A/N: Reviewers are demi-gods, really they are.

TicTacTurtle - Thanks! That's really encouraging and nice of you. Hopefully my idea will end up making sense in the end…

Dark Angel's Blue Fire - Thank you. Though I really don't think it's all that wonderful…:)

Okay, here we go!

Fawkes was so shocked by the powerful feelings that had risen up inside him during the bonding and the fact that he'd managed to sing such a beautiful song without going a note wrong that he just sat and stared at the boy in front of him, who was gasping and gazing back with wide eyes. Dimly, he thought how hard he'd tried before to sing a wonderful song and how often he'd failed and realised that the bonding song had been almost effortless in comparison, yet almost to the standard his father had sung to.

Albus was still panting and transfixed by the phoenix, which seemed immobile and just as stunned as the boy. Then the creature ruffled its wings and looked back into his eyes.

"Hello."

Albus nearly jumped a foot in the air.

"You can talk!" he exclaimed breathlessly. He had been fairly sure before that birds couldn't talk.

"Of course I can," sniffed the bird. "Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, you can understand me now."

Albus, however, did not take in a single word, as he was still amazed at the sight of a bird talking. He eventually found his tongue, to ask the question that was foremost in his mind.

"Please, what are you?"

The bird drew itself up and seemed slightly insulted. "I am a phoenix!" Fawkes was about to describe, in detail, how fantastic his species were, when the boy spoke again.

"I'm Albus Dumbledore. I'm a boy."

"Yes, I am aware of that," said the phoenix testily, embarrassed at how emotional the bonding had been.

"You're very beautiful," said Albus wonderingly. He had a strong urge to grab the bird and hug it but had the feeling that this gesture would be unwelcome for some reason.

"Wonderful - that's just the right attitude," said the bird approvingly. "Now-"

"Are you mine?" asked Albus abruptly. "What shall I call you?"

The phoenix blinked and closed his eyes, muttering under his breath. "Yes… I am 'yours,' as you put it. But you, boy, are also mine." The tone was rather pointed.

Albus gave the phoenix a confused look and then repeated the second question. "What shall I call you? Let me think of a name…" He pouted and screwed up his face in concentration.

"I already have a name!" snapped the bird. "And I would like you to call me 'Your Majesty' … but I suppose it must just be Fawkes."

"Oh. Sorry," said Albus quickly. He didn't want the bird to go away. "Your Majesty-"

"Fawkes," Fawkes corrected reluctantly.

"Are you going to stay with me?"

Fawkes looked up into the boy's huge blue eyes and thin face surrounded by its mane of hair and felt himself soften again. "Yes."

"Shall I ask Mother-" began Albus but the bird had suddenly jumped backwards.

"Ah! My Burning's come early - must've been the energy of the bonding-"

Then, to Albus's horror, the phoenix burst into flames! The boy let out a cry and leapt upwards, gaping at the burning bird before him. A bad memory stirred inside his head and Albus stood helplessly, arms held limply by his sides, as the phoenix named Fawkes let out a squawk and then was reduced to a pile of smouldering ashes.

Albus let out a whimper - and then the small bald head of a baby bird emerged from the pile of ashes. Its over-sized brown eyes turned in the boy's direction.

Albus had not noticed the baby bird. His bright blue eyes had filled with tears and one had already leaked down his cheek. His face was screwed up, lip wobbling, and his arms were wrapped around himself giving himself a hug. For a moment Fawkes sat amongst the ashes of his old body and stared at him, feeling oddly touched, but then he realised that unless he did something, the boy was going to start howling.

"Albus!"

Albus jumped and let out a yelp. He looked around wildly for Fawkes. His eyes fell on the baby bird sitting amongst the ashes, flapping its stubby wings.

"It's me, Fawkes," said Fawkes reassuringly, deciding to be gentle - the last thing he wanted was for the boy to start yelling. "I'm not dead, see?"

Albus sniffled and crouched down beside the baby bird in amazement. The little creature in the middle of the dark ashes was not like the big golden bird at all - it had no feathers, was an ugly pink-grey and the only thing that was the same was its eyes - but it had spoken with the phoenix's voice. Albus didn't understand.

"You're not Fawkes," he whispered doubtfully, another tear wending its way down his face.

"Oh yes I am," said the baby bird. "It's all right Albus - all phoenixes do that."

"Do they?" asked the boy hopefully, small face still very sad.

"Yes," said Fawkes desperately - it really looked as though Albus was still going to start bawling regardless. "Every few months."

Albus suddenly gave the phoenix a watery smile. Unable to restrain himself, he scooped up the baby Fawkes and crushed him against his chest. Fawkes found this very uncomfortable and screeched at Albus to let him go. Albus did so but was still smiling, until an unpleasant thought struck him.

"Does it hurt?" he asked with a concerned expression.

"No, not really," replied Fawkes. "It feels like I'm being tickled, that's all."

"Oh," said Albus, beaming, all trace of tears vanishing. "Good."

At that moment, his friend with the messy black hair and glasses appeared and called his name. Albus called out in greeting, making Fawkes jump. He could not see the boy but knew that one of Albus's semi-invisible friends must be present. He turned his head until he got a brief glimpse of them and said nothing.

"Hello," said Albus's special friend. He stopped when he saw Albus standing beside a small baby bird by some ashes. "What are you doing?"

"This is Fawkes," said Albus, gesturing at the bird, but then his voice faded away. Could Fawkes actually see whom he was talking to? "Wait," he said to his friend and then turned to the phoenix.

"Can you see anybody here?" he asked, pointing over at where his friend was. "Some people can't see him, I know-"

"I can see him," said the phoenix carefully. "But only sometimes. And I can't hear him at all."

Albus grinned at him. "Good - he's my special chum," he explained. He turned back to said friend. "This is Fawkes, my…" He glanced back the bird.

"Phoenix," said the bird wearily. He was feeling tired after his Burning.

"Yes, that," said Albus.

"Albus, what's his name? And what's the other one's name?" asked Fawkes, trying to sound as though he wasn't too interested.

"I don't know," answered Albus, grinning at his friend. "He won't tell me - but the other one is called Thom."

"Ah," said Fawkes and, in turning his head, got a glimpse of Thom walking towards them. Thom was glaring daggers at the phoenix; he looked as though he wanted to run over and strangle the life out of him. "He doesn't seem to like me very much."

"He doesn't like anyone very much," said Albus apologetically.

"Albus," sighed Fawkes. "I would like to go to sleep now; I have to sleep after my Burning."

The boy blinked at him. "Okay - but I need to ask Mother whether I can keep you, first. Stay here and wait and then we can play," he added to his special friend, who nodded happily.

"You'll need to carry me," said Fawkes, uneasy at the idea of entrusting himself into the care of a five-year-old but aware that, if left outside, he could soon be the dinner of a hungry Kneazle. "I can't fly until I get my feathers back."

"Okay," agreed Albus, who reached down for him. Fawkes flinched, expecting him to crush him like he had before, but Albus seemed to have realised that he needed to be gentle and picked up the bird in his hands as though Fawkes was made of china. Albus walked carefully indoors, in search of his Mother. Father was away again and Nurse was nowhere to be seen as the little boy dutifully carried Fawkes along to the drawing room, having last seen Mother there.

Mother was indeed there, sitting at the side of a table. She was gazing out of the window and the beginnings of a tapestry lay abandoned in her lap. She looked round as Albus approached.

"Good afternoon, Albus, what are you-" She stopped at the sight of what Albus was carrying. "What on earth is that! Put it back outside at once; it's probably filthy!"

"Excuse me?" said Fawkes irritably. "Filthy?"

"But Mother," protested Albus. "I want to keep it as my pet!"

Mother shook her head firmly but her expression was sympathetic. "No, darling. If you want a pet, we'll get you a Crup when you're older."

"But Mother," pleaded the boy, "I want this to be my pet! It's a phoenix, Mother!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Albus," said his mother primly. "Phoenixes are big, beautiful and very rare - you wouldn't just find one in your garden. And that thing is little and ugly - what in Merlin's name would you want with it?"

"What do you know about it, Mrs Ugly Human?" squawked Fawkes in indignation.

"It is a phoenix, Mother! It told me so," said Albus unhappily.

"Don't talk such nonsense; phoenixes don't talk, they sing. Now put it outside at once."

Albus whimpered. "Please?" he whined.

"Albus-" said Maria Dumbledore sternly.

Albus's eyes grew bigger and bigger. He gazed up her with his lower lip trembling, clasping the phoenix to his chest. His eyes seemed as though they were made of liquid sapphire and he looked as though he were a saintly child whose heart would be truly broken if made to give the bird up.

"Ah - is this where I'm supposed to look cute?" said Fawkes vaguely, before stretching his neck out and widening his eyes, trying to look less like a small featherless creature with stubby wings and more like a fluffy little pet.

Maria looked down at the pair of them, at a loss. The combination of Albus's big blue eyes as well as the way his lip was wobbling made him look hopelessly adorable. Indeed, one could almost believe that Albus was not really from Earth at all and that he was actually a cherub who had somehow wandered out of Eden and was now dependant on the kindliness of others. Maria found herself thinking that refusal would destroy Albus and that, somehow, she had been cast in the role of the wicked, heartless mother and the boy was the innocent, abused child, who would shrivel up and die like a flower denied water if she said no. Even that horrible creature he held in his hands seemed to be beseeching her to say yes.

She sighed and nodded. "Very well, Albus. But you look after it."

Albus's woebegone expression disappeared instantly and a twinkle that would later become famous lit in his blue eyes. He set the bird down on a table and then enveloped his mother in a hug before picking up the bird again and dashing out of the room.

"Yippee," said Fawkes dully as he was carried up to Albus's bedroom.

Albus stopped and the phoenix was astonished to see the boy give him a stern look. Albus looked down at him seriously.

"Don't call my Mother ugly."

Fawkes couldn't help but roll his eyes. "All right. I won't. Now put me down and let me sleep."

Albus seemed satisfied with his promise and took him into his bedroom. He put Fawkes down on his bed and then opened his toy box to get the blue baby blanket he'd had when he was younger. He arranged it into a little nest on the window sill before setting Fawkes down into the hollow in the middle.

"Thanks," said Fawkes, surprised by this thoughtfulness. "Goodnight."

"Night, night," whispered Albus before running out to join his friend outside.