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Aurora Areli
I WAS A LITTLE hesitant about seeing Dumbledore, because he hadn't wanted to help Harry or me for months, but he and Ron were already following Professor McGonagall out of the dormitory, so I hurried past Neville, Dean and Seamus to catch up.
We walked down the spiral stairs into the common room, through the portrait hole and off along the moonlit corridor. I hugged my arms around myself, somewhat for warmth, but also because I was so shaken up by what just happened. I couldn't help but feel guilty — I had seen the giant snake attacking someone, and maybe if I would have told a teacher or something, it could have been prevented altogether. I had been stupid and selfish, and it might have cost Mr Weasley his life.
I barely noticed Professor McGonagall shoo Mrs Norris away, and in a few minutes we had reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office.
"Fizzing Whizzbee," said Professor McGonagall.
The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside, allowing the wall behind it to split in two to reveal a stone staircase that was spiralling continually upwards. The four of us stepped onto the moving stairs; the wall closed behind us with a thud and then we were moving upwards in tight circles until we reached the polished oak door to Dumbledore's office.
Even though it had to be well past midnight, there were voices coming from inside the room. It sounded as though Dumbledore were entertaining at least a dozen people.
Professor McGonagall rapped three times with the griffin-shaped knocker and the voices ceased abruptly. The door opened of its own accord and Professor McGonagall led Harry, Ron and I inside.
The room was in half-darkness, and was much quieter than I remembered without the strange silver instruments whirring and emitting puffs of smoke like they usually did. The portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses were snoozing in their frames. Behind the door, Fawkes dozed on his perch, his head tucked under his magnificent red and gold wings.
"Oh, it's you, Professor McGonagall . . . and . . . ah."
Dumbledore was sitting in a high-backed chair behind his desk; he leaned forward into the pool of candlelight illuminating the papers laid out before him. He was wearing a dressing gown and nightshirt, but seemed wide awake, his icy blue eyes fixed intently upon Professor McGonagall. He seemed to be refusing to look at Harry or me.
"Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a . . . well, a nightmare," Professor McGonagall said. "He says . . ."
"It wasn't a nightmare," Harry said quickly.
Professor McGonagall looked around at Harry, frowning slightly.
"Very well, then, Potter, you tell the Headmaster about it."
