Feuilly grimaces sympathetically--and with a little amusement despite himself. Yes, well. Harry's clothes. "Really, that's--you're welcome to something of mine?" His trousers make more sense to him, anyway, so maybe they'll suit--this stranger?

(He holds his body differently from Harry. It shouldn't make as much of a difference as it does, but--that isn't Harry. That voice isn't Harry's, even if it sounds so familiar.)

"Look, um. You--here, try these on instead, they're probably close enough to your size--I'll feed the dogs, and you can take a moment to-- Your name isn't Harry, is it?"