The two men halted at a heavy wooden door leading into the next room, hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, then Snape turned the bronze handle.

The eyes of the pale-faced portraits on the walls followed Snape and Yaxley as they strode past.

The hallway was large, dimly lit, and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent carpet covering most of the stone floor.

Gravel crackled beneath their feet as Snape and Yaxley sped toward the front door, which swung inward at their approach, though nobody had visibly opened it.

Somewhere in the dark garden beyond the hedge a fountain was playing.

A handsome manor house grew out of the darkness at the end of the straight drive, lights glinting in the diamond-paned downstairs windows.

'Peacocks . . .' Yaxley thrust his wand back under his cloak with a snort.

He always did himself well, Lucius.

There was a rustle somewhere to their right: Yaxley drew his wand again, pointing it over his companion's head, but the source of the noise proved to be nothing more than a pure-white peacock, strutting majestically along the top of the hedge.

The yew hedges muffled the sound of the men's footsteps.

Neither of them broke step: In silence both raised their left arms in a kind of salute and passed straight through, as though the dark metal were smoke.

The high hedge curved with them, running off into the distance beyond the pair of impressive wrought-iron gates barring the men's way.

They turned right, into a wide driveway that led off the lane.

Snape nodded, but did not elaborate.

You sound confident that your reception will be good?

But I hope he will be satisfied.

It was a little trickier than I expected.