"Fawkes?" She asked, not comprehending at first what the man was talking about. "I know no Fawkes."
"The bird sitting on your counter you insufferable git!" The sour faced man. "Make no mistake," he said coldly. "You will give him to me… one way or the other." He finished with a cold sneer and glittering eyes.
She did not have the slightest clue what she was going to do. She wracked her brain frantically, trying to come up with a way to get away from this very cold and dangerous man, but she was trapped. She suddenly had a vision of a cowering animal huddling in the corner of a cage; all she knew was that she didn't like the feeling.
Do not worry, you will be safe. Do not, under any circumstances, let Fawkes get into Snape's clutches. Fight! Fight him Alis! I believe in you!
Alis shook her head quickly. There was someone in her head that didn't belong there. She had no clue who it was, but she was sure that it wasn't the man standing in front of her. She looked at, what was his name, Snape? ... the man … who was rapidly losing patience, with a firm resolve that she felt welling up from deep within her.
"You cannot have him!" She yelled at her attacker. "He is mine now and I will die before I let you or anyone else have him!"
"That can quickly be arranged," he said coldly. Suddenly a wand appeared in his right hand, seemingly springing out of nowhere.
"If you think that you can scare me with that pitiful little stick, you have another thing coming… Snape!" She didn't know where this anger was coming from; all she knew was that she was no longer scared. She was certain that she was protected and would not be harmed.
Snape raised the wand quickly, but his hand shook. "H-h-how?" He seemed to falter for a second, and then his eyes grew even colder. "It doesn't matter if you know my name; it won't change the fate of a pitiful muggle like yourself." He shouted "Avada Ke-!"
Just in time, Alis threw her hands up in front of her face. She didn't see the light that shot out of her palms at Snape. She didn't see him fall, stunned, to the ground. What she did see was Fawkes moving toward her across the countertop. He moved like he had a purpose, it was certainly with an agility that no bird, known to her, possessed.
Fawkes latched onto her shoulder and she closed her eyes in reflex as a lightning bright light flashed around her.
The first thing she felt was the sensation of a group of dancers doing a quick tap dance in her head. It was the same feeling as having a particularly bad hangover. She opened her eyes to allow a sliver of light in, and, seeing no light to hurt her eyes, opened them fully. Curiously, she looked around her and saw nothing but the covers she was lying under. She couldn't see more than a few inches on either side of her head, it was so dark. Slowly, she reached out a hand and felt for the end of the bed. When her hand encountered curtains at the edge of the bed instead of the empty space she associated with her own bedroom she jerked back in fright.
Okay, she thought to herself, so you are not in your own bed. Don't panic. It became a litany in her head. Don't panic don't panic don't panic. Her breathing became quick and shallow and her heart started to pound faster and faster. She was starting to hyperventilate when the curtains to her left opened fully with a loud swoosh!
Screaming bloody murder and jumping a full 3 feet off the bed was not how she wanted to die, she thought quickly. Apparently the man behind the curtains had the same thought.