Phoenix Burning

AN: Hope you enjoy. It's short, but the next installment should be published shortly. Don't forget to vote on my poll!

Chapter 29

Harry was, for once, in the library. Ron and Hermione were going around the castle looking for the Ravenclaw horcrux, as well as using said horcrux hunt as an excuse to snog, which was why Harry had tacitly uninvited himself when the sexual tension was getting a bit too much. Now, he was curled in the spot he usually claimed when he went to the library (usually to be alone more than to actually read as it was a nook at the very back, concealed by a blind of bookshelves like trees in a forest) distracted only by the occasional murmering of voices from the pair of Hufflepuffs studying in the alcove nearby and the occasional trickle of rare contentment from Professor Snape, as well as from the illusory taste of wine in the back of his throat.

He abstractly scribbled something about temperature charms for Professor Flitwick and sighed, unable to really focus on the dry textbook and the lukewarm topic, and found himself, instead, listening in on Snape's rambling thoughts:

Dear Merlin, an I going soft or has Miss McKinnon actually written a proper essay? Ahh, that's more like it. There's no mugwart in Shrinking Solution, as it is a reactive herb. Still, the theory would be sound if thistle flower didn't react in the way she postulates...

What is that idiot thinking! In third year and he doesn't know a bezoir from a besoin...

Did I just give Miss Granger an O?

And then: Oh, Morgana's underpants, I'm late! I did set that alarm- why didn't it go off? I did, didn't I?

Harry smirked and refocused on his assignment with some difficulty, talking about the differences in the tonal qualities and pronunciation of the incantations for freezing charms and cooling charms, while meanwhile Snape rushed through the halls, on the way to a staff meeting.

Harry was abruptly startled out of his studying by a flash of apprehension from Professor Snape. Harry straightened, putting down the Charms text again. It seemed Snape was having difficulties blocking him- again- and he couldn't study like this, so he might as well make sure the man was ok. With that in mind, he focused more closely in on the staff meeting, feeling a secret sort of guilty excitement for listening in. He was rather curious.

"This summer I was cursed with languesco mortis," Dumbledore was saying. So that was the name of the curse. Harry could feel the rush of anguish and fear and pain rushing from the Potions Master at this and tried to calm him. There was nothing the man could have done better.

"As there is no cure accessible, my original plan was to keep it quiet so as not to cause the students to panic or word to reach Voldemort, and it was agreed between Severus and I" (all eyes flew to the youngest staff member) "that should I be cornered by Death Eaters he would kill me himself to rise in Voldemort's good graces and prevent someone who preferred the more...messy curses from doing the job."

fear/guilt/self-flagellation/grief

"But now that he is no longer a spy, I felt that the secret no longer needed to be kept from you, although I trust that it will go no further. The fact remains that I will die before the year's out."

"There is a cure," Snape protested, and Harry could feel his desperation, see glimpses of memories of trying his hardest to save him, to develop a cure. "Or the salve- if you would allow me to prepare it..."

"No," Dumbledore replied. "It would be useless to waste so much phoenix ash on an old man like me, and I would still be dependent on it for the rest of my life. I'm simply not that valuable."

Tears welled in Harry's eyes, though he could sense that the emotion was not entirely his own- indeed, Snape was nearly beside himself. Harry hastily began to send him waves of peace, compassion and comfort, trying to calm him and ease his suffering, at least a little. It was at that moment that he began to sense the warm, powerful, healing phœnix magic what he had recently become familiar with. What now? There was no one around to be healed, unless...Dumbledore?! Harry felt, for the first time, the stirrings of hope. Maybe there was something they could do with phœnix magic that would work where nothing else did.

"But you have Fawkes!" protested a woman whom Harry vaguely recognized as the Muggle Studies teacher, Professor something Burbage. "Couldn't he give you the ash?"

"He does not burn more than twice a year," Professor Dumbledore responded. "And I would not selfishly ask him to give me more than he already is. He already burned twice this year, and I know how painful it is. Besides, Severus was forced into an unbreakable vow. He would die if I did not. I simply tell you this now so that you will understand when the time comes, and so that you will not condemn him."

anguish/gratitude/anger/numbness

Professor Snape was afraid, afraid of what his colleagues would do to him for accepting that duty, and Harry almost began to cry again on feeling that. Snape's sense of self worth, at least when his impeccable mental shields were down, was next to nothing, and the irrational thought of being only tolerated by his colleagues, especially in an otherwise rational man, was heartbreaking.

Besides that, Harry could feel the wild magic rising, sensing the healing magic throbbing through his veins, invisible insects fluttering in his chest and stomach and magic collecting just under his skin. But something was different. The magic did not feel like his at all- his phœnix magic felt, at least to him, like warm, slippery green growing things in a forest canopy, vast, vibrant, self-regenerating, and very, very alive, carrying a spicy tint, too. This felt more like coffee and cream, or hot chocolate by the fire, or the warm darkness of one's own bedroom at night. What was going on?

But Snape was speaking again. "No. I will not do it," he rasped at last. "Not when there is a cure. I would die, if I had to."

Dumbledore seemed to be incredulous, as well he might be. "But your Unbreakable Vow-"

"Is broken," Snape responded forcefully, as though something were tugging the words from him. All of the other staff were staring at him in bewilderment.

"How-" Dumbledore began.

The magic churning in their connected cores began to rise, washing the room in warm, rich magic. Harry felt something deep within his core give a little twist as Professor Snape went on. "Never mind how. All you need to know is that you needn't die out of some mistaken obligation."

Dumbledore stared at him, crystal blue eyes wide in disbelief.

"I will cure you," Severus said forcefully, and Harry was almost overcome by his emotions and the rich phœnix magic bubbling just under his skin."There is no need for this." and then Harry felt that little twist and tug in his core again, and magic began draining out of him through the bond. Harry was alarmed. He tried to fight it, but Snape didn't even seem to notice his resistance, much like when Harry himself was overcome by his phœnix instincts. And so Harry slumped in his chair.

Magic drained out of him, and all he could feel was Snape's frothing emotions, peace and panic at one and the same time, and all he could hear was Dumbledore's screams ringing in his ears and it hurt so, so much...

And then the world was spinning as more and more of his core was siphoned off by the bond, and the searing pain, worse than the crucitus, had taken over his body entirely. .

The world was spinning. A strange sort of blissful clarity washed over him in waves, even through the pain, his consciousness fading in and out. And the he felt something snap, something give, and he could almost feel the curse that Snape was trying to break give way. And then the heat, which had already been sizzling uncomfortably hot inside him, burst into an agonizing flameless burning sensation, and he fell into darkness, having no more magic to support himself.