Father hadn't seemed angry last night, especially when they'd read together, and at dinner, when he'd asked the House-elves to serve up Harry's favorite, shepherd's pie. They'd even had treacle tart for dessert. And Tree had been so good at dinner, too, he thought as he washed his hands. As if his thoughts summoned her, she jumped up on the sink counter and brushed past his chest, tickling his nose with her uplifted tail and making him giggle. He didn't pet her while his hands were wet, not wanting to get her fur all wet and sticky, but scooped her into his arms after he had tried them on a towel, and went back to his bedroom, donned his slippers, and headed out to the sitting room.
To his surprise, Father was already up, in his favorite chair -- which was Harry's favorite, too, 'cause they read in it every night -- and reading a magazine. Harry liked to watch him read, the slight cant of his head, the tiny purse of his lips if what he was reading was complicated, and the small crease of lips if it wasn't. Today, his lips were pursed. Potions journal, probably.
Father's gaze rose from the magazine to look at Harry as he crossed the room. 'Good morning, Harry,' he said in a very calm voice. Harry was glad to hear it.
'G'morning, Father.'
'Did you sleep well?'
'Yes, s . . . yes, Father.' Harry flinched. He wanted to hit his head, he was so stupid sometimes. How could he not remember to call his father
Father didn't make any mention of his stupidity, though, just got up and laid aside his reading. 'Good. I'm glad you're up early. Let me call up breakfast, and we'll have a bit of a chat.'
'A chat?' Harry asked.
'Nothing to be nervous about, Harry,' Father said. 'I just want to talk to you about what you can expect this morning.'
'Yes, Father.' Harry went to the kitchen and sat at the table where they usually had breakfast. 'Where's Nelli?'
Father's expression darkened. 'She won't be joining us today.'
'She . . . she's not in trouble, is she?'
'No, of course not.' Father spent a few minutes getting breakfast delivered to their table, and sat down as he gestured to the spread before them, of eggs, bacon, porridge, toast, juice and bananas. There was a bowl of sugar, a pot of honey, and a little pitcher of cream, too. 'I want you to have at least some porridge and juice. You can have as much as you want of everything else after that.'
'Yes, Father.' Harry pulled the bowl of porridge closer, and looked up at Father, and then at the pot of honey.
'Would you like honey on your porridge?'
'Yes, please.'
Father smiled and used a dipper to drizzle the amber liquid across Harry's cereal. After he put the dipper back into the pot, he touched Harry briefly on the head, brushing the hair out of his eyes. Harry tried his best not to flinch, and Father didn't say anything about that, either, but his eyes were sad.
Treacle leapt into Harry's lap. Harry reached for a piece of bacon for her.
'Harry . . .' Father said.
'Yes, Father?'
Father pursed his lips, like he was trying to think of what to say, but finally he shook his head slightly. 'I would prefer if Treacle Tart did not learn to beg at table.'
'She doesn't beg,' Harry said, frowning. 'She only takes what I give her.'
'Now, she does. But