What have I to Fear?
Harry lay on his bed, trying to catch a nap on this midsummer's day. Memories swirled about in his mind, snatches of times all long since past…
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The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches…
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Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you shall resurrect your foe…
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You should have died, Peter! Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!
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Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four…
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Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…
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Try for some remorse, Tom…
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He'll never be gone! Not as long as some remain who are still loyal to him!
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Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it…
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And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not…
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There is no good and evil; there is only power… and those too weak to seek it…
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"Sir… Is this real, or are we just in my mind?"
"Of course this is your mind, Harry, but why should that make this any less real?"
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Harry jolted awake. He looked about wildly, but saw and felt nothing out of the ordinary. He pulled himself to a sitting position, his legs dangling from the edge of the bed, massaging his scalp with a wrinkled hand. "Memories." He sighed.
"Talking to yourself, now? What is the world coming to, that the great Harry Potter has begun to talk to himself?" A teasing voice came from the doorway.
Looking up, Harry saw an elderly lady, white hair tied behind her head in a loose ponytail. A worn blue robe gave her the appearance of one who had aged gracefully, as did the little yellow daisies stuck behind her ears. Warm brown eyes sparkled, finding amusement in even the smallest of things – including her husband of nearly two centuries talking to himself.
He smiled, "Ginny." He tilted his head to one side in a questioning gesture. "What's going on? I thought you were going to visit James and Mary."
Ginny shook her head. "Mary's fallen ill with the dragon pox. James doesn't think she'll make it."
Tears came to Harry's eyes. "I knew my power would be a curse, giving me long life beyond that of an ordinary wizard, but I don't think I could handle having to bury James, or Albus, or Lily." He ran a hand through his long white beard. Little salty droplets fell into his beard, and a few trickled down his nose.
He drifted into his thoughts a moment, and then shook himself, coming to his feet. "There's nothing I can do, and sitting here won't help me."
Ginny nodded sagely. "No, sitting on your hands will help no one." The somber demeanor was completely ruined by her eyes, sparkling with mischief, as it had once been seen in her – late – elder brother George.
Harry caught the eye-trick and groaned. "If you're trying to remind me about that prank James and Albus pulled on me at Lily's wedding –"
"Oh, no." Ginny interrupted him. "Why would I remind you of the sight you made, being Stuck to the chair, with your hands Stuck to its seat – "
"It was the back, I tell you, the back of the chair!"
"Well, it sure looked like the seat."
Harry was saved from having to make a retort to this by an unexpected arrival. A flash of fire and a burst of warming song heralded the coming of a phoenix – and not just any phoenix.
"Fawkes?" Harry's voice trembled as much as the hand he extended to pat the firebird. "What brings you here?"
One of Fawkes' intelligent black eyes stared into Harry's green. Images poured through the link, images of a horrible nature.
Beautiful maidens, formed by torture into black-hearted monsters…
Great trees, withered into nothingness…
A one-handed man, succumbing to wounds a monstrous creature gave him…
A mighty volcano, spewing lava and ash…
A mighty tower, an eye wreathed in flame, forged in the fires of madness and malice…
A mountain, its slopes covered in the bodies of great wolves, bearded folk, fair people, mortal men, and too many to be counted…
And the last image horrified him. A ring with the power to manipulate the intent of its bearer – the bearer entrusted with the ring's destruction. The evil emanating from the ring shook Harry, bringing him back to the world of Man.
"What must I do?" Harry whispered.
A new set of images flooded his mind, these only slightly better than the last.
One showed Fawkes taking Harry to a different world – a different dimension – and standing before a mighty being called Manwë. Manwë gives Harry a new name – Olórin – and the so-named Dreamweaver sets out for a place called Middle-Earth. The others depicted other names - Gandalf, Mithrandir, Icanûs, Tharkûn, Baleygr, Fimbulthul – and the stories attached to them.
Harry understood. He was to leave, to leave his beloved wife, his brother, his sister, his children, his grandchildren…
Fawkes trilled, giving Harry more information. No time will pass for them while you are in Middle-Earth, he said. You will be a mentor, a counselor, a teacher, and a warrior, in a place whose need is great.
Harry nodded and put a hand on Fawkes' back. "When you're ready, Fawkes."
Flame erupted from the great phoenix's feathers, and Harry felt the very fabric of the world twist around him. He felt the glasses stripped from his nose, and all his clothing from his body.
He fell to his knees, naked and more than a little embarrassed, on a marble floor.
A booming voice surrounded him. "Harry Potter, son of James, son of Charlus. We have a task for you…"