Harry woke up on Sunday morning to find the dormitory blazing with winter sunlight and his arm re-boned but very stiff. He sat up quickly and looked over at Colin’s bed, but it had been blocked from view.
They rose upwards in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, Harry could see a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffon. He knew where he was being taken. This must be where Dumbledore lived.