Chapter 14 – Return of the Phoenix

Memories swam in blurs and flashes before Harry's eyes. He ignored them, pushing each aside and disregarding it as he searched for the information he wanted. Finally his vision settled on what he had been seeking – a piece of crumpled parchment. He latched onto it with his mind so he could read what the curly handwriting said:

P.M. Tenuit

42 Rowan Crescent.

Harry ended the spell and was surprised, as always, to find himself standing in a tumbledown cottage facing Professor Tenuit.

"Did you find it?" the old wizard asked Harry.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "42 Rowan Crescent, right?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Tenuit, clapping his hands once in celebration. "Well done, Harry. Not bad at all."

"How much resistance were you putting up?" Harry asked, pushing back his hair as he was starting to sweat a little from the effort of performing Legilimency.

"About half of what I could do, I suppose," Tenuit replied. "But I wouldn't worry; you'll get there in no time." This was Harry's sixth Occlumency and Legilimency lesson with professor Tenuit, and he was getting pretty good. "Ready to try again?" Professor Tenuit had prepared several pieces of information and transferred them to memory, such as former residences and people's birthdays, for example. When instructed, Harry would perform Legilimency to locate the information in Tenuit's mind.

"Yeah, let's go again." Harry said, readying himself.

"Okay," Tenuit replied. "Whose birthday is January sixteenth? Whenever you're ready." Harry took a deep breath and focussed his mind. He had been practising the magic both non-verbally and without the requisite wand movements. Tenuit had been astonished at first, though had assured Harry it was not unheard of, and reminded him that Lord Voldemort could perform Legilimency without a wand.

Harry found that sifting through memories was becoming increasingly easy every time he did it, so was ensuring he practise it as often as possible. He searched again through Tenuit's thoughts and memories, often feeling uncomfortable when he came across the professor's dead wife, Ingrid. Harry saw the date January sixteenth and held it in focus with his mind, though he almost lost it when a photograph flew through his vision, containing lots of people who were smiling and waving. He had seen that picture before, he knew it. Why was it in Tenuit's memory? Harry lifted the spell.

"January sixteenth, Cynthia Tobbell," he said, panting a little as he tried to calm his racing heart. The name was familiar, but he couldn't think where he'd heard it before. His thoughts were on the photograph. "S-sir," Harry stuttered over Tenuit's words of praise, "that photograph. That… was that… what was it?" Harry thought he knew what the picture was, but he still couldn't conceive why his parents' wedding photograph with Sirius smiling in the background was buried in Tenuit's memory.

"You're right, Harry," Tenuit sighed. "That photograph was of your parents' wedding."

"But… why? How?" Harry stammered. He didn't like it when pictures of his dead parents and friends were thrust upon him unexpectedly – Moody had done that two years ago with the photograph of the original members of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Cynthia Tobbell," Tenuit said. Harry was exasperated, he knew the birthday question already! Why wasn't Tenuit answering the question about his parents? "Don't you recognise the name?"

"Yes," Harry said, "but…" Then it hit him. Cynthia Tobbell had become Cynthia Evans, his Aunt Petunia's deceased mother. "You knew my grandmother?" Harry asked, completely confused.

"Ingrid did," Tenuit explained. He conjured two comfy armchairs not unlike the chairs Dumbledore had conjured for himself on occasions, and invited Harry to sit with him. "Ingrid was a Muggle, Harry. I met her when I worked in the Muggle Liaison office at the Ministry. Cynthia and she had been best friends for many years already when Ingrid and I married. They had been equally delighted to discover that Lily was a witch, because then they both had magic in the family. Of course, Cynthia died before the wedding, but Ingrid went. She had initially been disappointed – both women hoped that Lily would marry our son, Reuben, and unite our families, but of course Lily fell in love with your father. Reuben died shortly before they did." Tenuit sighed heavily. "Forgive me for not mentioning it before, Harry, but I wasn't sure how to breach the subject." Harry glanced at Tenuit, who did look sorry, not to mention a little miserable.

"It's okay," Harry said, his voice sounding hollow and distant. The silence they now sat in was thick and tense, rather than the comfortable atmosphere to which the two wizards had become accustomed when in each other's company. "Erm," Harry said uncertainly, trying to alleviate some tension. "Did your son, did Reuben ever get married?"

"No, Harry," Tenuit smiled. They sat in an uneasy silence for several more minutes. Harry, yet again, was brooding on how much destruction one being could cause, how many lives he could ruin. He stood suddenly, determination pulsing through him like fire.

"Right," he said abruptly. "Let's go again, shall we?"

Harry returned to Grimmauld Place nearly an hour later than he had anticipated. Hermione ran straight to him. "Harry, where have you been? You said you'd be back ages ago!"

"Sorry," Harry said, sinking into the nearest chair; his legs were quivering uncomfortably; he felt exhausted.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, suddenly anxious.

"Fine," Harry assured her, "just a bit worn out. I've been working hard." Hermione nodded in understanding. "Hey, where's Ron?" Harry asked, guessing that Ron was out because the house seemed far too quiet for his best friend's presence.

"He's gone to look at some more goblets," Hermione said, handing Harry a mug of her exquisite hot chocolate. "Just one more Horcrux to find," she said cheerfully. Harry groaned into his steaming mug. "And the Felix Felicis potion is maturing now, we don't need to add anything to it until April." Harry, only half listening, closed his eyes and let his head roll back to rest on the top of the chair. "Harry, are you sure you're alright?" Hermione persisted. "There's another Order meeting in a couple of hours. Maybe you should go get some rest." Harry nodded and heaved his tired body upstairs to bed. He barely had time to remove his glasses before falling asleep.

He awoke about ninety minutes later to Ron handing him a tray with tea and toast on it. "Hermione said eat it, so just eat it, okay?" Ron said, grinning. Harry shoved his glasses back on – he had fallen asleep fully clothed on top of the covers. He turned to the tray and brought the cup of tea to his lips. "Order meeting, ten minutes." Ron said. "You coming?" Harry nodded silently. His head was still aching from the extra effort he had put into his Legilimency session that morning. He wasn't looking forward to the Order meeting, but felt he really ought to attend. "Right, then," Ron said, heading back over to the door. "See you down there." Harry watched Ron leave, and then turned his attention back to the tea and toast. He was suddenly hungry, and he knew he could not eat again until after the meeting had finished.

Nearly quarter of an hour later, Harry ambled into the dusty dining room to find several members of the Order already assembled. There seemed to be more excitement in the room than usual, and Harry wondered what had happened. He didn't have to wait too long to find out. All heads turned to Harry as his presence was realized, and Molly Weasley rushed straight to him and hugged him tight. Harry was a little unnerved to say the least. "Come with me, Harry, we'll join the meeting in a moment," she said. Casting a very confused look towards Ron and Hermione, who both shrugged, Harry allowed himself to be pulled by Mrs Weasley into the adjacent room. "How are you, Harry dear?" she asked, having shut the door behind her.

"Not bad," Harry replied. "What's up?"

"It's to do with Dumbledore's will, Harry," Molly said gently. Harry tried not to look too surprised. "There were some complications with it, apparently, though if you ask me the Ministry were just trying to make things difficult… but anyway, it's all been sorted out now. He left you quite a lot, Harry," Mrs Weasley smiled comfortingly. Harry didn't notice that his jaw had dropped in amazement.

"Me?" he asked incredulously. Molly laughed.

"Yes, you, dear. He only has one living relative, his brother Aberforth. Though if I'm honest, I think he considered you to be family, perhaps even more so than… well, anyway," she muttered, still smiling, but now with a bit of a sad look in her eyes. Harry was trying desperately not to fidget. Dumbledore had left him something? Not money, surely, Dumbledore had known that Harry had more than enough of that. Only politeness kept Harry's inquisition at bay while he waited a bit impatiently for Mrs Weasley to get to the point. She reached to a pocket on the inside of her robes and withdrew a smooth, rectangular envelope. She handed it to him with the words, "No-one else could open this. I thought you might want to read it on your own before people start bombarding you with questions." Harry peered blankly down at the envelope. In familiar, slanted handwriting, the words Harry Potter had been written in smart purple ink. Harry numbly reached out and took the envelope in his hands. He turned it over and lifted the seal without hesitation. "I'll leave you to it, dear," Molly said, and she retreated from the room to join the rest of the Order.

Harry's fingers were trembling slightly as he took two sheets of lightweight parchment from the envelope and unfolded them. Each page was covered with neat purple lines of Dumbledore's handwriting. Harry's heart skipped a beat as he began to read.

Dear Harry,

I'm very sorry that you are reading this, as it means I am no longer among the living. I wished that I could have been around to support you to the end, but there must come a time for all of us. However, I hope that even now I may be able to offer you help and guidance.

Before I detail methods of my intended assistance, I will first explain to you my last will and testimony. The gold that I had accumulated is not substantial, yet what remains has been assigned to good causes. I confess that I believed you to have enough funding to support you quite comfortably, and I know you will not be disappointed to learn you have not inherited any of my assets. There is, however, a small property of little value to anyone but myself, yet anticipating your current situation, I would assume that you would be able to make good use of it. Lilac Cottage is situated in the charming town of Norby in the Shetland Isles. It is where I resided when not at my first home: Hogwarts castle. You will, perhaps, find it a bit basic, but comfortable nonetheless. You are now the legal owner of both Lilac Cottage and the home of your godfather.

Furthermore, when I re-wrote my will fairly recently, Fawkes expressed a wish for you to be his new master when I passed away. Simply call for him when you need him; I'm sure you'll find in Fawkes a loyal and helpful pet and friend.

Finally, then, to the means by which I might assist you in your terrible quest. My brother, Aberforth, has consented to answer any questions you may have and help you when he can. Similarly, you will find that a portrait of me has now appeared in the head teacher's office at Hogwarts. This is not me, merely a reflection, if you will, of my persona in life. Nevertheless, if you require my opinion on any subject matter, I am sure my framed shadow will be more than happy to oblige you. Lastly, I leave to you my pensieve. You will undoubtedly find it useful in your mission, and I have left therein the memories we viewed together should you wish to revisit them.

All that remains for me to do is wish you the very best of luck, and remind you that help will always be given to those who ask for it. I am eternally glad to have had the privilege of knowing you, Harry.

Your eternal servant, Albus Dumbledore.

Harry read the letter through twice, torn internally by the upsurge of grief at reliving his mentor's death once again, and utter elation at his inheritance of Dumbledore's house, his phoenix, and his pensieve. Vaguely aware that the meeting would have started without him, Harry stowed the letter in his pocket for later perusal, wiped dry his eyes (which, to Harry's surprise, seemed to have become particularly moist) and allowed his legs to lead him back into the dining room.

Once again, all heads turned to Harry as he entered, but he ignored them and squashed himself in between Hermione and George. "What did I miss?" he whispered to Hermione.

"Moody was just telling us about Snape trying to get into Hogwarts last week," she whispered back. "Where've you been?"

"I'll explain later," Harry replied, absent-mindedly playing with the locket around his neck. His thoughts were still on the letter, but he was dimly aware that Moody was talking once again about the diminishing numbers of Healers at St Mungo's.

"Some of them have mysteriously disappeared, some have been found dead, and the rest of them are, understandably, reluctant to even go into work," Moody growled. He then explained that the Order were working to establish many 'shelters', where injured witches and wizards could go to be treated by those who'd been training with Betina Briarthorn, seeing as staff at St Mungo's were rapidly depleting. The Ministry was tying to organise something similar, but it was common assumption that there were Death Eater spies working at the Ministry. Therefore Voldemort would soon be aware of the Ministry organised healing shelters, yet he would not know about the Order shelters. "If anyone has any suggestions, please see either myself or Miss Briarthorn." Taking a quick breath, Moody continued loudly, "Now. You may have realised, that as yet there has been very little commotion from the Death Eaters, which I think is luring people into a false sense of security. So few deaths in the past few months, very little in the way of destruction that You Know Who caused as recently as last summer. In my personal opinion, we are experiencing what is known as the calm before the storm. Dementor attacks are still on the increase, but no real damage has been done. Unfortunately, we are still completely clueless about any plans he might have, so what we really need to work on is what exactly the bastard is up to." Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise at Moody's language; he had never heard him swear before. However, he was unsettled by Mad-Eye's interpretation of the lack of Dark activity. Now Harry thought about it, in the summer before his fifth year, Voldemort had used giants, had collapsed a Muggle bridge, and had killed several important Ministry officials, not to mention countless other Death Eater attacks… and now nothing. Just lots of Dementors and a few threatened Healers. Harry thought Moody was right: it certainly seemed that Voldemort was trying to lure them all into a false sense of security and was going to cause maximum mayhem when they were least expecting it.

"On a more positive note," Moody barked, making Harry jump, "we have received a hint that Filius Flitwick is being held near Bristol. We need a small team to investigate this claim, and if it turns out to be true, we will need a follow-up rescue party."

Harry peered around the table as people offered their services to the Order. He felt a bit like a coward, sitting there quietly, not able to volunteer for any such thing. He guessed this was why people had tried to keep him out of the Order before. A party of four, Bill Weasley among them, had volunteered to go to Bristol in search of Flitwick. A follow-up rescue party formed as a precaution, and then yet more people were assigned to investigate possible Death Eater sightings. Fred and George volunteered for this, despite Mrs Weasley's abhorrence of the idea. Arthur supported the notion that the twins were more than adequately equipped to look out possible Death Eaters hideouts without getting themselves into trouble. As Fred and George were assigned a Death Eater by the name of Gravus McDonald, Harry felt Ron tense next to him, and understood his concern. Harry thought that nobody who knew the twins would want them to come to any harm.

Eventually, the meeting drew to a close. Harry held his still aching head as he, Ron and Hermione waited for people to depart around them. Harry could feel Moody's magical eye watching him; he wished he had somewhere else to go so he didn't have to stay and face Mad-eye. He wanted to go back to his room and read Dumbledore's letter again, perhaps discuss it with Ron and Hermione. He certainly wasn't in the mood to talk with the scarred, paranoid ex-auror. Still, Harry had no choice but to stay seated until everyone else had left, so he reluctantly awaited Moody's arrival, which was announced by a growling behind his right ear. "A chat, Potter, if you don't mind." Sighing inwardly, Harry heaved himself up from his seat and followed Moody round to the far end of the table, away from the retreating crowd of people jostling towards the front door. Harry turned and was greeted by both of Moody's miss-matched eyes staring straight into his.

"Dumbledore left you his bird," Moody said abruptly.

"Yes," Harry said, "I know."

"That bird can be useful to the Order if you want it to be," Moody said. Harry looked at him confused so Mad-eye elaborated. "That's how we used to send messages to each other. When you're in trouble, call for Fawkes, and he'll come to you bringing help." Moody said. "Damn clever bird," he added to no one in particular. Harry still looked sceptical, so Moody gave him a lop-sided grin, which made his scarred face look positively alarming. "Go on, call the bird to you."

Harry hesitated, then said "Fawkes." His voice was quieter than he would have expected it to be. With a sudden burst of flames, a great red and gold bird the size of a swan appeared on the table before them. Harry leapt back and Ron, who was sitting further down the table, fell backwards off his chair in shock. Tentatively, Harry reached out a hand to stroke Fawkes' soft feathered head.

"Hi, Fawkes" Harry said. "I'm your new owner now, but I'd prefer it if we could just be friends." Fawkes bowed his head and blinked in an understanding sort of way. "Fawkes has saved me loads, already," Harry told Moody. "He blinded the Basilisk, stopped its poison from killing me, helped me fly out of the Chamber of Secrets, protected Dumbledore at the Ministry…" Harry could feel his eyes welling with tears for the second time that evening. He blinked them back and continued to stroke the bird, which cooed softly as if in tune to Harry's emotions. "Do you want to stay here, Fawkes?" Harry asked. "This could be your home for a while, if you'd like." Fawkes bowed his head again. Then with an enormous rush of feathers, the phoenix took off and landed again on the back of an ornately carved and ugly chair. Harry watched in awe as the bird settled onto his new perch. He was only brought back to the moment as Moody cleared his throat.

"Have you visited the Malfoys recently?" Harry felt his stomach drop. He had forgotten his promise to check up on the Malfoys in that shack in the sea, and had consequently not been back since discovering them nearly three months ago. Harry shook his head but kept Moody's gaze.

"I had planned on going tomorrow morning," Harry lied.

"See to it that you do." Moody said. Apparently satisfied, he turned and clumped into the hall. Harry resumed his seat next to Hermione and waited for everyone to leave.

When the house was empty once again, Ron nudged Harry and sat down beside him. "So Dumbledore gave you a letter? What did it say?" Harry retrieved the envelope from his pocket and read the letter aloud to them. Both Ron and Hermione sat in a stunned silence; Fawkes crowed near the corner of the room.

"He left you his house?" Hermione breathed.

"Yeah," Harry said, still a bit shocked by the whole affair. "And Fawkes, and the pensieve."

"You were his favourite person," Ron said, admiringly.

As he peered down at the letter, his final correspondence with Dumbledore, Harry felt a violent hatred for Voldemort fill him entirely. "I have to kill him," Harry said for the thousandth time, his voice now louder than he had planned. "On top of everything else, Dumbledore did all this work to make it easier for me to do it." He dropped his head so it bounced painfully off the dining table. At least the pain was a distraction from his thoughts of killing Voldemort as viciously as possible.

Hermione draped her arm tenderly around his shoulders. Harry jumped at her touch but welcomed it just the same. "It's okay, Harry," she reassured him, "we're going to do it. Together." Harry groaned.

"Yeah," Ron agreed fervently. "I've only got five more goblets left to check now, so that's either very good news or very bad news."

Harry lifted his head a few inches from the table. "One more Horcrux…." He said. "One more to find, then I kill the snake, then I kill her master." He let his head drop again and the other two exchanged worried glances over his shoulders.

"Then it'll all be over," Hermione said soothingly. Harry closed his eyes and tried to imagine a life without Voldemort. He couldn't do it.