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Fred and George Apparated right beside Harry. He was so used to them doing this by now that he didn't even fall off his chair.
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'Oh, Alastor, I am glad you're here,' said Mrs Weasley brightly, as Mad-Eye shrugged off his travelling cloak. 'We've been wanting to ask you for ages - could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what's inside it? We haven't wanted to open it. just in case it's something really nasty.'
'Prefect . . . ickle Ronnie the Prefect.'
Harry felt winded, as though he had just walked into something solid. He had last seen those cold grey eyes through slits in a Death Hater's hood, and last heard that man's voice jeering in a dark graveyard while Lord Voldemort tortured him. Harry could not believe that Lucius Malfoy dared look him in the face; he could not believe that he was here, in the Ministry of Magic, or that Cornelius Fudge was talking to him, when Harry had told Fudge mere weeks ago that Malfoy was a Death Eater.