Phœnix Burning, Chapter 21

Harry Potter woke in the hospital wing. Not that he wasn't used to that. For a long moment he couldn't remember what had happened to land him there. Then, in an instant, it crashed over him like a tsunami, and he hissed in pain as the link burst into life, all the agonies of Voldemort's tortures racking his body as though he were the one being cursed. He thrashed on his hospital bed, tangling himself in the sheets, panting, unable to breathe or think.

Madame Pomfrey was by his side in a flash, her wand out to do a diagnostic charm. Harry was already dragging himself out of bed.

"Stop right there, young man!" Madame Pomfrey never wanted her patients to escape without being treated, especially not patients in such a condition as Harry was.

"Can't!" Harry panted, jade green eyes hooded with pain. "He's being tortured; he's going to die!"

"Whoever it is, the headmaster can take care of it," said Madame Pomfrey, pressing him down. "Now I want you to drink this; you don't need to be having visions right now."

Harry smelled it and realized that it was dreamless sleep potion. "No," he responded, shoving weakly at her hand. She didn't understand! "You need to get Dumbledore. Please!" He gasped, praying it would work. She'd probably just cast a patronus...

But for once in his life, Harry was in luck. Madame Pomfrey looked at him suspiciously over her glasses, but at last seemed to decide that he was in no condition to be sneaking away anyway and left the room in a hurry, the door locking with a smart snick as she closed it behind her.

She needn't have bothered. The minute she was out of the door, Harry struggled unsteadily off the bed, nearly tripping as he untangled his leg from the sheets, and shifted to his phœnix form.

It took a moment to get his bearings, considering the pain he was feeling through the link and the ecstasy of the transformation. Once he had changed, however, the transformation seemed to have muted the link, which wouldn't have been a problem had he actually known where Riddle Manor was. However since he didn't, having only ever seen the inside in visions, he had to close his eyes and try to trace and track the link, which, he felt, was more time that he could spare.

Slowly, ever so slowly, images began to coalesce in his mind, the gloomy corridors and glowing candelabras of Riddle Manor wavering and flickering into view like an old home movie on a bad projector. The world seemed to elongate, dissolving into silence and electric blue fire, and then, all at once, it snapped back into place.

Sounds reasserted themselves. Harry caught himself with a hasty flutter of wings, head still reeling from having flamed, and blinked his achy eyes until the spots went away; apparently even a phœnix can have trouble seeing after being assaulted by bright light. And then cursed thoroughly, although it came out as only a hiss and a clack of his beak. The Death Eaters, and by extension Snape, were nowhere to be seen.

It took him a painful amount of time to find the room in which the Death Eaters were meeting. It was actually an accident more than anything else. He had been flying silently throughout the Manor, trying to locate Snape by the link, when he heard voices through a locked door. Specifically Voldemort's voice. He drew closer, perching on an empty torch sconce as he waited until he had enough energy to flash through the locked and barred doors. It was prohibitively difficult to flash more than two times in quick succession and worse to go through wards...and he would still have to flash out. With a passenger.

"Any last words?" Voldemort hissed mockingly. "Going to cry, Severus? Or beg? I'll make it quicker if you beg..."

Harry would have expected to feel fear through the link, but only an odd sort of clarity and resignation reached him. Snape's next words flooded Harry with surprise. And respect. "Go to Hell, Tom."

An unholy scream rang through all the house, making Harry flinch involuntarily. Then Voldemort roared "Crucio!"

Shock. That was the predominant emotion that Harry could feel. Not pain, not fear, just simply shock. Harry wondered for a second why Snape was so surprised, seeing as Voldemort used the torture curse at nearly every meeting, and then, all at once, it hit him. There was no pain. Not at all. Harry shuddered. That was impossible...wasn't it? Was Snape going insane? What the Hell would happen to Harry if he was mind linked to a mad man? Suddenly Snape's burst of unhinged laughter made a lot more sense.

"Was that supposed to hurt?" Severus drawled. Harry shuddered again. Snape was definitely going mad. Either that, or he'd realized that there was no point keeping up the spy facade. Harry fluttered his wings impatiently, worry filling him. When Voldemort got mad, he got dangerous. To be sure, he was also sloppier, but with Snape outnumbered and tortured, there was no contest.

And Voldemort was most definitely mad. "KILL HIM!" he roared, after a petrified silence. Harry was almost ready to flash... To his shock, the voice of Draco Malfoy drifted through the secured doors

"Avada K-" he began, voice wobbling uncertainly. Then he broke off. "I can't!"

A silence fell, broken only by the shuffling of Death Eater boots and the rustle of Harry tucking his wings more closely around himself.

Then Voldemort hissed "Crucio!" and Draco Malfoy began to scream.

"I trust you have learned your lesson?" said Voldemort coldly.

"Yes! Yes I have!" Draco's voice had a defiant note in it.

Snape seemed to be trying to distract Voldemort, but before he could say more than "Tom", Draco went on: "I've learned I don't ever want to be a murderer, no matter what you do! I've learned that I don't want to grovel- least of all to you! I-"

He was cut short as Voldemort snarled the crucitus again. The link grew incandescent with Snape's fear for Draco.

Then Harry knew, without a doubt, that something had to be done, even if he wasn't quite ready to flash. He knew he'd be more drained, but he couldn't just let Voldemort kill them all! And he closed his eyes so tightly that they ached and flashed through the locked doors.

He reappeared in a lofty room, with ornate ceilings and shabby brocade carpet; evidently it had once been a parlor or a ball room. The Death Eaters were congregating around Voldemort's throne, and Snape was on his knees before it, flanked by two Death Eaters and covered with blood. Closer still to the throne lay Draco Malfoy, with Lucius, still wearing his Death Eater robes, his mask crooked, draped over him, taking the full brunt of a crucitus that Voldemort was casting.

Harry had to do something!

And all of a sudden, some hidden phœnix instinct told him what to do. And he began to sing.

Music, spine-tingling, glorious, unearthly music, rippled through the room, causing even the Death Eaters' faces to transform with awe. Harry swooped between the startled minions, aiming for Snape's shoulder. At last he landed unsteadily, claws scrabbling on the slippery material of Snape's outer robes. One wing smacked the side of Snape's head, and Harry winced internally, but struggled to focus on trying to flash out again without killing himself or Snape.

Harry screeched a phœnix cry of triumph, ringing throughout the room and reverberating through the heating ducts, and gathered strength to flash a final time.

Snape hurriedly grabbed onto Draco and Lucius's robes before Harry could stop him. Not that Harry didn't want them to be saved, but he'd never flashed a single person, much less three and after he had already flashed two times in as many seconds- they could end up in Somalia for all he knew! But it had to be said that no matter where they rematerialized, he would never ever forget the look on Voldemort's serpentine face. Harry made sure to flip him an obscene gesture with one clawed black foot before they disappeared into the formless blue flame of phœnix apparation.