Fucked by a Phoenix
Harry's shadow stretched and flickered across the grass, illuminated by the burning mass of Hagrid's cabin. Snape had just disapparated on the tail of the other Death Eaters who had just stormed Hogwarts. Numbly, Harry led Hagrid to Dumbledore's crumpled body at the base of the Astronomy tower. The time that elapsed from that moment to when Harry joined the Weasleys in the hospital wing to view Bill's mangled face was all a blur. As the group stood around the unconscious Bill's hospital bed, an unearthly song began to drift in through the open windows.
It was Fawkes; letting loose with his phoenix song like never before. There was an awful note of sadness permeating the music though. He, like everyone else aware of Dumbledore's death, was mourning. Harry felt the usual sensation of the music being inside him, rather than simply heard. It was impossible to tell how long everyone stood transfixed by the unearthly sound. The trance was only broken when everyone began to feel as if another sound was also filling them; this one every bit as unearthly but a million times more horrible.
Hermione's now trademark scream was ripping through the night air. Still numb and entranced, Harry's brain fought desperately to push through its own fog. Hadn't Hermione just been standing among the crowd around Bill's bed? Rallying as much focus as he could, Harry rushed over to the open window to try to pinpoint the source of the sound. Had he not have been so numbed by Dumbledore's death and Bill's mauling, what Harry saw would've shook him to his very core. All he could do now was despair silently at the sight before him.
Fawkes, highlighted by his scarlet plumage, was soaring over the grounds. Hanging beneath him, clutched in his talons, was Hermione.
"What is it Harry? What is making that sound?" asked Mrs. Weasley from Bill's bedside.
Harry had no will to mask the awful truth.
"Hermione…shes being fucked by Fawkes."
"Fawkes!" shrieked Mrs. Weasley in alarm.
"Dumbledore's phoenix. Hermione is being fucked by a phoenix."said Harry, defeated.
Every face in the room besides Harry, Ginny and Ron bore slack jaws. The weight of everyone now knowing of Hermione's continuous sordid little problem made Harry wish more than ever that Dumbledore had not died that night. This wouldn't be happening had he not. But no matter how much Harry wished he could undo Dumbledore's death, he knew that the Headmaster would never be able to whip out his penis to punish a sexual assailant again. Dumbledore was dead.
Author's note:
Aw, wasn't this chapter sad? Don't worry, I'm cooking up something a bit less depressing than this chapter. In fact the next and final entry is by far my favorite….