Butterfly Effect ; H. Potter

44. the trials.

The door of the office opened.

"Hello, Potter, Lupin," said Moody. "Come in, then."

They walked inside. Antheia had been inside Dumbledore's office once before; it was a very beautiful, circular room, lined with pictures of previous Headmasters and mistresses of Hogwarts, all of whom were fast asleep, their chests rising and falling gently. Cornelius Fudge was standing beside Dumbledore's desk, wearing his usual pinstriped cloak and holding his lime-green bowler hat.

"Harry!" said Fudge jovially, moving forwards. "And Lupin, was it?"

Antheia nodded slowly. Fudge looked away quickly and turned back to Harry. "How are you?"

"Fine," Harry lied.

"We were just talking about the night when Mr. Crouch turned up in the grounds," said Fudge. "It was you who found him, was it not?"

"Yes," said Harry. Then, feeling it was pointless to pretend that he hadn't overheard what they had been saying, he added, "I didn't see Madame Maxime anywhere, though, and she'd have a job hiding, wouldn't she?"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry behind Fudge's back, his eyes twinkling.

"Yes, well," said Fudge, looking embarrassed, "we're about to go for a short walk in the grounds, Harry, if you'll excuse us ... perhaps if you just go back to your class -"

"We wanted to talk to you, Professor," Antheia said, looking at Dumbledore, who gave her and Harry a swift, searching look.

"Wait here for me," he said. "Our examination of the grounds will not take long."

They trooped out in silence past them and closed the door. After a minute or so, they heard the clunks of Moody's wooden leg growing fainter in the corridor below. Harry looked around.

"Hello, Fawkes," he said.

Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, was standing on his golden perch beside the door. The size of a swan, with magnificent scarlet and gold plumage, he swished his long tail and blinked benignly at Harry.

The two sat down in a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk. For several minutes, they sat and watched the old Headmasters and mistresses snoozing in their frames.

"How's your scar now?" asked Antheia, seeing Harry run his fingers over his scar.

"Better now," he said. "It's stopped hurting and it's so calm in here ..."

Harry looked up at the walls behind the desk. The patched and ragged Sorting Hat was standing on a shelf. A glass case next to it held a magnificent silver sword, with large rubies set into the hilt, which Harry recognised as the one he himself had pulled out of the Sorting Hat in his second year. The sword had once belonged to Godric Gryffindor, founder of Harry's house. He was gazing at it, remembering how it had come to his aid when he had thought all hope was lost, when he noticed a patch of silvery light, dancing and shimmering on the glass case. He looked around for the source of the light, and saw a sliver of silver white shining brightly from within a black cabinet behind him, whose door had not been closed properly.

"Antheia, look!" muttered Harry, entranced by the cabinet now. "What do you think's behind that?"

"Do you think we could check it out?" asked Antheia, getting up and walking up to it.

Harry hesitated, glanced at Fawkes, then got up, walked across the office, and pulled the cabinet door open. A shallow stone basin lay there, with odd carvings around the edge; runes and symbols that they did not recognise. The silvery light was coming from the basin's contents, which were like nothing they had ever seen before. Antheia could not tell whether the substance was liquid or gas. It was a bright, whitish silver, and it was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. It looked like light made liquid - or like wind made solid - Antheia couldn't make up her mind.