The Potter Twins and the Order of the Phoenix {5}

24. St Mungo's

But Dumbledore stands up, so quickly it makes me jump, and addresses one of the old portraits hanging very near the ceiling. "Everard?" he says sharply. "And you too, Dilys!"

A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe and an elderly witch with long silver ringlets in the frame beside him, both of whom seemed to have been in the deepest of sleep, open their eyes immediately.

"You were listening?" Dumbledore asks. 

The wizard nods; the witch says, "Naturally."

"The man has red hair and glasses," says Dumbledore. "Everard, you will need to raise the alarm, make sure he is found by the right people--"

Both nod and moved sideways out of their frames, but instead of emerging in neighbouring pictures (as usually happened at Hogwarts) neither reappear. One frame now contains nothing but a backdrop of dark curtain, the other a handsome leather armchair. I notice that many of the other headmasters and mistresses on the walls, though snoring and drooling most convincingly, keep sneaking peeks at us from under their eyelids, and I suddenly understand who had been talking when we had knocked.

"Everard and Dilys were two of Hogwarts most celebrated Heads," Dumbledore says, now sweeping around us to approach the magnificent sleeping bird on his perch beside the door. "Their renown is such that both have portraits hanging in other important wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits, they can tell us what may be happening elsewhere ..."

"But Mr Weasley could be anywhere!" I say desperately, pulling Riley's dressing gown tighter around myself as I shiver. 

"Please sit down, all four of you," says Dumbledore, as though I had not spoken, "Everard and Dilys may not be back for several minutes. Professor McGonagall, if you could draw up extra chairs."

Professor McGonagall pulls her wand from the pocket of her dressing gown and waves it; three chairs appear out of thin air, straight-backed and wooden. I sit down, watching Dumbledore over my shoulder. Dumbledore is now stroking Fawkes's plumed golden head with one finger. The Phoenix wakes immediately. He stretches his beautiful head high and observes Dumbledore through bright, dark eyes.

"We will need," Dumbledore says very quietly to the bird, "a warning."

There is a flash of fire and the Phoenix is gone.

Dumbledore now swoops down upon one of the fragile silver instruments whose function I've never understood, carries it over to his desk, sits down facing them again and taps it gently with the tip of his wand.

The instrument tinkles into life at once with rhythmic clinking noises. Tiny puffs of pale green smoke issue from the minuscule silver tube at the top. Dumbledore watches the smoke closely, his brow furrowed. After a few seconds, the tiny puffs become a steady stream of smoke that thickens and coiled in the air...a serpent's head grows out of the end of it, opening its mouth wide. I wonder whether the instrument is confirming our story: I look eagerly at Dumbledore for a sign that I'm right, but Dumbledore does not look up.

"Naturally, naturally," Dumbledore murmurs, apparently to himself, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. "But in essence divided?"  

I can make neither head nor tail of this question. The smoke serpent, however, splits itself instantly into two snakes, both coiling and undulating in the dark air. With a look of grim satisfaction, Dumbledore gives the instrument another gentle tap with his wand: the clinking noise slowed and dies and the smoke serpents grow faint, becomes a formless haze and vanished.

Dumbledore replaces the instrument on its spindly little table. I see many of the old headmasters in the portraits follow him with their eyes, then, realising that I am watching them, hastily pretend to be sleeping again. I want to ask what the strange silver instrument was for, but before he can do so, there is a shout from the top of the wall to their right; the wizard called Everard has reappeared in his portrait, panting slightly.

"Dumbledore!"

"What news?" Dumbledore says at once. 

"I yelled until someone came running," says the wizard, who is mopping his brow on the curtain behind him, "said I'd heard something moving downstairs--they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check--you know there are no portraits down there to watch from. Anyway, they carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look good, he's covered in blood, I ran along to Elfrida Cragg's portrait to get a good view as they left--"