Lyla was speechless. At the screams from Peeves, she along with Daphne came peeling into the corridor, horrified at what they might see. Now gazing at the back of Flitwick and Sinistra carefully carrying the Ravenclaw boy up to the hospital wing, she could only stare in shock.

Arabella looked stunned, standing amongst the scene and looking incredibly guilty. No one appeared to know what to do for Nearly Headless Nick. In the end, McGonagall conjured a large fan out of thin air, which she gave to Sue with instructions to waft Nearly Headless Nick up the stairs. This she did, who was instructed to fan Nick along like a silent black hovercraft. This left a crowd staring at where the bodies had been.

"Arabella, if you could follow me," said McGonagall tightly

"Professor," said Daphne, "she-she couldn't have–!"

"This is out of my hands," said McGonagall curtly.

"But I didn't–" began Arabella.

"I will not ask again!"

Lyla had followed despite not knowing the full story, and McGonagall didn't seem to mind. The three marched in silence around a corner and she stopped before a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

"Lemon drop!" said the professor loudly. This was evidently a password because the gargoyle sprang suddenly to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two. Even full of dread for what was coming, Lyla couldn't help but be amazed. Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward, like an escalator. As they and McGonagall stepped onto it, Lyla heard the wall thud close behind them. They rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, she saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin. Lyla knew now where they were being taken. This must be where Dumbledore lived.

The three stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Professor McGonagall rapped on the door. It opened silently and they entered.

"You may enter," said McGonagall, gesturing the two forward. "The Headmaster shall be with you shortly."

The two stepped in without another word.

Lyla gazed around in wonder, as one thing was certain: of all the teachers' offices she had visited so far this year, Dumbledore's was by far the most interesting. If she hadn't been scared out of his wits that she and Arabella were about to be thrown out of school, she would have been very pleased to have a chance to look around it.

It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. Several curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered wizard's hat— the Sorting Hat.

"What happened?" exclaimed Lyla, turning to meet Arabella's gaze. "I know you didn't attack them, but what exactly happened?"

Before her sister could answer, the two were startled by an odd noise coming from behind them. They turned just in time to see a rather decrepit-looking bird standing on a golden perch. It resembled a half-plucked turkey. Arabella stared at it and the bird looked balefully back, making its gagging noise once again. Lyla couldn't help but think that it looked very ill. Its eyes were dull and a couple more feathers fell out of its tail.

Lyla was just thinking that all she needed was for Dumbledore's pet bird to die while she was alone in the office when the bird burst into flames.

"What–!" yelled Arabella in shock, stumbling backward.

Lyla looked feverishly around in case there was a glass of water, but couldn't see one; the bird, meanwhile, had become a large fireball; it gave one loud shriek and next second there was nothing but a smoldering pile of ash on the floor.

The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very somber.

"P-professor," Arabella gasped. "Your bird — we couldn't do anything — he just caught fire —"

To their astonishment, Dumbledore only smiled.

"About time, too," he said softly. "He's been looking dreadful for days; I've been telling him to get a move on."

He chuckled at the stunned expressions of the sisters, and carefully made his way to his desk.

"Fawkes is a phoenix. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch..."

The sisters did as they were told, looking down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, newborn bird poke its head out of the ashes. It was quite as ugly as the old one.

"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," sighed Dumbledore wistfully, seating himself behind his desk. "He's really very handsome most of the time, with wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets."

In the shock of Fawkes catching fire, Lyla had forgotten what she and her sister were there for, and it all came rushing back as Dumbledore settled himself in the high chair behind the desk and fixed the students with his penetrating, light-blue stare.

Before Dumbledore could speak another word, however, the door of the office flew open with an almighty bang, and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.

"It wasn't Arabella, Professor Dumbledore!" said Hagrid urgently. "I was talkin' ter Arabella seconds before that kid was found, she never had time, sir —"

Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere.

"—it can't've bin her, I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I have to."

"Hagrid, I —"

"— yeh've got the wrong child, sir, I know Arabella nor Lyla never —"

"Hagrid!" said Dumbledore loudly. "I do not think that Arabella attacked those people."

There was an awkward pause.

"Oh," said Hagrid finally, the rooster falling limply at his side. "Right. I'll wait outside then, Headmaster."

And he stomped out looking extremely embarrassed.

"You don't think it was me, Professor?" Arabella repeated hopefully as Dumbledore brushed rooster feathers off his desk.

"No, Arabella, I don't," said Dumbledore, though his face was somber again. "But I still want to talk to you and your sister."

The two shared a nervous glance and waited anxiously while Dumbledore considered them, the tips of his long fingers together.

"I must ask you, girls, whether there is anything you'd like to tell me," he said gently. "Anything at all."

Lyla didn't know what to say. She thought of Pansy shouting, "You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Then she thought of the disembodied voice she and Arabella had heard. She thought, too, about what everyone was saying about them, and her growing dread that they were indeed somehow connected with Salazar Slytherin…

"No," said Lyla. "There-there isn't anything, Professor..."

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