An enormous Christmas tree had been set up in the corner of the room and had been decorated from stump to tip with baubles, and tinsel, and beads, and lights, with a slightly deranged looking angel to complete the look (she looked as if half of her face had melted off at one point). Underneath it, where the writing desk had once been, was a battered, but obviously recently repaired grand piano. Harry’s eyes lingered on it, thinking of Draco, before he caught sight of Remus who was approaching him from one of the armchairs.  