"Fawkes?" Neville knew that it wasn't, even as he asked. The crooning was different somehow, but he couldn't have said how he knew. Neville had only met Dumbledore's phoenix on a handful of occasions, most in his first year. Then, he had visited the Headmaster's office often enough due to disciplinary actions required by the board of governors whenever he stood up to the Slytherins who bullied him or Hermione. The visits, the gentle lectures, and Fawkes' gentle song had all been denied him in second year, when the governors had imposed a new detention system. The memory of Fawkes' song played in Neville's head, and he wished he could sing it back to this phoenix, he wished that the bird could sing to him or he could to it. He wished to be back in the comfort of Dumbledore's office. But Dumbledore's office no longer existed. Neville took in the dark streets of Godric's Hollow around him, took in the one fiery light in front of him, and he remembered Hogwarts. The phoenix before him cawed, a small, questioning noise. More chirp than crow. And Neville wanted even more to return to Hogwarts. Knowing that it was not his Hogwarts, knowing there was no safety to be had there, no comfort, nothing at all that Hogwarts could give to him. Neville wanted to repay the years he had spent. For once, he would be there for Hogwarts, rather than the reverse. The phoenix circled him, a fiery ring growing around him until the dark street was gone, and as the flames faded he saw before himself a desk, covered in devices which ticked and squeaked and gurgled incomprehensibly. To his right, an umbrella stand with seven slippers, all for left feet hanging from it. To his left, a pensieve and a stool on which sat a tall, dilapidated hat. Above the desk, the phoenix hovered and crooned, and Neville heard a name. Aurick. - "Hey boss, did you hear something?" "No, Mister Crabbe." "You sure, boss? I thought I saw a flash near the headmaster's office." "I'll not have you contradict me, Mister Crabbe." Fred glanced nervously at George, and took another sip of polyjuice potion. George leaned close to whisper, "I think you overdid it." Lucius frowned, but made no other sign he had heard them. The thought that they had fooled him, with their private flasks and lax wand-grips and uncoded warnings, made them almost as useless as his actual servants.