Harry Potter and the Power of the White Phoenix

by DZ2

A nightmare comes true; a mysterious power is awoken; a friendship becomes something more; in the midst of all this, a hero rises from the ashes with a war he aims to win. However, he will do it on his own terms. Grey Superpowerful Harry/Neville

2. A Friend In Need

Harry Potter and the Power of the White Phoenix

Disclaimer/Plot/Author's Note: SEE FIRST CHAPTER

Recommended Reads: The Focus of a Healer by OfficeSloth, The Potter Alliance by SpitKill, The Legacy by storytellerSpW, Saviour of Magic by Colt01, When Harry Met Neville by SlutPuppy, The Journey Begins by JayColin and Harry Potter and the Rune Stone Path by Temporal Knight

Key Pairing: Harry/Neville

Other Pairings: To be determined

Normal Speech

'Thoughts'

'Mental Speech'

/Parseltongue/

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No, if there was anything that said that this wasn't the same Harry she once knew anymore, it was the sight of the beautiful white bird that was held in the arms of her nephew, its beak open in a song that could only make Petunia feel one thing.

A feeling as though she had just seen Harry being healed of every pain and fiery rage that ached at him.

Now, he was someone new, someone different and better; now, he was someone else…no, that was wrong.

Now, he was something else!

Chapter 2: A Friend in Need

Darkness.

That was all Harry knew, even though he couldn't quite grasp what had happened.

As he tried to recollect the events leading up to him returning to Darkness, the last thing he found himself able to remember was him feeling angrier than he'd ever felt before – and yes, that was even angrier than when he'd threatened to kill Sirius in Hogsmeade and in the Shrieking Shack – and, as a result, he remembered screaming about people lying to him.

The next thing he knew, his world had become a seemingly-neverending sea of white, strange magic that sent everything around him and about him spiralling into the unknown. At the same time, Harry vaguely recalled a sound, which was almost like that of his own voice, but stronger, purer and filled with a large amount of raw intent as it screamed at the Powers That Be.

After that?

The only thing he remembered after that was a rush of magic that was unlike any other, making him feel strong!

And not just strong, but…strong!

He had felt far stronger than he'd ever felt before and filled with something that could only be described as raw passion, determination that made him feel like everything he'd gone through – every feeling, pain, ache and ounce of hate he'd experienced – was replaced with this diamond-hard resolve to do one thing.

Survive.

Now, as the feeling passed, the young Gryffindor was dimly-aware of his aunt staring at him, her eyes as wide as saucers and a look of shock, disbelief and something that looked like awe on her face as she looked back at him.

At the same time, Harry felt a weight in the embrace of his arms, the feeling of the weight accompanied by a sound that Harry had heard only once before: ironically, in the office of the man who seemed willing to keep him in the dark.

Looking down, Harry's eyes widened with awe as he saw a beautifully-groomed, white-feathered bird nestled in his arms, the plumage of the bird so pure in its white colour that it made her look like she was made from the purest, brightest starlight. Her eyes were a bright shade of mercurial silver flecked with what looked like amber, the colour of which was eerily-familiar to Harry, but as he looked at the bird, the phoenix, in his arms, a part of him refused to believe that it was who he thought it was.

However, as Harry looked at the phoenix, watching as she nuzzled his chest while she sang her eerie, soothing song of emotion and care, he felt his heart grow warm again before, swallowing hard, he asked, "Hedwig?"

'That was the name you gave me, little one,' a soft voice replied, the sound of the voice just as smooth and gentle as the song that filled the room.

However, as Harry looked around, as though he was expecting to see the speaker, he heard a low chirrup from the phoenix in his arms, which made it sound like she was laughing at him, as the eerie voice added, 'No, you're not going mad, Harry-child: what you hear is the sound of my true voice after all our years together and my years of waiting for my right master.'

"Master?" asked Harry, earning a curious look from his aunt at how, to her, he might as well have been talking to himself.

Seeing the look, Harry gulped as he said, "She…she can speak to me…in my head; sorry…"

Petunia just blinked, but before she could say anything, her eyes widened as the silver eyes of the phoenix in Harry's arms turned on her before Petunia let out a gasp as the same voice Harry heard now addressed her, but its voice was colder, harsher and filled with warning.

'You have no right to call yourself his nest-mate, much less his kinswoman, human!'

Weirdly, when the spectral voice addressed Petunia, Harry suddenly had an image of a certain Potions Master in his head when he heard how vile Hedwig sounded towards the Muggle woman standing in his bedroom.

Heedless of his brief flicker of personal amusement, or if she knew, she didn't pay any notice just yet, Hedwig let out a warning, but also aggressive trill as she hissed, 'After everything you and yours have done to him, it is only the knowledge that my harming you will hurt him that is keeping me from exacting swift vengeance on your nest for what you've done to my little one.'

Petunia's eyes widened in shock while Harry, lifting a shaky hand, gently stroked the phoenix's feathers before he told her, "You…you don't have to threaten her…but what…what did you mean when you said that was the name I gave you? Do you have another name?"

'Yes,' replied the phoenix, her voice turning soft again, much to Harry's shock, as she looked back to him, 'My true name is Polaris, little hatchling: named for the light of the North Star, I am blood of my true legacy of magic and greatness, sent in the form of an owl to protect and watch over you until the day where you would need the strength of my bond with you to command the great and ancient magic inside of you.'

"Who…" Harry began, but he was cut off when a fierce knocking sounded at the door, the source of which was made obvious by the voice that followed it, each word thundering at Harry and Petunia.

"PETUNIA: WHAT JUST HAPPENED? WHAT DID HE DO? IF THAT LITTLE MONSTER HAS DONE ANYTHING, THEN I'LL…"

'You will do NOTHING to my hatchling, you pathetic insect!' snarled Hedwig – or Polaris as she was apparently known.

As Harry watched, he gasped when a white burst of magic flew from the wings of his new friend; seconds later, the magical force cut clean through the door, striking Vernon, who screamed as he was flung across the hall, colliding with the far wall in the process.

With eyes as wide as saucers, Harry and Petunia looked to the phoenix before they chorused, "What did you do to him?"

'I said I would not harm your nestmates, little one,' said Polaris, glaring at Petunia before she let out a sound like a cross between a trill and a hiss as she added, 'But whether he occupies your nest or not, he is not of your nest like this one and not just because of how he has willingly dared to harm you on many occasions.'

As Harry stared at his beloved friend in disbelief and a small hint of disapproval, Hedwig let out a low coo of reassurance as she went on, 'I sense your displeasure at my actions, but I will not allow any human to endanger you with their pathetic desires to see you weak. Not when you have the power to make yourself better than they could ever imagine.'

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, watching as Polaris flew up onto his shoulder before, just like she used to do as Hedwig, she began preening his hair with her beak, letting out a low trill of comfort while she spoke to him over the bond that had apparently formed between them.

'Your power, Harry Potter,' said Polaris, a part of her and Harry noticing Petunia leaving as though she didn't want to know more than she already did – and, even then, it was more than she would have liked – while Polaris continued to talk to her beloved human friend. 'It is an ancient power, which comes from skills that go far beyond simple wands and words. It comes from something that, time and time again, you have had threatened with you by the forces of darkness and the so-called forces of good. It is a power that stems from the purest part of your essence of being and has been passed through generations of your blood until it has found its way to you.'

Harry blinked in shock as he looked to Polaris before he asked her, "What…what is this power?"

'Light, little one,' said Polaris, something about the way she called him her little one and sought to protect him helping to banish the darkness that had clouded Harry's mind moments ago helping to calm Harry's once-raging spirit, as he continued listening to her words. 'It is the essence of what is commonly-referred to in the circles of the arcane as White Magic: thus, making you what is known as a White Magician.'

Again, Harry blinked in surprise while Polaris stopped her preening of his hair to stare deep into his eyes,

As she did so, Harry felt his mind grow strong with an energy force that he didn't know while, at the same time, he felt like he was falling into a mist of obscurity that shone around him while Polaris' voice filled his mind again. 'In your homeland, White Mages, as they are also known, are almost-extinct: I'd even speculate you are the last of their kind, Harry Potter: they were cast out and kept from the true magic within them by the backwards laws and objectives of this realm. The only ones who come close to them are the ones you would call Healers, such as the nice, but scary female who has continuously healed your wounds and ensured your health.'

"You mean Madam Pomfrey?" asked Harry amusingly, earning a nod – which looked weird coming from a bird, but he didn't say anything – from Polaris while he asked her, "So, if I'm the last of them, how has this…White Magic…found its way to me? I mean, I didn't even know I had it, so how could I be one of these very rare magic users?"

'As I said, it is in your blood, my Harry,' said Polaris, the fogginess in Harry's mind lifting to reveal what felt like a wave of cleanliness that was better than the warmest, most-refreshing baths, 'Your ancestry dates back to one whom became the First White Mage: a powerful, gifted sorcerer named Ignotus Peverell. To many, he was also known as the Master of Death, but this is a false title: no-one can cheat or command Death: the power of such things, yes, but not the essence itself. No, Ignotus harnessed the power of Life through three ancient and very powerful relics given to him and his brothers by the founder of their family in a test of worthiness.'

"What happened to him?"

'He died, as all humans die,' said Polaris, earning another shocked look from Harry as she told him, 'But from where he died, his legacy rose and, from his son, right down through the ages, to you, Harry James Potter, the gift of White Magic, the Magic of Life and Light, endured. In its purest form, the Light can never be taken from a Mage, but there have been those who tried…such as the one who used your blood to fuel his resurrection in a bid to cheat Death.'

"Tom?" asked Harry, earning a positive response from Polaris before he asked, "Then…does that mean he has my power?"

'No, little one, he does not,' said Polaris, earning a sigh of relief from Harry as she explained, 'In trying to steal the very essence of your being from you, Tom Riddle has himself become cursed, even more than he already is, and this, amongst other things, is why he looks as deformed as he does. It is the essence of true Light that fuels your power, resulting in moments such as what happened thirteen years ago, as well as the event that took place three years ago and, of course, the event that took place on the night Tom Riddle tried to claim what was not his to claim.'

"So…you're saying White Magic saved me from him as a baby?" asked Harry.

'Correct.'

"How?"

'Your Father, James Potter, held the gift in him and poured it into his art as a defender of good, an Auror, as you humans would call it,' said Polaris, earning an awed look from Harry while she continued to explain the truth to him. 'However, when he suspected his life would end in defence of his only son, he relinquished his power, sacrificing what is known as the White Soul within him, the source of a Mage's power and core knowledge of White Magic, and passed it onto you, which increased not only your right to claim the power, but your arsenal of abilities.'

As Harry's eyes widened in wonder, as well as pain and sorrow, Hedwig let out a saddened trill as she went on, 'However, what even the Powers That Be did not anticipate was the sacrifice of your Mother, Lily Potter, or the ancient magic, so old that no human understands its true strength, she invoked on that same night: this created a force of White Magic in the bloodline that had not been seen since the days of Ignotus, which resulted in something that should take years to come around.'

"What?" asked Harry, his heart aching and longing to hear more while he also shivered as he heard the truth for what it was.

He also felt like he finally understood why it was that he was the way he was; why he never bowed to death; how he was always willing to go that extra mile to make things right and, of course, how he always managed to find the strength to survive even when all hope seemed lost.

His power, his legacy and his inheritance were all responsible for this and, although Harry didn't know yet how to tap into this power, he did know that he wasn't about to squander the potential or waste the chance that was being offered to him. Besides, it was getting to the stage in his magical life where he'd need to start thinking about what he wanted to do after Hogwarts and, if this power inside of him was meant to be involved in helping and healing others, then why shouldn't he consider a path like that one?

A Healer with power and abilities unlike any other.

With time and training, he could do anything…

He could heal anyone.

He could save so many lives, avert so much pain and grief, maybe even stop children like him losing their parents to the darkness and the whims and plans of monsters, psychopaths and evil demons.

As he thought about this, Harry heard Polaris' voice address him once more, 'Your desire is an apt one, little one, for the event that has taken place here today has been thirteen years in the making: with the power that is now available to you, you could do as you wish and be a great help to those who cannot help themselves as you have always sought to do…but as more than what you once were.'

"Why?" asked Harry, looking back to Polaris while he stroked her feathers, feeling a level of softness beneath his fingers that he couldn't compare to anything else he'd felt as he asked, "What exactly happened to me that night?"

'You Ascended,' answered Polaris, though there was something about the term that made Harry shudder once more, 'And on that same night, as your power reached levels that would normally take older, wiser and, yes, even greater and more-trained White Mages decades to reach, the power of your magic sought a balance: something to ensure the force inside of you remained yours to command instead of being consumed by it because you're too young to understand the power that was now available to you. In its search, it found a lone egg in the nest of a snowy owl family that was only just starting to grow: me.'

"And you hatched?" asked Harry, earning a nod from Polaris, "So then, how did you choose your name? And, if I'm a White Mage, then does that make you a White Phoenix?"

'Yes, though some would also call me an Aether Phoenix, after a source of the power of Life itself,' said Polaris, spreading her wings, which shone like starlight, but Harry smiled as their warm radiance surged through him.

As she saw his happiness, Polaris let out a cry of warmth before she ruffled her feathers as she went on, 'As for my name, it was given to me by Magic itself: sealed behind the image of an owl who would watch over my human when I found him: I waited ten years to find you, my true power keeping me young and strong until, at last, we were brought together.'

"A day I will treasure forever, girl," whispered Harry, stroking Polaris' feathers, earning a trill of contentment from the phoenix before he asked, "So now that you're in your true form, what happens? I mean, is this where I start to embrace my true power or is there something else I need to do?"

'No, little one,' answered Polaris, nuzzling Harry's cheek while she told him, 'Now that we are finally one,, the power is yours and, of course, you will need to learn, train and grow to use it, but thankfully, your lineage has been made fully available to you.'

"How?" asked Harry curiously, earning a low trill from Polaris as she nuzzled him.

'The Dark Times you recently endured have a positive light that others have tried to keep from you,' replied the phoenix, earning a curious look from Harry as she went on. 'You are a man now, little one, though they would prefer you to stay a chick and, as a man, you can claim what is yours.'

A faint modicum of rage suddenly bubbled in Harry's gut as he heard this.

Once again, there was something being kept from him and others did it because they chose to think he needed it kept from him.

Well, he would show them.

'Also,' continued Polaris, her song filling Harry's ears, as though seeking to calm him while she explained, 'As your familiar and your Balance, I know enough about the power of White Magic to help you begin to learn to harness it for your own wishes, but if you truly wish for more information, you will need to speak to one experienced in our ways: another whom you trust with the secrets of our power, your legacy and the future you will have as a White Mage.'

"You mean my friends?" asked Harry, earning a look from Polaris that seemed to be one-part warning and one-part counsel.

'Only if you are sure they can be trusted, as this power is something your world may call Evil, despite the pure Goodness it is born of, little one,' said Polaris, her voice edged by warning as she told him more. 'The one you told to leave you alone, for example: he knows of the power of White Magic and I sense he will try and keep you from your training in a bid to control you and, through you, control this.'

"Why am I not surprised?" drawled Harry, scowling as he listened to his familiar's sound advice.

'As for the one who likes you as friends and is always there for advice, there is every possibility she will choose to side with the old one out of fear of what you are capable of and the fact that you choose your path and not theirs.'

"Sounds like her, though I can't help but hope you're wrong," muttered Harry, lowering his eyes for a moment as he weighed the cost of losing a friend against choosing to stand on his own two feet before, biting his lip nervously, he looked back to Polaris as he asked her, "Well if not them, who else could I talk to? I mean, I don't know where Sirius could be, or Remus for that matter and, if I tried to talk to Ron or any of my friends in the Weasley Family, Dumbledore would find out, so…"

'Have you no other friends, Harry?' asked Polaris, earning a curious look from Harry as she suggested, 'No-one whom you could speak to freely in the name of friendship…perhaps someone who may or may not have ties to your life, even if they don't know it yet?'

As Harry blinked in curiosity, Polaris gave a trill of amusement as she asked, 'By the Ancients, how do you not know your friends from your peers, Harry Potter? You do have friends you can trust, but for reasons unknown to me, you choose to overlook them for the sake of your nest-mates as a trio and the idea you needed to be their saviour.'

"Well that's going to stop," argued Harry, earning another trill from Polaris before he asked, "But who can I trust?"

'Perhaps one who can himself teach you the start of your path to Healing…through the power of the earth beneath your feet?'

As Polaris suggested it, Harry's eyes widened before he laughed and, looking at his friend, he stroked her feathers before he asked, "And are you going to play owl for me again and let him know I'd like to have a talk?"

'I'd be there and back before you can say White Light, little one,' boasted Polaris, earning a laugh from Harry while he smiled proudly as he nodded, a part of him feeling a bit stupid for not realising that his beloved friend was right about one thing.

He did have other friends, other options aside from that deceptive old git who thought he needed to control Harry and the authority worshippers who sided with him and now, after all these years, it was time to see if these friends felt the same way he did. For reasons he didn't quite understand, when Harry thought about the friend he had in mind, his heart ached with worry about the fear that he would do like them and go to Dumbledore rather than helping Harry better himself.

He just hoped…no…he prayed he was wrong.

'Only one way to find out…'

White

When Neville Longbottom got home after what seemed like the longest year ever, thus far, at Hogwarts, there were things he looked forwards to, things he seemed to be thinking about and things he wondered about with everything that had happened already.

Unlike everyone else, Neville believed Harry when he said that He Who Must Not Be Named was back: just look at the evidence for Merlin's sake!

First and foremost, a Death Eater attack after thirteen years without them, at an international event no less, plus the return of the Dark Mark; then Harry gets forcibly entered into a dangerous Tournament, which was intended for those who are of age and people just happen to suspect he was responsible for it himself.

By Mab, couldn't these people see that, sometimes, if not a lot of the time, the only thing Harry wanted was to be a normal person at school?

As if that wasn't bad enough, there was the unexpected death of Barty Crouch Senior – not that Neville would shed too many tears for him after what Crouch and his psychopathic allies had done to Neville's parents – and the strange, if not worrying way Neville had noticed how Harry seemed to be plagued by nightmares he didn't know on the night of the Yule Ball.

Neville had silently applauded himself for how well he'd played his role in making Harry think he'd just gotten in, but that was a lie.

White

The truth of it was that he had actually returned nearly ten minutes earlier, where he'd found Harry thrashing about in his sleep, his eyes screwed shut in pain while, as Neville tried to get closer, he found himself stopped by this wave of unusual magic that seemed to crash over Harry's body, overpowering him like a fever that sprang up out of nowhere.

What it meant, Neville didn't know and, although he'd managed to get Harry to believe he hadn't noticed anything, it had still made Neville worried.

Because of his worry for his friend, Neville conceded that, in a strange way, getting a chance to help Harry with the Second Task, convenient though it was for him to happen to have the right book and the right information right when Harry needed it most, was like a godsend. And, as coincidental as it was for him to have the right book, it was definitely more than those soap-opera-worthy arguing nitwits, Ron and Hermione, had done to help Harry prepare.

After all, for such a bright and brilliantly-talented witch, Neville found it funny, if not suspicious that Granger hadn't known about Gillyweed when the clue in the egg had been solved by Harry.

As for Ron…well, he was just an idiot who'd managed to worm his way back into Harry's good books because Harry was that sort of person.

Kind.

Forgiving.

Willing to put the past behind them for the sake of friendship.

However, if anyone asked him, Neville would have sworn blind that he couldn't have explained why he felt so worried about the future of his young friend when they'd barely spoken for longer than two minutes at a time over the past four years, but it was a feeling that he just couldn't ignore.

White

Then the Third Task had happened and everything had gone to hell in a hand basket.

Cedric was dead.

Fleur had been injured to the point where she, apparently, didn't leave her room until after the Beauxbatons students had gone home.

Krum had been put under the Imperius.

And Harry?

Harry was scarred, wounded, bleeding and screaming bloody murder about You-Know…no…about Voldemort being back, not that anyone other than the Headmaster, Ron and Hermione believed him when he said it.

For Merlin's sake, the guy murdered Harry's parents and made him an orphan.

Did they actually think he'd scream about something as traumatic as that happening unless it was true?

White

So, when the end of term came around and Neville returned home to Longbottom Hall, he was, admittedly, still worried for his fellow soon-to-be-fifth-year Gryffindor.

The plagues of his worry were worming away at his insides like a nest of snakes writhing around inside him, filling him with dread, fear and worry that, perhaps for the first time in four years, made Neville worry about Harry Potter himself and not just for the sake of Gryffindor or the school like he had done on that night in their first year.

And when he felt that level of worry, a part of Neville he'd never really relied on at Hogwarts rose up, bringing with it a sense of dread as he knew just who he needed to speak to.

Perhaps even the only one who'd listen to him without slinging barbs back.

White

After leaving his things in his room, Neville made his way along the corridors, descending the stairs until, as he walked past his Great-Uncle's study, which was a place that Neville had always been forbidden from entering until he was old enough, the Longbottom Scion felt his heart clench in a way that made him sick inside as he thought about his friend.

Why he was feeling like this, he didn't know, but, as he stopped outside the door to his Great Uncle's study, Neville swallowed hard before, lifting a hand, he knocked three times on the door.

"Yes?" asked the proud-toned voice of Algernon Longbottom, a man whom Neville had always been uneasy around because of the tests he'd put the boy through when he was younger.

However, in an oddly-crazy, twisted way, ever since becoming a wizard, Neville had tried to believe that his Great-Uncle could actually be someone he could talk to if he had problems of the magical variety, especially those that made him feel as uneasy, nauseous and unsure of his decisions as he felt at that moment.

"It…it's me, Uncle," said Neville, swallowing hard once more while he smiled inwardly.

For some reason, his Great-Uncle always hated being called Great-Uncle: he'd always told Neville to refer to him as Uncle whenever they talked.

Either that or sir, which was mostly because of the job that he had at the Ministry.

A job Neville wasn't meant to know about until he was old enough to deal with the ramifications of knowing, he might add, but as the future Lord Longbottom, Algernon had already entrusted his young charge with the secret when he'd turned thirteen, putting it down as a Family Secret, which meant that only those Neville trusted as much as family could know about it.

"What is it, child?" asked Algernon, distracting Neville from his train of thought while he asked, "It's a bit early for you to come and see me, isn't it?"

"I…I need your advice," replied Neville, his heart racing as he asked, "Please…I don't want to speak to Gran about this because…because she might not understand or…or just brush me off about this, but…but I need to speak to someone who…who might be able to help me understand it: please, Uncle, can I see you?"

From the other side of the door, Neville heard a sigh before the door clicked and, as Neville gulped again, he heard Algernon's voice, "It's open: come in, nephew. I think it's about time you got the chance to enter this room at last, especially given the events of the past two weeks."

Even as he went to walk through the door, Neville's heart soared with hope and surprise.

The events of the past two weeks, meaning things that had happened since the Tournament's end and Harry had announced Voldemort's return.

Was the fallout from those events so serious that his Uncle allowed him such privileges as though saying that Neville was ready to take that step?

Opening the door, Neville tried not to look too nervous as he walked into the room; as soon as he did so, however, his eyes widened as he found himself standing in a room that looked like a lot of things, but not a study – at least not like any study that Neville had seen before.

For one thing, the top sections of the walls and the ceiling of the room were decorated with a vast array of crystal torches that burned with magical light, creating an air of wonder and mystery on the room itself. Along one wall, running down to the far end of the room – though Neville thought that perhaps the word chamber was more appropriate given its size – was a large bookcase filled with a vast array of tomes, parchment and texts, the likes of which Neville hadn't seen, but, somehow, just looking at them made him shudder, as though he could sense they were filled with the sort of magic that even Hogwarts wouldn't know about.

Along the other wall, to Neville's surprise, was a vast array of weapons and suits of what looked like battle robes, armour and strange-looking suits that seemed to give off a warrior's air, one or two of the weapons immortalised in magically-reinforced cabinets with plaques written beneath them.

The floor of the chamber was decorated with a dark blue rug that trailed along towards the head of the chamber where, as Neville walked forwards, he saw his Uncle standing there, his hazel-brown eyes filled with pride and a small glimmer of amusement as he saw the stunned, speechless look on Neville's face as the boy took in the sight of the chamber and its contents.

Even Algernon Longbottom himself no longer looked like the stern traditionalist that Neville remembered from his youth; now, he was dressed in a suit of jet-black robes that wrapped around him like a second skin while, to Neville's surprise, he seemed to be carrying a scimitar that shone in the light of the chamber, its hilt emblazoned with a purple-coloured gemstone that looked about the same size as Neville's eyes.

As for Algernon's body, it seemed to exude an air of power similar to the tomes and the battle items around Neville; his once-grey, receding hairline seemed to have regained some of its former chestnut-brown lustre and length while his face, which had always looked aged with emotion, had a familiar stern look in his expression, but there was youth and strength to him too.

As Neville reached the front of the chamber, he also noticed his Great-Uncle stood in front of two strange-looking objects.

One was a stone table engraved with a vast array of runes that Neville couldn't identify – not that he could have tried, since he hadn't taken Ancient Runes at school – while, beyond the table, there was also a large pool of crystal-clear water that shone like diamonds, parts of the water's surface shimmering like phantoms that danced among the liquid contents of the pool.

Looking away from the items, Neville met his Uncle's hazel eyes before he swallowed again, lowering his head out of respect as he said, "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you, sir, but…"

"You are not disturbing me, child," replied Algernon, his wizened voice edged by the same stern tone that Neville knew from his youth. "In fact, ever since hearing about the tragic conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament, my colleagues and I have agreed that the time I have waited many years for is here, despite Augusta's argument to the contrary."

"I…I don't understand," said Neville, earning a small smile from Algernon that looked about as scary as Snape smiling to the boy – if not scarier, not that Neville would admit it – but he kept his expression apathetic as he looked into the eyes of his relation.

"I'm saying it's time for me to begin your training," said Algernon, earning another curious look from Neville before his eyes widened as the older man explained, "Your training as my chosen successor in the Unspeakables, my nephew."

Neville's heart froze in his chest as he stared at his Uncle: was he serious?

The Unspeakables, of which Algernon was not only a member, but the leader of the department – not that anyone outside of the department save for the DMLE Director, Amelia Bones, knew such a thing – was one of the strongest factions of magical warriors in the Ministry, if not the country.

On the surface, they seemed to act in a manner that showed they were only ever devoted themselves to research in the name of magic, but the truth of it was that they went deeper than that. If the threat was ever great enough that the Aurors, the Minister or even the ICW couldn't get the job done, an ancient protocol was activated in the Unspeakables that called on its leader and one whom they chose to succeed them to take up arms and become a warrior, a guardian – or Sentinel, as the protocol was named for – of the Grand Design.

But, for quite some time now, the threat had not been great enough to be called, not since Grindelwald's time, which was when Algernon himself had been named as heir to the former Unspeakable Commander-in-Chief, known among his colleagues as Zero because no-one was to know of his movements, his identity or his actions until the task was complete.

If his Uncle thought he was the worthy successor…

As he stared into his Uncle's eyes with disbelief, surprise and no small amount of concern, the young teenager swallowed hard as he stammered out his next words, "B-b-but I did…I didn't ask you to see me about this: and…and how do you know I'm the worthy heir? You've always looked down on my ability; you gave me Trevor and…and you tormented me as a child, so why…"

"I am sorry my tests seemed so savage, they had an adverse effect on your psyche, dear one," said Algernon, raising a hand for silence, which Neville did give him as he went on, "But they were all for the sake of testing your resolve and the strength of your core and your character, which, although you might not believe me, nephew, but I have seen greatness in your magic and your future."

"You could have killed me!" exclaimed Neville, his eyes glowing with rage as he snapped, "How can you claim they were for the Greater Good or some other bullshit like that, Uncle? You could have killed me, drowned me, injured me many times over and left me…you could have turned me into a fucking Obscurial with your demented desires!"

"And yet, despite the trauma, you never did succumb to the darkness of the Obscurus I could have turned you into," argued Algernon, earning a scowl from Neville as he told him, "This is what makes you the one worthy to succeed me, Neville: this and something I have recently been made aware of due to contacts in my department and evidence that points to the same conclusion."

"What?" asked Neville.

In response, Algernon took a deep breath before he asked, "Tell me, nephew, what do you know of the White Mages?"

Neville's eyes narrowed, but as he saw the look, Algernon smiled as he nodded, "That's what I thought: their history is not one that many people can claim to understand, but they were very real…and they still are: in fact, dear nephew, one of them, the last of them, is to become your equal among the Unspeakables; the light to the darkness of your future, if you will."

"My…my equal?" asked Neville, his eyes filled with curiosity as well as the same spark of rebellious disbelief he'd had moments ago as he asked, "How…how do you know this, Uncle? And who's to say I'll accept your training? What if I want to take another path in my life?"

"Then that is your right," replied Algernon, again surprising Neville with how calm he sounded, "But your role as my chosen successor cannot be ignored, Neville: with the return of Lord Voldemort, the Sentinel Protocol was activated, which demanded I name my heir and begin training them in the event that the weeks, months and, perhaps, even years to come result in me losing my life to the war that is to come."

Here, his eyes softened as he added, "Trust me, child: if this could be avoided, I would have made sure you never knew of this. However, as I said, the signs first showed themselves when the purity of your strength and the grace in your heart was never corrupted, no matter what I tried to do to test you. Since then, you have grown into a fine young man and, were your Father here with us today, I know he would be proud to call you his son and heir, even though, as I said before, your Grandmother would argue against it out of a desire to protect you."

Suddenly, Neville felt dampness roll down his cheeks as he heard this.

Lifting his hand, he felt tears against his fingers that surprised him as he looked again to his Uncle before, swallowing hard, he asked, "What…what does this…this White Mage person have…have to do with this, Uncle?"

"As I said," replied Algernon, taking a breath before he added, "He will be your equal in all things, nephew: his Light and your Purity: they long to be together, to be complete in ways that are already showing themselves, although you may not be aware of such things."

Suddenly, Neville's eyes widened as he realised what his Uncle was saying.

At the same time, he was curious by the way his Uncle described his feelings because, as strange as it may seem, there was someone who he felt things for, but he'd never thought they were those kinds of feelings.

Biting his lip, Neville listened as Algernon continued, "I allowed you to finally enter this place, our family's Inner Sanctum, if you will, because of this very reason, Neville: along these walls are the histories and teachings of our bloodline, both as Longbottom Men and as Zero. The arsenal you see assembled here was used by our predecessors, which have replicas in the Family Vault at Gringotts, but, with your ascension, they'll be placed in the Sanctum for your use in training and deciding what course your battles and trials as the new Zero may take."

"And…the White Mage?" asked Neville curiously, his eyes filled with awe as he asked, "If…he's my equal, who is he? And how…how do I find him to share this…this training with him?"

Suddenly, Neville's eyes widened as a flash of white lit up the chamber, the Sanctum and, when it faded, his eyes widened as both he saw a white phoenix perched on the stone table, a parchment in its talons while its eyes were a shade of amber that seemed strangely-familiar to Neville.

Seeing the phoenix, Algernon smiled as he said, "Something tells me you won't have to look far, but if you wish to be prepared for what is to come, dear nephew, you will need to start training immediately…both you and your life-mate!"

While Neville's eyes widened again, Algernon's smile widened while a knowing glint appeared in his eyes as he indicated the phoenix before, to Neville's shock, his Uncle filled in the blank as he addressed his protégé once more.

"So, if I were you, I think we should see what Lord Potter wants to share with you."

Chapter 2 and, wow, talk about an interesting series of developments: Harry's become the last of an ancient race of powerful wizards and has an idea about his future, but will he be able to find the means to make that future his own?

Also, what will both Harry and Neville have to say when they learn the truth about the other and what is this Sentinel Protocol that Algernon spoke of?

Keep Reading to Find Out

Next Chapter: Two friends meet and Harry learns more about what is to be expected of him; also, Neville offers more than just friendship while our hero tries to understand what he's become: fortunately, this time, he really isn't alone…not anymore;

Please Read and Review

AN: Unspeakables

Now, I know this has been done before, but I decided to tweak things just a little to show how, exactly, Harry will receive training in his new arts and his eventual career choice, both of which are still to come;

The Sentinel Protocol is like a call to arms; it has no effect on career decisions: the only thing that it does is bring allies together to help prepare for the future and the conflict on the world. I decided to do it this way because, as far as we know, the Unspeakables are just researchers who are very secretive and only called on in the worst-case scenario.

So, I asked myself: what would happen if the worst-case scenario actually happened? Answer: a band of magical warriors with a leader who trains their protégé and helps prepare them for the future, including the possibility of being called onto the battlefield themselves;

Weird? Maybe, but, hopefully, as the story progresses, you'll get more of an idea;

AN2: Algernon

Also, with Algernon, who is a character that I, personally, have never worked with in my stories, I decided to use a favourite character of mine to describe his personality and his motives.

That character is Harrison Wells from The Flash, and how he's willing to go to extreme lengths to get the job done, even if it means others get hurt or affected by what he does:

Also, as you see, he has a knowing air about him that's sly, but also unnerving because he's such a mystery;

AN3: Hedwig/Polaris

Also, as weird as this is going to sound, when I imagine Hedwig/Polaris' phoenix form, I don't see a phoenix as we know them; neither do I see something like Articuno like most would. Weird as this is going to sound, what I have in my head with Hedwig/Polaris' form as an Aether Phoenix is an image like the Pokémon known as Talonflame; weird or what?

AN4: Portrayals

Hedwig/Polaris – voice: Emilia Clarke

Algernon Longbottom: Liam Neeson