I see ahead
A silent flame,
Sole light of the night.
I hear before
A fluted claim
Lone spite of the plight.
How now comes color -
Whispers here,
Near
Fire, scarlet, gold.
Where once was warmth -
Simmers clear,
Drear
Ice, onyx, old.
Ashes mark the song’s last grave –
The phoenix died tonight.
"Behind Harry, Fawkes the phoenix let out a low, soft, musical cry... "
-- (HBP, pp. 357-358, standard American hardcover)
"About time, too. He's been looking dreadful for days; I've been telling him to get a move on."
-- Albus Dumbledore about his phoenix Fawkes, after Fawkes burst into flames (CoS - 12)