"Oh, she likes it fine! I reckon she would rather do without the morbid reminder of her parents-in-law laying at rest in the graveyard across the way, and aside from a few of the neighbors..." He grimaced as he was reminded of his wife's lingering beef with one Daphne Greengrass. Harry shrugged. "Well, you know what they say: you visit somewhere else and you always start to wonder if the grass is greener." Thoughts of Daphne still danced in his head, and he almost cursed her last name for being such a portmanteau. Well, at least as portmanteaus went, it was jolly well better than Longbottom. Not that he'd ever say so to Neville, the poor fellow.