Date Created:
Tuesday, 8 August 2006, 22:47 or 10:47 pm
Date Finished:
(Unfinished)
Rating and Reason:
Currently, PG or T for this story is just begun. This will most likely change as time goes on.
Background:
Basically, this little plot bunny comes from going over a webpage that an old group of friends put together. We've had a very interesting history, this group and I. We called ourselves Marauders, after the original four in past Harry Potter history. We were also the Corner, for in the real world we ate lunch in an alcove, or corner, of the lunchroom. We had once declared that we were all writers, and thus needed a webpage to prove it and show the world our creative potential. This webpage idea blossomed into a monthly online digest named the Marauder Monthly, to be worked on by two of our number during their high school computer class.
Unfortunately, they only learned the skills necessary to run such a webpage in enough time for there to be two issues before their class and the school year ended. For one of the two, it was also the end of her high school experience as she graduated that spring. The page was often mentioned in passing, and the rest of our little group remained interested in any and all things Potter, but we began to grow apart. Two graduated the first year, the computer student included, and three this last spring. I am entering my senior year along with the last three others of our great "Corner". I know that when this school year ends, I will be moving away to Gods only know what future, and may not see my friends for a very long time. Hence, looking back on the only two issues we ever put forth, I began to again have the spark to want to write simply for the joy of writing. This piece is what came of it. Enjoy.
Intro:
What would've happened if Fawkes, the Phoenix from Professor Albus Dumbledore's office, suddenly had become human in the Marauder's era? This chronicles Fawkes's adventures in human emotions, politics, and what it means to be mortal.
Author's Notes:
Little things here and there might confuse and/or distract you from the story. For instance, anything written inside ((( - ))) marks are thoughts by the person indicated. For the body of this piece, only thoughts expressed by Erica Seville are shown, as this is a third person limited point of view piece. For an example of this, right now, Issy, (the author), is thinking, (((Wow, it's really late at night, and I'm kinda hungry.)))
Disclaimer:
I don't own, haven't previously, and most likely will never own anything Harry Potter (besides a T-shirt). I came up with this ficcy idea, and any non-cannon characters you might or might not spot. All other idea props go to J. K. Rowling, that lucky motherless daughter of a bitch.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 1: Hospital Rooms and Choices
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Troubled gray eyes became the focus of her vision. Her? Though still blurry, she seemed to find the eyes familiar in a strange sort of way. Her tunnel vision expanded to reveal a white ceiling and curtain hangings on three walls, accompanied by a harsh white light. (((Where the hell am I?))) An elderly man stood stooped by the bed she was in. He had a long, white beard with hair to match, and half-moon spectacles perched on his pointy nose. His lips moved, and she had the feeling he'd been trying to talk to her for a long time. Noise came softly. "Are you feeling better, Fawkes?" the elderly man whispered. (((Fawkes?))) Her eyes closed tight with sudden remembrance.
Years, centuries, millennia of change and human habitation, and before and after that, the endless stretch of time. Billions of faces, events, pictures, and moments promised an endless series, bending her now mortal body and arching her back. Hands gripped her reality back to the here and now, forcing her body to lay flat to the bed. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her eyes flew open.
Names came to her: Madame Pompfry, Minerva McGonagall, and Albus Dumbledore. As her body twitched into stillness, Albus spoke first by saying, "You've been doing that off and on for about a week now, having human seizures I mean. I fear your new human mind is too fragile to hold all the knowledge you possessed in your immortal form. You have two choices. I can try to weave a spell that will either kill you finally, or transfigure you into your previous form, but may not make you immortal again. The second choice is to take all of your memories and give you a human life until I can assure the spell we weave will succeed. I need you to choose while I have you conscious."
After a few moments, her nerves jumping as if constantly being burned, she tried to speak. No noise beside small pain sounds came out. She felt herself dying, a mortal pain that felt like nothing she'd felt before. Such emotion, such depth of feeling these humans had. Tears fell like cool fire from the corners of her eyes. It was like her life was slowly, inexorably being torn out of her body. Finally, she managed to croak out a small, "I don't want to die. Do not fail and be my end. Human is not, I think, so bad in small doses." She was left gasping from the fierce pain in her throat.
Dumbledore nodded, sadly smiled down to her, and picked up his wand.
"Albus, are you sure this is a good idea? What would we do with her?" Minerva questioned, eyeing the wand in her hands.
"We'll discuss this later. Right now, we need to concentrate, or the body will reject his mind and we'll lose him… er, her," Pompfry remarked, picking up her own wand.
She saw them raise their wands in unison, and closed her eyes in a flash of silvery white light.