Section I

Professor McGonagall took Harry to Dumbledore's office, and she told Harry to wait and left, leaving Harry alone. Harry looked around, and of all the teacher's offices he had visited that year, Dumbledore's office was definitely the most interesting. If Harry hadn't been worried and nervous, he would have been glad he had the opportunity to come and see. It's a spacious, beautiful circular room filled with all sorts of funny little sounds. On the table with slender legs, there were many strange silverwares, spinning and belching small puffs of smoke. The walls are covered with portraits of the old headmasters, all of whom are snoring softly in their frames. There is also a huge table in the room with claw-shaped legs. On a shelf behind the desk, there was a tattered, crumpled wizard's hat, the Sorting Hat.

Harry hesitated, with a strange sensation - as if someone was staring at him. He looked warily at the sleeping wizards on the walls around him, thinking that if he took off his hat and put it on his head, it wouldn't be in the way. He crept around the table, picked up the hat on the shelf, and slowly snapped it over his head. The hat was too big and slipped down to cover Harry's eyes, just like he had done when he first wore it. Harry stared at the black lining of his hat, waiting. At this moment, a small voice whispered in his ear, "Is there something you can't figure out, Harry Potter?"

"Oh yes," Harry whispered indistinctly, "oh...... Sorry to bother you...... I want to ask...... Next ......"

"You've always wondered if I put you in the right college." The hat slickly said, "Yes...... Your position is particularly difficult to pinpoint, but I still stick to what I said-" Harry's heart beat wildly, "you would be a good fit in Slytherin, just like your brother, you all belong to Slytherin." ”

Harry froze, then he jerked the top of his hat and took it off. The hat hung limply in his hand, dirty, and faded. Harry put it back on its original shelf, feeling sick.

"You're wrong." He said loudly to the hat that was waiting quietly without saying a word. The hat didn't move. Harry stared at it, stepping back. Suddenly, there was a strange suffocating sound from behind, and he jerked around.

He wasn't the only one in Fang Wen. On a tall gilded perch behind the door stood an old bird, like a turkey half feathered. Harry stared at it, and the bird looked at him with a sad gaze, and at the same time made a suffocating sound. Its eyes were dull, and a few more feathers fell from its tail as Harry looked at it.

Harry thought to himself that if Dumbledore's bird died, and he was alone in the office, that alone would be enough for him. Just as he was thinking this, the bird's whole body suddenly burst into flames.

Harry screamed in horror and slammed backwards into 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, then vanished, leaving only a pile of ash on the floor that hadn't been completely extinguished.

The office door opened, and Dumbledore walked in, looking very solemn.

"Professor," Harry gasped, "your bird—I can't help it—it suddenly caught fire—"

To Harry's great surprise, Dumbledore smiled.

"It's almost time," he said, "and it's been looking horrible for days, and I've been telling it to hurry up." ”

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

"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. When the phoenix is about to die, it will **, and then regenerate from the ashes. You look at it......"

Harry looked down and saw a small, crumpled chick poking its head out of the ashes. Its appearance is as ugly as that of an old bird.

"It's a shame you had to see him on Nirvana Day," Dumbledore said, sitting down behind the table, "it's very beautiful most of the time: it's covered in amazing red and gold feathers. The phoenix is really a very strange and fascinating life. They can carry extremely heavy things, their tears are healing, and they are especially loyal pets. He saw Harry's surprised look, "I thought you'd seen a phoenix." ”

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

Harry's face was a mixture of confusion and nervousness—in the horror caused by Fawkes**, he forgot for a moment why he had come here. But at this moment, when Dumbledore mentioned Sauron, Harry's anxiety and uneasiness came back to him. Dumbledore sat down in a high-backed chair behind the table, staring at him with his light, penetrating gaze, which reminded him of it.

However, before Dumbledore could speak, the office door slammed open with a loud bang. Hagrid rushed in, anger in his eyes, his helmet hat on top of his black, unkempt head, the dead still dangling in his hand.

"Not Harry, Professor Dumbledore!" Hagrid said eagerly, "I was talking to the kid just seconds before he was found. He will never have time, sir......"

Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid yelled and flung his in his hand in a flanked manner, pulling the feathers everywhere.

“…… It can't be him, I can swear in front of the Ministry of Magic if I need to......"

"Hagrid, I-"

“…… You've caught the wrong person, sir, and I know Harry didn't—"

"Hagrid!" Dumbledore raised his voice and said, "I don't think Harry attacked those people. ”

"Oh," said Hagrid, the rooster hanging limply at his side, "well, I'll wait outside for orders, Headmaster." ”

He stamped his foot heavily and walked out, looking embarrassed.

"Don't you think it's me, Professor?" Harry was delighted at first, but then became more nervous as he watched Dumbledore brush the feathers off 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, lest Dumbledore say the kind of speculation he feared. Dumbledore looked at him, the tips of his ten slender fingers touching together. "I must ask you, Harry, if you have anything you would like to sue me," he said mildly, "anything. ”

Harry didn't know what to say, he remembered a lot, remembering Malfoy's shout, "It's your turn next, Mudblood"; I remembered the compound decoction, and the myrtle who was still crying slowly boiled in the bathroom; Then he remembered the ghost's voice he had heard twice, and Ron's words: "It's not a good sign to hear voices that others can't hear, even in the wizarding world"; He also remembered what had been said about him, and his growing apprehension that he had something to do with Salazar Slytherin; However, what frightened and complicated him the most was the terrible speculation about Sauron in his mind, he hesitated, and after a long time, he looked at Dumbledore firmly and said, "No, nothing, sir." ”

Harry left anxious, the oak door shut, and Dumbledore sat down in his chair, pulled out his wand, and waved his hand to conjure up a bottle of mead and two goblets.

"Harry still cares about you." Dumbledore said to himself, as if talking to himself, he picked up the bottle and poured himself a glass of wine, squinting his eyes, "To be honest, I really envy you, you must know that Aberforth still has a grudge against me." ”

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

"Things have gotten worse," said Soren sternly, "and the other side is in the shadows, and we are passive. ”

"Helpless, isn't it?" Dumbledore blinked exaggeratedly, "We don't know the purpose of that heir, maybe it's a Muggle-born student, maybe Harry, maybe it's me, maybe it's you." ”

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

"What do you mean—" Dumbledore's eyes narrowed.

……

PS: Transitions in this chapter.