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Aurora Areli
THE DOOR TO THE OFFICE opened.
"Hello, Potter, Areli," Moody said. "Come in, then."
I closely followed Harry as he walked inside Dumbledore's circular office. It was just as fascinating and beautiful as I remembered it, with the walls lined with pictures of previous Headmasters and mistresses, and the different trinkets and gadgets on every surface.
Cornelius Fudge was standing beside Dumbledore's desk, wearing his usual pinstriped cloak and holding his lime-green bowler hat.
"Harry! How are you?" Fudge said jovially, moving forwards. "And Miss Areli, so nice to see you!"
I gave an awkward sort of smile, while Harry answered, "Fine."
"We were just talking about the night when Mr Crouch turned up in the grounds," Fudge said. "It was you who found him, Harry, was it not?"
"Yes," Harry said, then added, "I didn't see Madame Maxime anywhere, though, and she'd have a job hiding, wouldn't she?"
My eyes widened slightly, and I coughed into my fist to hide any laughter at the look on Fudge's face. Dumbledore smiled from behind Fudge's back, eyes twinkling.
"Yes, well," Fudge said, embarrassed, "we're about to go for a short walk in the grounds, if you'll excuse us . . . perhaps if you just go back to your class —"
"We wanted to talk to you, Professor," Harry said quickly to Dumbledore, who gave him a swift, searching look.
"Wait here for me, Harry, Aurora," Dumbledore said. "Our examination of the grounds will not take long."
They trailed out in silence past us, and closed the door. After a minute or so, the clunks of Moody's leg grew fainter in the corridor below.
"Hello, Fawkes," Harry said, making me look up.
Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, was standing on his golden perch beside the door. He was the size of a swan, with magnificent scarlet and gold plumage; he swished his long tail and blinked benignly at Harry and I.
Knowing we were going to be there a while, I decided to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk. Harry soon followed my lead, and for several minutes, the two of us sat and watched the old Headmasters and mistresses snoozing in their frames.
"You okay?" I asked, when I saw Harry run his fingers over his scar.
"Yeah," he replied, sending me a small smile. "It's stopped hurting now."
I returned the gesture. At least the physical pain was gone.
I then looked around at the walls behind the desk. The patched and ragged Sorting Hat was standing on the shelf. A glass case next to it held a magnificent silver sword, with large rubies set into the hilt, which I immediately recognised as the one I had pulled out of the Sorting Hat during second year. It was the sword that once belonged to Godric Gryffindor, the founder of my house. It was the sword that once belonged to my great, great, great-something grandfather.
