Oleandra Greengrass Orders a Phoenix

Ron certainly did not seem all right; his face was turning a particularly vivid shade of purple; he was also bleeding from the nose and foaming at the mouth.

"Ron?" cried Harry. "RON! Somebody—"

"Oh, I know what's happening to him!" Hermione whimpered. "Professor Snape's antidotes exam is still going on— but I don't have my bag with me— oh, I should have expected this…"

Are you completely mental, Professor Snape? It had been her glass, too! Oleandra was going to lodge a complaint with the board of governors! And, of course, he had chosen this particular day! Well, it was a good thing Oleandra's combat robes had lots of pockets. Luckily, she still had the antidote she had made in class, which she quickly retrieved. Oleandra popped the cork off a vial, pinched Ron's nose with her left hand and poured the contents of the vial down his throat.

"It's not working!" Hermione cried. "Did you make it right? You must have made a mistake—"

"Just give it a moment," Oleandra said unconvincingly. She was fairly sure she had done everything right, but with Neville Longbottom as a partner, who knew if he hadn't somehow turned her antidote into poison…

But Ron's condition showed no signs of improving. In fact, he was looking worse and worse, his veins turning pitch black, as if his blood had turned to crude oil.

"Oh, enough of this," muttered Hermione. "Vermillious!"

Red sparks shot out of her wand and suspended themselves in the air, spelling out the word 'Snape.' Now, they could only hope that the man had even come to the Yule Ball. Luckily, they didn't need to wait long for him.

"What's going on here?" Professor Snape said, striding over to their table, eyes glinting coldly. "There are limits to wanting attention, Mr. Potter. This had better be important."

"We give up, Professor!" cried Hermione. "I don't care if you give us a failing grade— please help Ron!"

"What are you—" Professor Snape began.

Professor Snape instantly knew something was very wrong with Ron the moment he set his eyes on him.

"Stand back," Professor Snape barked, taking out a vial of something silvery from his pocket.

Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Oleandra could do nothing but watch helplessly as Professor Snape busied himself over Ron's lifeless body, poking and prodding him with his wand while muttering incantations under his breath.

"Tell me exactly what happened," he finally said, turning towards them.

"You poisoned Ron, that's what happened!" Harry exploded. "You said you'd do it—"

"Obviously, I would never do such a thing," Professor Snape snapped. "When I hinted that I would be poisoning one of you to test out your antidotes, I was merely impressing on to you the importance of knowing one's antidotes."

That made sense to Oleandra; Professor Dumbledore wouldn't stand by and watch while Professor Snape poisoned his own students, right? In which case, what was he waiting for? Ron wasn't getting any better!

"Please, Professor," Hermione pleaded. "You must be able to do something."

Professor Snape shot her a withering look, before relenting, a strange expression gradually appearing on his face. Oleandra had only seen him wear two expressions before: sneering, unconcerned about the petty concerns of everyday life, or mad with anger at Harry and his friends. Oh, and three, incredibly bored.

"I'm afraid not, Miss Granger," said Professor Snape softly. "I've never encountered this toxin before; I could develop an antidote or a counter-serum using Mr. Weasley's blood given enough time and my laboratory. But unfortunately, we have neither. Someone seems to have trapped us inside the Great Hall."

'Think, Oleandra, think! There must be something you can do!'

Oleandra mechanically put her hands in her pockets. She had a bottle of Basilisk poison; maybe she could give it to Professor Snape. He had taught them that certain poisons could be used to counteract others, which was also known as fighting poison with poison. Just as she was about to volunteer the bottle to Professor Snape, he spoke up once more in response to another one of Hermione's questions.

"It would take much more than a Bezoar, Miss Granger," said Professor Snape. "Without more information, I'm afraid that only a powerful panacea on the level of Phoenix's tears could save Mr. Weasley now."

Oleandra was certain that the poison had been meant for her; it had been in her glass. She had invited danger into the castle by exploring the unknown, and brining the unknown back with her: Dusk-Elves were probably the only ones to want her dead so badly as to poison her drink and have access to a poison that even Professor Snape didn't know about, unless she was mistaken. If Ron died, his death would be on her head, and so it was her responsibility to do something about it.

"Sis, is Fawkes in the room with you?" Oleandra thought towards her sister.

"It's sitting on its perch. I'm looking right at it. It didn't stop me from collecting the ashes, so I was about to climb back down."

"You need to go back and tell it to head to the Great Hall."

"Are you completely mental? It's bad enough that the portraits keep shouting at me—"

"Please, it's important. Tell Fawkes that Ron is dying; it's a smart bird, it'll understand what to do."

Silence. Daphne wasn't saying anything, but Oleandra had a feeling she was doing what she'd asked her to do. And then…

BAMF!

A corona of flames appeared out of nowhere in the air above the Great Hall, and out emerged Fawkes, his scarlet feathers reflecting in the glistening icicles hanging from the ceiling. It gave a sharp cry, causing everyone to look up in surprise, before circling the hall once and landing on Ron's shoulder.

"Dumbledore's Phoenix?" Professor Snape said in shock.

"Fawkes!" Harry cried out in joy.

By now, the entirety of the Great Hall was looking at them; even the Weird Sisters had stopped playing their instruments and singing. Fawkes blinked once, and a crystalline tear dropped from its eyelid and into Ron's foaming mouth. Almost immediately, his face began to clear up and regain its usual colour. Satisfied that it had done its job, Fawkes flew off to the other end of the hall and landed on Professor Dumbledore's arm.

"Sis, the phoenix, it—" Daphne began.

"I know! It can Apparate and Disapparate within Hogwarts! You need to get out of there! NOW!"