Fawkes was in the garden of Greengrass Manor, with a basket of herbs placed in front of her.
The phoenix buried her head deep inside the basket, eating with great enthusiasm… She only pulled her head back when footsteps sounded behind her.
"We should be going," Jon said softly.
Clearly, Mrs. Greengrass understood the habits of a phoenix and had deliberately prepared food suitable for her.
Jon couldn't help feeling a little emotional. This silly bird really had no sense of caution at all—being fed by someone she'd known for less than two days, and she ate without the slightest hesitation. What if she ran into a bad person? What if she got abducted?
"Woo—" The phoenix shook her head vigorously, gazing longingly at the basket, which was still half full of herbs.
"There'll be plenty back home," Jon coaxed patiently.
The phoenix shook her head again, backing away a few steps as if determined not to leave the basket behind.
Jon suddenly had an idea. "Then I'll take this basket of herbs back with me. That should work, right?"
Hearing this, Fawkes immediately decided it was a good idea and quickly stepped aside to clear a path.
Only after watching Jon pack every remaining herb into his herb pouch did she finally relax. She spread her wings and turned her tail feathers toward him.
"Take me to the Ministry of Magic," Jon said.
Then he grabbed hold of the phoenix's tail feathers.
...
Following the phoenix, Jon arrived at a somewhat desolate little street. A few shabby-looking office buildings, a small pub… and an old red telephone booth—
He stepped into the booth and dialed "62442."
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and the purpose of your visit," a cold female voice sounded in his ear.
"Christopher Patrick," Jon said as he slipped on the iron ring. "I'd like to apply for a Portkey from the Portkey Office of the Department of Magical Transportation."
"Thank you. Visitor, please take the badge and pin it to the front of your clothing."
As the voice spoke, a silver badge dropped from the coin return. Jon pinned it to his chest as the red telephone booth began descending rapidly, like an elevator.
Just like his previous visit to the Ministry, Jon's wand was inspected by the wizard named Eric.
"Willow wood, eleven inches, dragon heartstring core, in use for twenty-two years, correct?" the wizard asked lazily.
"That's right," Jon nodded. "It was passed down to me from my father."
"All clear. You may proceed," Eric said without another thought.
Entering the Ministry proper and weaving through the crowd, Jon arrived at a smaller hall ahead. At least twenty elevators stood there, each sealed behind golden grilles.
Stepping into one of them, he heard the same detached female voice again.
"Seventh Floor: Department of Magical Games and Sports, including the British and Irish Quidditch League Headquarters, the Official Gobstones Club, and the Office of Ludicrous Patents."
"Sixth Floor: Department of Magical Transportation, including the Floo Network Authority, the Broom Regulatory Control Office, the Portkey Office, and the Apparition Testing Center."
Jon quickly exited the elevator and began checking the nameplates on the doors along the sixth floor.
...
Eventually, he found the Portkey Office.
The room wasn't large. There were six counters inside, each staffed by a wizard. About half of them were busy handling requests. Jon walked up to an empty counter.
"What is it?" the wizard behind the counter asked coldly, without lifting his head.
"I need a Portkey to Nurmengard Castle," Jon said calmly.
"To where?" The wizard looked up in surprise, clearly not having caught the name.
"Nurmengard Castle," Jon repeated.
"Merlin's beard… who would want to go there?" the wizard muttered, his expression changing instantly.
"I have something to deal with there. Is that not allowed?" Jon asked evenly.
The wizard shook his head. "Travel to Nurmengard Castle requires a written permit approved by Albus Dumbledore. Do you have one?"
"No, but I do have Professor Dumbledore's seal. You only need to tell me the required format for the permit."
...
Taking a sheet of parchment, Jon left the Portkey Office.
Sitting on a bench in the corridor, he lightly snapped his fingers, summoning Fawkes—then took hold of one of her claws and pressed it firmly onto the parchment.
After that, he returned to the Portkey Office and handed the parchment back to the wizard.
The wizard raised his wand and examined Fawkes's claw mark from several angles for a few minutes before nodding uncertainly.
"The seal seems to be in order…"
"…But I still need to report this to our Director. I can't make a decision on a Portkey of this level on my own," he added.
Ten minutes later, the wizard hurried back, clutching a pair of nearly new leather boots.
"It's been confirmed," he said, handing one of the boots to Jon. "Undo the laces, and the Portkey's seal will be released."
"Alright. Thank you."
...
Within a hundred-mile radius of Nurmengard Castle, Apparition and the Floo Network were strictly prohibited. It was also said that the vast forests surrounding the tower were home to many dangerous magical creatures. Combined with the tower's own defensive measures, it could be considered the most heavily guarded prison in the world.
Jon wasn't entirely sure whether a phoenix's spatial travel ability could take him there directly, so he decided not to take the risk and came to the Ministry to apply for a Portkey instead.
...
Returning to the same desolate little street, Jon stepped out of the red telephone booth, and Fawkes flew over to him.
"Let's go," Jon said, reaching down to untie the bootlaces.
Just then, Fawkes suddenly let out a strange cry.
Jon looked at her in surprise.
A single feather drifted down from the phoenix and floated toward him.
Holding the feather to his ear for a moment, Jon said calmly, "Dumbledore is calling you back?"
The phoenix gave a gentle nod.
"Alright, then. See you next time," Jon said, forcing a faint smile.
Fawkes's gaze lingered unwillingly on Jon's suitcase.
"Eat… all you ever think about is eating," Jon muttered, shaking his head. He opened the suitcase and tossed the half basket of herbs Fawkes hadn't finished to her.
Fawkes ignored the herbs. Instead, she flew over to Jon and gently pecked his shoulder with her long beak—leaving a faint golden mark behind.