A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 157 Nyx

The bald little chick took three difficult steps toward Owen, then stumbled and fell to the ground, rolling around on the floor a few times with a soft but clear "chirp" sound.

It flapped its shriveled, featherless wings with great effort. Its wrinkled, dark red skin tinged with black, making it look like a plucked and roasted chick. Only its small, ruby-like eyes shone brightly.

The fledgling struggled to its feet, panting as it squatted down, tilting its head and scrutinizing Owen with its bright red eyes, a scrutinizing and evaluative gaze that carried a human-like quality. Owen, too, stroked his chin and looked at it, feeling a bit disgusted, being a sucker for good looks. Had this bird been roasted by the Fiery Blaze?

The two, human and bird, stared at each other. Melete, perched to one side, licked her front paws with her pink tongue, glanced sideways at the chick with her golden eyes, couldn't help but lick her nose, and opened her mouth to reveal her sharp little white teeth. She was a little hungry and wanted to eat chicks, the kind that crunchy and delicious.

The fledgling gave Melett a sharp look, then scrutinized Owen again, its red eyes blinking happily, revealing a satisfied, fond, and eager expression. It chirped merrily twice, then struggled to its feet, its slender black claws trembling as it supported its body. The delicate, tender claws had sharp tips, suggesting their sharpness as they would become.

Owen squinted as he watched the fledgling bird hobble closer to him, his mind wandering as he wondered what it was. Newly hatched chicks all look pretty much the same; without feathers to distinguish them, and not being a magizoologist, he found it difficult to tell what kind of animal it was.

As Owen was thinking about all sorts of birds and magical creatures, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his fingertip. The fledgling bird had already walked up to him and pecked a bloody gash in his finger with its sharp beak.

Owen pursed his thin, pale lips, looking down at the bleeding wound on his fingertip, then glanced at the culprit. After pecking him, the fledgling chirped excitedly and even hopped around as if it had done something remarkable.

After calling out melodiously for a while, it stretched its neck and snatched at Owen's other hand, which was placed to the side, conveying a sense of pride and arrogance to Owen.

Irving's face darkened. Okay, there's no such thing as a blood pact; this bird is just plain evil.

He extended a finger and pressed the fledgling bird down onto the floor. The newborn bird, weak and feeble, could only kick its claws erratically, twisting its neck and trying to peck at Owen's finger, but it couldn't reach it. It could only chirp urgently, its bright red eyes filled with a human-like pleading expression, making Owen truly feel that it knew it was wrong and would never do it again.

Under this strange connection, Owen, who had inexplicably begun to soften, turned even darker. He wanted to stew the bird.

The fledgling sensed Owen's thoughts, stopped struggling, and looked at him with teary eyes.

Owen twitched his lips, withdrew his finger from the chick, and cast a healing spell on his bleeding finger. The wound healed itself with the incantation, leaving no trace; it seemed the bite hadn't carried any poison or magical damage. The freed chick hopped joyfully, its gaze becoming affectionate as it moved closer to him.

Melett strode over with elegant cat-like steps, stretched out her paw, and slammed it to the ground with a "smack." She looked down at the little bird that had barely eaten any food, stomped on it with obvious disgust, and then gave Owen a haughty sidelong glance.

"Meow—" she meowed softly. I can tolerate you being affectionate with other cats, but why this ugly, biting bird? Is this your preference? What a jerk!

"Oh dear, I never said I would definitely keep it." Owen gently stroked Melete's head, enjoying the comfortable, fluffy feel, his eyes crinkling with laughter. He glanced at the pitiful chick being trampled under the cat's paw, not ignoring the subtle malice that flickered in its eyes as it stared at Melete.

Owen's calm and clear eyes suddenly turned deep and dark. This bird was definitely a vicious magical creature, perhaps even some kind of dark magic creature. If that was the case, the light that had previously bound it, preventing it from hatching, was most likely a seal left by a powerful wizard to prevent this little guy from harming people?

So, is it really reliable to keep it as a pet?

Owen told Melete to release the chick, and watched with a wistful gaze as it ran to his side, full of grievances, and pressed its warm, trembling little body against his hand, its tiny head nuzzling affectionately against the back of his hand.

"What are you?" Owen asked, placing it in his palm.

The fledgling tilted its head in bewilderment and let out a clear "chirp".

Owen thought for a moment and decided to find out what species it was first. Actually, he didn't like birds much, and if this bird didn't have any special abilities, he would give it to Hagrid.

"Chirp chirp!" Sensing Owen's thoughts, the fledgling chirped in dissatisfaction, fluttering its bare little wings and hopping twice in his palm. Its eyes became teary again, looking extremely sad and aggrieved.

"Alright, let's call you Xiao Hei for now." Owen glanced at the time, picked up the eggshells from the ground, stood up, and walked out of the Request Room.

"Chirp!" Little Black chirped even louder, expressing its resentment and rejection of the name.

Melett proudly held her little head high, following Owen with graceful steps, her fluffy tail held high.

……

Peter Pettigrew's disappearance became the hottest topic on campus. As the professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, a recipient of the Order of Merlin, a hero who bravely fought against darkness, even though his classes greatly disappointed his students, the young wizards were still willing to maintain a certain level of respect for him.

The disappearance of such a person was no small matter. Even the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, personally led the Aurors to investigate, along with Mr. Lucius Malfoy. Dumbledore, who had been elusive recently, also returned. The Aurors searched the campus extensively, turning the castle upside down, but they couldn't find any trace of Peter.

In a room next to the Great Hall, Harry was being questioned by Fudge. Also present were Mr. Malfoy, Snape, and Dumbledore.

"I don't know where he went, sir," Harry said curtly, following the story he'd agreed upon with Professor Snape. "Last night he took me to move some things, and we were attacked on the second floor... We separated, and the monster in the Chamber of Secrets went after Peter Pettigrew... Then I ran into Professor Snape..."

Meeting Fudge's suspicious gaze, Harry clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his flesh. Although he desperately wanted to expose Peter Pettigrew's despicable nature to everyone, he knew no one would believe him; instead, they would be even more convinced he was lying, dragging him into even greater trouble… He would personally capture Peter Pettigrew and throw that hateful traitor into Azkaban!

"Oh, of course I believe you, Harry," Fudge said in a crisp, quick tone, spinning his bowler hat rapidly in his hand. "But I've heard you speak Parsley? Have you ever accidentally opened a door or something...?"

"I am not the heir to Slytherin, sir!" Harry glared at him angrily. "I almost died last night!"

"If nothing unexpected happens, I shouldn't be blind, Minister," Snape said in a smooth tone, his eyes full of sarcasm.

"Of course I know, I just want you to think about it carefully..." Fudge wiped the sweat from his brow and spoke rapidly. He glanced at Snape again and whispered, "But that doesn't mean you won't be deceived..."

“I think Harry Potter is a victim, Fudge,” Lucius said in a calm tone. “This isn’t the first time he’s been attacked; my son was the victim last time…”

Harry smiled slightly at him, feeling grateful to Mr. Malfoy for speaking up for him.

“I understand. How could I possibly doubt Harry?” Fudge said, glancing quickly at Dumbledore. “The Ministry of Magic has to take some action. We have to take Hagrid away…”

"I want you to understand, Cornelius, I trust Hagrid completely." Dumbledore's bright blue eyes gazed intently at him, his gloved hands clasped in front of him. "You should know that taking Hagrid away will not help at all."

Harry said anxiously, "It wasn't Hagrid, Mr. Fudge! It was Voldemort who opened the Chamber of Secrets—"

He was interrupted by Mr. Malfoy before he could finish speaking. Stroking his cane, he said coldly, "I also think he's incapable, Fudge. This way of handling things won't satisfy anyone..."

Hearing Mr. Malfoy defend Hagrid, Harry grinned at him, his affection for him skyrocketing. For a moment, he completely forgot that Mr. Malfoy was the one who had thrown the diary into Hogwarts.

"Oh dear, I was just flustered, Lucius," Fudge said, his mouth agape, stunned for a moment before finally managing to stammer in a panic. He couldn't understand how Malfoy and Dumbledore, who were always at odds, had suddenly come together and were telling the same story. But if he didn't want to offend both of them, he wouldn't be able to take Hagrid away today.

He sighed deeply and said, "You know, Peter Pettigrew's identity is very special. He finally came back, and we let him into Hogwarts because we considered that he was always afraid of being retaliated against... But how long has it been, and this has happened, with three students still lying in hospital beds... I'm in a difficult position too."

Fudge mumbled a few more words, then gave a somewhat awkward smile before putting on his top hat and hurrying away. Mr. Malfoy nodded slightly to the crowd and followed him out.

Harry breathed a heavy sigh of relief, looking at Dumbledore as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

"Professor Snape has told me everything, Harry," Dumbledore said slowly, a hint of weariness in his eyes. "I had my doubts about Peter Pettigrew, but I never imagined it would turn out like this..."

"That Sirius Black..."

"Unfortunately, if we cannot capture Peter Pettigrew, we will have no evidence to prove Black's innocence." Dumbledore frowned, deep in thought.

Harry lowered his head helplessly, then took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and said resolutely, "I will catch him, Professor."

"We're all working on it, Harry," Dumbledore smiled at him, deep wrinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes, "but there's no rush. Ah, it's time for lunch, isn't it?"

Harry nodded absentmindedly and quickly walked out of the room. Before he even entered the Great Hall, he ran into Owen, who was carrying something and walking leisurely toward him. Owen's pale but delicate face held a thoughtful expression, and his brows were slightly furrowed.

"Owen, is this... your new pet?" He saw the crumpled baby bird in Owen's hand, and was glared at fiercely by those bright red little eyes. He seemed to see disdain in those eyes. He shook his head, shaking off the strange thought, and playfully reached out to touch it.

The fledgling, nicknamed Little Black, let out a sharp cry, flapped its thin, withered wings, and pecked fiercely at the bird with a flick of its head, just like a protective mother hen.

"Wow, it's pretty fierce." Harry quickly withdrew his hand, looked at the little chick whining and rolling around in Owen's arms, and blinked, saying, "Looks like it doesn't like me."

"It's really annoying, isn't it..." Owen said with a smile.

At that moment, the little black dog that was rubbing against his fingers suddenly froze, its red eyes flashing with terror. It trembled and shrank back, hurriedly trying to crawl into Owen's sleeve.

Owen turned his head as if sensing something and found Dumbledore staring intently at the fledgling in his palm, his face showing a serious expression he had never seen before.

A burst of fire suddenly erupted beside Dumbledore, and a beautiful, majestic golden-red bird flew out of the flames, its bright black eyes instantly looking over. Fawkes the Phoenix cried out loudly, spread its wings, and swooped down, spewing a mouthful of flames at Owen, as if to scatter his ashes on the spot.

Irving narrowly dodged, one side of his hair curly from the heat. The baby bird struggling in his hand chirped and fell to the ground, fluttering its little wings and running towards Irving. Fox swooped down with sharp eyes, chasing after the little black bird and pecking fiercely with its sharp beak.

Little Black, its eyes brimming with tears, was chased and ran wildly, its steps becoming much more nimble. It chirped and shrieked as it darted behind Owen, its cries filled with terror. Fox, as if harboring a deep-seated grudge against it, relentlessly pursued it, its golden beak making a crisp clicking sound each time it missed a peck.

Seeing that Fox was about to peck at his foot, Owen silently moved aside, and the little black dog followed him. Fox chirped crisply, chasing relentlessly... well, like playing a game of tag.

"Fox, come back," Dumbledore said slowly.

Fox glared hatefully at the little black guy who was hiding so well, then flew up angrily and landed heavily on Dumbledore's shoulder, continuing to stare resentfully.

"Mr. Dumbledore?" Owen raised an eyebrow. He found it rather interesting.

Dumbledore gazed at him intently for a moment before speaking softly, "Could you please come to the Headmaster's office after dinner, Owen?"

"Okay." Owen thought for a moment, then smiled and nodded.

He picked up the little black dog with two fingers and carried it slowly toward the Great Hall. Harry followed beside him, dumbfounded, looking just like a surprised husky.

The afternoon classes proceeded as usual. After dinner, amidst the curious gazes of his friends, Owen entrusted the little black dog, who refused to go with him to see Dumbledore, to Meurette and went to the headmaster's office alone.

The principal's office seemed unchanged; portraits of past principals lay dormant in their respective frames. Fox stood atop a tall golden perch, tilting his head and staring intently at Irving as he entered.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his arms clasped across his chest, a hint of weariness in his light blue eyes. "Please sit down. You may have guessed something about your new pet..."

"I have some guesses, sir, but also many questions," Owen said, sitting across from him in a gentle voice, his eyes filled with pure curiosity and a thirst for knowledge.

"I think you're right. Your fledgling is a phoenix," Dumbledore said slowly, his gaze behind his half-moon spectacles suddenly sharpening as if to pierce the soul. "But it's not an ordinary phoenix. I'd like to know, where did you obtain it?"

Owen pursed his lips and told the truth: "It was found in a secret room at Hogwarts, sir. At that time, it was still an egg without any life. I studied it for a long time and found that it seemed to be sealed. Only today did I break the seal and successfully hatch it..."

Fox let out a loud cry, opening and closing its beak disapprovingly, making a crisp "click-click" sound.

"Sealed away? I knew it." Dumbledore wasn't surprised at all. He looked at Owen meaningfully and sighed softly, "Do you know? Phoenixes are very special magical creatures. They are spirits of fire, and they have existed since fire first appeared in the world."

He glanced gently at Fox, and the phoenix perched on the branch flew over and landed lightly on his shoulder: "Phoenixes have the ability to be reborn from the ashes. They periodically return to their fledgling state in the flames, growing up again until they grow old, in an endless cycle. Therefore, phoenixes have extremely long lifespans and cannot be killed..."

"So this world hasn't been conquered by the Phoenix yet?" Owen raised his eyebrows.

Dumbledore smiled, shook his head, and said, "Phoenixes have always been peaceful and secluded from the world unless they acknowledge someone. Of course, most importantly, there are very few phoenixes. Their numbers have remained constant throughout history, neither more nor less. This is because they cannot reproduce normally; their method of procreation is... very special."

Owen sat up straight with interest. This was knowledge not found in books, a secret of the Phoenix Clan, probably known only to those who maintained close relationships with the Phoenixes.

"Then does the Phoenix Clan have many living fossils that have lived for tens of thousands of years?" His eyes lit up.

"Unfortunately, no." Dumbledore sighed regretfully. "There are no perfect species in the world, or rather, it is precisely because of their various flaws that they are truly alive. The phoenix is ​​the same. With its long lifespan, it is a sentimental creature with a sensitive and delicate heart, which makes its life always spectacular, long yet short."

"They are naturally fond of novel and interesting travels, but when they lose their curiosity, they often choose to be reborn from the ashes. This is different from their rebirth from the ashes, which is just a series of small cycles in their entire life cycle, while rebirth from the ashes is their great life cycle. They will degenerate back into an egg in the flames, and from this egg will be a brand new phoenix, starting a new life journey... This is their way of passing on their heritage."

"They have a free and proud nature, and rarely acknowledge anyone, but when they do, they become the most loyal companions... even to the death." As he said this, Dumbledore glanced sadly at his phoenix. Fawkes closed his eyes and gently nuzzled his cheek; the scene was harmonious and beautiful.

Irving was silent for a moment, deeply amazed by the phoenix. He said softly, "What about my phoenix?"

"The development of a species always produces exceptional individuals," Dumbledore said slowly. "I don't know if it was innate, or the result of cruel human experiments, or the result of self-degradation. In any case, a black phoenix appeared, its healing tears became a curse, its inspiring songs became songs of despair, and its vibrant flames filled the darkness... It was just as sentimental, yet possessed an evil nature, loved destruction, and enjoyed bringing pain and despair to other living beings, causing many calamities in ancient times."

Irving's lips twitched. It was easy to imagine how hated a phoenix that was impossible to kill and loved to wreak havoc everywhere would be… This sealing was truly worthwhile.

"Then... I'll give you Xiao Hei?" He didn't want a hot potato.

"I think it has chosen you, after all, you helped it hatch," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "Now that it's hatched, I don't have a good way to deal with it. But newborns are pure of heart and can still be nurtured. I only hope that in the days to come, you will treat it kindly, guide it, discipline it, and help it learn to control its nature. It will become your best companion—even a black phoenix is ​​never lacking in loyalty."

"Isn't this just raising a brat?" Owen resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He should have just stuffed it back into the basilisk's belly.

After chatting for a while about raising the phoenix, Owen said goodbye to Dumbledore, who seemed to be entrusting his child to him, and returned to the lounge, where he looked at his free-range chickens with a critical eye.

"Alright, from now on, you'll be called Nyx," he said after thinking for a moment. Phoenixes seem to have no gender.

Nyx chirped with delight, then suddenly pecked at Melete's claws.

With a meow, the cat-like creature spread its limbs and took off in an instant.

(End of this chapter)