Clara Black and the Hidden Chamber

Huh, So This Is What It's Like To Be A Rhee

We stepped off the stone staircase at the top, and Minnie rapped on the door. It opened silently and we entered. Minnie told Harry and I to wait and left us there, alone.

Harry and I looked around. I began to poke around. If I'm about to be thrown out of school with the trash, then I'm going to have a peek at all the cool stuff in here. 

The room was a large and beautiful circular space, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver thingies stood on tables, whirring and emitting puffs of differently colored 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.

Harry walked over to the hat and tried it on again. It covered his eyes. I noticed a bird. A decrepit-looking bird. It sort of resembled a half plucked turkey. The poor thing looked ill. Its eyes were dull, and as I watch a few feathers fall out of its tail. I reach out a finger and stroke the bald patch on its head.

"You're wrong," Harry said aloud. I looked over at him. Harry had taken off the hat. He put it back onto its shelf. 

"What is the hat wrong about?" I ask.

"It's not important." Harry said, watching the Sorting Hat. Liar. Dumbledore's bird made a gagging noise. Harry wheeled around to look at it. 

Harry and I watched the bird. I was just thinking how sad it would be for Dumbledore's pet bird to die, when it burst into flames. 

Harry and I yelled in shock and backed away from the desk. The bird became a fireball; it gave one loud shriek and the next second there was nothing but a pile of smoldering ashes.

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

"Professor," Harry gasped. I was still in shock. "Your bird-I couldn't do anything-he just caught fire-" 

Dumbledore smiled. Why? His pet is dead.

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

Oh! Now I get it. Dumbledore chuckled at Harry's stunned expression. 

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

A tiny, wrinkled, newborn bird poked its head out of the ashes. Shame it is still as ugly as it was before.

"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk. "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."

Dumbledore settle himself in the high chair behind the desk and fixed Harry and I with one of his x-ray stares. 

Before Dumbledore could speak another word, however, the door of the office flew open with a bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his head and a dead rooster swinging from his hand. 

"It wasn' them, Professor Dumbledore!" said Hagrid urgently. "I was talkin' ter Harry seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir-"

Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in hs agitation, sending feathers everywhere.

"-it can't've bin them, I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I have to-"