Ancient Magician (Severus x Reader)

Chapter 36:Polyjuice Potion Pt2

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𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 36:𝑃𝑜𝑙𝑦𝑗𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑃𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑃𝑡2

"What a year this week has been"

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We climbed the winding stone staircase slowly, the air getting cooler and quieter the higher we went. Professor McGonagall walked just ahead of me, her footsteps echoing against the ancient stone walls. When we reached the top, she paused in front of a polished wooden door with a brass griffin-shaped knocker. Without hesitation, she knocked twice. The door creaked open of its own accord—smooth, silent, almost as if it had been waiting for us.

We stepped inside. The office was warm, lit by flickering candles and shafts of late afternoon sunlight streaming through the tall windows. Magical objects whirred softly in the corners, and portraits of former headmasters snoozed or watched us silently from their frames. I barely had time to take it all in when Professor McGonagall turned to me.

"Wait here, Miss Grimblehawk," she said briskly, giving me a firm nod. "The Headmaster will be with you shortly."

And with that, she left, closing the door behind her.

Now alone, I slowly walked deeper into the room, taking it all in. There, in the center, was Dumbledore's grand desk—an enormous piece of furniture with clawed legs, covered in scrolls, odd instruments, and a delicate crystal dish filled with lemon drops. But what truly caught my attention was perched on a high shelf behind the desk.

The Sorting Hat.

It looked exactly as I remembered: weathered, patched in several places, and slouching slightly as if bored with the world. For some reason, my feet carried me toward it before I had fully decided what I was doing. I walked around the desk, reached up with both hands, and gently lifted the old hat from its resting place. It was heavier than I remembered.

Curious, and a bit nervous, I placed it on my head. Predictably, it slipped too far down, sliding past my eyebrows and over my eyes, plunging me into darkness. Just like last time.

Then I heard it.

"Bee in your bonnet, Grimblehawk?" The voice was dry, amused, and unmistakably coming from inside the hat.

"Er—yes, actually," I mumbled, feeling a bit silly. "Sorry to bother you, I just—had a question..."

"A question," the hat said thoughtfully, as though tasting the idea. "Ah yes. You've been wondering if I sorted you into the right House."

My breath caught. "How did you—"

"I always know, child. And yes... you were a difficult one to place." There was a pause. "You would have done well in Slytherin, very well. But no... no, I stand by my decision. This time, Gryffindor suits you."

"This time?" I asked aloud, heart thumping. "Wait—what do you mean by—"

But the Sorting Hat had gone silent. No more whispering. I hesitated, then slowly lifted it off my head and returned it to its shelf, watching it carefully—as if it might start talking again.

Before I could process what it had meant by this time, a strange, harsh noise from behind startled me. It was a kind of gasping, choking sound. I spun around to find Fawkes, Uncle Dumbledore's phoenix, perched quietly—except he didn't look very quiet anymore.

His feathers were ruffled, and his body trembled. My heart dropped.

"Oh no—no, no, no—"

Then, before I could move, the bird burst into flames.