decrepit parish priestthought that it was a trick and sent the altar boy away.
Moody could see through Invisibility Cloaks … he alone could see the full strangeness of the scene … Snape in his nightshirt, Filch clutching the egg, and he, Harry, trapped in the stairs behind them.
People were lying dead in the streets and others were running for their lives. One man was in his nightshirt and a lady was trying to carry a bunch of bananas with her.