Y/N POTTER (2)

Chapter 13: The Polyjuice Potion

"You're delusional, that's what you are."

Of course that wasn't the only thing that happened. The golden statue spun to reveal a spiral staircase that rose upwards.

My hunger was more important, though.

McGonagall ignored the sound of my stomach and motioned for Harry and I to go up the stairs. "Professor Dumbledore will be waiting for you."

As soon as we stepped onto it, it started moving again, like a magical escalator. We walked through a door and into the headmaster's office without knocking.

Of all the teachers' offices I had entered, Dumbledore's was by far the most interesting. If Harry hadn't been scared out of his wits that we were about to be thrown out of school, he would have poked through the cool stuff with me.

It was a large circular room. A number of curious silver instruments stood on the spindle-legged tables. The walls were covered in portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all who were snoozing in their frames. Harry and I walked deeper in.

On one of the high shelves laid a shabby, tattered wizards hat — the Sorting Hat. It moved as if staring at us.

"Bees in your bonnets, Potters?" it asked.

"I– I was just wondering if you put me in the right house," said Harry.

I rolled my eyes. This again.

"Yes. You were particularly difficult to place," hummed the hat. "But I stand by what I said last year. You would have done well in Slytherin."

"As much as I did." I nodded in agreement.

Harry didn't like this, though. He shook his head. "You're wrong."

He looked away, turning to look at a large red bird sitting on it's perch, seeming old and very ill. It's eyes were dull and it's feathers were falling off.

All we need if for Dumbledore's pet to die while we are alone in his office, is what I thought before the bird burst into flames.

Harry and I backed away in shock.

What the actual—

"Harry? Y/n?" Dumbledore was standing at the top of the stairs that were behind his desk, looking down on us.

"Professor!" Harry said at once. "Your bird... There was nothing we could do! He just caught fire."

I nodded along.

"Oh, and about time too," said Dumbledore. He started down the stairs. "He's been looking dreadful for days. Pity you had to see him on a Burning Day." He chuckled at our stunned looks and continued to explain. "Fawkes is a phoenix, Potters. They bust into flame when it's time for them to die, and they are reborn from the ashes."

He reached the bottom of the stairs and leaned towards the perch. Harry and I did the same to see a tiny, wrinkled, new-born bird poke it's head out of the ashes.

"Ah... Fascinating creatures, phoenixes," said Dumbledore, as Harry and I grinned at the sight. "They can carry immensely heavy loads. Their tears have healing powers."

Hagrid burst into the room.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir!" he said urgently. "Wait, listen." He gasped for air while making his way toward us. "Professord Dumbledore, sir, it wasn' them!"

"Ah, Hagrid—"

"I'd be prepared to swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic—!"

"Hagrid!" said Dumbledore loudly, silencing our giant sized friend. "Relax... I do not believe that the Potters have attacked anyone... Well, Harry at least."