Every school had its own class bells, yet no matter how pleasant they were designed to sound, anyone would grow tired of them after hearing them for too long.
Perhaps for that reason, none of Hogwarts' headmasters had ever tried to make the bell tower's chimes pleasant. They remained as dull, rigid, and solemn as ever—and unreliable in their timing.
After the day's lessons ended, Pomona followed instructions to the headmaster's office.
"Come in."
Almost the moment Pomona knocked, a voice spoke from inside.
She pushed open the door and entered the office. Dumbledore was tending to his pet Phoenix.
"You wanted to see me, Headmaster," Pomona said.
Albus turned around, his blue eyes studying her through half-moon spectacles.
"Please, sit," Albus said, then walked around to the armchair behind his imposing desk and sat down.
Pomona assumed this would be a long "talk," so she took the chair opposite him.
"I heard about what you did last night," Dumbledore said. "Is there anything you wish to say?"
Pomona noticed that Albus was watching her intently.
Albus Dumbledore—the man on the Chocolate Frog Card, the great wizard who had defeated Grindelwald, the discoverer of the twelve uses of dragon's blood—everything about him suggested wisdom and sound judgment. What would he have done if he had encountered what Pomona had last night?
"I did what I believed was best," Pomona said. "I couldn't allow fear and rumors to spread."
"You have no suspects?" Albus asked.
"Without conclusive evidence, I won't accuse anyone," Pomona said.
"What sort of evidence do you want?" Albus asked.
Pomona did not know how to answer.
After calming down, Phoebe said she had come to the Grand Staircase to look at the portraits. Then everything had gone blank, and the next moment she was inside a painting.