A phoenix danced gracefully in the darkness.
But when she looked closely, she realized it was not a phoenix, but a ball of flame. Nor did it "fly" because an animal's soul had attached itself to it.
It could not be reborn like a real phoenix, because it had never truly "lived." It was merely a fragment split off from a larger flame nearby.
It was like this when it was "born," and it was the same when it perished. Unlike a phoenix, it would not go through a period of weakness after being reborn from the ashes.
Nor did a phoenix hatch from an egg like a real bird.
It simply appeared. The chick looked somewhat like a crow, but raising a phoenix required more than merely feeding it food.
It also had to be fed "fire." Only then would it grow and sprout bright scarlet feathers.
"Neville!"
Pomona gasped and sat bolt upright in bed. She put on the shoes lying on the floor and ran straight out of her office.
The night was already deep, but she did not use Lumos. She had lived here for so many years that she knew the place by heart. The castle was locked up at this hour, and she did not want to alert Filch. Fortunately, she knew of a secret passage behind a portrait on the Grand Staircase that led to the boathouse.
When she emerged from the exit, the boats that ferried first-years were bobbing up and down with the waves. She then crossed the great lawn and ran toward the Quidditch Pitch. The rain outside had stopped, but the ground was still slick and wet, and one careless step could send her slipping. Even so, she reached the tent area without incident. It was still brightly lit