The Fat Lady—for that is whom he addressed—huffed. “It’s a matter of aesthetics, boy. Decorum. The dignity of these hallowed halls, through which your own forefathers, distant and recent, walked themselves, I’m certain...”

“My distant forefathers,” Sirius interrupted, “were, in all likelihood, muggle-hating chauvinists, if my more recent ones and the general habits of their contemporaries are anything to judge by. So I’ll smoke where I damn well please.”