Starry skies and Gardenias

Chapter 33

Marcus glanced tentatively at Regulus who was sitting beside him. Regulus had his arms crossed and was staring emotionlessly at the Gryffindor team that was celebrating. 

And Marcus didn't know what to conclude out of that. Was he annoyed that Gryffindor and Jefferson won? Or was he slightly pleased and proud that his brother won? 
Because, as much as Regulus despised Gryffindor and Jefferson, he loved his brother as much. Even though he was constantly reminded that he should not associate with his brother because he was a blood traitor, Marcus knew that Regulus had a rather deep bond with his brother. 

And Sirius was a touchy subject, just as his family was. 

"So. . ." Marcus started uncertainly. "You coming? We've still got to do McGonagall's homework,"

"Yes," Regulus said simply, moving his gaze away from the grounds and joined the crowd that was leaving the stands. 

"Gryffindor won again," Regulus muttered after a long time as they descended the steps to the dungeons.

"I must catch the snitch in the next game," 

"You do that," Marcus said. He wasn't going to encourage anything. 

Regulus glanced around the place nonchalantly, following the crowd mindlessly. 

Then his eyes caught something. Jefferson, he was certain it was her. She had a broom and the red robes of the Gryffindor team. 

She was running away from the rest of her team and unknown to everyone else, vanished into the locker rooms. 

Regulus stared at the place she had vanished, with a frown. 

Why did she run away? Shouldn't she be celebrating with the rest of her house? What was she up to? He didn't think it would anything good. 

"Oi, move it," Marcus said, tugging at his robes to move. 

Regulus wrenched his gaze away and continued down the stands and towards the castle. He shouldn't be bothered by what she was doing. After all, since when was Jefferson ever up to any good?

.........................................................

Isabella took her time in the locker rooms, waiting until the sound of the footsteps and chatter had vanished. 

Then she slowly made her way to the Room of Requirement. She would take a nice nap there and then maybe she could try to figure out what to ask Myrtle. Not to mention she had to find out who Victor Krum was, and the Yule Ball too. 

But first things first. She wanted to sleep. 

Standing on a golden perch behind the door was a decrepit-looking bird that resembled a half-plucked turkey. Harry stared at it and the bird looked balefully back, making its gagging noise again. Its eyes were dull and, even as Harry watched, a couple more feathers fell out of its tail.

Harry was just thinking that all he needed was for Dumbledore's pet bird to die while he was alone in the office with it when the bird burst into flames. Harry yelled in shock and backed away into the desk. He looked feverishly around in case there was a glass of water somewhere but couldn't see one; the bird, meanwhile, had become a fireball; it gave one loud shriek and next second there was nothing but a smouldering pile of ash on the floor.

The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very sombre.

"Professor," Harry gasped. "Your bird — I couldn't do anything — he just caught fire —"

To Harry's astonishment, Dumbledore smiled.

"About time, too," he said. "He's been looking dreadful for days; I've been telling him to get a move on."

He chuckled at the stunned look on Harry's face.

"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him . . ."

Harry looked down in time to see a tiny, wrinkled, newborn bird poke its head out of the ashes. 

"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk. "He's really very handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets."

In the shock of Fawkes catching fire, Harry had forgotten what he was there for, but it all came back to him as Dumbledore settled himself in the high chair behind the desk and fixed Harry with his penetrating, light-blue stare.

Before Dumbledore could speak another word, however, the door of the office flew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.

"It wasn' Harry, Professor Dumbledore!" said Hagrid urgently. "I was talkin' ter him seconds before that kid was found, he never had time, sir —"

Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere.