"Those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly." For Iris Potter, these words defined her whole life. Born with a natural talent for Legilim...
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The next thing she knew, Iris was running through the corridors of Hogwarts towards Dumbledore's office with Professor McGonagall, Harry, and Ron, and in a few minutes, they had reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance.
"Fizzing Whizbee," said Professor McGonagall.
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. The four 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 gryphon.
Though it was now well past midnight, there were voices coming from inside the room, a positive babble of them. It sounded as though Dumbledore was entertaining at least a dozen people, though Iris could only sense one present mind through the door.
Professor McGonagall rapped three times with the gryphon knocker, and the voices ceased abruptly as though someone had switched them all off. The door opened of its own accord and Professor McGonagall led Iris, Harry, and Ron inside.
The room was in half-darkness; the strange silver instruments standing on tables were silent and still rather than whirring and emitting puffs of smoke as they usually did. 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.
"Oh, it's you, Professor McGonagall... and... ah."
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 Professor McGonagall.
"Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a... well, a nightmare," said Professor McGonagall. "He says..."
"It wasn't a nightmare," said Harry quickly.
Professor McGonagall looked around at Harry, frowning slightly. "Very well, then, Potter, you tell the headmaster about it."
"I... well, I was asleep..." said Harry and Iris could tell that even in his terror and his desperation to make Dumbledore understand, her brother felt was getting irritated that the headmaster was not looking at him, but instead examining his own interlocked fingers. "But it wasn't an ordinary dream... it was real... I saw it happen..." He took a deep breath, "Ron's dad— Mr Weasley— has been attacked by a giant snake."
The words seemed to reverberate in the air after he had said them, slightly ridiculous, even comic. There was a pause in which Dumbledore leaned back and stared meditatively at the ceiling. Ron looked from Harry to Dumbledore, white-faced and shocked.
