Chapter 1
Harry Runs Away

Harry slumped against the wall enclosing the Astronomy Tower, bleeding profusely. He felt himself getting weaker and weaker, his vision fogging up. He dimly registered that he had come here with Hermione to deliver the baby dragon, Norbert to Charlie's friends. That seemed so long ago now. He remembered last year, how another murder had occurred in the same place, how Dumbledore was murdered by the man he had trusted, and how Harry had been completely helpless as he watched Professor Dumbledore die.

But now another murder had transpired, and now the victim had fallen in the middle of the tower, his slender, snake-like body unmoving, his pale skin made even paler by the full moon that hung from the delicate string of stars. Lord Voldemort's blood-red eyes hidden behind eyelids, his slit-like nostrils the remnants of a once handsome face and brilliant mind that had been abused by greed, power and revenge.

Suddenly, with a mental jerk, Harry realized he could see properly now and that he could feel the haziness lifting off him as though a great fog were clearing from his mind. This had happened before, a lifetime ago in the Chamber of Secrets when. . .

"Fawkes!" croaked Harry, lifting a feeble arm to stroke the beautiful bird. His wounds were gone, Fawkes's tears had left nothing but new healthy skin, where, moments before, had been wounds that probably would have killed him through blood loss.

"Than you," breathed Harry, feeling his strength seeping back into him.

The phoenix bumped his majestic head to Harry's arm, letting out a musical cry of urgency.

"No, Fawkes, I can't go anywhere yet, I'm so tired," he explained.

Fawkes squawked again, turning around and showed Harry his tail.

"Oh, I suppose I'm strong enough to travel that way. But, wait, I need to do something before that."

Harry struggled to his feet, and took Voldemort's wand from his dead hands. A sudden, savage look crossed his face, and he pointed it in the air. He had seen so many Death Eaters do it before, it would be easy. He gave the wand a flick, and shouted at the top of his lungs, letting all his emotions stream from his heart and into the accursed word. Green light shot out of his wand, forming a shining skull with a snake protruding from the mouth, the sign that murder had occurred.

He turned to Fawkes, the savagery still prominent in his eyes. He suddenly smiled at Fawkes and said, "The war's over and the mark that started it now hails the death of its creator."

Harry smiled again, "I think one of the reasons Dumbledore was so wise was because he was near you all the time."

He grabbed Fawkes's tail, and they were off through the light of the Dark Mark. But Harry was wrong, the war was not yet over, and he still had his part to play in it, his destiny would find him and bring him back.

Fawkes took Harry to Grimmauld Place first, because he wanted to pick up some things that he didn't want to leave behind.

He was running away. Why? Because even though Voldemort was gone, his followers were still at large, and, like last time, would be desperate for revenge, not only against him, but also against those he loved. He thought his friends: Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Dean, Seamus, and so many more. What would he do if they were harmed because of him? No, they needed to be safe until the danger passed.

And he needed to heal. He needed to heal the wounds on his soul that killing, even someone like Voldemort, had inflicted.

He already had his Invisibility Cloak, he took some money, some clothing, and a picture of himself with the Weasley family, which he looked at before storing everything in a bag he conjured. Last, he took his will and placed it at the bottom of his trunk, which he would leave behind.

Harry put on his Invisibility Cloak on, though everyone was still at Hogwarts, enduring the aftermath of the battle, and crept back out the door, where Fawkes was waiting. He watched Number 12 Grimmauld Place grow smaller and smaller before slinging his bag over his shoulder and taking hold of Fawkes's tail. They soared for quite some time, until they reached the airport.

Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Parvati, and Mnemosynie threw curse after curse at the door that led to the Astronomy Tower, but all failed, the door wouldn't budge.

"Stop!" yelled Hermione, and the volley of curses, jinxed, and hexes ended, "How about we try it together, on my count, 1. . .2. . .3!"

All ten murmured a spell, and the door to the Astronomy Tower exploded into a thousand shards, in a rainbow of colors and dust. They charged up the spiraling steps, wands at the ready to blast anyone who got in their way. But they didn't meet anyone until they got to the top of the tower, where they met the dead body of Voldemort. . . And no Harry.

"Where's Harry?" asked Ginny, the only other thing that was at the top of the tower was a beautiful orange-yellow phoenix feather, and the Dark Mark glimmering in the sky overhead. Had they looked closer at the sky however, they would have seen two figures flying away, getting smaller and smaller, until they were hidden behind the clouds.

"He's gone," said Ginny, tears flowing down her cheek.

"Gone?" croaked Professor McGonagall, lying down on a bed in the Hospital Wing, "He's-he's. . ."

"No, not dead, at least we hope not," said Hermione, "We didn't find a body."

They were all quiet again, and then Bill spoke, "Is- is, You-Know-You, . . . Dead?"

"Yes," whispered Mnemosynie.

"But where could Harry be?" asked Fred, who had a gash on his arm that Madame Pomfrey was attending.

"We don't know," answered Neville, who had an arm around Luna.

"All we found was a phoenix feather." said Luna.

Harry sat down heavily on his couch, completely and utterly tired, both physically and mentally.

"Fawkes," he called, and suddenly, with a burst of flames, the phoenix appeared beside him. Fawkes had stayed away until Harry called him to avoid muggles. Now Harry ran his hand over Fawkes's glossy and comforting feathers.

He had rented a two bedroom apartment in New York City in America, where he would blend in well with the millions of people that lived there. Even so, he had changed his appearance. His black hair turned brown and shorter, his scar vanished and his eyes turned brown. He even put on contacts.

"Looks like its just you and me, Fawkes," he whispered to Fawkes, and the bird gave a musical cry to reassure him. "I'll go back, Fawkes. When I'm ready. But right now, I need some time alone."

A/N: it'll get better later, so please bear with me! The plot will actually begin to form in, like, the second chapter. R&R, people, even if you completely and utterly hate it!