Section 1

Professor McGonagall took Harry to Dumbledore's office, and then she asked Harry to wait, and left, leaving Harry there alone. Harry looked around and of all the teachers' offices he had visited this year, Dumbledore's office was definitely the most interesting. If Harry was not worried and nervous about his heart, he would be very happy to have the opportunity to come here. It was a spacious, beautiful circular room, full of

There were all kinds of funny little sounds. On the table with long legs, there were many strange silverware, rotating, and spewing out small waves of smoke. The walls were hung with portraits of old men and women, who were all snoring gently in their respective frames. There was also a huge table in the room with the feet of the table in the shape of claws. On a shelf behind the table, there was a ragged, wrinkled wizard hat - the branch hat.

Harry was hesitating, a strange feeling - as if someone was staring at him. He looked vigilantly at the sleeping witches on the surrounding walls, thinking that if he took the hat down and tried on his head, there should be no obstacle? He quietly walked around the table, picked up the hat on the shelf, and slowly clamped it on his head. The hat was too big and slipped down to cover Harry's eyes, just like when he first wore it. Harry stared at the black lining of the hat, waiting. At this moment, a small voice said in his ear: "Is there something I can't figure out, Harry Potter?"

"Oh, yes," Harry whispered in a vague way, "Oh... I'm sorry, I'm disturbing you... I want to ask........."

"You always wonder if I have put you in the right academy." Hat said cleverly, "Yes... your position is not easy to be accurate, but I still stick to my original statement-" Harry's heart beat wildly, "You will be very suitable in Slytherin, just like your brother, you all belong to Slytherin."

Harry was stunned, and then he grabbed the top of the hat and took it off. The hat was hanging softly in his hand, dirty and faded. Harry put it back on the original shelf and felt a sense of disgust.

"You're wrong." He said loudly to the hat that was silent. The hat didn't move. Harry stared at it and retreated. Suddenly, a strange suffocating sound came from behind, and he turned around suddenly.

He was not the only one in the room. On a tall gilded branch behind the door, there was an old bird standing like a turkey with half of its feathers pulled away. Harry stared at it, and the bird also looked at him with a sad look, and at the same time made a suffocating sound of a county species. Its eyes were unhappy, and just as Harry looked at it, several feathers fell off its tail.

Harry thought that if Dumbledore's bird died and he was alone in the office, this thing alone would be enough for him to suffer. Just as he was thinking this way, the bird suddenly caught fire.

Harry screamed in horror, and backed and hit the table. He looked around anxiously, hoping for a glass of water or something, but he didn't see it. At the same time, the bird had turned into a fireball; it screamed and then disappeared, leaving only a pile of ashes on the floor that had not yet been completely extinguished.

The office door opened, and Dumbledore walked in with a very serious expression.

"Professor," said Harry gasping, "your bird—I have no way—it suddenly caught fire—"

To Harry's great surprise, Dumbledore actually smiled.

"It's almost time," he said. "It's been awful for many days, and I keep telling it to act quickly."

He couldn't help but smile softly when he saw the shocked expression on Harry's face.

"Fox is a phoenix. When Harry is about to die, it will be alive and reborn from the ashes. You look at it..."

When Harry lowered his head, he happened to see a small wrinkled chick poking his head out of the ashes. Its appearance was as ugly as an old bird.

"What a pity, you have to see him on Nirvana Day," Dumbledore said, sitting behind the table. "It is very beautiful most of the time: it is amazingly red and golden feathers all over. Phoenixes are really a very charming life. They can carry extremely heavy things, their tears are healing, and they are also particularly loyal pets." He saw Harry's surprised look: "I thought you've seen Phoenix."

Harry shook his head, Dumbledore was a little surprised, but then smiled, "It seems that Sauron thinks you are not mature enough."

Harry's face was mixed with confusion and tension - in the horror caused by Fox*, he temporarily forgot why he came here. But at this moment, when Dumbledore mentioned Sauron, Harry's anxiety and anxiety surged up again. Dumbledore sat down on the high-backed chair behind the table, staring at him with his light blue, penetrating gaze, which reminded him everything.

However, before Dumbledore could speak, the office door slammed and was pushed open. Hagrid rushed in, his eyes gushed with anger, and his helmet-style hat was worn over his dark, chaotic head, and the dead cock was still swaying in his hand.

"Not Harry, Professor Dumbledore!" Hager said anxiously, "Just a few seconds before the child was discovered, I was talking to him. He had no time, sir..."

Dumbledore wanted to say something, but Hagrid only yelled and waved the cock in his hand anxiously, removing the chicken feathers everywhere.

"...It's impossible that it's him. If necessary, I can swear in front of the Ministry of Magic..."

"Hagir, I—"

"...You caught the wrong person, sir, I know Harry never-"

"Hagge!" Dumbledore said in a raised voice, "I don't think Harry attacked those people."

"Oh," said Hagrid, the cock fell softly beside him, "Well, I'm waiting outside for orders, Principal."

He stomped his feet hard and walked out, looking embarrassed.

"Do you think it's not me, professor?" Harry was delighted at first, but then became even more nervous, watching Dumbledore brushing off the feathers on the table.

"Yes, Harry, I don't think so," Dumbledore said, but the look on his face became solemn again, "but I still want to talk to you."

Harry waited nervously, afraid that Dumbledore would say the kind of guess he was afraid of. Dumbledore looked at him, and the fingertips of ten slender fingers touched together. "I must ask you, Harry, if you have anything to tell me," he said softly, "anything."

Harry didn't know what to say, he remembered a lot, remembered Malfoy's shout: "It's your turn next, mud-bred"; he remembered the compound decoction slowly in the toilet room of Myrtle, who was still crying; then he remembered the voice of the ghost he had heard twice, remembered Ron's words: "It's not a good sign to hear the sounds that others cannot hear, even in the magic world"; he also remembered the words of everyone talking about him, and his growing concern, fearing that he had anything to do with Salazar Slytherin; but what scared and complicated him most was the terrible speculation about Sauron in his heart, he hesitated, and for a long time, he looked at Dumbledore firmly and said: "No, nothing, sir."

Harry left with anxiety, the oak door closed, Dumbledore sat in a chair, took out his wand, waved his hand to create a bottle of honey and two goblets.

"Harry still cares about you." Dumbledore said, as if he was talking to himself. He picked up the bottle and poured himself a glass of wine, squinted his eyes. "To be honest, I really envy you. You must know that Abufort still has resentment towards me until now."

Sauron condensed from the black mist and sat in a chair on the other side of the big table. He also poured a glass of wine and drank slowly.

"Things got worse," Solon said seriously, "we were passive in the dark."

"There is no way, right?" Dumbledore blinked exaggeratedly. "We don't know that the purpose of that heir, maybe a Muggle-born student, maybe Harry, maybe me, or even you."

Sauron frowned for a long time, "Maybe, we need something unexpected to break this deadlock."

"You mean-" Dumbledore narrowed his eyes.

...
Chapter completed!