Phoenix Tears Rising

An Alternate Year Six Book

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters associated with his world belong to JK Rowling. No financial gain is being made from this story – only hours of enjoyment.

A/N: Harry is beginning to think of himself as 'Tristian' so I'll be using that name more often to make it less confusing.

Chapter Fourteen. Dangerous Retribution

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 14th December 1060 AD: 11:23am

Tristian thumbed the marker that Godric had left in his mother's journal. It had become apparent that Godric had been waiting for a sign that Tristian had read more from his mother's personal book. However, Tristian was not sure if he possessed the will power and courage to look.

Even now, while he was lunging on his belly on his bed with Sidonius hissing nearby, his mother's first entry still haunted him. It was tempting to keep the journal closed and locked away; never to be read. Somehow not knowing Lily seemed better than reading her words.

"Godric is not going to let up until you give him an indication that you have looked through that book," Sidonius said looking up from his curled position in annoyance. "And the sooner I can get to sleep."

Tristian sighed and flipped the book open with a thud earning himself a glare and a flickered tongue from Sidonius.

'Harry has learned another phrase today. I'm sure it is James' doing. Now my son describes everything as 'yicky pooey': from this morning's porridge to Sirius' new outlandish shirt to his frequent and regular deposits in his nappy.

My little man has also spent his morning wooing a very stern Minerva McGonagall, who despite the recent turn of the war, was in danger of smiling behind her cup of tea. Harry wasn't impressed that our dearly beloved Head of Gryffindor house would not play 'snitch' with him. He however forgot a moment later when Remus, affectionately known as 'Moo-moo', turned up (this did put a smile on Minerva's face).

And this evening James' learned that it was one unwise to rough up a baby before bed time and two it is dangerous to let Harry anywhere near his hair when excitable. I enclosed a photo – too good of an opportunity to miss.

How I love my men!

Lily Potter.'

Tristian laughed and let his eyes linger over his mother's handwriting for a little longer. He hadn't noticed a piece of paper over with a caption of: 'Harry and James bonding. Serves James right,' in his mother's script.

Slowly Tristian flipped the photo over and couldn't help but laugh. James was kneeling down at Harry's level, his full head of messy hair an easy target for the baby. The baby had two fists full of hair and was yanking mercilessly while his face became redder and redder by the moment. James' big hands cover the baby's obviously trying to pry him off – but baby Harry was determined not to let go. Tristian wiped away the tears of laughter: James was clearly it a little bit of pain but seemed too proud to show it as he grimaced at the camera.

Tristian took the photo and placed it standing by his one remaining candle holder he had destroyed while practicing controlling his magic.

It was another free day, and like Tristian Silas and Axcel had seemed subdued to how they treated their alienated brother.

"I'm going for a walk," Tristian murmured grabbing a warm cloak before heading to the door. Sidonius didn't even open a sleepy eye in response. Tristian shrugged and closed his door firmly behind him.

Even though it was a free-day the corridors of the castle were relatively empty. Some students had already started to leave to spend the Winter Solstice with family. Tristian wandered down the front stairs and lingered by the entrance and looked over the courtyard.

It was bitterly cold even where Tristian was standing. But still it was tempting to leave the stone walls even for a little while. The grounds themselves were shrouded in mist and snow; it had snowed again the previous night.

Tristian stepped into the snow encrusted courtyard and trudge a path towards the end. It was the coldest winter Tristian could recall from his experiences at Hogwarts. Cold, windy, but very beautiful all the same.

Trsitian figured that because no one else would be crazy enough to go walking, that he was quite safe from being discovered. He slipped through the archway and straight away made a bee – line for the lake.

Some may have found it depressing how still everything seemed. However, Tristian was content to sit by the lake and day dream. Tristian didn't know for how long he had been sitting in the one place but he had found he had closed his eyes and dozed. While he had drifted off it had started snowing again and a mist had enveloped him.

"Great," Tristian muttered. "I suppose I should get back then."

Tristian stood and shook the snow from his long robes and dusted the top of his head. He hadn't taken two steps back to the castle when he heard something drifting on the wind. He froze in place and listened again. It sounded strangely like a voice.

"Hello?" Tristian called feeling stupid. "Anyone there?"

"Help me," came echoing reply. "Help me."

"Where are you?" Tristian replied feeling decidedly uneasy.

"Here!"

"Where?" Tristian cried turning in a three sixty, he couldn't see any evidence of anyone nearby. "I can't see you!"

"I am here."

"Where?" Tristian took a few steps to where he thought the voice had originated from.

"Here… I'm right here." The voice suddenly seemed in a different direction. For a brief moment Tristian followed the sound.

Intuition told Tristian something was not right, instead of his surroundings becoming easier to see Tristian found that the fog around him seemed to have thickened until he couldn't see his own hand in front of his face.

It was the choked laughter however that called the bluff. "Axcel? Silas?" Tristian ventured. "Okay, you got me…"

A shrill shriek to Tristian's left interrupted his spiel, for a moment there was silence then… "Axcel?" It was Silas' voice, Tristian was certain, he froze before moving towards the sound of voices.

"Axcel… Silas… this isn't fun…" Tristian's voice caught in his throat. Something was behind him and this something was breathing rather heavily down his neck. Goose bump rose on Tristian's back as he stumbled forward. "Silas?"

This time Silas replied. "Trist, get out of here. Axcel is sure we aren't alone."

"Look what I have here," a voice whispered by Tristian's ear. "Three Hogwarts students… important students to be exact."

Every millilitre of Tristian's blood froze. The voice was horrifyingly similar to what he had heard before, he recognised it instantly. His breath caught in his throat as he spun on his heals but he was wretched around by a strong hand.

Another hand clamped down on Tristian's mouth to prevent him from screaming. However an arm snaked around his middle did not stop him from stamping on his assailant's foot. Tristian's effort earned him an annoyed growl and angry fingers clawing his cold belly.

"Tristian?"

"Tristian are you okay?"

It became clear to Tristian that neither of his brother's knew who or for that matter what was in the fog with them. He screamed into his attacker's hand only to find his voice effectively muffled. That was when he remembered something he had done once before to Dudley and his goons when they had tried to suffocate him with their hands back in primary school.

Fortunately for Tristian he did have a bit of a sniffle. He took the deepest breath he could under the horrid circumstances and blew his nose over the hand clamped over his mouth. As predicted the assailant automatically drew back in disgust at the snot and momentarily realised Tristian.

"Malic. Run. Get. Help!" Tristian managed to gasp darting to the side only to find Malic had recovered from his snot inflicted hand quicker than he had anticipated. The werewolf grabbed him again and hurled Tristian to his feet.

Instead of restraining Tristian in much the same fashion as last time, Malic used his arms around Tristian's middle and pulled him tightly to his chest. "Let go…" Tristian protested loudly, screaming louder than the situation warranted hoping to gain some attention from the castle.

For all his efforts Tristian was dragged backwards in Malic's vice like grip. The werewolf was taking not chances this time. His grip became tighter and tighter until Tristian was sure that his eye balls would fall from their sockets.

Gasping for breath, Tristian was vaguely aware of one of his brother's firing curses at them and the fog slowly starting to thin. At one point Tristian slipped from Malic only to be wretched back to his feet roughly. That was when he realised that Malic had blindly led them onto the icy surface of the lake.

Grimacing from pain Tristian decided to throw all caution to the wind. Malic was dragging him further away from the aid of his remaining brother and further towards the apparition wards. Tristian knew that once Malic had him beyond the wards he would be dead in all sense of the word. His escape if it was ever to come had to be done quickly.

Without thinking of the consequences of his action Tristian struggled to get a hold of Malic with his hands before pulsing out as much heat energy as he could between them. It was with a sense of satisfaction that Malic howled in pain and let Tristian slide from his grip. It was rather sickening however for Tristian to realise that it was burning flesh that had his senses ensnared.

Knowing that Malic would not be long in attacking him again, Tristian pushed himself away from the maddened werewolf.

Fortunately for Tristian, Malic was now concerned with the melting ice. Once more Tristian had used too much magical energy to meet his ends. A loud crack rent the air in two, both werewolf and boy realised the danger.

Malic wisely took the opportunity to make his escape, but Tristian still very warm from performing his spell from skin to skin was not so fortunate.

Another crack split the air and before Tristian could effectively stand the ice beneath him gave away. He gave a shout as he fell backwards smacking his head against the melting ice and falling stunned into the freezing water.

The water hit Tristian like a thousand miniature steel nails driving into his vulnerable flesh. His hearing was deadened; his sight blackened and body slack. Some part of his mind was aware he was drowning and his body was not fighting. His mouth made feeble movements like a fish gasping for air. The cold set in, his bones and muscles seemed to have collapsed, his mind slipped before he shook himself with renewed energy.

Tristian opened his eyes and looked around at the murky depths that could very well be his grave. With an almighty effort he lifted his hand to touch the ice above his head but his fingers found nothing. He glanced underneath him and that too looked like the surface.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head. He was trapped in his cold watery prison.

'

'

'

Godric and Salazar were arguing over their students' performances, which was customary for a free day morning, when Silas hurtled into the room with a whirlwind of energy. Godric glanced up in concern as Silas stared at both of the founders wide eyed. It was unusual to see Salazar's well cultured son anything less of cool, calm and collected.

"Silas," Salazar acknowledged dryly, not even looking in his son's direction.

Godric watched as Silas mentally pulled himself together. "Malic, on the grounds… has Tristian."

Salazar's head shot up his stern eyes appraising his son before merely nodding. "Stay," the snake founder commanded before dashing out of the room himself.

After a moment of dreadful anticipation, Godric rushed after his friend and hurtled outside towards the lake.

The first thing Godric notice was Axcel standing on the frozen lake his wand outstretched before him. Godric watched in disbelief as Axcel fell onto his knees, his bare hands skimming the cold ice in desperation. Axcel seemed unaware of his audience; he was kneeling over a great crack in the ice murmuring to himself in shock.

"Axcel what do you think you are doing?" Godric demanded harshly, wrenching his son from the ice and onto his feet.

"Tristian…" Axcel's eyes slid towards the gapping hole in the ice. "… he fell."

Godric's stomach plummeted when he realised what Axcel was telling him. Shrugging off his robe he thrust it at Salazar who was busy reprimanding Silas for following them to the lake despite what he had been told.

"Godric…"

Godric heard no more as he dived willingly into the frozen lake. He forced his eyes to open against the murky iciness and propelled his strong body forward. He knew he didn't have much time to find Tristian and bring him to the surface before it was too late. He also knew that he didn't have much time before he himself had to return to the surface, nor could he loose sight of where he had entered the water.

Forcing his eyes to become used to the frozen underworld Godric regarded his surrounding critically. This part of the lake was deep and if Tristian was not near the surface… then…

Godric shook his head and dived further down resisting the natural urge to bellow Tristian's name. He dived until he thought his lungs would burst and that's when he saw him.

Tristian floated slowly downwards his head lolled backwards and his long inky black hair swayed around him like a haunting halo. His skin seemed translucent in the water and it didn't look like he was breathing.

Godric powered towards his potion born son it seemed like an eternity before his arms wrapped around Tristian's middle hugging him like a favourite yet limp rag doll. With one arm free Godric pushed himself and his unconscious son to the top of the lake. There was no time for him to look for the crack that Tristian had fallen through to make their escape.

Reaching the top of the lake Godric reached palm up to touch the slippery underside of the ice. He then fumbled through his pocket and found his wand. Gasping a simple yet effective blasting spell Godric made a large gapping mouth in the ice. With all his strength Godric pushed Tristian to the surface.

Salazar was already rushing to the man made escape hole, his hands outstretched to pull his son and friend from the water. Godric shook his head when Salazar offered him help. "Tristian…" Godric gasped.

Salazar, lips pursed half dragged the boy from the water. He whipped off his own long fur lined coat and bundled it around the still form of Tristian. He ran his long fingers against the chiselled cold of the boy's cheeks and down into the long lengths of mattered black hair that pooled out onto the ice.

Salazar tilted his ear to rest over Tristian's heart; it was beating sluggishly fluttering like the wings of a dying butterfly. Godric crashed to his knees beside him. "He's alive… barely."

Godric exhaled the breath he was not aware that he had been holding. Salazar grimaced and rested his shaking palms over Tristian's chest. He had seen breath being breathed into a dying girl only once before. He pinched the bridge of Tristian's nose and opened his mouth with a finger to check his airways.

Not at all sure that he was following the correct way to breathe life back into Tristian's lungs, Salazar leaned over and breathed heavily into Tristian's agape mouth. He vaguely remembered Helga, against the victim's chest with the heels of her palms. He continued to work automatically aware that he had an audience of two boys and Godric watching his every move.

Despite Salazar's concerns he wasn't reviving Tristian in the correct manner, he must have done something right. After a couple of terrifying minutes Tristian's body heaved and he gagged. Salazar rolled Tristian to his side as the boy's eyes fluttered open weakly. Tristian gagged again on the water that had made it up from his chest and shivered violently where he lay vulnerable on the ice.

"Thank sweet Merlin," Godric murmured taking Tristian's face in his hands. Tristian shakily glanced up at both his fathers who were gazing at him with great concern.

"Merlin," Axcel whispered to Silas. "We almost killed out own brother."

"We couldn't have predicted that Malic would be here," Silas comforted. "He's not suppose to be able to get through the wards Grandfather set up."

"He nearly died!" Axcel cried anxiously glancing worried to his father who despite his drenched state was kneeling on the ice.

"Emphasis on the nearly," Silas returned firmly handing Godric his cloak, which he had been thrust into his hands by Salazar when the snake founder realised what Godric was up to. "Gryffindors never die when they're supposed to."

Upon hearing his brother's conversation, Tristian choked back a laugh and ended up bringing up more water from his lungs. Godric wrapped his cloak around his broad shoulders and stood looking down on Tristian longingly.

"He's your blood kin," Godric murmured. "You'd better carry him back to the castle."

"You're wet anyway," Salazar returned dryly, picking Tristian up into his arms. He cast a mild warming charm over the boy and clicked his tongue when Tristian weakly protested.

The return back to the castle was a sombre affair. Salazar walked briskly to Tristian's chambers only briefly stopping to ask one of his own students to seek out Lord Slytherin.

He reached Tristian's chamber and kicked open the door impatiently, scaring Ulrich who happened to be looking for Tristian. The healer and personal servant meet the eyes of his master's son and glanced down at Tristian. A moment later however the healer instincts took over, Ulrich bustled forward and motioned Salazar to place Tristian on his bed.

Tristian's eyes blurrily opened as he heard a ripping sound. "Need to get you out of these wet clothes," Ulrich told him curtly. "You should change also milord…" Tristian turned his head to see where Godric was standing on the edge of the room.

"Godric, I think it hardly appropriate that you would concern yourself so much with my kinsman. Thanks are in order for saving his life but…"

"… but I am no longer required," Godric bristled.

"If you are seen…" Salazar let the threat linger on the air.

"Then I won't be," Godric stubbornly snapped stepping into the room and starting a roaring fire with a wave of his hand. "He might look like you he might be pretending to be a Slytherin. But he is just as much as mine as he is yours."

Salazar conceded the point and turned back to help Ulrich strip Tristian of his drenched and cold clothes.

"He has your nose, milord Gryffindor," Silas said from the doorway, where he was standing huddled with his partner in crime. Axcel shifted uneasily and snorted.

Godric glanced over to Tristian and shrugged. "So he has and such a handsome nose at that," he commented pulling out extra clothing for Ulrich to dress Tristian in.

Salazar took them from him with a grimace. "Find yourself a spare blanket, for Merlin's sake."

Silas was already pulling out a blanket for Godric, who took it with a nod of thanks.

Finally warming up and feeling safe. Tristian drifted off back into the black blanket of unconsciousness.