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Part One / Chapter Twenty-Nine
Vee, what are you talking about?" Constance asked.
Deep intakes of breath made her pause between each word as she was being swung left and right down the corridors by Venus.
"The voice! It told me Ron's dad would die if I didn't stop it," Venus explained again.
"This sounds very, Girl, Interrupted," Constance clicked her tongue.
"Girl, Interrupted?" Venus let go of her hand in bewilderment, "Can you make fun of me another time, Constance? Ron's dad is in danger."
"Because a voice in your head told you so?" Constance raised her eyebrows with an unamused look on her face.
"Can you stop making me feel like I'm a psychopath?" Venus flipped her curls from her shoulders and tied them up in a haste.
"Okay, sorry. Can you tell me where were going?"
"To Dumbledore. He has to know about Arthur Weasley, he's the only one that can make sure he doesn't die."
The voice's echo bounced off the walls in Venus' mind. She'd been given a mission and she was going to complete it.
"Okay, if you believe the voice, so do I." Constance smiled, "c'mon. The gargoyle is right there."
Now, it was Constance dragging Venus up to Dumbledore's office.
"Fizzing Whizzbee," said Constance.
The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside; the wall behind it split in two to reveal a stone staircase that was moving continuously upward like a spiral escalator.
"How did you know that?" Venus asked, with a bemused grin on her face.
"No time for questions, Venus Celeste," Constance avoided, "we have to save someone's life, c'mon!"
The two of them stepped onto the moving stairs; the wall closed behind them with a thud, and they were moving upward in tight circles until they reached the highly polished oak door with the brass knocker shaped like a griffin. Venus knocked on the door three times and the door opened on its own accord. The portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses covering the walls were all snoozing in their frames. Behind the door, a magnificent red-and-gold bird the size of a swan dozed on its perch with its head under its wing.
"Ms. Rosario, Ms. Mai, what can I do for you?"
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 magnificently embroidered purple-and-gold dressing gown over a snowy-white nightshirt, but seemed wide awake, his penetrating light-blue eyes fixed intently upon the two girls.
