Sir, we have incoming. PV Finished

Hjørdis strolled through the grounds, taking some time out of her day to check on the area. It was not something she thought needed to be done when she first joined the school. However, with recent information about the incidents that happened over the course of last year, the Slytherin Head of House decided it was important to regularly patrol the areas. She did not fully trust that the school was safe still. She had no information to come to that conclusion except for the simple lack of information. There was not enough that they knew about this situation to fully determine if it was safe and Hjørdis was not one to take safety lightly.

Her past experiences and career taught her well, to say the least. The lady walked through the grounds, scanning the area carefully for intruders or anything mildly suspicious. Did she fully trust that Ben and the masked man story was over? No. Definitely not. She would be highly suspicious of him for many more months to come but those concerns were her own. She had seen far too much in the world to actually trust people. The list of people she trusted could easily be counted on one hand - and even if you had lost a few fingers, you would not fall short.

It was around about this time that she made her way past the dome enclosure. She kept her distance, not really wanting to engage in a foul conversation with the incredibly irritating man that she knew was the Care of Magical Creatures professor. He was definitely someone who dampened her already foul mood even further. She cast a simple glance in the direction, however, just to see if she spotted anything unusual around there.

It was at this point that she saw a figure. Someone in the cage. From the distance she was at, she could not tell who. But the figure did not walk in like a normal human like fashion. Instead, the figure was climbing like an animal. Her eyes instantly narrowed on the situation. It was a weird way for anyone to be moving, one that caught her attention. Was it that foul professor or...? The latter idea caused her more worry, to be quite honest. Immediately, she turned to the enclosure. Focused on it. The creature was on the ceiling, approaching some animals - including a beautiful phoenix.

Hjørdis immediately started to make her way to the enclosure. If it was an intruder, she would have to stop them from whatever it was they were trying to achieve. Perhaps stealing some ingredients for a deadly potion or releasing some animals. She was swift, moving into a more high alert mode as she approached the dome. As she approached, she started to recognise the figure. The wind blowing his hair and cloak around made it a bit more difficult from the distance at first. However, on inspection it was just the foul and grumpy Griffith, it appeared. She stopped, deciding to leave him up to his weird antics. It was of no concern to her how he chose to walk around. If he wanted to climb, he could. At least it was not an intruder.

What she saw next worried her even more, however. Her eyes widened as Griffith suddenly fell down from the ceiling, landing swiftly on top of a magnificent phoenix, causing it to fall. Hjørdis immediately broke into a run, dashing towards the enclosure without a moment's hesitation. From what she saw, there was a rope around the neck of the bird and the large man falling onto it. She could not determine why but she had to ensure it was not in danger.

In truth, she cared a lot more about the safety of the magical creature than she would allow anyone to believe. Probably more so than the safety of the students but that was another matter entirely. It was definitely a pain that one could not apparate in Hogwarts but nonetheless, she reached the doors. The doors were like slabs of stone, rather than an actual door. There was a cord by it, saying 'pull cord for Professor Griffith'. She frowned, the man irritated her so much but nonetheless, she yanked the cord.

Hjørdis pulled it hard enough to almost yank the whole thing off. She yanked it again - several times - to indicate that she was here and she was getting impatient. And if he did not let her in soon, she would kill him.

A phoenix was a powerful bird. An extremely powerful bird. Stronger than the man that was now attempting to pin it to the ground. It beat at him with its wings, and he only narrowly stopped the sharp beak from striking his skin. Reaching in to his coat pocket he pulled out a small leather back and slipped it over the bird’s head. Before too long, it calmed down enough for him to carry it inside the stables, only to hear an incredibly loud DING. Followed by several others.

Griffith was a paranoid man. A paranoid man that wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. He would have done so long ago had it not been for his cursed drive, his sense of honor and his ever present conscious. He was going to help creatures, animals that people considered monsters, beasts they considered broken beyond repair. He loved them with all his heart, would rip himself apart for them. He showed them a caring side that he only ever thought about when he was alone in his stables. Alone with the closest things to friends he had.

A phoenix is a smart bird. They have near human intelligence and the strength to carry a man. But they are still birds. And this one was going to hurt itself. A mind driven mad with a pain that Griffith didn’t understand. He couldn’t tell what was wrong with this bird, couldn’t tell what made it suddenly snap, suddenly try to escape as far and fast as it could. He had let it, once. Following behind on a broom. The phoenix had flown until it couldn’t fly and more, and had dropped out of the sky. Not in any fixed direction, just away. Away from invisible hands it was convinced were grabbing at it from behind.

So he kept it contained, he padded the bars, he padded everything it could use to hurt itself. He pet the bird and stayed up with it. It helped, a little. But today it had gotten loose and had started to hurt itself on the harsh metal of the chain dome. He had been forced to force it to the ground. He called him “Perthyn Wendigo” which was a fitting name, considering the bird’s irrational behavior. It loosely meant “Belong to Wendigo”. With bad grammar, admittedly, but it didn’t sound as nice if you made it a proper sentence. People could still get the idea, assuming they spoke welsh and knew some old legends.

His face was starting to bruise as an effect of the phoenix’ wings hitting him, although most of the damage was luckily on his arms, hidden underneath his heavy coat. He had to put Perthyn back into his cozy cage, he wanted to stay with him until the bird woke up. But the bell was ringing persistently, which meant someone desperately needed him. It was probably nothing, probably just some kid with an attitude. But what if it a creature was hurt and they genuinely needed him?

It was a real possibility, a possibility real enough that it made him go to the door with the bird tucked under his arm, one eye starting to swell and loose unwashed hair tangled in knots. He opened the door to his mud porch, which functioned as an office, and then walked to the main slab.

He carefully undid the monstrous iron bar, whispered a spell to the creatures guarding it and then opened it, just a little. Just enough for him to poke out an eye and see who was waiting for him. He saw the Slythering Head of House. And she was wearing clothes that made him want to smack her across the face. Who wore that? Who dressed so nicely for no reason? Who was she even trying to impress? The students? Was she trying to make all the little girls call her queen Nora to boost her already towering ego?

Keeping the phoenix out of sight he tried his best to snarl, but ended up just sounding tired, and annoyed. And maybe, just maybe a little bit worried.

Hjørdis was already limited when it came to patience and it was wearing incredibly thin when it came to a certain Professor that looked worse than the creatures he was attempting to look after. His appearance always made him look unwell. It was a little worrying how he never seemed to be able to look after himself. Did she trust his ability to look after the magical creatures when he could not even care for himself? Not particularly, no. Then again, there was little she trusted in life. People had to earn that trust from her and Griffith was very far away from earning anything even mildly respectful at this point.

It was strange how little he paid attention to his appearance. It baffled her, to be quite honest, for they both knew how much she paid to her own. The Slytherin Head of House was dressed a beautiful white dress. It was like a long shirt that had been turned into a dress, to be quite fair. But it was a good dress - one that she hoped would not get wrecked in today. Then again, she was ready to start fighting the man if he was hurting creatures so she would not be surprised if it did get dirty. Of course, she would definitely not be happy with it either but that was not the point.

The stone slab was moved, the door opening slightly. It was not much but enough for him to poke his head out of and acknowledge her presence. The instant that it moved, her palm was already on it. She did not push the door, she merely put her palm there to indicate that he ought to open it up properly before she blasted it often in his face, "Move." She instructed. Her actions and words already explained what she wanted enough. She wanted him to move over and let her in and she wanted that to be done immediately before she started throwing spells at him that did not need to be thrown his way.

"I want to come in and I need to talk to you right now." She replied. That was all she said.  That was all she needed to say. She could not see the phoenix, she had no idea what he had done with the bird. If he had hurt the beautiful creature, she would have his head on a spear and hang it outside the castle to ward intruders off as a sign of what would happen to them if they messed with her.

Hjørdis was clearly not in the mood for pleasantries or politeness. Her stone cold expression portrayed more indifference than anger in truth. But there was anger seething underneath it. It surged through her body, along with the worry that she felt. She had simply had too many years of experience hiding her emotions to show the anger or worry easily. Her impatience in the matter was clear, however. It was evident from the cord pulling and her seriousness was obvious from her tone of voice.

Her actions spoke louder than her words, however. Assuming he did not let her in immeditely after she pretty much commanded him to do so, she would forcefully shove herself into the door suddenly. She would attempt to forcibly open it, hoping to give herself enough leeway that she could squeeze. There was definitely an advantage to being thin - and that was squeezing into small spaces. It was quite a good advantage to have when you needed to hide or fit into narrow gaps - like the one she was hoping to make in the doorframe.

She was in no mood to waste any time, "Where's the bird?" She demanded an answer, hopefully shoving the door open and squeezing into it before he could shut her out. She did not trust him enough to expect that he was doing anything good right now. Perhaps he was. But there was no way for her to know until she confronted him. His incredibly foul attitude towards her was something she did not mind on a normal basis. She had no qualms with him being grumpy, cranky and unnecessarily aggressive on daily basis. He could hate her if he wanted to, despite the fact that she had actually done nothing to offend him. She did not care. To put it quite simply, his presence or lack thereof did not bother or concern her in any way usually. But today was different. Today, his behaviour and actions and the lack of trust that she had for him rose questions that needed to be answered.

She needed to know that the phoenix was safe and he was capable of looking after the animals. If he was not, she would have his head - well more likely his job... But whatever. Right now, his annoyed foul mood just irritated her further. She was not in the mood to deal with his antics at this point in time.

If he wasn’t entirely sure why he didn’t like her before, he was certainly sure now. This stupid, stupid girl was trying to interfere and wasn’t even giving a reason. She didn’t even say why she was doing what she was doing, had just come over, rang the doorbell constantly and then ordered, yes ordered him to move. She had the gall to order him to move. It almost made him want to smile. If he didn’t like things that challenged him, he wouldn’t be taking care of most of the creatures he watched over. But it was a small urge, and the desire to punch her in the chest and then slam the door was a lot stronger.

Still, he had never been a good fighter, and although he could probably thrash the thin girl in front of him, he had always possessed a strong instinct. It alerted him to ludicrous amounts of danger. It often didn’t work, and sometimes was so wrong it hurt, but he usually followed it anyway. And he got the distinct feeling that the person in front of him was a lot stronger than she looked. And that if he tried to punch her, which he probably wouldn’t do anyway, considering there wasn’t much cause, other than her weilding a sword of ungodly rudeness, he would probably regret his decision.

She then followed up by saying, still in that same tone of voice, that she wanted to come inside, which was something he really did not want her to do, and that she needed to talk to him, even though he really didn’t think she did.

“If it’s something creature-related, let’s hear it from out there. If it’s not, then find someone else to bother.”

Now, griffith was a very tall man. A bit above six feet, with broad shoulders and long legs. But the skinny Head of House was a lot stronger than he was expecting, and he only had one arm with which to push against her. And so he found himself quite unexpectedly reeling backwards, clutching the now limp and very sodden looking phoenix. If someone didn’t know anything about phoenix’ they would most likely presume the bird dead. It still had the sack around it’s head, and a few of it’s majestic wing feathers were broken. One was even slowly dripping blood.

He was now staring across a small mud porch, another strong stone slab presumably leading in to the main stable. A small desk with two chairs, one on either side, and a coat rack with a hat and scarf made the room seem rather spartanic. There were no decorations, and it seemed that this room was hardly ever used. The desk was orderly, with only one or two pieces of paper adorning its surface.

The entire debacle made a lot more sense to him when she firmly asked him on the whereabouts of “the bird”. That meant she had seen him and was trying to get him into trouble for god knew what. Probably for providing a bad example to the kids and climbing on the chain. The other option was that she was genuinely that worried about the bird, but that was ludicrous. Someone like her wouldn’t care about a baby niffler if it gave her it’s only coin.

“So what’s so urgent you had to barge in my stables? As you’ve no doubt discovered, I’m a little busy. If your designer chihuahua has the sniffles, I am confident it can wait.”

Griffith stuck on hand in his pocket, holding the phoenix firmly with the other. He felt around with his fingertips, heavy leather doing an admirable job of hiding his movements. She probably wouldn’t try to fight him, but being paranoid had never failed him before. Well, it had. But that didn’t mean he was going to stop.

“Your entrance was great and all, but I think it’s time you show off your exit”

Hjørdis overpowered the taller and much broader man using the most powerful element she had: surprise. Agility - and the tired look he had on his face - helped too but it was the unexpected that got her through the door. Her eyes fell onto the phoenix under his arm as she stepped through. She found herself staring at the once beautiful creature that was now very limp, feathers broken and damaged. Griffith had blood over him.

The Phoenix was said to be immortal. At the end of its life - or if it is killed - it has the ability to be reborn from its ashes. Whilst the creature looked very dead, it would either be reborn shortly or still be holding onto life, just barely. Either way, the 'death' that she saw was not permanent. But it still disgusted her to think that the Professor standing in front of her may have intentionally tried to harm such a magnificant creature. It worried and concerned her.

A feeling of anger surged through her, despite her cold expression. Her face was blank, devoid of any emotion. She did not express a hint of her anger, disgust or concern on it. She simply stared at the creature for a few moments before looking into Griffith's eyes and staring at him intensely. She would want nothing more than to rip his stupid looking head off his dumb body right about now if he had just attacked the phoenix but she controlled herself. There was perhaps an explanation for his actions. And even if there was not, murdering another Professor a month into the role was probably not allowed. Maybe a couple more months in, however... If she could wait that long...

It took her years of restraint to express any emotion or smack him in the face. "What are you doing with that creature?" She asked him, her eyes not once moving away. She was in absolutely no mood to play these games with him. He was an irritating foul grumpy man but she was here for a far more important reason. Phoenix feathers were much sought after. They made for strong wands and were rather precious. Hjørdis wanted to know what he was attempting to do with the bird that he was holding. She did not trust him for even a second. His actions could have been pure but she did not trust that of him. There was something about him. She could not quite place it but she recognised something about him and it gave her a bad feeling. His name was not one she trusted. Known for their immortal, she was always suspicious of people trying to use the magical creature to enhance their own lifespan. To gain the bird's powers for themselves... Something that an evil wizard would probably try to do.

She ignored his ridiculous comment about her 'designer chihuahua'. She was not the sort of person to care much for designer chihuahuas but that was not worth mentioning to this foul man. Hjørdis had a far more important job. "I will leave when I am satisfied and no sooner, Griffith." She replied simply before continuing, "I suggest you get comfortable, as that won't be for while." She continued, as she tilted her head slightly towards the desk and chairs - in a tone of voice that kind of implied that this was not a 'suggestion'. The tone of voice had a bit of authority in it, as though she was pulling rank right now.

Even being in the same room as him was difficult for her right now. She really did not trust the man nor his ability - or lack thereof - when it came to animals. However, he was hired by a few people that she did think were capable. He must know something and have a decent reason for what he did. If not, she would happily take the hands that tried to harm any creatures from him. Internally, she was seething. If he even so much as hinted that he did it for anything awful, she would struggle to maintain the control she had on her face, actions and tone of voice.

The woman in front of her was being stoic, but there was something strange about that. She was clearly agitated. People were like creatures. If something got them mad, they barked and snapped and attacked. But if they were really, truly upset then you would hear no bark. You would see the cold fire in their eyes that let you know that you severely messed up. He loved that fire. It was pure, and dangerous, and it let you know that there was still something in there, that there was an emotion, even if it was just rage, still moving about in a injured creature’s head.

All he needed was hate, and with time, he could turn it into love. Into brilliant, wonderful joy and a free creature that had a new life, and an unfettered mind. Or at least that was what he liked to believe, that was what he strived for. Right now, that dream was barely relevant. Perthyn Wendigo was clearly in need of help, immediate help. Even if he didn’t know what exactly to do. Honestly, he was more desperate than anything else at the moment. He had no idea what to do, no idea at all. He just knew he wanted to do something. Anything.

The Head of House’s eyes burned with that cold fire, and he knew for a fact, something truly did upset her. But what could there be? She certainly wasn’t this upset that he had set a bad example to some students. There was no way she could be that unbelievably petty. When she asked what he was doing with the phoenix, all form of emotion gone from her voice, all form of emotion superfluous in the current state she appeared to be in. She was more dangerous than he had thought, then. Only a few predators, and only a few people, could go into that kind of state, and anything that could was extremely, horribly dangerous.

He liked dangerous things. A lot more than he should. She quickly made it clear that she wasn’t going anywhere until she was satisfied, and that was when it clicked. She really did care about a phoenix. She really had gotten this upset over a bird she had nothing at all to do with. It was a response he could easily relate with. And yet it annoyed him more than ever. He didn’t want to talk to people, or to like people. That wasn’t why he was here at Hogwarts. He was going to teach, and then leave when things became safer.

She had no business there, but at the same time, had every reason to be present, to be worried. He tried for an instant to imagine what he would do if he was in her shoes, and silently appreciated her restraint. Almost as much as he wanted her to go away and leave him alone. He wanted to stay that these were his stables, that she had no business there, no jurisdiction. That he would have to insist she leave. But he knew. He knew for a fact she wouldn’t.

“If you’re worried about the phoenix, you can stay. If you want to get me in trouble, are nagging about dirt on your shoes or are just that vindictive with me for eating the last muffin, then please remember that you have no power here, and my respect for you is so small a moke couldn’t shrink down to it’s size. Now get out.”

He waited for her to leave, but she didn’t. Which meant he had been right.

“This is Perthyn Wendigo. He is my friend, and will be treated as such. The blood is from broken pin feathers. Immature feathers that are not fully grown are full of fluid, and that includes blood. Sometimes, when broken, they can cause bleeding. It is not severe, or life threatening. This happened because he beat his wings against the chain. The bag is over his head to calm him. This is a natural reflex, and it is aided by some nice herbs I placed in there because he likes their scent.
He is not, perhaps, glowing with life because he is clearly no alright and I clearly am trying and you clearly are getting involved in things far over your head. I can find a way to help him. I will find a way to help him and the best thing you could do right now is get out of here.”

Oh the man in front of her frustrated her more than he would know. His silence was going to cause her to snap his neck soon. Luckily, it did not last for too long. She stared intensely at him long enough for her point to have gotten through, it seemed. The Professor's sarcasm normally would have bothered her but it was nothing at this point in time. She would love to nag about the dirt on her shoes or complain that he stole the last muffin one day. Both would give her immense pleasure as it would irritate him and silently cause the man in front of her to seeth like she was seething. But right now, her worry and concern overtook her desire to annoy him.

Besides, she was not fully convinced that what he was doing was actually good. But for now, she had no choice but to trust his words. The man offered her an out, she did not move. Hjørdis did not even blink. There was no attempt or consideration of moving. Like she had said to him before, she would not leave until she was satisfied. And the Slytherin's word was more important than most things to her. She was nothing if not loyal to her promises.

Her eyes moved to the Phoenix that he was holding, as he continued to speak after some time. He explained the situation, a little. Hjørdis silently listened to him, moving her gaze back to the Care of Magical Creatures Professor. She ignored the shade that he threw at her towards the end of his ramble. He had not found a way to help the bird, from his words. Meaning that he did not actually know what was wrong with the bird either. "Since you don't actually know what's wrong with him, I don't trust your opinion on what you consider the best thing I could do right now," Hjørdis replied in a matter of fact tone as she started to roll up the sleeves of her white shirt style dress. It was going to get dirty. She knew that there was no way to avoid that right now. However, she did not want the sleeves to get in the way. He would probably take it as her caring too much for her outfit. But Hjørdis simply preferred to have her hands exposed and free when working with practical things. She rolled up the sleeves of her robes a bit whenever she wore magical robes with long sleeves.

Besides, if this beast was lying and was actually planning to attack her soon, she would be able to fight much more easily without her attire getting in the way. Hjørdis leaned forward a little, noticeably taking a breath, "Mint..." She murmured more to herself than to him, identifying the scent in the air. It was subtle but it was stronger towards Griffith, suggesting that what he said about the bag over Perthyn Wendigo's head was likely to be true. At least, there was a scent there and the reason for it may not be a lie this time. She nodded, accepting that the bag would have to stay over the bird's head for the time being.

"Do you have anything to stop the bleeding?" She asked him, unsure of what he actually owned in this place. It was pretty sparse and most of his things seemed to be hidden behind another door, which no doubt had a bunch of traps or locks that she was in no mood to try and figure out. Hjørdis had little faith in his abilities but she hoped he would have something for such an occasion. It was a simple enough request. If she had time, she could create a magical paste that would help and be far more efficient but time was short right now, the muggle way would have to suffice, "Do you have any flour?" She asked him, knowing that the kitchens and potion room were a little too far right now to attempt to do this anywhere else. It was here and now that was best.

Her plan of action was simple. First, stop the bleeding. They could figure out what caused him to act in such a manner afterwards. There was something clearly not right with him but her knowledge in magical creatures was severely lacking. She could not tell what was wrong with the beautiful bird at a simple glance. Her knowledge in healing and potions, however, was far apter. Stopping the bleeding made the most sense to her. It was, at the very least, the basic first aid response to any situation.

Hjørdis did not make any attempts to take the bird from him or even look away from him. She was in absolutely no mood to play games with him right now. His shade, sarcasm and insults were unnecessary. She would ignore them all, for now. Her revenge for them would come later and they would come in a way that he regretted. For now, the Phoenix was all that mattered to her. She could not help shake the feeling of mistrust, however. Did Griffith do something to the bird to cause him to react in such a way? Perhaps he was trying to escape from the torture chamber that Griffith was pretending was a dorm enclosure for the animals.

Although she had no reason to trust him, Hjørdis saw no option but to play along with his games for now. She would find out soon enough but first, she had to help stop the bleeding.

The woman didn’t leave, he knew she wouldn’t leave. There had been no doubt in his mind that she was going to stay there and try her level best to help. Sadly, he had been right. She was dangerous, but completely useless. He’d bet money she just loved the bird because it had pretty feathers and she was a bird nut. Probably lived alone at home with 20 parakeets instead of cats just so she could lie to herself about not being a lonely cat lady.

When she accused him of not knowing what was wrong with Perthyn Wendigo, he slowly raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish with saying she didn’t trust his opinion on the best thing for her to do, which, incidentally, involved her going away and not coming back for a very long time. He figured that was a perfectly wonderful use of her time. Dangerously beautiful women that had a rank as high as Head of House were not something he wanted just hanging around judging him.

Plus, he hadn’t said he didn’t know what was wrong, just that he didn’t know how to fix it. To be fair, he didn’t know exactly what was wrong. But he did have a general idea. A idea good enough to work off of. Still, he hadn’t found any useful resources on the topic, and was feeling rather depressed about the entire debacle. Or at least defeated.

“If you recall, I implied that I did not know how to cure it, not that I did not know what it is that’s afflicting him. If you weren’t quite as distracted with the sound of your own voice you probably would have picked up on that. I don’t care how this looks, you have no sway here, and I don’t have time to play babysitter. Do you know who I am? Of course you don’t. You only know that I was hired here, and that I am a singularly unsavory individual.

The last thing I want is your approval or satisfaction. I do real work here, actual, hard work. I’ve done this throughout my life, and kept at it. I’ve accomplished things Merlin wouldn’t have thought possible. I am the professor of Care of Magical Creatures. Until that title is revoked I have say here. I know that that means nothing to you, I know you don’t care at all, because you think you’re that much smarter, and I’m not going to be able to get you to leave.

But don’t presume to know more about how to help my co- creatures.”

He caught himself, barely. The professor had been about to say companion, and had gotten dangerously far into the word before catching himself. He thought about his creatures like companions, people he could talk to, people he wanted to help. But that was none of this woman’s concern. She had no idea what was going on and was still trying to be the boss.

She asked if he had anything to stop the bleeding and he barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes at her. They widened slightly when she asked about the flour, however. That was a shock. Not a lot of people knew about that method, and he was personally a rather big fan of it. So she did know something, after all. She knew and cared about creatures, was dangerous… ...but also a major pain.

“The bleeding it minimal. It looks worse because it drips off of the feathers like that. It’s not going to hurt him, but yes. Flour would be nice. I have some in there.”

He gestured to the door that lead farther into the stables with his eyes, but hesitated, a lot. He didn’t want someone like her going in there, not by a long shot. He didn’t want to leave Perthyn Wendigo out here with the girl, but there was no way he was going to be allowed to take Perthyn Wendigo along with him. She would think he was trying to ditch and follow. He was stuck.

“Right, so please for the love of the one, maybe two things you actually care about listen closely. He’s calm. He’s going to stay that way if you listen to someone. I know, crazy concept. I’ll assume you know where his feet are. They cannot swing free. They have to be standing on something solid. Your hand, your arm, your face, I don’t even care. The bag has to stay over his head. If you can sing, and he starts to get ruffled, he likes schlaf kindchen schlaf. If you don’t know that one, rockabye baby works too. This is assuming you had a childhood.

You can stroke him, but only a little bit. If you want to pet him then scratch him softly behind the head. He’s molting though, so be careful about the pin feathers. Please.

I'll be right back.”

He was clearly torn, clearly worried. He had a few creatures in the stables that had anxiety, a few that hated wizards. Most of them could tolerate griffith, however. They trusted him, or at least trusted him enough. He would get the flour himself, would make sure his companions, wouldn’t get roused and then be right back. Perthyn Wendigo wouldn’t mind, probably. Assuming Nora took the cautiously proffered bird, Griffith would dash to the stone door, easily push it open and then carefully close it behind him.

The Slytherin Head of House did not ask for a life story but apparently, Griffith was in the mood to share one. For a man that acted as though he hated everyone, he sure spent a lot of time justifying his words, actions and behaviour to her. It was almost as though he was trying to impress her - and doing a rather bad job of hiding it. She did not care about who he was or why he was here. All she cared about was his ability to do his job and right now, that was the one thing she was failing to see in him.

Hjørdis quirked her eyebrow a little. Morfran Griffith, was he famous? Was she supposed to know this moronic man that stood in front of her pretending to care about a creature but doing absolutely nothing for him? The issue here was not that she did not know who he was. The issue here was that he did not know who she was and that was his mistake. She did not offer help to make people, she did not offer it freely. The fact that she was even considering it today was something he ought to have appreciated. Her ‘sway’ here was far greater than his own and sadly, it was her that was playing the babysitter for this imbecile.

Words did not matter when there was a creature - his ‘friend’ apparently - laying there bleeding out. If it was her friend that was suffering, she would tear the world apart with her bare hands if it eased their pain. Of course, it took a lot to even be considered a friend in her books but there were one or two people that made that ranking. Her list of loved ones got shorter and shorter by the year... This man was a man of words, not action, apparently.

She was going to choose to stay silent. Let him say what he wanted so she could just do what she came to do and then leave. He clearly knew nothing of importance here. However, his constant rambling started to provoke her to reply. “Oh?” She replied as he commented on her being distracted by her own voice. It was rather hypocritical given how much he was talking right now and she could not help but be a little bemused by it, “You talk a lot. Pity. I had other things in mind...” She replied with a light shrug of her shoulders. The implication was subtle enough that he probably would not catch it.

“Ah, it’s your confidence that attracts me most,” She replied after he was done with his ramble. He did not know how to help his bird. If Griffith knew exactly what was wrong with the Phoenix, she had a feeling that he would not be wasting time ranting at her but rather going to figure out the cure. His words and insults made no difference to her. She made no claims to have known more about creatures than he did. However, she did specialise in healing. She likely knew more about that than he did and if she could help, he ought to shut up and take it.

The ‘Care’ of Magical Creatures Professor hesitated after acknowledging that he had flour. She quirked her eyebrow a little. He did not trust her. She did not blame him. However, he soon enough decided that he had no choice but to trust her. Huh, he was slightly wiser than he looked, then. That being said, her gaze moved to the door. She could not help but wonder what was behind it. There was something that he was hiding. It would have been easier to take the phoenix into the room and for them both to help there. He did not want her to go there, however, that much was clear.

For the love of the ‘one, maybe two things’ that she actually cared about, Hjørdis listened. She had no intention to not listen if it was going to help this Phoenix with a ridiculous name. However, Griffith assumed she would and that was okay by her. He did not need to know how she truly felt. Hjørdis really wanted to sigh and smack him at some point. He was getting annoying again and a part of her wanted to punch him for it but she resisted. She had to maintain the control over her anger as best as she could. But Griffith was so close to breaking the control she had spent years practicing. If she put the bird’s feet on her face, he would care. Her face was far too beautiful for such nonsense things. Nonetheless, she remained quiet.

Hjørdis observed him for a moment before simply nodding. She carefully took the bird from him, watching his hands to make sure it was not a trick. With the bird’s feet against her arm, she gently cradled the Phoenix into her chest and watched the man dash out the other stone door. Her eyes narrowed slightly, still not sure if she could trust him. However, at least she had the Phoenix safely away from him if he was up to no good.

Griffith suggested she sung a German song that caused her to roll her eyes. Why did everyone seem to assume she was German or knew it? Another student did that the other day, when she was baking cookies with Nagal, who claimed she did not look German but suggested that she learnt some. Apparently he was right. Perhaps she would have known this ‘Schlaf Kindchen Schlaf’ song if she had listened. That would be next on her to do list when she had a spare moment. Sigh, as if she did not have enough to do as it was. This was why she was glad she did not sleep enough as it was. It gave her more time to do random things like learning new languages, that people assumed you already knew.

That being said, the man implied she did not have a childhood and may not even know ‘rockabye baby’. Perhaps it was not a language thing but rather a lack of a childhood and personality thing. Interesting assumption... But Griffith did not need to know about her childhood. She knew the song and that was enough. Though, she did not expect the Phoenix to like it but she accepted his words. Personally, ‘Soft Kitty’ was her choice of song when something was sick but she had watched a bit too much muggle TV.

The Slytherin waited for him to leave the room before observing the Phoenix. She still did not trust the fellow Professor but he claimed that the song would help keep the bird calm. This was a good way to test his knowledge and his words. Perhaps he had purposefully picked a song that would actually stir the bird into attacking... Hjørdis did not trust him but she trusted herself enough to take the risk. Her abilities were far greater than he gave her credit for.

In a soft, gentle and quiet voice, she sung rockabye baby to keep this ‘Perthyn Wendigo’ calm. She did not do it whilst Griffith was in the room. She enjoyed singing but he was not going to hear her sing. Most people did not get that. Only a few people knew she could even sing and Griffith was not one of them. He did not need to know anything about her life. It was fine this way. It was better this way. They could just hate each other with no complications. Hjørdis would stop singing the second she saw or heard any signs of his return - assuming that was, that he planned to return.