ruins ; harry potter [1]

twenty one ; clockwork

Tick, tick, tick.

The clock on the wall was loud. It rang in Diana's ears like an echo in a cave, reverberating in her eardrums until all she could hear was the rhythm of her heart and the rushing of her blood in her ears against the incessant ticking of the clock.

Time was a peculiar thing. The thought of time occupied her thoughts; a never ending ticking of a clock, a cracked watch face. The peculiar cuckoo clock in the upstairs room of the Three Broomsticks. Everything she saw reminded her of time. Or lack there of.

She had written many letters over the summer. Some of them she sent, some of them she didn't, but she clutched the latest ones in her fist tightly as she lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the sound of the clock ticking in her head.

"Dear Harry,
I'm sorry."

"Dear Ron,
I'm sorry."

"Dear Hermione,
I'm sorry."

"Dear Neville,
I'm sorry."

"Dear Luna,
"I'm sorry."

"Dear Ginny,
I'm sorry."

"Dear Sirius,
I'm sorry."

"Dear Mother,
I'm sorry."

"Dear Father,
I'm sorry."

She wasn't going to send them. She tucked them away into the inside pocket of her sweatshirt, which contained her wand and now her letters.

At precisely ten fifty-eight, her door swung open, which nearly made her topple off of the bed in fright, but Albus Dumbledore stood tall in the frame, silhouetted by the flickering candles in the hallway behind him, his hand darkened against the brass knob and the Gaunt ring gleaming wickedly. He had an idle smile gracing his lips, an abnormal twinkle in his eye that made him look slightly more lively than he had been.

"Come along, Diana, we have a Professor to seduce."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "What?"

"Horace Slughorn! We must go and fetch Harry and get on our way. I told him I'd pick him up at eleven o'clock."

She stood up from the bed and slung her Extended messenger bag across her body and patted her pocket for her wand. "Are we Apparating?" she asked as she walked to him. In response, he held his arm out, and she grabbed a hold.

The next moment, they were swirling dizzyingly through darkness, but she was unaffected. They landed on Privet Drive gracefully. Dumbledore pulled out his Delumimator and flicked it, and they were plunged into inky darkness.

She followed him up the path through the manicured lawn. The grass was green and the flowers were in full bloom but she couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable in the sterility of it all. Dumbledore reached his hand out and rang the doorbell, and a few moments later the door was forcefully swung open to reveal a rather large and rather mean-looking man.

"Good evening, Mr. Dursley. I daresay Harry has told you I'd be coming for him?"

Diana heard him before she saw him. Footsteps pounded down the stairs and Harry Potter came into view, utterly panicked at the sight of Dumbledore and Diana with Mr. Dursley.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you I was coming." Diana broke her eye contact with Harry and resisted snickering at Dumbledore's comment. "However," he continued, "let us assume you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times."