Disclaimer: I really, really wish it was mine, but it's not.

Chapter Two: The Phoenix Crest

Harry Potter was sitting on an old armchair in a room covered in leather-bound books. Hunched forward, face in hands, he was thinking of everything and nothing all at once. Memories flitted through his head randomly, barely pausing long enough for him to grasp. Faces, friends, laughter…death. And laying thick and heavy over it all was a dark blanket of nothingness. A quiet hoot brought him out of his melancholy, and he blinked and looked wearily at the snowy white owl perched on the back of a rickety chair just a few feet away. He sighed. "It's just us, now, Hedwig." The owl cooed softly and spread her great wings to flutter over to his lap. As Harry gently stroked her head, he forced his thoughts forward instead of back. "What do I do now?" he whispered.

A couple of hours later found Harry curled up on the threadbare couch under a scratchy blanket, moaning in his sleep. Hedwig was perched on the chair back, once again, watching her familiar with large, amber eyes. She tilted her head as Harry gasped and clutched the blanket in his fist, shaking as tears slid from beneath his clenched eyelids. Swiveling her head around, she hooted at the open door to the kitchen. An answering chirp floated forward, calm and reassuring, as a large red and gold bird soared into the room. Fawkes, the phoenix, quietly trilled out a song until Harry's form slowly relaxed.

Suddenly Harry's eyes snapped open and he sat up so quickly his head hurt. "Sirius!" he cried. "Of course…he was the only one who…all the others…poison, cursed…but no body…no one really knows how it works…" Harry blinked owlishly at the blurry forms of Hedwig and Fawkes, both of their heads tilted to the side in curiosity. Fumbling on the scratched wooden side table for his glasses, Harry began to mutter under his breath again, "I suppose it's worth a try. If it fails…then that's it." Glasses finally perched on his nose, Harry nodded with finality. "That's it," he whispered.

Hair sticking up in all directions, Harry stumbled off the couch and began making his way through the small house. After slipping on his shoes and pulling a traveling cloak over his shoulders, he stood in the center of the room, one hand absentmindedly flattening his hair as he stared blankly at a wall, lost in thought. After a moment he seemed to come to a decision and whirled around to open a hidden passage behind one of the many bookcases in the room. He clambered up a narrow wooden staircase and hesitated outside a closed door.

Slowly and gently he turned the doorknob and pushed the creaking door open. Pausing on the threshold of the bedroom, he peered in at the dusty furniture, taking note of the unmade bed and black robes hanging in the open closet. Feeling horribly like an intruder, Harry plucked up his courage and strode swiftly to the desk in the far corner. After pushing a number of books aside, he shuffled through numerous piles of parchment until he found the three sheets he was looking for. Glancing over it again, he nodded to himself and rolled them up into a tight scroll which he placed in an inner pocket of his traveling cloak. Harry paused to glance around the stifling room one more time, but the air felt so heavy and oppressive, he quickly left, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Fawkes and Hedwig were still perched in the sitting room when Harry strode through. Once he was satisfied he had everything, namely his wand and the scroll, he addressed the birds. "There's something I need to do," he said, "and I'm not sure if I'll be returning." Hedwig squawked and ruffled her feathers while Fawkes looked at him piercingly. Guilt began to creep in, but Harry suppressed it. He'd been feeling too much of that lately. "You two have been great," he said, stroking their feathers. "Thank you." Hedwig nipped his finger affectionately as Fawkes butted his head and chirped.

Harry grabbed a blank piece of parchment and scrawled a quick note.

Dear Professor McGonagall,

Thank you for everything you have done for me. Please take care of Hedwig and Fawkes while I'm gone. I'm off to start the next great adventure.

Sincerely,

Harry James Potter

Harry rolled up the parchment and fastened it to Hedwig's leg. He kissed the top of her head and said, "I want you both to go to Professor McGonagall. Take care of her for me."

With a hoot and a trill, both birds reluctantly rose in the air and glided out the window. Harry walked outside and watched until he could no longer see them and a heaviness settled on his already weary heart. With one last glance at the shabby house on Spinner's End, Harry disapparated with a quiet pop.

After apparating into the Ministry, it took Harry a moment to get oriented. Once he was satisfied his body was intact and he hadn't splinched himself, he made his way through the deserted building and onto the lift. He pressed the number nine button and waited patiently as he descended into the bowels of the Ministry. When it ground to a halt, a cool female voice stated, "Department of Mysteries," and the golden grilles opened to a long, dark corridor with a plain black door set at the end. Harry stepped out and casually strolled down the bare hallway, passing a flight of stairs that led down to the dungeons and the courtroom where he had once been interrogated by the Wizengamot. He continued on down to the door and opened it without hesitation.

Harry walked into the frustrating circular room of doors that was lit by blue torches. Rather than close the door behind him and allow the room to spin and cause disorientation, he left it open and hoped that would keep the room still. As he walked across the dark room, his footsteps echoed all around him and his reflection shimmered on the floor along with the torches, making it look for all the world as if he were walking on water.

When he reached the far side of the chamber, he opened the first door he came to and walked into a familiar glittering room. The ticking of many unsynchronized clocks washed over him, and this time around he took a moment to peruse the shelves, glancing half-heartedly at the different clocks and books scattered throughout the room. On one wall there was a case that contained a number of time-turners. Each looked the same as the next and all looked like the one Hermione had used so many years ago. All, that is, except for one that caught his eye.

Harry opened the glass case and carefully reached for the odd time-turner. A normal time-turner, if such a thing could be called normal, is a small, plain hourglass filled with sparkling sand. The object that caught Harry's eye was a small hourglass, but that was where the resemblance stopped. The time-turner was empty of sand and it had a strange crest that caused Harry to pause in surprise – a phoenix holding a snake in its beak and a lightning bolt in its talons. When he gingerly lifted it off the shelf, the time-turner magically filled itself with tiny emerald crystals that sparkled and shone, reflecting green light on his wrist.

Harry had no doubt in his mind that this time-turner was meant for him, but he was unsure of what he was supposed to do with it. How far back was he supposed to go? What was he supposed to accomplish? He swallowed nervously as he studied the little hourglass before tentatively turning it over once to see what would happen. Harry looked around as nothing out of the ordinary appeared to have occurred. He glanced at the clocks, but they still said ten minutes after three. It hadn't worked.

Letting out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, Harry was not sure if he was disappointed or relieved. Regardless of how he felt, there was no point in worrying about it now. It obviously didn't work, so he slipped the silver chain around his neck and stepped through a side door. The next room he entered contained a tank that Harry knew to be filled with brains. It had disturbed him a couple of years ago when the brains had latched themselves to Ron, so he hurried through the room, keeping his distance from them. There was a door on either side of the tank, so Harry chose the door on the right.

Entering the new room, Harry began to feel increasingly nervous. This was it. Was he sure he wanted to do this? Yes, he told himself, I'm sure. This is my last chance to maybe save someone. And if I die, then I die and I get to see everyone again. Just like last time, as he descended to the center of the amphitheater, Harry was entranced, unable to remove his eyes from the dais. The tattered black veil hanging from the crumbling archway was still fluttering gently. As he approached, he withdrew the scroll from his robes and gently set it on the first step of the dais. He hoped someone would find it soon and make use of the valuable information in it, finishing the equations and figuring out the last ingredients. Leaving this near break-through was to be his last good deed to the wizarding world.

Harry climbed the steps of the dais and stood, curiously, before the veil. Faint, indiscernible whispers reached his ears and he could almost, almost, recognize Sirius' voice among them. The dark curtain swayed gently, but seemed to be rippling a little more than before. As Harry gazed at it, he could feel a tension in the air that felt like some sort of barely suppressed power straining to break free. The room seemed to be crackling with energy and the veil quivered more violently. He took a step closer and suddenly the veil whipped back as if blowing in a gale. A thick, cool wind blew from the arch, and Harry's cloak flapped behind him. His hair, blown back off his forehead, revealed the infamous lightning bolt scar, and when he lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, Harry Potter looked every inch the hero he was.

Clenching his wand, Harry took a deep breath and marched forward. When he crossed under the arch, the green crystals in his time-turner began to trickle down, corrupting time, twisting fate, and rewriting all that was written. When the last corner of Harry's cloak passed through the veil, the wind died down and the veil fluttered back in place, swaying innocently, the only motion in an empty room.