Clara Diggory, Girl of Secrets - a HP fanfic

Chapter 12 - Fawkes, Feathers, and a Wound to Heal

We stepped off of the stone staircase and Professor McGonagall rapped on the door. It opened silently and we entered. McGonagall told us to wait, and then left us there, alone.

Dumbledore's office was large and circular, and full of odd objects. The walls were lined with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses - all of whom were sleeping at the moment - and on a shelf sat an old, tattered hat - The Sorting Hat.

Harry was looking around at the portraits, before approaching the hat cautiously. I eyed him warily, wondering what he was doing.

Harry lifted the hat from the shelf and placed it on his head. I couldn't figure out what it was saying to him, but judging by his expression, it wasn't good.

He grabbed the point of the hat and pulled it off of his head, before pushing it back onto the shelf.

"You're wrong," He said. I came and stood next to him. Then a weird, sort of gagging noise came from behind us, making us whip around.

Standing on a golden perch behind the door was a very old-looking bird, that appeared to be quite ill, by the looks of it. We stared at it, and the bird looked back through dull eyes.

Suddenly, the bird burst into flames. Harry yelled in shock and backed into a desk behind us, while I just stared up in wonder.

I'd never seen a Phoenix before, but I'd always wanted to. I began walking towards the ashes of the bird gingerly, wondering what to expect.

Harry's POV

The office door opened, and Dumbledore entered, looking very solemn.

"Professor," I gasped, "Your bird - we couldn't do anything - he just caught fire -"

To my astonishment and confusion, Dumbledore smiled.

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

I stood there, stunned. Did Dumbledore want his bird to die?

The headmaster chuckled.

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

He nodded towards where the bird had been, and I saw Clara knelt down next to it. In her hands was a tiny, wrinkled, new-born bird. The expression on her face was one of extreme fascination and delight, one I hadn't seen in a while - in fact, I can't remember seeing it at all. Just seeing her could practically make someone happy - her eyes were completely lit up with joy.

I thought about the Sorting Hat. It had said I would have done well in Slytherin, but it was wrong.

Could it be wrong about Clara, too?

"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," Said Dumbledore, sitting at his desk, while Clara set Fawkes down and walked to my side. "He's really very handsome most of the time: wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, Phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers and they make highly faithful pets."

I had almost forgotten the reason we were here in the shock of Fawkes catching fire, but I was reminded of it once more as Professor Dumbledore settled into his chair behind the desk and fixed on us with a penetrating stare.

Before he could say anything, however, the door of the office flew open and Hagrid burst in, the dead rooster still swinging from his hand. Glancing at Clara, I noticed her eyes were fixed on it, and she almost looked as if she was in pain.

"It wasn' Harry or Clara, Professor Dumbledore!" Said Hagrid urgently. "I was talkin' ter 'em seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir..."