"It's a phoenix!"
After a brief moment of confusion, one of the young wizards finally recognized the fiery bird soaring out of the flames—Fawkes.
"Merlin's beard, that's the Headmaster's phoenix, isn't it?"
"It must be! There are only two phoenixes in the entire world, right? I've heard rumors for years that Dumbledore had one, but I've never actually seen it until today. What a sight!"
"Those feathers… so beautiful. I'd give anything just to touch them once."
At the sight of a creature even rarer than a dragon, the students practically lost their minds. Meals forgotten, they all craned their necks upward, eyes fixed on the magnificent bird circling high above the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall.
Even the professors who had remained at the staff table looked puzzled. Fawkes never came to the Great Hall—he almost exclusively stayed inside the Headmaster's office, and even they rarely saw him. Why was he acting so strangely today?
The answer revealed itself soon enough.
After circling overhead a few times, Fawkes suddenly dove downward. The students grew even more excited, convinced they might finally get a chance to see the phoenix up close. But to their utter astonishment, Fawkes landed directly on Tom's shoulder.
Every student nearby froze, staring wide-eyed at him. Some even held their breath, terrified of making the slightest sound that might scare the phoenix away.
Yet Fawkes paid no mind to anyone else. Tilting his head slightly, the great bird regarded Tom with bright, clear eyes filled with puzzlement.
He had felt the aura of his own kind and followed it here, but why—why was it radiating from Tom?
When they had met before, he hadn't sensed anything like this at all.
But Tom knew exactly why. It had everything to do with the Thunderbird bloodline he had recently acquired.
The Twelve Trials never rewarded mediocrity. The dragon bloodline he'd obtained was purer than that of any living dragon, and his Thunderbird blood was even greater than that of the Thunderbird King itself. With phoenixes and Thunderbirds being such closely connected magical species, the purer his bloodline became, the stronger the link with phoenixes grew.
Of course, they were not the same—their evolutions diverged in different directions—but still, the bond was undeniable.
"Chirp!"
Fawkes let out a crisp, melodious cry, as though demanding an explanation. Tom, who could easily understand the meaning, reached up and stroked the phoenix, casually plucking two loose feathers before shrugging.
"Sudden awakening, that's all," he said. "Guess that makes us relatives now. If I ever call for your help, you'd better not turn me down."
Phoenixes were intelligent, yes, but also astonishingly pure-hearted. Whatever Tom said, Fawkes believed. The bird nuzzled against Tom's cheek affectionately, promising he would never forget his new little brother.
The hall collectively froze in shock. Wasn't Fawkes supposed to be Dumbledore's bird? Or was he… Tom's now?
Could it be… Tom had somehow stolen the Headmaster's companion right from under his nose?
Daphne and Astoria's eyes sparkled with excitement. They were the closest to the phoenix, close enough to see the faint flames flowing across its magnificent feathers. Tom had just opened his mouth to let them touch the bird when another "little fellow" decided enough was enough.
"ROAR!"
The sudden dragon's cry shook the hall, its sheer force knocking several students unconscious on the spot. The rest clutched their heads, dizzy and gasping for breath as the crushing spiritual pressure weighed down upon them.
From Tom's pocket crawled Usagi, her proud draconic eyes blazing with fury as she glared at Fawkes.
My master's shoulder is mine alone, you filthy feathered pest. Get off!
Fawkes understood her meaning well enough, but with a dismissive glance, he remained exactly where he was, even taking the time to preen his feathers arrogantly.
"ROAR!"
That was the last straw. Usagi's roar was louder this time, and with a burst of fury she lunged, ramming straight into Fawkes.
"SKREEE!"
Fawkes was taken off guard—he hadn't expected his challenger to start a fight so suddenly. Knocked from Tom's shoulder, the phoenix retaliated with a sharp peck at Usagi.
Before the stunned eyes of the entire hall, the two legendary magical creatures began brawling right in front of them.
Tom scrambled to his feet, waving his wand. A sudden updraft of air surged through the hall, lifting both creatures into the sky before they could destroy the feast laid out across the tables.
At the staff table, Professor Kettleburn's eyes nearly popped out of his head. A phoenix, and some other mythical beast he had never even seen before—each alone was worth a lifetime of study.
Now, however, the Great Hall was utterly silent. Every single person watched the aerial battle, dumbstruck. Even Tom was speechless—he hadn't expected the two of them to actually start fighting.
The clash grew fiercer by the second, until Tom realized things were spiraling out of control. With a flick of his wrist, he threw open the heavy oak doors.
"Usagi, go outside to play!"
Usagi dared not disobey. With a final lash of her tail—striking Fawkes squarely as she went—she streaked out of the hall.
Fawkes, humiliated beyond measure, let out a furious cry and chased after her, both of them leaving the castle behind and unleashing their powers in full.
Meanwhile, out on the school grounds, Dumbledore and several professors had just finished dealing with Harry and Ron when they turned to inspect the battered Whomping Willow.
The tree had suffered terribly, a victim of misfortune. Its once-proud trunk now leaned at an awkward thirty-degree angle, several branches had been snapped clean off, and its remaining limbs drooped lifelessly.
Professor Sprout nearly wept with heartbreak. She wanted to approach and heal it, but the Willow—still on edge after being rammed by a flying car—lashed its branches furiously at anyone who dared come close.
Snape, however, never missed a chance to make Harry's life miserable. Leaning toward Dumbledore, he said softly,
"The Restriction of Underage Sorcery Act is clear enough. And on top of that, they've damaged a priceless ancient tree. Albus, this behavior is disgraceful. It tarnishes the reputation of the entire school. I strongly recommend expelling them…"
Snape had never believed in prophecy. But he knew his old master, Voldemort, did.
That was why he genuinely wanted Harry expelled. To send him back to the Muggle world, where he could live out his days quietly and safely—that, in Snape's eyes, would be the greatest protection.
But Dumbledore clearly shared Voldemort's belief in the prophecy. Expelling Harry was never an option in his mind.
"Severus," Dumbledore said calmly, his eyes fixed on the damaged Willow, "the purpose of a school is to teach children what may and may not be done. If we simply expel them at every mistake, then the school itself ceases to have meaning. The punishment will be left to Minerva. They are, after all, her students."
Professor McGonagall's expression remained as severe as ever, betraying not the slightest trace of leniency.