Spellbind

29. Sage Advice

Niyla POV:

By the Headmaster's authorization, Ron was sent home for the next three days and permitted his brothers and sister to go along as well. They would travel back to Hogwarts Monday night by train, Harry was in pursuit of the Weasley family through the emerald flames of Floo powder. With the help of one of Dumbldore's liaisons at the Ministry of Magic, his connection at the Floo Regulation Panel set up the Floo Powder transportation. Temporarily in Professor Dumbledore's fireplace, located in his circular office; found in one of the castle's tallest turrets.

In the same second, I was clear to leave the hospital wing, I was summoned to the Headmaster's office. Having been before escorted to the gargoyle that guarded some coiling steps, I knew the password used to be "lemon drop". But each school year it is changed, Madam Pomfrey — the school's matron — was given permission, from Dumbledore to inform me of this year's chosen password to get into his office. I looked side to side, down the corridor, suddenly devoted to proving I could be trusted with the secret phrase.

"Cockroach Cluster," I said clearly; shuddering at just the feeling of the bug's name on my lips.

A wall behind the stone gargoyle, parted to reveal a tight tendril-shaped staircase. Dumbledore was waiting for me, by the time I stood in front of his office door. He called for me to enter before my fingers completely grasped the copper-colored knocker. The door gave a deep groan as I pushed it slowly open, and the enchanting noises from the various magical things inside invited me in.

The smell of burned kindling filled the room, but I could pick up notes of ink and fresh parchment. From his large, claw-footed desk he was tying a rolled-up letter to an owl and commanded it to fly with care in a mild voice. Its jet black feathers gleamed in the dull light of the overcast sky. Calm rumbles rippled in the distance, somewhere inside the thickly, clouded atmosphere.

Dumbledore smiled, his lips smacking as he turned over a piece of boiled sweet on his tongue.

"Lemon drop?" he gestured to a small granite bowl on his desk. "Can't imagine you had a good night's sleep."

I stuttered a step; blushing to think, if Dumbledore somehow knew I spent most of my night talking to Granger and then to Fred.

"Um, okay," I woodenly pinched a single drop from the bowl and planted myself on a chair across his enormous desk.

He sat, his appearance looking fragile. But his internal power was intimidatingly luminescent around him. Just the mere fact of knowing he is Albus Dumbledore, is to know you are in the presence of one of the two greatest wizards of this century. On that note, his rare — probably the only one in existence — phoenix, named Fawkes, flew in from a window on the ceiling. The blood-red bird steeled itself on a golden perch, screeched once, and stared steadily at me. I duly noted its flesh-cutting talons and the way light occasionally flickered off them, like they had just been polished and were ready for use.

The caution I felt was swiftly accompanied by worry, when I turned back to Dumbledore and saw for a second so fast, I almost missed it. A look of interest and wary. Was Fawkes furtively sending him a message? What in this world could possibly cause Dumbledore to feel even the slightest hints of alarm?

Dumbledore fastly altered his expression with a kind smile.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. "Are there any signs of lingering pain?"

I thought about it, the only thing of discomfort was the twinge in my cheek from the sour treat, as it caused my mouth to salivate and my jaw to flex. I guess the one I had chosen was one with the least sweetness to it.

"No," I swallowed, "I think...now I just keep wondering, how am I still alive?"

Dumbledore's face grew serious. He leaned forward, putting his arms on top of his desk, and interlaced his fingers.