of everything on his plate, then, before Harry could even ask, cut up the meat for him into bites he could spear with his fork.
'You'll want to close your mouth,' Father said quietly, 'and maybe pick up a fork.'
Embarrassed, Harry quickly did as Father said, and dug into his food. Everything was delicious. He lost himself in the sensation of food, mountains of it, tender meat and crisp vegetables and the slick, creamy gravy. Eyes closed at one point, he startled when Father dabbed at his face with a cloth serviette to remove some potatoes from his cheek. But Father didn't call him out on his lack of manners, for which he was grateful.
Hagrid sat on Harry's other side, and he went through four plates of food before Harry got halfway through his one. Harry watched the huge man eat, and saw crumbs of bread and potatoes and even drips of gravy get caught in the scraggly beard. He wondered if that was how Hagrid saved food for later. Harry always just sneaked them out in a serviette.
When everyone had eaten their fill, the remains of the dinner faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean again. An instant later, they were replaced by pudding of every kind Harry could imagine. Blocks of ice cream in dozens of flavors, apple pie and cherry pie and strawberries with chocolate for dipping, eclairs and jam donuts and trifle and treacle tarts, spotted dick with custard and rice pudding and bread pudding and fig cake.
Harry's eyes were wide as he took it all in.
'You may choose two,' Father said. 'I have no desire to be up all night soothing your sick stomach.'
Harry nodded. 'Can I--'
'May I.'
Wrinkling his nose at the reminder, Harry started again, 'May I have treacle tart?'
'Yes,' Father said and put a slice of it on Harry's plate. 'And one other. If you want.'
'Ice cream?'
'Is that how you ask?'
Harry winced. 'No, Father. May I have that ice cream, too?' and he pointed at the block of white with black flecks in it.
'Of course.' He scooped up a serving of that, as well, and settled it on top of the tart. 'Excitement over a big dinner is no reason to let propriety slide,' he murmured, and Harry nodded.
'Yes, Father. I'm sorry.'
Father gave him one of his pleased smiles, a curving of the left side of his mouth. 'Better start in, before the two melt together.'
Harry giggled at the very idea, and took up a spoon. The ice cream was cold and smooth, the tart still warm, with a flaky pastry that melted in his mouth.
'Good?' Father asked.
Harry nodded, his mouth still full, and Father winked at him.
Beside Harry, Hagrid was drinking down his third cup of wine with a slurp. The smell of the drink bothered him, but he didn't say anything, just ate his pudding and drank some more pumpkin juice. Father said pumpkin juice was very important for growing boys to drink, though he made Harry have milk at breakfast. Even though he very much wanted to finish, he could only eat about half his tart before his belly was full to the point of aching. He stopped before eating any more, not wanting his father to have to 'soothe a sick stomach' tonight.
At last,
