Professor Dumbledore sat in his office, watching the final stage of polyjuice potion bubble away like thick mud in a miniature cauldron set upon his desk. Occasionally he would add a little extra dried skin of boomslang or knotgrass, and then gesture over the mixture with the elder wand, muttering incantations beneath his breath.
Inside a glass vial beside the cauldron was the final ingredient - a lock of light brown hair, freshly clipped from the head of The-Transfigured-Being-To-Be. He took it now in his wizened hands and tipped it into the potion. The thick, grey gloop cleared, becoming a thin, dark purple-pink liquid. Taking a small cup, he gathered a sample (enough for a transformation of roughly an hour; hopefully long enough for his purposes) and drank it. He was relieved to find that it didn't taste of earwax.
He sat back into the headmaster's chair and patiently waited for the changes to complete. Beneath his robes, his flesh bubbled and rippled unpleasantly like molten wax. Old bones cracked. Young, strong muscle grew within him; and tough-as-leather joints becoming supple once again. Colour flushed into his silvery hair until he was a brunette. Touching a hand to his face, he felt the wrinkles of age and the furrows and lines of an oft-stressful life vanish. His beard accumulated as a pile of hair in his lap.
The changes subsided. For a moment, the aged Professor stared around his office in bleary-eyed confusion before giving a cry of 'Ah!' and removing his half-moon spectacles. For the first time in many decades, his vison was perfect.
As was his body. Stiffly, he rose from his chair, uncomfortably aware of the way the heavy, coarse robes moved against his naked breasts.
Copyright 2000 - 2025 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.46 seconds at 2:03pm on Apr 22, 2025 via server WEBX1.