It was like the steam from the kettle broke a spell; as soon as Lestrange started making the tea Ford remembered how much he'd needed it a few minutes ago. His eyes felt tired and he yawned before he could prevent himself.

When the tea was finished steeping he took the basket out and deposited it in the sink, then leaned against the counter to sip his tea. He wanted to sink into a chair with the mug cupped in his lap, but they didn't have anything to sit on in the kitchen — too grand a house for that, he supposed. "I think we've hit all the rooms now," he pointed out. "And survived the witching hour." Unspoken: so I really hope you're ready to sleep, after this.

"What'd you think of your first haunted house?" he asked, sipping the tea (he had already forgotten about asking Lestrange to test it for poison first). "Frightening enough?"