von Linda Black
Professor McGonagall had lead him to the train station and into a train. She had been so fast he couldn’t even see where they were going. After what seemed an endless journey they got out and, still without speaking a word, walked into the night. Harry knew it was ridiculous, but he had the feeling as if they someone was following them. He couldn’t’ see anyone and when he tried to turn around, Professor McGonagall pulled him on. At last they arrived on a big place that looked strangely familiar. Professor McGonagall pulled out a paper and handed it over to him. Harry groaned. He read:
The Order of the Phoenix headquarters may be found at Grimnauld Place Number 12, London
But it wasn’t a handwriting he recognized. The last time he had seen a similar note like this it had been written by Dumbledore. But this one wasn’t. It was completely foreign to him and didn’t even look like an adults writing, a bit clumsy even. He didn’t have any more time to think about it because Professor McGonagall pulled him over to the door that appeared now.
A few metres away was a girl, just 16 years old. She knew what the note meant. She knew who was there and where they were going. She turned around and left. She had done her duty. Her long black robe curled a little in the midsummer wind as she climbed onto her horse. The black lady disappeared into the night that swallowed her. But she would return.
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