"We'll be a bit cramped, but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look." Mr Weasley called from inside. Harry bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt his jaw drop. He had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. Oddly enough, it was furnished in exactly the same sort of style as Mrs Figg's house: There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats. "Well, it's not for long." Mr Weasley commented, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. "I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago." he uttered.