Disclaimer: I am nothing but a worshipper of the great J.K. Rowling playing in her universe. Anything you recognize is not mine.

A/N: Updated 17-05-2005

DARK PHOENIX

Chapter 4: Fiery Aftermath

Harry was doing his morning run. He had woken up with a lot of pent up energy, but he told himself that was just because of the emotional state he was in. The conversation he had had with Voldemort had done quite a number on him. So what better way to get rid of restlessness and clear his mind than exercise? He quickly dressed, stored his wand in his back pocket and set out.

He was... perturbed. It would be a lie to say he wasn't tempted by what the Dark Lord had offered him. However, Harry knew that, being a Slytherin, Voldemort had a way to make words say exactly what one wanted to hear. Harry had to keep reminding himself of whom and what Voldemort really was and what he did for enjoyment.

The irony was, if he was tutored by one of the most powerful wizards of the century, then destroying Voldemort would be so much easier. What was that Loyalty Spell exactly? He'd ask Hermione, but owl post wasn't safe enough for that kind of correspondence and a question like that was bound to arouse suspicion within the Order. Harry knew better than to trust Voldemort blindly, but if he knew...

Harry stopped at the park for a drink from the fountain. He noticed a movie poster on the gate. He remembered Dudley speaking about it at the beginning of the summer, something about a guy infiltrating the bad guy's group and taking it down from the inside. Dudley had then proceeded to ask for the matching video game. "And of course," Harry thought bitterly, "Diddykins always gets what he wants!" Harry threw a scathing look at the poster and turned around.

And then he abruptly stopped, and turned back to the poster.

Could this work? Could this be the answer? But most of all, could he pull it off? Could he stand the torture, the lies, the Darkness and deceive the Dark Lord himself to bring him down from the inside?

He was confident enough that his Occlumency was up for the challenge. The conversation with Voldemort had been a fluke, it wouldn't happen again. Even then, Harry had managed to keep his mind closed, letting only his foremost thoughts project through. It would be a reasonable risk, he thought.

As for the lies, he could do it. It would take some work, but he could become more cunning and deceitful. The hat did want to put him in Slytherin after all, so he must have some talents. It was time he accepted that part of himself and used those tools without guilt.

Watching torture, even participating maybe... that would be hard. It would probably be harder to watch than to be victim to it. Then again, he had been watching himself torture his relatives on a nightly basis all summer. This was war and he was smack in the middle of it; he was going to see gruesome sights no matter what the circumstances. He didn't even have to look for a battle: the battle was guaranteed to come to him whatever he did. He might as well go to it on his own terms.

Voldemort had been right about Dumbledore making him into a tool. Harry was honest enough to admit he had been used. However, while still being mad about his life being controlled, he understood Dumbledore had reasons to act the way he did. He wasn't forgiving him, and even less agreeing. He was being indulgent.

What had hit the hardest about Voldemort's little diatribe was the blow to his people-saving thing. Yes he had it, and look where it had gotten him. And wallowing in guilt because he didn't save everyone was definitely counter-productive. It would be better to use his past experiences to make him stronger. He was going to honour the memory of his fallen parents and Godfather, as well as Cedric, by bringing down Voldemort whatever the price to him.

And what would the price be, exactly? A childhood? Yeah right, as if I ever had one. A long life? That was uncertain at best. His innocence? He barely had scraps of that to begin with. He was already destined to be a murderer, either by killing Voldemort directly or, indirectly, by not doing so. His life was shit already; he wasn't losing anything by doing so. Better him than someone who had a chance at leading a decent life. The only decent thing his life was his friends, and he wasn't sacrificing them by doing this, he was trying to save them. Yes, he probably would lose their friendship, but better that than them losing their life, or worse.

Harry headed back to the Dursley's house. He was feeling better than he had in months. He actually had a plan. Yes, it was a long shot, and still quite rough, but he was going to work on that. No plan survived the first encounter with the enemy anyway. Voldemort had just presented him with a one of a kind opportunity and he was going to milk it for all it's worth. He had to figure out a way to research that Loyalty Spell. That was the biggest obstacle to his plan. It wasn't that it could keep Harry and Voldemort from killing each other: the prophecy made sure of that. Harry just wanted to be certain there weren't any loopholes Voldemort could take advantage of.

When Harry arrived at four, Privet Drive, Harry noticed something strange. There was smoke coming from the backyard. Instead of going in the front door, Harry opened the small gate on the side of the house and headed towards the source of the smoke to investigate.

What he found made his heart stop.

There was a bonfire in the middle of the yard with his aunt, uncle and cousin around it. But that isn't what made his blood boil.

It was what they were using to fuel the fire.

His trunk had been emptied and its whole contents were ablaze. All his clothes, his books, absolutely everything he owned. Everything was burning. His uncle and cousin were laughing riotously though his aunt was strangely subdued. But Harry didn't register that fact. He was busy watching his uncle grab Hedwig's cage, with his snowy owl inside, and throwing it into the fire.

Harry reached out with his hand as if he was trying to catch the cage before it fell in the bonfire, even though he was too far to even hope. There was a loud shout of "NO!" and against all odds, the cage stopped just before it was licked by the flames. In the same breath, the cage completely disintegrated letting a panicked Hedwig fly away to safety and the fire was snuffed out like a candle.

There was a long moment where Harry glared murderously at the Dursleys and the Dursleys stared disbelievingly back. Then Dudley squealed in fear and ran into the house followed shortly by his parents.

Harry looked at what remained of his belongings. Among carbonized clothes he recognized a few books, a piece of the Marauder's Map, as well as the cover of his picture book. That loss of those two items hit him hard. He had so little left of his parents! How dare they destroy them!

Fury flared in him like never before. He could feel his magic responding to it and did nothing to stop it. He was murderous and his magic was more and more lethal with every moment. Hedwig was saved, which was a small comfort, but it did nothing to quell the wrath he was feeling.

Even then, he hadn't lost all his thinking capabilities. He remembered having hidden his invisibility cloak, his Gringotts key, and what was left of his pocket money under the floorboards in his room.

The craze he was in made the time flow in a strange fashion. He only vaguely remembered the door blasting off its hinges to let him in the house and he was already prying up the floorboards to access the only items he had left. He stored his cloak under his shirt and stashed his money in his pocket. He turned back to leave the room and there he was met with a strange sight.

The place where he had put his hand to open the door was blackened as if it was touched with a red-hot poker in the shape of a hand. The moment Harry touched the darkened spot, his hand lit up with fire. The fire quickly spread to the surrounding area of the door. Harry couldn't even feel the heat of the flames. Obviously, it was his magic that was causing this.

With a maniacal grin, Harry encouraged the power and let it loose. On the way out of the house, he let his hands drag on the walls setting everything aflame. If the Dursleys like fire so much, he thought, they will really enjoy this one!

It was not long before Harry reached the street. He raised his right arm, calling for the Knight Bus. Still in a dangerous daze, though his hands had stopped inflaming everything, he absently paid the fee to the conductor. He quickly made his way to a chair in the back. He looked outside where the Dursley house was quickly becoming an impressive brazier.

He saw the Dursleys weren't outside yet, at least not up front.

More importantly, he realised he didn't care whether he had killed them or not.

The Knight Bus disappeared hurriedly before anyone noticed the purple bus.

TBC