A/N: As of Today, I do not own the Characters or anything that Pertains to Harry Potter. that belongs to JK Rowling and her mind. I do however own the plot! Please Review and no flames. Have a good Day and enjoy. :)

It was their ever present reach for the sky, as if they weren't getting enough air, choking on what little life they had left. Orange flickers of fingers arched; snapped, clawed; going upwards into sky, stars. They sucked down cool oxygen, allowing it to give them life, breath.

This breath came in forms of crackles, spits, hisses and pops. An inferno of life, of destruction entered upon the Earth, spreading; growing ever changing the landscape.

She watched the flames in harsh stone bricks that were in front of her, allowing her to feel the heat, but be protected from it. She had been in this place before, in this expansive room; scattered with books, research, potions.

She couldn't remember if she was a servant here, a prisoner, or came in free will and mind. It felt like home; yet not. It was a refuge, with its spooky stone walls and cherry oak floors, or was it a prison?

Green flecked eyes looked up above the hissing enigma confined to its box, aching to get out. She caught sight of the Coat of Arms on the wall; a crest of a snake like creature with flames coming from its snout, slithered across black metal. It encompassed the entire shield, surrounding it, as letters in Emerald green were written in Latin across it. There were symbols that she couldn't quite read; eyes blurry and dry from staring into the wall of scalding dancing claws that warmed her feet.

The harsh creaking of solid oak reached into the back of her mind and pulled her closer to the forefront. The sound of boots, or heels; clicking on the cheery floor made her tense. A chill suddenly penetrated her warmth; causing her gaze to much leave the angry dragon in search of its owner.

She couldn't see who it was, just that they stood still. A feeling of eyes piercing into her soul, almost as if pulling it out of her; had the slender back that belonged to her frame pressing into the big plush armchair she was seated in.

It was the voice, rough; battle hardened, old. The smooth way it drawled over the air, both cold yet igniting. Familiar to her own heartbeat, yet distant in her mind.

"How long? How long Ginny Weasely, do I have to call for you? When you awaken this time, do find me. I crave you. I can't keep coming this way, from afar…my soul can't handle much more."

Ginny flinched. What was this being speaking of? How many times had she come here?

"I don't know who you are! How am I supposed to find you, if I don't know your name? Is this a dream?"

The person chuckled. "My real name will be revealed in time. Until then, I am simply Phantom. Ginny, listen for my voice…it is so close to what you would remember. Dreams, visions, their all the same. Rest well, Love."

"But-" a frustrated sound escaped the young woman's throat, just as hot warm flames burst from their prison. They consumed the room around them in glee, before turning flickering hands to the now terrified witch in her armchair.

Before a scream could escape young lips, Ginny Weasely was consumed in a phoenix fire…