Fawkes had fully matured, looking just as she did the first time Jon met her.
Now, there was no trace of the black or gray streaks that once marked her feathers; her form was nearly as large as a swan's. Her intelligence, however, seemed much the same as before.
Fawkes fluttered gracefully to Jon's side, her golden beak dipping into his pocket—only to emerge moments later in mild disappointment when she failed to find the familiar herb pouch.
"Is something wrong?" Jon asked quickly.
Fawkes blinked at him, then leaned in close, her golden beak brushing near his ear.
Then Jon heard Dumbledore's voice—
"If you have a moment, I'd like to see you in my office."
The voice sounded distant, yet it was perfectly clear.
Jon couldn't help but purse his lips.
Seriously? For such a simple message, couldn't he have just sent an owl? He had to send Fawkes instead? Did the Headmaster forget I'm in the Slytherin common room? That stupid bird nearly burst out of the fireplace and blew his cover!
And now, in the middle of the night, he was expected to sneak all the way from the dungeons to the Headmaster's Office on the eighth floor?
What if he ran into Filch on the way? Or worse—Umbridge?
Still grumbling inwardly, Jon began preparing to leave.
But Fawkes swooped down in front of him, blocking his path, as if to signal something.
A thought struck him. "You're going to take me there?" he whispered.
The phoenix nodded.
She turned her back to him, extending her long, shimmering tail, and began to beat her wings.
Flames burst around her as Jon quickly reached out and grabbed hold of her tail.
At once, his surroundings blurred into chaos—only a swirl of gold and crimson remained before his eyes.
...
When the world snapped back into focus, Jon found himself standing once more in the familiar oval-shaped Headmaster's Office, beside the walls lined with portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses.
"Oh? A Slytherin?" Headmaster Phineas Black's familiar voice called out, sounding mildly excited.
The portrait of the old Headmaster stared directly at the serpent emblem on Jon's chest.
"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed, Headmaster Black," Jon said with a faint smile as he slipped off the iron ring.
"It's you, boy!" Phineas exclaimed, his tone mixed with surprise and faint regret. "I'd almost forgotten what you looked like."
"Go on, Jon!" said Headmistress Dilys Derwent, pushing Phineas aside and gesturing toward the rear of the room. "Professor Dumbledore is waiting for you."
Jon nodded, circled around the wall, and approached the Headmaster's desk.
Fawkes had already returned to her perch, tucking her head under one wing, looking half-asleep.
Albus Dumbledore sat calmly behind his desk, a copy of The Daily Prophet open in his hands—the same issue Jon had read earlier that evening, featuring the article announcing Dolores Umbridge's appointment as Hogwarts' High Inquisitor.
"Are you settling in well at the school?" Dumbledore asked gently, looking up at him.
"Not bad... I've been here for three years, after all," Jon replied. "And you, Headmaster Dumbledore?"
"Reasonably well," Dumbledore said, though his weary expression betrayed him.
He looked older, more tired than before—clearly burdened by the strain of Voldemort's return.
...
"Jon," Dumbledore said softly, "I apologize for calling you here at such a late hour, but this is the most discreet method available."
"The most discreet?" Jon frowned. "What do you mean, Professor?"
"Got it!"
"Another one! Throw it out!"
"Meow... meow... meow..."
Jon turned sharply at the sudden commotion behind him.
Several of the portraits—Derwent, Black, and Fortescue among them—had drawn their wands, aiming them at a tiny cat bound tightly in strips of cloth.
"In recent days, several of these little cats have tried to sneak into my office through the portraits," Dumbledore explained with a faint smile. "It seems our new High Inquisitor has taken a great interest in my daily routine."
"Umbridge... she's spying on you?" Jon asked grimly.
He instantly recalled the decorative plates in Umbridge's office from his previous life—each one painted with a different cat.
"I'm afraid she's monitoring the entire castle," Dumbledore said. "You can find these cats hidden within many of the portraits. Of course, her main focus is on so-called 'high-risk individuals'—myself, Minerva, and Harry, among others."
Jon let out a quiet breath of relief. Fortunately, his behavior over the past week had been entirely ordinary, giving no cause for suspicion.
Now he understood why Dumbledore hadn't simply sent an owl to summon him.
An owl might have been intercepted—and walking into the Headmaster's Office could easily have been noticed by one of Umbridge's feline spies.
For all her ridiculous mannerisms, Umbridge had clawed her way up from the bottom to become the Ministry's Senior Undersecretary. Her cunning ran deep; she was far more dangerous than she appeared.
He would need to be much more careful from now on.
...
"What did you want to see me about, Professor?" Jon finally asked.
"First," Dumbledore said calmly, "I advise you to be even more cautious at school—especially, do not remove that ring lightly."
"I understand," Jon nodded.
"Secondly," Dumbledore continued, "I've heard you've been getting along quite well with your fellow Slytherins?"
"More or less," Jon replied.
"I fear that many of them, because of their family ties, may one day choose the wrong side," Dumbledore said gravely. "That is my failure as Headmaster. I have not done enough to guide them."
"That's... possible," Jon admitted, recalling the small circle Draco Malfoy had mentioned.
"So I hope you can help them—at least keep them from straying too far," Dumbledore sighed. "I've seen too many such tragedies before."
"I'll do my best, Professor," Jon said solemnly.
"Good. Thank you."