There was Mad-Eye Moody,

There was Mad-Eye Moody, looking quite as sinister with his bowler hat pulled low over his magical eye as he would have done without it, his gnarled hands clutching a long staff, his body wrapped in a voluminous travelling cloak. Tonks stood just behind him, her bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the dirty glass of the station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend The Weird Sisters.Next to Tonks was Lupin, his face pale, his hair greying, a long and threadbare overcoat covering a shabby jumper and trousers. At the front of the group stood Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, dressed in their Muggle best, and Fred and George, who were both wearing brand-new jackets in some lurid green, scaly material.

‘Ron, Ginny!’ called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying forwards and hugging her children tightly. ‘Oh, and Harry dear—how are you?’

‘Fine,’ lied Harry, as she pulled him into a tight embrace. Over her shoulder he saw Ron goggling at the twins’ new clothes.

‘What are they supposed to be?’ he asked, pointing at the jackets.

‘Finest dragonskin, little bro',’ said Fred, giving his zip a little tweak. ‘Business is booming and we thought we'd treat ourselves.’

‘Hello, Harry,’ said Lupin, as Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry and turned to greet Hermione.

‘Hi,’ said Harry. ‘I didn't expect ... what are you all doing here?’

‘Well,’ said Lupin with a slight smile, ‘we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home.’

‘I dunno if that's a good idea,’ said Harry at once.

‘Oh, I think it is,’ growled Moody, who had limped a little closer. ‘That'll be them, will it, Potter?’

He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder; his magical eye was evidently peering through the back of his head and his bowler hat. Harry leaned an inch or so to the left to see where Mad-Eye was pointing and there, sure enough, were the three Dursleys, who looked positively appalled to see Harry's reception committee.

‘Ah, Harry!’ said Mr. Weasley, turning from Hermione's parents, who he had just greeted enthusiastically, and who were now taking it in turns to hug Hermione. ‘Well— shall we do it, then?’

‘Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur,’ said Moody.

He and Mr. Weasley took the lead across the station towards the Dursleys, who were apparently rooted to the floor. Hermione disengaged herself gently from her mother to join the group.

‘Good afternoon,’ said Mr. Weasley pleasantly to Uncle Vernon as he came to a halt right in front of him. ‘You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley.’

As Mr. Weasley had single-handedly demolished most of the Dursleys’ living room two years previously, Harry would have been very surprised if Uncle Vernon had forgotten him. Sure enough, Uncle Vernon turned a deeper shade of puce and glared at Mr. Weasley, but chose not to say anything, partly, perhaps, because the Dursleys were outnumbered two to one. Aunt Petunia looked both frightened and embarrassed; she kept glancing around, as though terrified somebody she knew would see her in such company. Dudley, meanwhile, seemed to be trying to look small and insignificant, a feat at which he was failing extravagantly.

‘We thought we'd just have a few words with you about Harry,’ said Mr. Weasley, still smiling.