For a few weeks, I felt like I was living on the edge, expecting magical attacks left and right. I spent several nights awake, walking around the house, and looking out of every window to spot a potential threat. I didn't know what I was looking for or what the fuck would I do if I found something, but one day I collapsed onto the living room sofa from sleep deprivation. Dark circles started to appear under my eyes and I was extremely irritable. My parents worried, unable to understand what was going on with me. However, nothing even remotely dangerous happened to me or my family and eventually, I started to relax. To keep attention away from what made my knees turn to jelly, I jumped headfirst into Muggle life.

It got colder and rainier, and some mornings our garden in the backyard was covered in frost. My father brought the foldable lawn chairs inside as well as took down the small gazebo that he had built himself and which served as a shelter from the sun when enjoying summer days outdoors. Due to the unpleasant weather, I stayed at home more than went out, and I turned to studies. I wanted to receive the stupid diploma as quickly as possible, so I spent hours after hours in front of my computer or struggling through the textbooks.

Without a teacher, it was difficult for sure, especially when it came to subjects I had never been very good at – Math, Physics, and pretty much anything else that had to do with calculations. My father was good at Chemistry, but I didn't ask him for help. I felt like this was a battle I had to win on my own.

The magical items I owned started to behave strangely as time went on. It was almost like they were sentient to an extent and didn't like being shoved away under the bed. One dark, foggy morning I woke up to find the box in the middle of a room. Thinking I might have done that myself while tossing and turning in sleep, I pushed it back and left. And when I came back after running some errands, the box was right where it was in the morning – in the center of my room precisely.

My parents denied touching it or walking into my room in the first place. It seemed like something was begging for my attention and from that day on I placed the wizarding box in my closet instead of the dusty darkness under the bed. Looked like that was satisfying enough, as it no longer jumped out on its own.

I never forgot professor McGonagall's warning and no longer stayed out after it got dark. I missed the Rattling Rat and my friends but was forced to reject their offers to join visiting the night club. It got lonely quickly. I hardly met anyone during the day because everyone had things to do and money to make. Emily was working in a beauty parlor as a nail technician and as a guy, I had no business being there. Oliver had enrolled in a university, not that I would have expected anything else from my bright-minded friend. He was to become a lawyer and his daily schedule was extremely busy from morning till evening. Alex and Noah had chosen not to continue their education and worked middle-class jobs. Noah was a taxi driver and Alex worked in retail.

" You sure you don't want to go out tonight? " Alex asked when we met during his lunch break. " It's gonna be fun. Sophia has a lot of friends, gorgeous, athletic babes. You might meet someone. "

Sophia was Alex's current girlfriend who I knew would probably be gone by the next month. Alex didn't believe in commitment at the age of 18 and certainly wasn't a keeper. Though we were young, I would be seriously surprised if my friend ever decided to settle down and have an actual family.

We were sitting in McDonald's close to the warehouse where Alex worked and enjoyed cheeseburgers, fries, and Coke that was so unnecessary overfilled with ice cubes my teeth were sincerely protesting. Alex was eating with appetite, only allowed one half-an-hour long break in his 10-hour shift. His red and blue uniform seemed a little loose on him, though if fast food was all he ate all the time, eventually the size might be just right.

" I don't think so, " I answered, " somehow that doesn't sound appealing at this point in time. "

" Why is that, by the way? "

" What? "

" Well, you don't seem to be interested in chicks at all. Always alone. Yeah, I know you had some girls here and there back in school, but...do you even get laid? "

I pulled one of the last fries out of the package. Cold they didn't taste nearly as good as freshly cooked.

" That's the only thing you think about? Fucking? "

" You should be thinking about that as well! When else to fuck without any ties if not now? Now's the right age. Later you'll have a hundred and one obligations – wife, kids... "

I smirked sarcastically. " So strange to hear the word " wife " from your mouth, Alex. You must have read it from a public toilet wall or something. "

" Go ahead, laugh, " Alex responded, half-joking, half insulted, " but 20 years down the road don't complain that I didn't warn you. You only have one youth and it's meant to be enjoyed. Jesus, if I didn't know you any better, I'd almost say you're...nevermind. "

But I knew what Alex meant to say. Gay. Faggot. Queer. How little you know me then, I thought. It's was such a paradox to be next to someone the majority of your life and think you know them when in reality you have no idea who they truly are. That was the case with Alex and the rest of my friend group. They were friends with the shape of me they had in their minds, not the real me. And maybe I didn't know myself either.

" Mind your business, my friend, " I said, packing the empty wrappers of cheeseburgers and fries onto the tray so that waiter could take it away. " I have to study, no time to loiter around. Gotta get that paper, you know. "

The day was dismally and depressingly dark, the packed rainclouds didn't let even the tiniest ray of sun to escape. I pulled the hood of my sweater over my head and zipped the jacket all the way up. My feet felt a little cold in my sneakers and I decided to get over with my duties fast.

After meeting with Alex I went to the post office to mail some letters for my mother, who didn't listen when I pointed out that mid-November might be a little too early for mailing Christmas cards. I went into the pharmacy to buy blood pressure-lowering medicine for my father and some sleep-inducing pills for myself. Nobody had to know about the latter. I only took them when falling asleep naturally was not an option. I collected packages from the pickup shop and went into the supermarket to do some grocery shopping. When I was done, it had started to rain a little.

I smoked a cigarette as I walked home, disoriented raindrops almost managed to put it out. I walked past Ms. Haigh's house, the neighbor was nowhere to be seen and her house looked deserted, dark with every curtain drawn closed. That was a good sign that Ms. Haigh has fallen into another drinking bout and couldn't care as much as to turn on the electricity. Sometimes I felt sorry for the elderly lady. She had a serious addiction, yet didn't want to admit it's a problem. She also had an adult daughter who almost never visited and should she died, no one would probably notice that until a stench appeared. That was such a horrible way to waste your life and it didn't matter that Ms. Haigh had technically lived the majority of her life already – she was 65.

I sighed despondently and hurried towards my house, the shopping bags hitting against my knees. The weather was so cold, wet, and rough that I couldn't wait to be indoors as soon as possible. Then, I looked up and froze in place, speechless and shocked.

On my front porch, there was a feather. A large, crimson-golden feather. I couldn't take my eyes off of it. It couldn't be true. Maybe it was just a fallen autumn leaf, brought here by the wind. But it wasn't. The feather lied there completely still, immune to the sudden, strong gusts of wind that occasionally swept through the streets.

I looked around and saw no one. The sky above my head was steel grey like waves in the sea on a sunless day. Tree branches were squeaking as the wind was bending them and not the tiniest sparrow was present, let alone... I reached and took the feather. It felt warm, silky, and strangely alive. I spent a few minutes on my knees, examining it. What for – I don't know. I couldn't have ever mistaken Fawkes' plumage for nothing.

Inside the house, I handed the groceries and the rest of the stuff to my mother. The feather was safely tucked into the inner pocket of my jacket.

" Thanks, " my mother said, taking the bags from me and wrinkling her nose at the same time, " have you been smoking again? "

I nodded and barely heard her scolding me as if I was a 3-year-old. The only thing I could think about was Fawkes' feather and how it got on my doorstep. The phoenix must have been here. When? And why? Was the feather a sign of some sort? A warning? Did Dumbledore send the bird to me? What was I supposed to make out of it? The wizarding world was so full of mysteries and riddles that a Muggle like me stood no chance.

I spent the rest of the day studying, getting used to it once again. My brain took some time to memorize large amounts of information and my back fell stiff from sitting in one posture for hours. As I was fighting through algebra and geometry, thermodynamics, acids and bases, my eyes kept returning to the feather over and over again. I placed it in my pen holder and maybe it was just my imagination, but the feather seemed to move when I wasn't looking. It would face a different direction or replace itself in front of the pencils. I knew something was going on and the inability to figure out what exactly was driving me mad. The clock on the wall stroke 6 pm and I heard my mother calling me to supper from downstairs.

The following night I couldn't sleep. The clock hands moved from midnight to 1 am, 2 am and 3 am and I was still awake, tormented by thoughts. Further down the hallway, my father's snoring was rending the walls and I admired my mother who was able to share a bed with him and still have a good sleep. Whenever furniture creaked somewhere in the house, my heart jolted. The feather was glowing, radiating a faint light in my dark room.

I reached for the sleeping pill package that I had hidden in the bottom of my drawer and swallowed one of the pills without water. It was bitter but even stuck in my throat did its job. Soon my eyelids grew heavy and I drifted away into a drug-induced sleep. I wouldn't advise anyone to use the medication without a doctor's consultation. But at that point in time, I was just crazy like that.

Over the weekend, I received several small messages from the world I had left behind. Like the previous one, they were written on small pieces of parchment and popped up randomly in unexpected places. Sometimes they were slipped between the letters and newspapers in our mailbox. Other times I would turn the page in my textbook and out of the blue the note was there. Once found the parchment in the box of my sleeping pills with a reminder to be careful with the medication.

I didn't know who wrote them. There was never a signature, the notes were fairly short and I intuitively destroyed them all without being told to. From the provided information about life in Hogwarts, the toppling of the Ministry of Magic, and the devastated lives of witches and wizards, I learned that the Second Wizarding War had started.

My heart was bleeding for everyone involved, for all the innocent wizardkind that have and will lose their lives in Voldemort's attempt to rise to power once again. Day after day I kept ruminating about the destinies of people I had grown to care for – all the Hogwarts' professors I had the pleasure to meet. What was going through the minds of the first-years who had just come to study and were thrown into a massacre instead? And I thought about the three friends I would probably never meet again. I wondered if they were still alive.

But nothing hit me harder than the news about Dumbledore's death. I gasped loudly as I read it and the tears that fell down my cheeks seemed to have water on the outside and fire on the inside, they fell back into my soul scorchingly and jarringly. All the time I had felt like as long as the powerful and kindhearted wizard was somewhere out there, the wizardkind and I were safe. Now he was gone and so we were all fucked. Without Dumbledore, Voldemort was free to create a living inferno among both wizards and Muggles.

I was thinking about what I would have said to Dumbledore had I known the farewell in Hogsmeade station would be the forever farewell. The circumstances of his death were never explained to me but I was sure he was murdered. Somebody killed him. Somehow I knew it.

And here I was, upset at the headmaster for splitting Harry and me when he allowed me to enter the world I was never supposed to find out about, accepted me in Hogwarts, fed me and nurtured me, brought the best healers to nurse me back to health, went against the Minister's orders and let me keep my memories and saved me and my loved ones from a gruesome death in the hands of Voldemort. And my gratitude for that was holding a grudge over the loss of a relationship that would have most likely ended anyway. What a moron I was. I would have given a lot just to look into Dumbledore's eyes one more time and tell him that.

At the beginning of December, I was awoken by a tapping sound on the window. Annoyed and still half-asleep, I turned around in my bed and looked at the clock. It was 3:30 am. Thinking that some dense thugs were probably loafing about and bothering the quiet of the night by throwing pebbles at peoples' windows or something, I pulled the blanket over my ears and ignored the noise, trying to go back to sleep.

However, the tapping didn't stop and after a couple more minutes I couldn't stand it anymore. Angry and ready to get up and yell at whoever was doing it, I peeked at the window and my squinted eyes opened wide in astonishment.

In my window, there was a big, black and tall shadow. It seemed to have oval, spiked and curved shapes and while the lower part of it was still, the upper part was slightly moving. That's where the sound was coming from. What the fuck is that, I thought, silently watching the strange vision that hopefully was outside of the window. Due to the moonless night, I could only see the contours and had no idea what I was looking at.

For a while I was lying motionless, hoping that whoever it was would leave if it thought I couldn't hear it. I was scared, but weirdly I was sure it wasn't Voldemort or one of his henchmen, as they would most likely shatter the window glass instead of politely knocking for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, the curiosity was stronger than fear and I slowly climbed out of the bed and sneaked over to the window. Very carefully, I slid the side of the curtains away and leered out.

It was Fawkes. The phoenix was sitting on the windowsill, using his beak to knock on the glass to get my attention. As soon as I moved the curtains, Fawkes' head snapped in my direction. He lifted one foot and pointed the golden claw towards the window handle. I couldn't believe my eyes, moved the curtains aside, and opened the window wide. Fawkes jumped inside my room and I shot quick glance around. The streets were empty. I sighed, closed the window, and drew curtains shut.

" What are you doing here? " I asked and turned on the lamp, whisking away the dark, shuddering in the cold breezes that had come through the open window.

Fawkes didn't answer, of course. I had forgotten how big and impressive the phoenix was. The swan-sized bird came up and nuzzled against me like a domestic cat that's asking attention from its owner. I hugged the creature, Fawkes was warm to touch, his tail even hot despite outside being winter. He was Dumbledore's pet, I remembered the headmaster talking about phoenixes being extremely loyal. What could have made him come to me after his ties with Hogwarts were obviously severed now.

" Your master passed away, I was told. "

Tears welled up in Fawkes' black, pearl-like eyes. Gently, I wiped them away. The phoenix was suffering, much more than I was. It must be terrible to lose your constant companion you have shared decades of faith and friendship with.

" I know, " I said, petting the feather crest on Fawkes' head. " I miss him too. "

I was certain the phoenix understood every word I said even if he couldn't respond in a human-like way. Fawkes clacked his beak and I poured him some water from the bottle on my nightstand. Fawkes was drinking long and eagerly. Who knows how long he was sitting on the windowsill, waiting for me to get up. My room was quite spacious but Fawkes was so big he seemed to take the most of the place. I was sure the phoenix had come with some kind of a message. I reached for the feather and showed it to Fawkes.

" Is this yours? "

Fawkes looked at the feather keenly, lolling the posh head from one side to the other, as if he had never seen it before though, deciding if he wanted to own up for it though the feather was clearly his. The light from the lamp made his scarlet plumage look as if the bird was on fire and the long beak glistened like the most precious gold in the world. The phoenix was an amazingly beautiful creature.

" Alright then. What can I help you with? "

Fawkes circled my room for a while as if looking for something. Then the air whizzed under the agile wings and he flew on top of my bookshelf. A moment of heat ran through me as I expected the furniture, made of just wooden pallets, to break under Fawkes' weight, but it didn't. The phoenix looked like a large plush toy as he puffed up his feathers and made himself comfortable above my books.

I stood there with my mouth open as Fawkes hid his head under his wing, maybe to sleep a little. The phoenix didn't come to let me know something. There was no message. He just changed his place of living. Whether Dumbledore sent him to me or Fawkes switched his allegiance himself after the demise of his owner, it seemed like for at least the time being I was going to share my room with a magical creature who had decided to come into my house instead of becoming a wild phoenix and roaming the Earth however he wanted. It was unbelievable.

I crawled under the covers again and turned off the light. It was very early and sunrise was still hours away. I couldn't sleep anymore but Fawkes could and I watched the phoenix's body moving slightly in the rhythm of breath and his feathers shimmering like a candle in wind. I even pinched myself to make sure I wasn't asleep and dreaming. My skin ached at the pinch which confirmed I was actually awake and aware and all the magic I thought I would never see again, had begun to lurk towards me through the barrier in the King's Cross station, London.

9