On their last evening, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a sumptuous dinner which included all of Harry's favorite things, ending with a mouthwatering treacle pudding.
It was the same room I had been interviewed in, except this time Mrs Traynor and her daughter were perched on the sofa, their slobbery old dog between them.
It was a face that wasn't a face, no eyes and ears, just that vast nose and slobbering mouth, punctuated by sparkling silver teeth Black saliva dripped down onto Hiccup's face in a disgusting dribble.
Now little Tom watched all these sweet things given away, till his mouth watered, and his eyes grew as round as an owl's. For he hoped that his turn would come at last; and so it did.