Dumbledore was strolling around the Hogwarts grounds, cheerfully.
It could not have gone better, he thought. He had just had an appointment with Cornelius Fudge, who had been quite pleased to give him the post of Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And now it was done. He, Dumbledore, was headmaster! What a joyous thought. He thought he heard something rustle in the bushes. No, no, it was just his imagination. He tripped on the stone and recovered himself. Fudge...what a nice man.
"Hello, Dumbledore." A deep voice rang out, piercing Dumbledore's senses and echoing through reality, cutting existence up into tiny pieces of glass that were thrown by a mighty wind into the eyes of those shrieking in agony as the voice sent an unbearable icy cold through them.
He was taken aback.
Whose voice was that? He had heard of real demons, devils and imps, of course, but what would they be doing here...and what interest would they have in him? Could he trust Fudge after all? Was Hogwarts cursed? Little did Dumbledore know he had touched upon a point there...but we'll get to that later. For now, all that is important is that this voice rang into his ears, and he spun round in a split-second. Standing there was a tall, thin wizard, wearing a wide black robe that draped across the stone passageway. He had tidy grey hair and a solemn face outlined by distinctly thin wrinkles. His hands were held together in front of him holding a large black book.
"Who...Who are you? H-How did you speak like that?" Dumbledore was scared of this man, and was going to be cautious. He backed away.
"I did not speak." The man said, in a loud but soft voice. It was the polar opposite of the previous one; whereas it had screamed through the air, a chattering shriek that felt like a thousand knives were being stabbed through every limb in your body, this one seemed like a drug. Instantly Dumbledore was soothed. The voice seemed to break away all worry, all thought, all hesitation...Just bliss swept over you. Rather like...Dumbledore had no time to think of that. He had to speak to this man, to hear the voice again.
"Y-yes...Quite so." Dumbledore felt sleepy and warm.
"Well." The man was opening the black book. Dumbledore, in his haziness, just about caught the first word of a title on the front: The. Well, that's not much use, is it, he thought, regaining altertness as the affect of the voice lessened. But then his single word...Well...sent him back into a blissful state of peace. He was now talking further.
"I am Paul Selvon. I have been instructed to deliver you a message." said the man. "Let me just find the page..." He flicked through the book.
Vaguely, Seldon thought, a message in a book?, but he was too at peace with Paul's voice to think.
"Ah, here it is." He stopped at page 723 and cleared his throat. "To the man who will stumble at the tower; struck down by his wishes; desolated and his rest disturbed by he who breaths with only one, and has only a shard of a heart! To Albus of Dumbledore: Beware of the post that willings the groast, and beware of the only way out."
Dumbledore had a shark intake of breath at his name. This was the beginning of something dangerous...