Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

it was painful.
    ‘The last murders the wand performed,’ said Dumbledore, nodding. ‘In reverse order. More would have appeared, of course, had you maintained the connection. Very well, Harry, these echoes, these shadows … what did they do?’
    Harry described how the figures which had emerged from the wand had prowled the edges of the golden web, how Voldemort had seemed to fear them, how the shadow of Harry’s father had told him what to do, how Cedric’s had made its final request.
    At this point, Harry found he could not continue. He looked around at Sirius, and saw that he had his face in his hands.
    Harry suddenly became aware that Fawkes had left his knee. The phoenix had fluttered to the floor. It was resting its beautiful head against Harry’s injured leg, and thick, pearly tears were falling from its eyes onto the wound left by the spider. The pain vanished. The skin mended. His leg was repaired.
    ‘I will say it again,’ said Dumbledore, as the phoenix rose into the air, and resettled itself upon the perch beside the door. ‘You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard’s burden and found yourself equal to it – and you have now given us all that we have a right to expect. You will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace … Sirius, would you like to stay with him?’
    Sirius nodded, and stood up. He transformed back into the great black dog, and walked with Harry and Dumbledore out of the office, accompanying them down a flight of stairs to the hospital wing.
    When Dumbledore pushed open the door, Harry saw Mrs Weasley, Bill, Ron and Hermione grouped around a harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey. They appeared to be demanding to know where Harry was and what had happened to him.
    All of them whipped around as Harry, Dumbledore and the black dog entered, and Mrs Weasley let out a kind of muffled scream. ‘Harry! Oh, Harry!’
    She started to hurry towards him, but Dumbledore moved between them.
    ‘Molly,’ he said, holding up a hand, ‘please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet. If he would like you all to stay with him,’ he added, looking around at Ron, Hermione and Bill, too, ‘you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening.’
    Mrs Weasley nodded. She was very white.
    She rounded on Ron, Hermione and Bill as though they were being noisy, and hissed, ‘Did you hear? He needs quiet!’
    ‘Headmaster,’ said Madam Pomfrey, staring at the great black dog that was Sirius, ‘may I ask what –?’
    ‘This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while,’ said Dumbledore simply. ‘I assure you, he is extremely well trained. Harry – I will wait while you get into bed.’
    Harry felt an inexpressible sense of gratitude to Dumbledore for asking the others not to question him. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want them there; but the thought of explaining it all over again, the idea of reliving it one more time, was more than he could stand.
    ‘I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry,’ said Dumbledore. ‘I would like you to remain here tomorrow, until I have spoken to the school.’ He left.
    As Madam Pomfrey led Harry to a nearby bed, he caught sight of the real Moody lying motionless in a bed at the far end of the room. His wooden leg and magical eye were lying on the bedside table.
    ‘Is he OK?’ Harry asked.
    ‘He’ll be fine,’ said Madam Pomfrey, giving Harry some pyjamas and pulling screens around him. He took off his robes, pulled on the pyjamas and got into bed. Ron, Hermione, Bill, Mrs Weasley and the black dog came around the screen and settled themselves in chairs on either side of him. Ron and Hermione were looking at him almost cautiously, as though scared of him.
    ‘I’m all right,’ he told them. ‘Just tired.’
    Mrs Weasley’s eyes filled with tears as she smoothed his bedcovers unnecessarily.
    Madam Pomfrey, who had bustled off to her office, returned holding a goblet and a small bottle of some purple potion.
    ‘You’ll need to drink all of this, Harry,’ she said. ‘It’s a potion for