"Harry Potter- Ravenclaw"Chapter 15: The Werewolf Research Professor
A delicate haze of smoke hung in the headmaster's office, the scent of burnt ash lingering in the air. The ashes beneath the perch still hadn't cooled completely, and now and then, tiny embers would spark to life.
With each little flare, the ashes seemed to pulse—breathing, almost—casting flickers of crimson light that glowed and faded in turn.
"It's reborn, just as I thought!" Wyzett set the potion down on the desk and hurried to the pile of ash beneath the perch. "No wonder things felt so strange earlier..."
The moment he'd seen the phoenix-shaped mark on his palm, he'd known for certain: the connection between the mark and the phoenix was real. That was how he'd witnessed the very instant of Fawkes' rebirth.
After all, Fawkes had lingered in his aged state for some time now—ready at any moment to embrace the flames and be born anew.
Now, the last trace of crimson faded from the ash. Suddenly, the pile trembled, and a wrinkled little head poked out.
Head first, Fawkes managed to wriggle free, tumbling out of the ashes in a clumsy heap.
He glanced back at the remains. As if answering some silent summons, the ashes whooshed up into the air, swirled, and then rained down upon Fawkes, merging into his bare, pink skin.
Just as Wyzett reached out to cradle the newborn phoenix, the sound of metal clinking and a hoarse, weathered voice drifted in from the corridor.
"That thing—should've let me finish it off! Looked foul enough, definitely not something good!"
Dumbledore's gentle, patient voice replied, "Altom, I appreciate your concern, but that won't be necessary. We're almost there..."
A second, older voice chimed in, "Albus, do you really think his memory can come back? I've consulted so many wizards, but none have been able to help."
"We must keep hope alive, Mallow," Dumbledore said calmly. "Given Altom's condition, if we don't try something soon..."
The voices drew closer. Wyzett quickly returned Fawkes to the perch, straightened his robes, and waited for Dumbledore to enter.
…
Dumbledore was the first to step into the office. He smiled at Wyzett and began the introductions. "Wyzett, this is Professor Mallow Fang, and this is Altom Avakian."
Professor Fang had graying hair at his temples and a thick, silver beard. Heavy dark circles under his eyes gave him a weary look.
Altom Avakian looked even older. His hair and beard were a sickly grey-white, and his thick, faded black robes were covered in stains of every shade—black, white, grey, yellow—forming a chaotic tapestry. Scars crisscrossed the skin visible beneath his tattered cuffs, and as he moved, the hem of his robes gave off a persistent metallic clinking.
Before Wyzett could speak, Altom burst out—not at Wyzett, but at the headmaster portraits lining the far wall.
"So many merfolk! Lurking here, waiting to ambush us! No worries! I'll deal with them myself!"
He rummaged in his robe and pulled out a rolled-up newspaper, waving it wildly as he barked a spell: "Lootor Inimicum!"
"Ah! No effect, huh? Must be a tough one—high stakes! Tricky! Lootor Revelio!"
Getting no reaction, he repeated the spell, this time targeting a nearby cabinet, as if he'd set his sights on the Sorting Hat inside.
…
Dumbledore crooked his finger, catching the potion cup as it floated over, and passed it to Professor Fang. "Mallow, here's the Baruffio's Brain Elixir you asked for..."
"Superb quality!" Professor Fang exclaimed, raising the cup toward Altom. "Come on, do me the honor! A toast to you!"
Altom stepped back, gripping his robe to muffle the metallic clinks. He eyed the cup suspiciously. "Is this going to cost me? You lot always want something after I drink—lost all my chips to you already..."
"Of course not," Professor Fang assured him. "This one's on me!"
"Well, that's more like it! Bottoms up!" Altom laughed, stretching out his hand.
Professor Fang was quick—seeing Altom open his mouth wide, he brought the cup over and poured the potion in one smooth motion.
"Burp!" Altom downed the potion obediently, let out a loud belch, and finally fell silent, staring blankly ahead.
"Excellent batch," Professor Fang said, placing the cup back on the desk with a sigh of relief. "The last time I tried to calm him with Baruffio's Brain Elixir, it took half an hour before he settled down."
Wyzett stepped forward and bowed politely. "Professor Fang, I'm Wyzett Lovegood. It's an honor to meet you."
"Wyzett... Lovegood?" Professor Fang repeated, studying him closely. "A pleasure indeed."
Dumbledore tapped his desk, and a teapot and cups appeared instantly. "Come, sit and have some tea and sweets. Warm yourselves up."
Once Professor Fang was seated, Wyzett glanced again at the still-standing Altom Avakian.
"Just give it a moment," Professor Fang said. "The Baruffio's Brain Elixir has only just started working. He'll be lucid soon."
"All right." Wyzett nodded and took his seat.
…
Professor Fang turned to Wyzett. "When Damocles visited recently, he mentioned a promising new junior potioneer from England..."
"He said this young potioneer was probably still a student, but already quite skilled. I suppose... that was you?"
Wyzett nodded. "Professor Fang, unless there's someone else with my exact name who's also a junior potioneer from England, that should be me."
"It's really thanks to Professor Snape's teaching. I've only brewed standard potions, so the quality is fairly consistent. There's still a great deal I need to learn."
Professor Fang smiled warmly. "A good lad indeed."
"Damocles..." Dumbledore smiled as well, dropping three sugar cubes into his tea. "Mallow, was your visitor Damocles Belby?"
Professor Fang nodded. "We'd met before, so when he was awarded the Order of Merlin, he came all the way to thank me personally."
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