Harry Potter Male Reader Insert - Book 2

Chapter 11. The Polyjuice Potion

1

Harry and McGonagall stood at the stone staircase at the top, and McGonagall rapped on the door. The door then opened, and they entered inside. McGonagall told Harry to wait and left him. Harry looked around in curiosity and thought of Dumbledore's office as the most interesting of all offices. He would have been more pleased about being here if not for the fact that he thought he would be thrown out of Hogwarts.

It was a large and beautiful circular room. Several curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, emitting little puffs of smoke. Past Headmasters slept in their eternal frames. The air smelled sweet of candy and of an animal. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered wizard's hat, the Sorting Hat.

Harry hesitated. He cast a glance around the sleeping witches and wizards on the walls. It wouldn't hurt if he took the hat and tried it on again. To see. To make sure it had put him in the right House. He walked quietly around the desk, lifted the hat from its shelf, and lowered it onto his head. It was too large and slipped down over his eyes. Harry stared at the darkness inside.

Then a voice said: „Bee in your bonnet, Harry Potter?"

„Yes. Sorry to bother you. I wanted to ask."

„You've been wondering whether I put you in the right House. Yes . . . you were difficult to place. But I stand by what I said, for you would have done well in Slytherin."

Harry grabbed the hat and pulled it off quickly, impulsively. It hung limply in his hand, faded. Harry pushed it back onto its shelf, feeling sick.

„You are wrong," Harry said to the silent hat.

It didn't move again. Then a gagging noise behind him made him turn. He wasn't alone. Standing on a golden perch behind the door was a decrepit-looking bird that resembled a half-plucked turkey. Harry stared at it, and the bird looked balefully back, making its gagging noise again. Harry thought it looked very ill. Its eyes were dull, and even as Harry watched, a couple more feathers fell out of its tail.

Harry thought all he needed was for Dumbledore's pet to die in his lone presence. Then the bird burst into flames, and Harry yelled in shock and backed away. He looked feverishly around, in case there was a glass of water somewhere but couldn't see one. The bird, meanwhile, had become a fireball. It gave one loud shriek, and the next second, there was nothing but a smoldering pile of ash on the floor.

After that, the office door opened, and Dumbledore came in, looking somber.

„Professor, your bird . . . I couldn't do anything. He just caught on fire," spoke Harry.

But Dumbledore smiled, to Harry's perplexion.

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

Harry's face looked stunned, and Dumbledore chuckled.

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

Harry looked down in time to see a tiny, 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," Dumbledore said, seating himself behind his desk. „He's very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets."

In the shock of Fawkes catching fire, Harry had forgotten what he was there for, but it came back to him as Dumbledore settled himself in the high chair behind the desk and fixed Harry with his penetrating, light-blue stare. But before Dumbledore could speak another word, 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.