𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 - Harry Potter x Fem!Reader¹

11.. THE POLYJUICE POTION

They stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Professor McGonagall rapped on the door. It opened silently and they entered. Professor McGonagall told Y/N to wait and left her there, alone.

Y/N looked around. One thing was certain: of all the teachers' offices Y/N had visited so far this year, Dumbledore's was by far the most interesting. If she hadn't been scared out of her wits that she was about to be thrown out of school, she would have been very pleased to have a chance to look around it.

It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it, a shabby, tattered wizard's hat — the Sorting Hat.

Y/N hesitated. She cast a wary eye around the sleeping witches and wizards on the walls. Surely it couldn't hurt if she took the hat down and tried it on again? Just to see... just to make sure it had put her in the right House.

She walked quietly around the desk, lifted the hat from its shelf, and lowered it slowly onto her head. It was still much too large and slipped down over her eyes, just as it had done the last time she'd put it on. Y/N stared at the black inside of the hat, waiting. Then a small voice said in her ear, "Bee in your bonnet, Y/N L/N?"

"Er, yes," Y/N muttered. "Er — sorry to bother you — I wanted to ask —"

"You've been wondering whether I put you in the right House," said the hat smartly. "Yes... you were particularly difficult to place. But I stand by what I said before —" Y/N's heart leapt — "you would have done well in Slytherin —"

Y/N's stomach plummeted. She grabbed the point of the hat and pulled it off. It hung limply in her hand, grubby and faded. She pushed it back onto its shelf, feeling sick.

"You're wrong," she said aloud to the still and silent hat. It didn't move. Y/N backed away, watching it. Then a strange, gagging noise behind her made her wheel around.

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

Y/N was just thinking that all she needed was for Dumbledore's pet bird to die while she was alone in the office with it, when the bird burst into flames.

Y/N gasped in shock and backed away into the desk. She 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 next second there was nothing but a smoldering pile of ash on the floor.

The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very somber.

"Professor," Y/N gasped. "Your bird — I couldn't do anything — he just caught fire —"

To Y/N's astonishment, Dumbledore smiled.

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

He chuckled at the stunned look on Y/N's face. She gaped at him wordlessly. Then, a slow realization dawned on her.

"Professor," she said softly, looking back at the pile of ashes once more. "Was... is that phoenix?"

Dumbledore nodded, looking impressed.

"Yes, Y/N," he said gently. "Fawkes is indeed a phoenix. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him..."