Disclaimer: The ownership for this fic is split four ways. Anything you immediately recognise from canon is J.K. Rowling's. For those of you whose memories stretch that far, there are still some tidbits that belong to Egyptian Flame. A bigger percentage belongs to Master Slytherin, and anything you don't recognise at all belongs to me.
Erm, well, this is my first attempt at formal fanfiction writing. I kept bugging Master Slytherin to rewrite this and do a sequel; so much so that, in frustration, he told me to do it. I accepted, and he may just be regretting it Well, I was tentative at first, but he kept encourage me to change more and more things until the chapter got to a point where it's almost unrecognisable to the original. Almost. I expect that'll be the case for a lot of the chapters, so it's definitely worth reading. So thank you, Master Slytherin, not only for letting me tinker with your baby, but also being kind enough to beta read for me and spend ages bouncing ideas with me.
Chapter I: The End of the World
Sitting on his bed in the smallest bedroom of Number Four, Privet Drive, staring out the window was Harry Potter. Had anyone cared to watch, they would be wondering why a late teen, little above average height, was sitting on the windowsill, a blank look on his face, eyes red and puffy. It had been three weeks since Harry's return to the Dursley's, and he had only one thing on his mind: the death of his godfather.
Every night for the past three weeks held a reminder, a reminder of his godfather's death. Sirius falling back into the veil in the Department of Mysteries kept repeating itself in his mind every time he closed his eyes. Every night he awoke, shaking and screaming for his only father figure to return to him, screaming for him to avoid Bellatrix's curse. The very thought that he had led his godfather to his death caused tears of shame and guilt to well up uncontrollably. Harry hardly ever left his room, only venturing out to use the bathroom or find something to eat.
Thankfully, the Dursleys left him well alone, in fear of what the Order members would do if Harry were hurt in anyway. A hoot from Hedwig brought him back to the present. He wiped the tears that had formed in his eyes and looked at his beloved owl. Tied to her leg was the letter he had sent to the Order to inform them that he was alright, unopened.
Harry furrowed his brow – perhaps the Order had erected wards that Hedwig was unable to fly through. "What happened, girl?" he said, stroking her sleek, snowy white back. She replied with another hoot and a reproachful look. He untied the letter absently, before helping her into her cage.
As he twirled the letter absent-mindedly, the doorbell rang. He immediately stood upright in his chair; nobody called so late on a Saturday evening. Curious, he peered out of the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the disturber of peace. Other than Uncle Vernon's brand new Mazda, the drive was empty.
Harry moved towards the door, hoping to catch words among the distant rumble of his Uncle's voice. He heard another voice, a man's – perhaps this was a business visit? No, thought Harry, Uncle Vernon would have prepped the family weeks in advance. A new thought sent a shiver of excitement down his spine: had one of the Order come to take him away?
Taking care not to make too much noise, Harry crept to his door and inched it open.
"How dare you!" The tone of contempt in his Uncle's voice made it abundantly clear that it was a member of the Order. "I will call the police this instance unless you leave the premises."
Harry scrambled to the staircase and took the steps two at a time. He went for his pocket as he did so and drew his wand. There was every chance that this was a Death Eater attack, blood wards or no. The sight that met him would have been comical in any other circumstance.
Dumbledore stood in the hallway, quite calmly, in robes the brightest shade of magenta. Uncle Vernon's face was redder than Harry had ever seen it and he was shaking so convulsively Harry briefly thought the headmaster had him under a spell. Aunt Petunia, on the other hand, was ashen and wore an expression of absolute terror – though Harry could not tell whether Dumbledore's attire or Dumbledore himself had induced it. Dudley was nowhere in sight.
"I have not attempted to harm you in any way," said Dumbledore, his voice steady and steely, "and I would remind you both that you owe your safety to Harry."
Harry raised his wand higher and crept towards Dumbledore, or his imposter. Aunt Petunia caught his eye and gasped, causing Dumbledore to turn towards him.
"Ah, Harry, nice of you to join us. Your Aunt and Uncle and I were just discussing you."
"How do I know you're the real Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore smiled appreciatively, as if Harry had given the right answer to a question he had not posed. "An astute observation, Harry, one I am sure you would not have thought of a year earlier. Pose a question an imposter could not possibly know."
"Err...who is your spy for the Order?"
"Severus Snape, but, alas, this knowledge goes beyond these walls. Try another."
"Erm...what did I see in your Pensieve in Fourth Year?"
"A series of trials, as I recall, including those of Ludo Bagman and Bartemius Crouch Junior. We were only moments previous discussing the possibility of you accompanying me on a trip, Harry."
Harry looked between Dumbledore and the Dursleys with a look of incredulity. He found it hard to absorb the surreal nature of the scene in front of him. Dumbledore had come in person and wanted to take him away with him rather than cage him up like a hen. The Dursleys were apparently fighting for him to stay rather than wiping their hands with him, though, Harry guessed, they would have fought the case for beggars, had Dumbledore chosen to defend the opposing side.
"A trip where?" asked Harry, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"You are aware from your History of Magic lessons of the International Confederation of Wizards?" The term was vaguely familiar to him, but from Dumbledore's chocolate frog card rather than History of Magic. He nodded slowly, and Dumbledore continued.
"Now that the Minister has seen fit to acknowledge Lord Voldemort as a threat to the magical world, alerting the international magical community has become of the utmost importance. With this information at hand, a meeting of both magical and non-magical leaders around the world has been called–"
"This is preposterous!" spat Uncle Vernon, his eyes bulging to the size of saucers. "Magical leaders...Voldy-whatsit...it's all twaddle!"
"If only it were, dear man, if only it were."
Dumbledore took a step towards Harry and examined him with an air of sadness. "You have not been eating or sleeping well, Harry. Sirius would not have wanted you to mourn–"
Harry flinched at the sound of his name. "Who knows what he wanted?"
"Mourn?" said Aunt Petunia, her voice constricted. "You mean to say that Black...is dead?"
Dumbledore gazed at Aunt Petunia, a crease forming on his forehead. "Yes...but surely you know this." His melancholic stare returned to Harry. "Why have you not confided in your family, Harry?"
Harry drew himself as high as he could and said, "my family is dead, sir."
Aunt Petunia flinched, but it was Uncle Vernon who said, "after all we did for you, boy. See how ungrateful he is? You know what? Go with this old codger and never darken our door again!"
"I left Harry with you in the hope that you would bury your hatred for your sister," said Dumbledore, fury surrounding his every syllable, though his voice was steady. He was staring directly at Aunt Petunia as he said this. "You showed him no love, you never welcomed him, and in turn he felt nothing but contempt towards you. Petunia, it is in you that I am particularly disappointed. What would Lily have done if your roles were reversed? How would your son be treated if you had died and Lily had lived?"
"She would not have taken him in. She would have forsaken him as she had forsaken her family, as she had forsaken me. Potter was more important to her than her own flesh and blood..." Her voice was strained, and full of anguish. Harry could only gape as Dumbledore shook his great head sadly.
"Your jealousy blinded you then, as it does now. It was not in Lily's nature to forsake others, you know this. She had in her heart only love, even for her enemies who despised her kind nature. Had she found Dudley on her doorstep, she would have taken him in and raised him no differently to her own son." His voice suddenly regained its steely edge. "However, I am thankful that Harry was not raised as an equal to Dudley. For he has grown up to be kind, generous and loving as his mother, qualities you robbed your own son of from the day he was born."
Dumbledore turned, quite calmly and walked towards the door, leaving a flustered Uncle Vernon and shell-shocked Aunt Petunia. "Follow me, Harry," he said briskly.
"B-But my stuff..."
"You will not need it. Here." Dumbledore tapped his pyjamas, which instantly became black robes similar to his school ones. He followed Dumbledore out of the door, struggling to keep up with the headmaster's long strides.
Harry did not quite know how he felt. Aunt Petunia had once loved his mother, so much so that the memory of it still affected her. Dumbledore was taking him to an important meeting with the International Confederation of Wizards. But why? He had prohibited Harry from Order meetings last year, why would he now drag him along? Was it for publicity? No, Dumbledore had enough of that. Perhaps to prove a point? That Voldemort could be fought?
As they approached Magnolia Crescent, Dumbledore stopped so abruptly, Harry collided into him. "I apologise, I should have warned you," said Dumbledore, helping Harry to his feet.
"Why are you taking me, sir?"
"Do you not wish to accompany me?"
"Yes, of course, but..."
"Excellent."
"Sir! I think I have a right to know after...after..." Harry trailed off; he didn't want to bring back memories of the Department of Mysteries.
"I admit that there are reasons involved beyond the enjoyment of your company. You became aware of your insurmountable fame the day you stepped into the wizarding world, did you not?" Harry nodded, and suddenly became aware that they were standing in the middle of a Muggle pavement where anybody could see them.
"Sir, don't you think we should leave here as quickly as possible? I mean, the Dursleys might have called the police and we're dressed in robes."
"I have taken the liberty of casting charms to ward against that very possibility. To continue, you are famous not only nationally, but internationally." Harry felt his heart sink. Was there nowhere he could go without being recognised? "You also represent something quite intangible to wizards across the world – hope against all odds. Voldemort, at the very height of his powers, sought you out with all his energy and yet here you are. His principle goal remains your capture and yet you stand beside me, quite unhurt. Your presence at the meeting will remind world leaders of the wizarding community what can be achieved. I will ask the free ministries of the world to unite under one banner, for only then can Voldemort be defeated. As Patrick Henry once said: 'united we stand, divided we fall'. Take my arm, Harry."
Harry hesitantly wrapped his hand around Dumbledore's proffered forearm. It seemed so frail he tried to put a minimal amount of pressure on it. "I will attempt to Apparate us now. It will feel rather awkward since this is your first time. Brace yourself, now..."
Harry felt as though his whole body was being squeezed through a tube no wider than a penny. It was the most uncomfortable form of magical travel yet, he decided – he was quite happy to stick to brooms.
After what felt like an age, he took a gulp of musty air. They stood at the entrance of a vast antechamber, at least the size of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Unlike the Great Hall, there the unmistakeable air of modernity about it. Perhaps it was the electric lights running the length of the high, golden wall, or perhaps it was the gargantuan screen behind the speaker's podium.
There were rows of curved tables made of the finest Birchwood. Each row was slightly higher than the row in front, giving the room the air of a lecture theatre. Harry looked up and down the rows. There were men of every nationality he could think of; from European men in suits to African leaders wearing the traditional robes. They each wore earpieces and, if Harry squinted, he could make out the name of the country they represented on small plaques in front of them. Everything about the room made him feel very small and out of place.
"I would very much like you to stay where you are, Harry. I will ask you to do something very difficult now, but you must do it – it is of the utmost importance." Dumbledore took a chocolate frog card from his pocket and placed it in Harry's hand. "The International Confederation has gone to great pains to secure this area. However, they underestimate Voldemort – a fatal error as we both know. I will call a vote shortly; the results of which I hope will favour our war efforts. If they do, I have unnecessarily disturbed your Saturday evening, and for that I apologise. If they do not, I will call out to you to join me on the stage." Harry's heart began pounding noticeably harder in his chest. "You need not worry; you will not be expected to make a speech of any kind. If our worst fears are realised and Lord Voldemort does infiltrate the proceedings, you must take the Portkey immediately. The activation code is 'No'."
"But I can help..."
"No, Harry! Your mother died for you; walking readily into death would be a poor way to repay her. Take the Portkey and follow the instructions you find there."
"Mr. Dumbledore!" cried a voice somewhere over Dumbledore's shoulders.
"Promise me you will take the Portkey!" Dumbledore was staring at him with such intensity that Harry felt like looking away.
"We have been waiting for ten minutes, Mr. Dumbledore..."
"Promise me!"
"Fine," said Harry with a sigh, "I promise."
"Thank you, my dear man." With that, Dumbledore allowed himself to be guided towards the podium by a tall, burly man, also wearing an earpiece.
Dumbledore took his place on the podium and peered at the gathering of leaders over his half-moon spectacles, betraying nothing but absolute solemnity.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwup of the International Confederation of Wizards. I have called the first International Conference for ten years and you will be pleased to note the addition of the non-magical members. I'd like to thank all the leaders who have made it today and shall not bore you with tedious anecdotes, but instead delve straight into the core of the problem; Lord Voldemort, or Tom Riddle if you will."
Harry noted that some of the Muggle leaders shook with silent anger, and that a man he recognised as the British Prime Minister looked practically livid. He frowned at this extraordinary show of emotions – why would they be so offended?
"He, of course, reappeared two years ago, but only began killing last year. He has so far killed about two hundred Muggles, people of the non-magical community, which classes this as an international disaster. For those who are resolute in believing otherwise, I assure you that magic does indeed exist."
Dumbledore waved his wand and a jet of water appeared, before instantly turning to ice. With another flick of his wand, it disappeared.
"For thousands of years, we have stayed hidden, but now, we must join forces to take down this evil. Most leaders have agreed in private that Voldemort is a very real threat, one which should be dealt with immediately. This meeting is to cast a vote officially so that action can be taken against him. If voted so, we will join forces and take down Voldemort's army. However, there is a 'no' vote, Britain will deal with her problems herself, but remember; if he defeats us, he will move onto the rest of the world. Those of you who wish to deal with Voldemort now, while he is relatively weak, put your wands, or hands, in the air."
Harry glanced around and made a silent count. None of the Muggle leaders put their hands up, which already meant that it was a fifty percent 'no'. Some of the wizarding ministers also kept their wands firmly in their pockets. Dumbledore closed his eyes and sighed. Harry knew what this meant and the thought of joining Dumbledore terrified him. His eyes roamed back to the podium, and he waited for Dumbledore to give him some sort of signal. Strangely, however, the headmaster had drawn his wand, his eyes wide with alarm.
"It's a trap!" he yelled. "Polyjuice potion! Disapparate now!"
Just then, all the Muggle leaders began to change appearance. Suits became black hooded robes, faces were hidden by skull masks, and Harry understood why Dumbledore's words had caused such a stir.
"Avada Kedavra!" yelled the Death Eaters in unison and flash of green light illuminated the hall. Harry toppled to the floor – the power of the spells was tangible. He looked up from his position. Bodies lay slumped across the Birchwood. Dumbledore was the only non-Death Eater left alive, and he was surrounded. A figure, taller and thinner than the others was pacing around Dumbledore; Harry was sure it was Voldemort.
Harry's breaths quickened and he could feel his hands getting wet and clammy. What could he do? He couldn't just leave Dumbledore to his death. He silently tried to count the Death Eaters, but there were far too many. He thought he might run towards Dumbledore and trigger the Portkey as they made contact. But no, Voldemort would surely have killed them both by then.
"Watch," cried Voldemort, "as I destroy the leader of the Light tonight. This is the dawn of a new era, an era where power is rewarded, and weakness dealt with accordingly. This man claimed to be the only one I ever feared. Look at you now, Dumbledore." He let out a derisive laugh, cold and high.
Harry met Dumbledore's eyes, which were silently pleading for him to take the Portkey. Harry looked around; surely there was something he could do to distract Voldemort.
"Face it, Dumbledore, I've won! Without their leaders, the wizarding world is doomed. AvadaKedavra"
Harry gasped as the jet of green light rushed at Dumbledore. With the slightest of wand movement for encouragement, the podium rose up and intercepted it, causing it to shatter into a million pieces.
"You will never win, Tom. As long as there are those who believe, as long as the world is full of good people, you will never ever achieve your goals."
"You fool, Dumbledore, you are on the brink of death! Crucio"
Dumbledore moved out of the way with the speed and guile of a man half his age. He then raised his wand and sliced it down like a knife. Voldemort dived out of the way before the grey light could reach him.
"Not above a bit of pain, are we? You do not seek to kill me?"
"I have told you many times, Tom, that death is but the next great adventure. You will find out to your downfall that there are things which are far worse than death."
"Crucio" said a voice from behind Dumbledore; it was another Death Eater.
Dumbledore had no time to jump out of the way and writhed in pain on the floor. It was all Harry could do to stop himself from calling out. He was torn between obeying Dumbledore's instructions and rushing towards Voldemort.
"You fool! He is mine. Follow orders, or death do you part."
Voldemort raised his wand and wielded it in a slashing motion; a gash appeared at the side of Dumbledore's head and blood started pouring freely from the wound. Harry held the chocolate frog card in one hand, his wand in the other.
Dumbledore winced, but raised his wand again and conjured a flower in the air in front of Voldemort's face. It was a red rose. Harry gaped – had Dumbledore gone mad? Voldemort almost laughed, but it died on is lips as the flower was transfigured into a cage, trapping the Dark Lord. Dumbledore rose to his feet gingerly and started applying various runes onto the cage, with Voldemort frantically whispering counter curses.
"Kill me, then, Dumbledore! End this war if you think you can."
There was abject disappointment in Dumbledore's eyes as he said, "I won't kill you; death deserves better company."
"Death Eaters, attack him!"
The Death Eaters who were watching the exchange sprung into action and started firing Killing Curses.
Dumbledore conjured a mirror and deflected most of the curses back at the caster. He created an explosion and a puff of smoke in which he stunned many more Death Eaters. Finally, he rounded the rest up in a cage similar to that of Voldemort's.
"Pretty impressive, Dumbledore, but I have escaped. I will not delay your death this time; you have foiled me too many times..."
Voldemort had escaped the cage while Dumbledore was duelling with the Death Eaters, and now had his wand pointing straight at Dumbledore's heart.
Harry had made up his mind. Promise or not, he had to save Dumbledore. He rose to his feet and snuck forward, trying to keep his footfalls silent.
"I learned a lot from you. Goodbye, Dumbledore. AvadaKedavra."
It was as if time had stopped. Dumbledore could not block the curse. The green light arced through the air and heralded the last death in the atrium. A 150 year old life was taken away, and the body of the great Albus Dumbledore lay spread-eagled as a centrepiece to the litter of bodies surrounding it.
"NO!" screamed Harry. As he charged forward, wand raised; as Voldemort turned to face him, his smile fading; as the killing curse formed on Harry's lips, he felt a tug at the navel and the atrium around him disappeared.
Harry landed face down, his cheek pressed against a cold, stone floor. Harry lifted his head, and suddenly it hit him; Dumbledore was dead. He could not believe it. He refused to believe it. Dumbledore was...Dumbledore. He was eternal, far too powerful to be killed by Voldemort.
"And what are you doing here?" snapped a cold, silky voice.
Harry forced himself to his feet and readjusted his glasses. As his eyes became acclimatised to the dim light, he realised where he was; Dumbledore's office. The room seemed strangely small without Dumbledore, as if it were tied to the headmaster's life force.
"For once, I quite agree with Phineas," said another voice, "where is the headmaster?"
Harry looked up at the wall behind Dumbledore's desks, where every headmaster and headmistress was scrutinising him with confusion and puzzlement. "Professor Dumbledore...he...he's dead."
Harry's words were met with a cacophony of gasps and shrieks. There were tears of sadness, proclamations of disbelief and cries of anger; all of which mirrored how Harry himself felt.
"I don't believe it," snapped Phineas, and he stalked out of his portrait.
Fawkes swooped down towards him and landed on his shoulder. He released a long, mournful note that coursed through Harry and soothed him. "I'm sorry, Fawkes," Harry whispered, "I couldn't save him...I'm so sorry."
In response, the phoenix dug its claws into Harry's shoulder, drawing blood. Harry yelped in pain and tried to shake Fawkes off. Was he being punished? Did Fawkes think Harry should have acted sooner? The more he struggled, the firmer the bird's grip. Ignoring Harry, Fawkes lowered his head so that its eye hovered above the wound. A single tear, blood red, trickled down its beak and onto the wound, healing it instantly.
As the tear entered Harry's skin, Harry screamed; it felt like something was choking him. Then, suddenly, it stopped. He felt a comforting presence, quite perceptibly foreign, entering his mind, like it was searching for something. The presence left his mind moments after it came and he found himself face to face with the phoenix.
I'm extremely sorry, young master – Harry gasped, the ethereal voice was coming from within his own mind – but it had to be done in order for you to understand me. The reason I came here is to help release you from this misery. My Bonded, Albus, was killed a few hours ago by the Dark Lord, as you know He sacrificed his own life so that you were not found and killed. Your friends were killed by a separate ambush atGrimmauld Place. To save you from immense emotional pain, I have suppressed your feelings for your loved ones – they will remain but a hazy memory unless a powerful force undoes my magic.
Muggles are in disarray in the aftermath of the Dark Lord's attack. They are unable to explain the mass murders that are ensuing under the Dark Lord's commands. Dark beasts of every measure are roaming the country, attack as they please. I will not lie to you – the Dark Lord is seeking you with all his might and all his strength. The thousand year-old wards protecting this castle will not stand against the barrage of unhindered attack. The Order is disbanded, the Ministry is disbanded. There is nothing here for you now.Only death.
The shock of hearing Fawkes' voice directly in his stream of thought wore off, replaced by sadness, which quickly turned to anger, then helplessness and finally fear. The death of his friends was the last straw. He refused to sit down and cry for his losses any longer. If his fate was death, then he would take as many Death Eaters as he could with him. Voldemort had killed everyone he loved and now he would pay.
"Tell me where he is, Fawkes," said Harry, and he was surprised at the steadiness of his voice.
No. Resistance is futile.
"I've got nothing to lose. Where is he?"
Albus ensured that there was another option open to you; long did he foresee this. You must pack your things quickly. You must survive young master and you must defeat the Dark Lord This, not death, is your fate.
"Tell me how."
There is a letter waiting for you in the top drawer of his desk; read it. Meanwhile, I will collect your possessions before they are destroyed.
In a flash of red flame, Fawkes was gone and he refocused on the office. His heart was thumping violently in his chest. What had Dumbledore planned for him? He moved towards the desk and opened the top drawer. As Fawkes had predicted, a scroll of parchment lay on top of an assortment of quills and pots of ink. Harry felt it disrespectful to sit at Dumbledore's desk and so unravelled the scroll of parchment and read it standing.
Dear Harry,
If you are reading this, then the meeting did not go as I planned and I forfeit my life for it. There is a great deal of information I wished to convey to you, half of which may have been useful, most of which I would have told you in person in the coming school year. Regrettably, this has not been the case.
Fortunately, fate granted me a great many years, during which I explored many obscure and feared branches of magic – one of which being time. I will not bore you with the details but I, with great help from my friend Nicholas Flamel, discovered that the laws of time do not apply to phoenixes. Indeed, they are at liberty to travel to any given period of history, though we had failed to learn why.
My plan was always to keep Voldemort at bay while you discover yourself and develop your abilities. At the risk of appearing arrogant, without my presence to tether Voldemort's ambition, and without any form of leadership, I fear the worst for the wizarding world. You are not yet ready to defeatVoldemort. You require more time. I have asked Fawkes, in the event that all hope is lost, to transport you to a period of history where you will be granted time to develop both as a wizard and a human being. Only then can you challenge Voldemort and escape victorious, as you know you must.
I apologise, Harry, for all the wrong that has befallen you. I am sorry for James, my son, and Lily, my daughter, I am sorry for robbing you of your childhood, I am sorry for not taking a greater hand in your education, I am sorry for failing to protect you from Voldemort time and time again. I have much to be sorry for, but also much to be thankful for. I thank you for forgiving me for my mistakes, I thank you for reminding me of your parents and grandparents whom I miss dearly, but above all, I thank you for teaching a selfish old codger the power of the selfless love that you possess in leaps and bounds.
And so I come to the end of this letter, and the end of my life. Do not mourn, for I was blessed with a long, fruitful time on earth. Instead, learn from my mistakes, and love, and live. I surrender to you the Order of the Phoenix, for you are its true leader. I surrender to you my personal journal, for it has the knowledge you require. Know always, my boy, that I love you.
And so I remain, yours sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
It was all Harry could do to stop himself from welling up with tears.
"I have to kill him," he muttered, teeth gritted, "I have to end this for everyone."
Yes, you must – Harry jumped; it seemed that Fawkes had returned with his trunk and Hedwig, who had presumably not left her cage since Dumbledore's visit to the Dursleys – are you ready?
"I'm ready."
Do you have the journal?
"Oh, I almost forgot. Err...do you know where it is?"
Bottom drawer. It will appear to be a plain book.
Harry opened the bottom drawer and expected to have to scrimmage around for it. Thankfully, the drawer contained only one book, one he would have dismissed had Fawkes not given him its description. Harry placed both the journal and the letter in his pocket.
Steady yourself.
Fawkes flew to Harry and settled down on his shoulder once more. In a flash of flames, Harry, Fawkes, Hedgwig and his trunk disappeared. The experience was like nothing Harry had ever imagined. It was as if he was being covered by a warm, soothing blanket while hurtling at two hundred miles an hour; it was so unsettling that Harry realised why Dumbledore hardly ever used it as a viable method of transportation.
They appeared, finally, in a place of such stunning beauty that Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. They were in what appeared to be a valley plain alive with dense vegetation. Towering trees surrounded him and formed a ceiling for as far as he could see. Amongst the harmony of chirping birds, Harry could hear the trickling of water. His eyes snapped to the right where he found a small stream, no wider than Privet Drive, meandering its way past him and into the distance. He turned to Fawkes; still in awe of the place they appeared in and asked him where they were.
We are in a sacred place that belongs to us, the phoenix race. A phoenix lives here until they mate with another phoenix or, in rare circumstances, bond with a human. You are the only human to have come here, in light of your circumstances. We will meet with the Elder and send you to another time where you can study and defeat the Dark Lord
"Are you going to come with me, Fawkes?"
No young master, I am still bound by my link to Albus Slowly, over a great length of time, the link may fade, but I will never again bond to another human. You will be accompanied by my sister Flame. She was chosen to bond with you and found you worthy.
As soon as he uttered those words, another phoenix appeared in flash of blue flames, a phoenix was very different to Fawkes. It had a light blue peak and a body of a wonderful marine blue. Its feathers caught the sunlight and sparkled.
"Why is Flame not gold and red?" asked Harry as he admired the new phoenix.
The different colours of the phoenix race correspond to the different colours of fire young master. Each phoenix lays an egg of a different colour. No two phoenixesshare the same colour.
Flame hovered down so that she was at the same level as Harry's face, and looked him in the eye. Harry felt his body go warm, and once again felt a presence inside his head. As quickly as it began, Flame broke eye contact and settled on Harry's other shoulder. Harry felt a tingle pass through his body. Craning his neck, he glanced up at Flame and noticed a lightning bolt scar on her forehead.
"How?" gasped Harry.
When a phoenix bonds with a human, the human gains something from the phoenix and vice versa. You got your coloured hair from Flame and she received the white lightning bolt scar on the top of her head.
"What hair?" He conjured a mirror and looked at it. His hair had a blue streak through it, which Harry thought looked good despite the oddness of the idea.
"Oh! Thank you, Flame," said Harry, turning to admire Flame once more.
You are quite welcome, Harry.
While Flame's voice was just as ethereal as Fawkes', it was perceptibly higher, enough for Harry to conclude that Fawkes was a male.
It's time for both of you to leave young master. I will summon the Elder to perform the ceremony.
Fawkes disappeared for a few moments, before reappearing with another phoenix, much larger than the either Fawkes or Flame, with a plumage of brilliant green feathers. Fawkes asked Harry to ready himself and opened his mouth along with the elder phoenix. They began trilling a low, solemn tune that filled Harry with hope and excitement.
Harry wrapped one arm around his trunk and grabbed Hedwig's cage with the other, while Flame settled on his shoulder. As the phoenixes continued to sing, Harry began to glow.
Good luck, young master. We will not see each other again.
As the last syllable died away, he was engulfed in a ball of blue flame and he entered the darkness, or the light.
AN: Wow, so a lot of changes in the end. Both Master Slytherin and I agreed to write Tonks out amongst other things. I'll be trying to bring a lot of the scenes at the top of chapters towards Harry's perspective and add to them. There are a few characters I wanted to know a lot more about, so I'm going to take this opportunity to develop them. Until next chapter...