To Sing, Every Phoenix Must Burn

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. If it's canon, it's definitively not mine. I'm only borrowing the characters; JKR can have them back when I'm done—hopefully in one piece.

To those of you who are new to this story, welcome! To the old, welcome back! I am in the process of revamping my entire tale from scratch; you may recognize it as 'Phoenix Song' in its earlier incarnation. I have just gotten a new beta, and WOW, she is good. Nothing gets by her. Any errors you see are strictly my own. My never-ending thanks go out to Val Carlson for agreeing to beta my work.

Never fear! Those chapters I have deleated will return, though maybe in not the same form. My plot bunnies were running away with me, and I had to do some drastic culling to bring the herd back down to size.

Prologue

"Sprout!" Snape called, barging into the greenhouse. "Pomona, where the devil are you?"

"Over here, Severus."

He looked around the flowerbeds and finally found a witch with a shabby hat pruning an Alihotsy bush. Pausing from her work, Professor Sprout put down her clippers in her basket and beamed up at her fellow professor. She wiped her brow and smiled. "Well Professor, what's all the rush about, hmm? Did your cauldron boil over?"

Irked by his colleague's never-waning cheerfulness, he sighed irritably. "No, it seems that my entire supply of pellitory nettles has been ruined. The last students to use it seemed to find it amusing to let a Glumbumble in the jar." I bet it was those Weasley twins, he thought.

"Well, don't go and get your robes all in a knot, now," Sprout replied as she stood and walked through the plant beds. "Let me see what I have... Nope, fresh out." She smiled and pulled the clippers back out of the basket. She tossed him the empty basket which he reluctantly caught. "You'll have to go gather your own."

Snape scowled and turning with a flourish, headed for the door.

"Oh, Severus?"

He stopped and turned. "What?"

"Bring me some fennel seedlings while you're at it, this year's crop looks like it could use some strengthening. Besides, don't they grow in the same clearing as the one you're heading to?"

"Yes." His scowl deepened and he turned once more. Muttering under his breath, he walked out the door.

Pomona chuckled to herself as she resumed her pruning. "You'd think a smile would kill the man."

oOoOoOo

Snape strode out of the greenhouse and headed towards the Forbidden Forest. The sunlight was extremely bright compared to the gloom of the dungeons, and he shielded his eyes from the glare. If only the school year had started, then he could have sent a student to do this for detention—indeed, preferably a Gryffindor. He smirked, amused with the idea. Wait—Did I just yearn for the school year to start? He was stunned. Where did that come from? He shook his head, discounting the notion. Must be the sun.

He reached the outskirts of the Forest and stopped to look around. "The nettles grow… ah, this way, in the clearing near the ravine," he said to himself as he turned and headed into the trees.

Walking into the trees, he paused; there was a Thestral lapping at something on the ground. What is a Thestral doing this near the outskirts of the forest? They never moved this far out unless Hagrid was tending them. He cautiously neared the animal, but it did not shy away. He saw a dark smear across the leaves littering the ground. "Blood?" he questioned aloud as he knelt to examine the dark, sticky substance splattered on the leaves. He rubbed the liquid between his fingers, and saw its crimson hue smear across his pale skin. It is blood.

He surmised that something had been attacked fairly recently, and it had to have been last night or early that morning, as much of the blood was still fresh.

The Thestral whinnied and took off, leaving him alone in the clearing

His eyes widened in alarm. He stood suddenly and drew his wand from his sleeve. He stood stock still as his eyes scanned for signs of any movement.

A low growl emanated from behind him. He turned, unsure of what it creature it came from.

There it was again; a snarl in the bushes. Bugger, that sounds like a bloody wolf. If only I was this lucky all the time. He raised his wand in preparation.

Suddenly, a creature leapt at his throat. Half-man and half-wolf, its clothes were torn and bloody and it had a mad, feverish look in its eyes. "Stupefy!" The creature was knocked from the air. It hit the ground with a thud, and Snape backed away to judge its next move.

Instead of being knocked out, the beast stumbled to its feet, dripping blood. Here is the source, Snape thought. The lupine creature panted heavily and gave a low, keening howl. The savage gleam faded from its yellow eyes to be replaced with a dull glaze. The beast staggered and fell once more. Its sides heaved and it watched fearfully as Snape grew closer to its side.

Snape circled the beast, his wand ever at the ready. He watched it warily. "You are not a werewolf. That much I can surmise, since it is daylight, and there is obviously no moon," he gestured at the sky, watching for a reaction. Besides, I know one. The beast appeared more human than wolf, in any case, yet its body had a silvery pelt, now reddened with the blood leaking from it.

"What do you want from me?" The creature hissed, vainly trying to keep his eyes on the circling figure.

"What I want," Snape said, his voice cold and calculating, "is to know what you are and your business in the Forest. Surely, you can tell me that." He stared directly into the other's eyes.

The creature hesitated in his response, his eyes flickering with anger. He felt the presence of another at the edge of his consciousness as memories rose to the surface of his mind. He is like the other, both have wands, both cast spells…Why do they seek me out, they cannot know who I am…can they? Yet, he has not tried to kill me…Oh, it would be so nice just to tell... NO! They cannot know. I will not speak. He pushed the alien presence from his mind. He then shuddered with the effort of speech.

He gazed purposefully back into those cold, black eyes. With a calculated grin, he whispered, "Those who speak of what they know find too late that prudent silence is wise…"

Snape was thrown back by a surge of energy sent through the mental link. He stood up, shocked at the failure of his Legilimency. It felt as if there were two minds, two personas, inhabiting the body instead of one, creating a stronger force when his mind was hurled out. "Who are you?" Snape hissed icily. "What are you?"

It was too late, the creature had already gone limp, passed out from exhaustion and blood loss. He carefully reached down and noted that at least the beast was still breathing. As he stood up, he noticed the creature beginning to change form. He moved back to a safe distance and kept his wand trained on it. He knew that it was unconscious, but looks could be deceiving. And, of course, changing form – unconscious or not – is usually trouble.

He watched in amazement as the wolfish features melted away to be replaced by that of a man with dark hair, around his own age. The man, creature-- he was unsure of how to consider him--never stirred once the shape shifting ceased, but he cast a Stunning Charm just to make sure. He checked the head wound to see if he was well enough to be moved. "Perhaps the Headmaster will know what to make of you."

He flicked his wand, "Incarcerus!" Cords shot out and bound the limp form. "Mobilicorpus." He waved his wand once more and headed back towards the castle, his original errand all but forgotten.

A/N: Yes, I borrowed a line from POTO. It has always been one of my favourites.