SUMMERY - Did you know that Phoenixes can take human form? My father did.
DISCLAIMER - I do not own Harry Potter or any affiliated trademarks. Nor do I get paid for my writings.
CHAPTER WARNINGS - None
ILOVEmattandHARRY - Kudos to you for figuring out the hint. You can feel smart, 'cause you are. Besides, even if you are over analyzing stuff, you've been right on most counts. Keep up the good work, and the awesome reviews.
Lemonwedges4 - Glad you liked the story enough to stay on board. Also, I'm glad to know that Phoenix fascinates you; she fascinates me too. Even I don't know sometimes what she'll do next.
Chase-kun - Thanks for reviewing.
You guys are awesome. Your reviews keep this story going.
'...' is thoughts
Chapter 4 - Numb
Phoenix entered Umbridge's office at precisely five o' clock. She'd let her hair down, and the golden locks seemed almost to move by themselves, as though affected by a breeze only she could feel. Her amber eyes laughed as she took in the decor.
Every flat surface was draped in lacy cloth. Several faces full of dried flowers had been placed on doilies around the room. But it was the ornamental plates with Technicolor kittens that made Phoenix bite her lip to hold back a giggle. They were so ugly she didn't know what to do but laugh at them.
Professor Umbridge rose from the chair behind the teacher's desk and gestured to a small table to her left. On the table lay a piece of parchment and a black quill that looked rather sharp. Phoenix gazed at the Professor, waiting for instructions though she knew quite well that she was supposed to sit down.
"Well, sit down." Umbridge's tone held the slightest hint of impatience.
Phoenix sat and picked up the thin black quill. Her eyes ran carefully over the implement, examining it. She noticed there was no ink on the table, but said nothing.
"I should like you to write 'I will respect those wiser than I.'"
Umbridge watched the girl for a moment, as though waiting for her to ask a question regarding the instructions; but Phoenix didn't. Asking questions was what the professor expected her to do, she wasn't going to grant her the pleasure of conceding. So she put the point of the quill to the parchment and began to write.
'I will respect those wiser than I' appeared in shining red ink. Phoenix thought nothing of it. If that was the color this quill was spelled to write in, then so be it. An odd color for ink certainly, but it didn't affect anything. Then she noticed the cuts on the back of her hand. A wry smile twisted her lips. 'Talk about irony.'
Some minutes later, Phoenix glanced up to see Umbridge watching her. The smug smile had slipped of her wide face and she looked decidedly disappointed. Phoenix laughed softly, though her heart was not in it, and the noise sounded almost bitter.
Hours passed, never once did Phoenix so much as flinch. Her eyes were glazed and distant as she wrote, and she hummed softly under her breath, a haunting tune in a minor key.
At last, Professor Umbridge called Phoenix to her desk.
"Hand."
Phoenix held out her hand. The cuts had healed, though faint traces remained; much more and she would have been left with a scar. Even so, the skin on the back of her left hand was raw and red. Umbridge seemed mildly satisfied.
"I should hope you learned a lesson here. Will you respect those wiser than you now?"
"Yes Professor, I shall do my best to respect those - wiser than I"
A gracious smile touched her lips, but her eyes were mocking. Fortunately for her, Umbridge didn't notice.
"You may go."
"Thank you kindly." The mockery in Phoenix's eyes had spread to her face, and she nodded her head just slightly in a scathing imitation of respect as she spoke. Umbridge's lips thinned, but before she could say anything, Phoenix was gone.
It was nearly eleven thirty by the time Phoenix reached Gryffindor Tower. Hermione was still in the common room, studying in the faint glow of the fire.
"Phoenix, you were in that office for hours. What did she make you do?"
"Lines."
Phoenix made as though to walk past, but Hemione stopped her, eyes on her hand.
"What happened?"
When Phoenix remained silent, Hermione took the smaller hand in her own. Her eyes widened at the sight of the barely visible lines carved into the skin. They were too faint to read anymore, but it was obvious enough that Phoenix had somehow cut her hand during the time she was in Umbridge's office.
"Does it hurt?" Hermione asked with sympathy in her warm brown eyes.
Phoenix collapsed bonelessly onto the couch next to Hermione, her eyes bleak.
"No," she whispered.