In half an hour, a sixty-foot oak table rose from the ground.
A Warming Charm flowed across its surface.
There were no crystal chandeliers or floating candles.
White candles stood in rough iron candlesticks, their flames illuminating the large, coarse pottery bowls placed every three feet.
The bowls were made of coarse pottery, with fine cracks in the glaze and finger marks along the rims-work from Wolfmane Academy's pottery classes.
At the easternmost end of the table, Dobby was conducting the final procedural checks.
He was no longer wearing the old tea towel he had been so proud of.
Instead, he wore a jet-black tailcoat, handmade by a tailor on London's Savile Row.
Its measurements had been precisely scaled to a House-elf's skeletal proportions. A Windsor knot sat at the collar of his pure white shirt, and a corner of a silver-gray silk pocket square showed from his left breast pocket.
Dobby wore snow-white gloves of thin cotton and held a Muggle-made brass pocket watch.
The cover sprang open, and the hands ticked.
"Everyone, one hundred and twenty seconds until the first cold dish is served." Dobby's voice was steady and low, with a rigorous, professional tone.
Before him stood six carefully selected House-elves on loan from the Hogwarts Kitchens.
They neither shrieked nor pulled their ears to punish themselves. Instead, they stood ramrod straight in matching light-colored work uniforms.
"Head Steward Dobby, the Warming Charms have been layered to the specified setting."
A House-elf named Winky delivered the report.
"Check the margin of error."
Dobby pressed a finger against his pocket watch.
"No more than plus or minus half a degree Celsius."
Winky puffed out her chest.
The guests began taking their seats.
When Fudge sat down, the glow on his face outshone even the candlelight.
His seat offered