The Pensieve

           Thedooroftheofficeopened.

           "Hello,Potter,"saidMoody."Comein,then."

           Harrywalkedinside.HehadbeeninsideDumbledore’sofficeoncebefore;itwasaverybeautiful,circularroom,linedwithpicturesofpreviousheadmastersandheadmistressesofHogwarts,allofwhomwerefastasleep,theirchestsrisingandfallinggently.

           CorneliusFudgewasstandingbesideDumbledore’sdesk,wearinghisusualpinstripedcloakandholdinghislime-greenbowlerhat.

           "Harry!"saidFudgejovially,movingforward."Howareyou?"

           "Fine,"Harrylied.

           "WewerejusttalkingaboutthenightwhenMr.Crouchturneduponthegrounds,"saidFudge."Itwasyouwhofoundhim,wasitnot?"

           "Yes,"saidHarry.Then,feelingitwaspointlesstopretendthathehadn’toverheardwhattheyhadbeensaying,headded,"Ididn’tseeMadameMaximeanywhere,though,andshe’dhaveajobhiding,wouldn’tshe?"

           DumbledoresmiledatHarrybehindFudge’sback,hiseyestwinkling.

           "Yes,well,"saidFudge,lookingembarrassed,"we’reabouttogoforashortwalkonthegrounds,Harry,ifyou’llexcuseus...perhapsifyoujustgobacktoyourclass-"

           "Iwantedtotalktoyou.Professor,"Harrysaidquickly,lookingatDumbledore,whogavehimaswift,searchinglook.

           "Waithereforme,Harry,"hesaid."Ourexaminationofthegroundswillnottakelong."

           Theytroopedoutinsilencepasthimandclosedthedoor.Afteraminuteorso,HarryheardtheclunksofMoody’swoodenleggrowingfainterinthecorridorbelow.Helookedaround.

           "Hello,Fawkes,"hesaid.