"Fawkes is a phoenix Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes."

~ Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, first class, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.


Chapter 56 ~ Flight of the Phoenix


ECOTS


The dog-like face stared at her, its unmoving claws clenched around the bottom step of the spiral staircase leading to Dumbledore's office. Its wings were spread out, preventing passage by any mortal without permission, and its teeth peeked out from beneath its humorless grin.

From behind Potter, Kally eyed it uncertainly. "You sure about this?"

Harry nodded, his hands opening and closing on thin air as if silently wishing to strangle something. "Yes."

Kally reached out, blindly finding his hand, snaring his fingers between hers.

Today was the day of Mr. Weasley's funeral.

Harry's hand squeezed back.

Cutting green eyes swiveled to meet hers, a brief look exchanged between the two teenagers. Something resonated within Harry's malachite gaze, a resolute seriousness that sent her heart racing.

"I'm glad you're here," he lowly told, meaning injected into every syllable.

Kally's lips curved. "Like I'd be anywhere else."

Harry offered her a strained smile, again squeezing her hand.

Then her wizard swallowed, tearing his eyes from her. Neither spoke as they studied the gargoyle; there was no need.

Ron and Ginny were still away. Luna, Hermione, Neville and Dean were as well. They clearly had spent the night at the Burrow. It made sense: the only connection to the Floo-network within Hogwarts had been via Dumbledore's office, and it had been sealed off at the time of his death. The castle had done it all on its own.

No new portkeys could be made either. Only Dumbledore had been able to make port keys on or off Hogwarts's grounds. That ability hadn't passed on to anyone with his death. No Headmaster before him had ever been able to accomplish it, and it was doubtful that any would after. Hermione had found that fact in Hogwarts: A History.

Dumbledore truly had been a great wizard, the only wizard to have ever been able to breach the school's ancient magics.

The castle was secure.

McGonagall had known her Headmaster was dead before anyone else, certain wards around the castle slamming into place one-by-one. It had alerted her. The last time Kally had laid eyes on McGonagall she'd looked older, tired, drawn.

Given all that, it made sense that the others had remained at the Burrow overnight. There was no point in having Order members Floo all the way back to Hogsmeade, only to make the long walk back to Hogwarts, just to do the reverse the very next day.

Warm, dawn sunlight streamed in through the tower windows, casting hues or pinks and reds across the gray stone, yet everything seemed duller, darker, muted.

It was as if the castle itself had begun to mourn.

It was still early, barely light out, but when Kally had awoken she'd found Harry already sitting up next to her. His legs had been drawn to his chest, arms casually looped around his knees, the Seeker deep in thought. He'd barely noticed her rouse until she'd spoken. She'd managed a soft, "Morning."

His response had been far more somber.

"If we can't be at the funerals," Harry had ground quietly, "we need to be useful." It had been a stark contrast to the warmth of the night before, when he'd held her.

Now they stood there, outside Dumbeldore's office, together. Harry's brow creased, studying their large, stone problem, as if force of will alone could convince it to budge. "Riddle's diary is up there," he uttered into the hall. "Dumbledore was using it to figure out where the other horcruxes were. Maybe there's an indication of where he's holed up, where they have Fleur." A steel gaze shifted to her, Harry resolutely adding, "We need to get it."

There was one trifling problem with that: upon Dumbledore's death the office had sealed itself shut. Not even Professor McGonagall had been able to breach its entry. Snape had also tried. That effort had landed him briefly in the hospital wing. Apparently the gargoyle had gotten twitchy with its claws.

It wasn't as immobile as it looked.

Kally wet her lips, considering that. Harry wanted to break in. "Isn't it a little early for you to be proposing something so potentially suicidal?"

Her boyfriend snorted derisively. "Probably." Then he squeezed her hand, fingers slipping from hers as he strode right up to the thing. Kally internally groaned.

He then very clearly, very distinctly uttered three syllables: "Jelly slugs."

Nothing.

The gargoyle guard just stared unblinkingly at them, not budging an inch.

"Well, at least it didn't attack," she offered unhelpfully.

A shadowed determination glinted within Harry's green gaze. He offered her no response. Instead, he simply said, "Chocolate frogs."

Also nothing.

The next hour was spent with Harry proposing every single magical candy he could think of, Kally finally sucking in a breath and joining him to toss out all the Muggle candies she could think of. Harry had grown tenser and tenser, the wizard finally snapping, "Peach schnapps, prim's cup, donkey piss."

At the last one Kally inclined an eyebrow, Harry just dragging a frustrated hand across his unmanageable hair. "My uncle drinks it," he grated by way of response.

Apparently Dumbledore hadn't known there was a difference between Muggle adult beverages and candies.

Tossing out Muggle and magical alcoholic drinks had occupied the better part of the next thirty minutes. Given some of the names Harry was tossing out, based on his aunt and uncle's drinking habits, Kally marveled that they weren't institutionalized.

Eventually Harry swore, loudly. Then he turned and stalked towards the nearest window, dropping both fists against the pane, though there was no force behind the movement. Instead he just remained there, sinewy back to her, his dark head of hair bowed against the glass.

Kally could practically see the muscles straining beneath his shirt.

Kally let out a sigh, dragging a hand through her long hair as she looked between the gargoyle and him. Neither paid her any notice, her golden eyes flashing in irritation at the inanimate object that she knew for a fact was sentient. "You know," she quietly scolded it, "you could make this easier for him."

The gargoyle stared back benignly, making no indication that it actually understood.

"Lot of help you are," she muttered at it. Then, with a frustrated sound of her own, Kally spun towards her boyfriend, her lips parting, then closing as she sought for the right words. He looked like a tightly wound wire about to snap.

"So," she ventured, "you're really taking that whole 'don't get too stressed out' thing Pomfrey ordered to heart then?"

Harry's fists stopped clenching, his head lifting from the glass just enough to shoot her a look.

She rolled her eyes in a decidedly Hermione-like gesture, walking to him. Unapologetically she nudged him to the side, hopping up to sit on the ledge so she could actually see his face and not just his back. "Harry," she quietly placated, eyes flickering over him searchingly, "you didn't think cracking a password was going to be quick, did you?"

Once again Harry said nothing: he just looked at her with mildly veiled annoyance.

Her lips twitched ever-so-slightly. "Honestly Harry, it's not like you're trying to break into the most powerful wizard in the world's personal quarters or anything. Surely the Headmaster of Hogwarts' tower wouldn't be heavily guarded." Kally widened her eyes for sarcastic emphasis, biting down with immediacy upon her lower lip to hide her smile.

He still didn't say anything; he just growled at her.

Tilting her head to peer beneath one of his arms, hair cascading over her shoulders in a golden wave, an impish glint entered her eyes. "You know," she murmured thoughtfully, "the growling is only making you hotte-"

Harry seized her so fast she let out a yelp. His arm snared forcefully around her lower back, tugging her across the ledge as if she were no more than a book being slid across a study desk. Harry drug her close, pulling her into him. His other hand fisted within her hair, chills rocketing down her spine at the merest feel of his fingertips grazing her vertebrate. Kally's fingers responded in kind, hesitantly rising to touch, feel, even if everything about him seemed ready to snap.

His relaxation was instantaneous. He deflated, Harry's brow bowing against hers with a heated breath as if the fight had been drained out of him.

Thoughts of the prior evening, of him taking her against the second floor's window ledge, flooded her. The way he'd moved, touching her hips, cradling her face, touching her…

Kally's breath hitched, catching as she tried to force her breathing steady. "Harry…" she exhaled, hand unbiddeningly finding the side of his unshaven face, "I don't think we-"

His mouth sealed to hers, Kally suddenly unable to think. She found herself being pressed backwards, cool glass against her bared shoulders, Harry's fingers sliding beneath her tank top's strap to brush against her smooth skin. Kally was pinned between him and the window, Harry harboring little intention to ever free her.

Whimpering was all she could do as he physically deprived her of air.

It was a long time before either of them came back up. When they finally did Kally found green irises with a core of stone studying her, his chest rising and falling heavily against hers. They both lingered wordlessly, thinking.

They had to get into Dumbledore's office.

Then Harry said something that chilled her.

"He knew he was going to die, Kaylens. He told me. He planned it." His teeth practically ground, his head bowed against hers, hair rumpled from her fingers and his breathing rough. "Why would he seal it when everything we need is in there?"

Questions flew through her mind. So many questions…but she said not a single one of them. She'd learned that Harry didn't say things idly. If he was saying it, it was because it was true, even if she didn't know or understand how he knew it.

Without a thought she tilted her head, pressing her mouth to his. Her form shifted on the ledge, winding her arms around his neck, Harry responding in kind. To any passerby this would look like nothing more than two magical beings sharing a sodding moment, making out in an unoccupied corridor, when in reality it was anything but.

They were discussing a war, comforting one another from the realities of death surrounding them. They kissed while they thought, desperately seeking any semblance of sanity or clue in the lips of the other.

She broke away with a gasp. "To protect it," she breathed, hands sliding across his shoulders. "He wouldn't want it in the wrong hands, Harry."

Harry did not miss a beat. "Then what the hell could he have changed the password to?" he practically growled against her lips. His hand slid down her back, kneading the skin around her spine as he went.

Kally shuddered beneath him, eyes falling closed. "You two were close…"

"Are," Harry instantly grated, correcting her. His lips were still wet. "He's not dead." Everywhere he touched his hands went stiff, grip hardening as if she were the snitch struggling to escape.

She swallowed, his next words ghosting against her cheek. "Don't know where he is, but Kaylens…he's not dead. I know it."

Wordlessly she nodded against him, her fingers sliding up his sides, gripping onto his obliques. "Okay," she breathed. "So…did he say anything to you before…? Something he might have changed it to? Something…" Unconsciously she shivered, fingers curling in Harry's t-shirt. "He speaks in riddles a lot…"

Harry's hands went unbelievably still, Kally's eyes fluttering open to find him hovering in front of her, hesitation in his eyes. "You believe me." It wasn't a question. "That he's not dead."

Wetting her lips she nodded. "Crazy, isn't it?"

Despite the dark cloak overshadowing everything a deeply amused sound emitted from Harry's throat. "Absolutely barmy." His hand slid to the side of her face, thumb caressing the slope of her cheekbone. "You are absolutely barmy."

It was all she could do not to close her eyes and sink into him. "It's still not too late to run," she whispered.

Harry snorted derisively, voice deeply lowered. "Oh, it's way too late, Kaylens. And even if it wasn't…" he brought his face closer to hers, gaze glinting with something ill-advised. "I would have crossed that bridge and torched it behind me. Don't want to run."

Her heart twisted painfully, but it was an incredibly good type of pain. "You're insane."

He met her gaze unblinkingly. "When it comes to you, always. Now…what do you mean by riddles?"

She frowned, eyes flickering past him, over his shoulder and towards the gargoyle. So many of their conversations were like this: actual talking, with a complete and total inability to keep their hands off one another.

Thoughts of another time shadowed her mind. "Do you remember," she asked quietly, "back at Grimmauld when he caught us arguing about joining the Order?" Her gaze shifted to meet his incredibly solemn one. "Right after you followed me into the hallway, all but ordering me not to join?" Harry had been pissed, sealing her first to him, before pinning her to the wall.

His brow instantly creased, nodding. "The last thing I wanted, was for you to get mixed up in this. Any of it," he disclosed.

Despite herself, Kally's lips twitched. "Mmmm," she murmured mischievously, "so how'd that work out for you?"

He let out an annoyed growl, hold tightening methodically upon her at the sarcasm. She just smiled at him, taking in a deep breath. "Well remember how he walked away after chastising you? Casually saying phoenixes have always had the most interesting types of vision?" She tugged on the front of his shirt pointedly, frowning. "He already knew what was happening to you and Fawkes, even then. But instead of coming right out and saying it he kept dropping hints. So…would he have done the same thing for this? So you could get in, when no one else could? If he thought he was going to die?"

Harry's brow creased so hard she physically felt it. "He'd have planned for it. He wouldn't have just left us high and dry."

"When's the last time you two talked?" she questioned, racking her mind. "Was it on the boat? Or the island?" Harry and Dumbledore had gone into the deckhouse while Mr. Weasley had kindly interrogated her, but on the island…she'd slept quite a bit, not having done so well after Bill. She honestly had no clue if they had talked there or not.

"Deckhouse," he responded instantly. "He didn't hint at anything though…"

"Anything he repeated a lot? Or just…emphasized? Anything weird?"

The look Harry shot her said enough. Her lips twitched. He was right, this was Dumbledore. Everything he said was weird.

Wetting her lips, her eyes flickered over his. Harry looked unbelievably frustrated, stressed, tense.

He needed to relax. He'd never come up with it, with anything if he stayed like this. "Would it help motivate you," she whispered impishly, "if I promised to let you shag me on his desk if you get past the gargoyle?"

Harry made a choking sound, his gaze refocusing onto her with crystal sharp clarity.

Behind them the gargoyle growled, both of their heads whipping towards it. It took her a second to realize that Harry had put himself in front of her, but the gargoyle hadn't moved.

Apparently it figured that its growl was warning enough to not desecrate the Headmaster's desk.

"Kidding…" she called nervously to it, looking around Harry with a wince. It earned her an unamused look from her boyfriend.

The gargoyle, to its credit, actually made an unamused hmph.

Harry scowled, turning back to her with one last, suspicious glance at the Headmaster tower's guardian. "You get us killed," he muttered darkly, "by a statue, over sex and I swear to Godric-"

Kally snared him by the front of his shirt and drug him to her. Her mouth claimed his lips with immediacy, needing him to relax. Harry froze for only a half second, then his mouth responded, moving with fervor equal to that of a dying man as he clutched her to him. His scarred, callused hand was sliding to the base of her neck, forcing her face tighter to his as he deepened the kiss.

Then a sharp pain erupted, Harry biting down hard upon her lower lip, the move eliciting a small, startled sound of pain from her.

The git just smirked against her, the bite clearly him expressing his annoyance at her pissing off the gargoyle. She smacked him against the chest, but neither pulled apart.

It was a long while before the movement of his lips against hers slowed, Harry finally pausing, breathing deeply against her, the wizard dragging in lungfuls of air with large gulps. The rigidity she'd felt beneath her hands had waned, the wizard having relaxed.

Harry's forehead pressed to hers, Kally sliding her hands comfortingly over his neck, through his hair, letting him think even as her lips stung. Dumbledore had to of given him something to go on.

Suddenly Harry's hands tensed, squeezing and releasing her, turning to face the gargoyle. He stood there, looking like he felt rather mad, insane.

Then he looked the gargoyle in the eye and stated, "Inherent risks."

Nothing.

Harry grimaced, casting a quick glance back at her, before muttering, "Anger."

Still nothing.

"Self-sacrificing types?"

At that the gargoyle actually turned its doggish head towards Harry with a screeching grate of stone, lifting an eyebrow. It would have been funny had the expression not been so utterly terrifying.

"Harry," she hissed urgently, remembering what the gargoyle had done to Snape as she slid off the ledge behind him, grabbing his sleeve, getting ready to run.

She didn't even make it one step before Harry's grip flipped to snare her wrist, tugging her back to him. "Don't," he muttered. "It might chase."

At his words the gargoyle sent what she swore to Hades' three headed dog was a smirk at her.

"Oh, now you can understand us," she snapped at it.

The gargoyle smirked more.

Harry just stood his ground, not breaking eye contact with it. "There are things worth fighting, dying for," he stated with purpose.

The gargoyle's stone tongue flicked out, as if contemplating turning Harry into a snack. Kally's fingers grew so tight on Harry's arm it was a marvel he didn't shake her off.

"Tomorrow," he ground, unwaveringly, "is never certain."

And then, to Kally's utter shock, the gargoyle flicked its tongue one more time, a strangely terrifying grin revealing all of its teeth.

Then its wings collapsed in on itself, folding over its back, the gargoyle stepping to the side. The spiral staircase was revealed behind it, Dumbledore's office unveiled. Kally sucked in a breath, Harry casting a somewhat surprised look at her. "It worked." Then he smirked. "You're a genius."

Before she had a chance to ask how she was the genius he'd snared her hand tightly in his, dragging her towards the spiral stairs.

The gargoyle's paw shot out, slamming into the stone ground so hard it actually cracked. Harry and her both jerked back, staring at it as it barred their passage. Harry was already shoving her behind him, arm thrown protectively out-

The gargoyle did nothing. It made no move to attack, no attempt to slash out with its deadly talons. Instead it just pointedly fixed them both with a dark, dark look, its head swiveling purposefully between them.

Then it tapped its talons, one-by-one on the ground, as if tapping its fingers disapprovingly.

It took her a second to realize what the point of this was, and when she did…

A laugh escaped her, Harry shooting her a dangerous look to shut up. She just shook her head, quickly letting go of Harry and holding up both hands at the gargoyle. "I promise we won't so much as snog up there."

Harry sputtered – loudly.

The gargoyle just narrowed its eyes, drumming its talons on the ground. It looked almost thoughtful, before it nodded, swiveling its stern look from her to Harry.

Harry sputtered again. Kally quickly grabbed one of his arms and tugged it up in a sign of submission. He got the hint, his other hand quickly following. "Fine," he muttered. "No funny business up there."

The gargoyle looked skeptical, if such a thing was even possible.

"You do realize she's my girlfriend right? I'm not going to disrespect-"

The gargoyle let out a low, rumbling growl.

Harry took a slight step back, his back bumping up against her as he hissed, "Little help here?"

She shot him a frantic look. "Me?" she hissed. "I'm not even a witch. Why would you think-"

"Because you're the one that offered to shag me on the desk!" he hissed back.

The gargoyle let out another low, bone-shattering growl.

Kally felt like she had regressed at least eight years. "I'll knee him in the nads if he tries anything," she promised hastily, looking over Harry's shoulder at it.

Harry made a sound not unlike a dying hippogriff, but at that the gargoyle smirked. Then it stepped aside, extending a large arm and talon at the stairwell as if to say be my guest.

Kally gulped, Harry and her cautiously – very cautiously – skirting past it and all but running up the stairwell. "Nads?" Harry questioned. "That's your go-to?"

"Worked didn't it?"

Harry shot her an annoyed look as they reached the top, the wizard dragging a hand through his impossible hair, shaking his head. "Gonna be the death of me…"

She growled. "New rule: you have to wait at least a week after you've been clinically dead before you can make death jokes."

He cast a smirk over his shoulder. "Sorry luv." He didn't sound apologetic at all. Before she could snarl in his general, irritating direction he'd tried the knob, only to find it locked.

"Damn't," he swore. He dropped his hand down and stared at the handle as if it'd personally offended him.

That was when the even more irritating brass doorknocker, Crusantheus woke up. "Oh look," Crunstantheus griped, wrinkling his nose and scowling. "It's you." His brass eyes rolled past Harry towards her. "Did you have to bring her? Everytime you both are here he has to redecorate. And I swear someone always has to die when she's around."

Kally lunged at the thing, Harry only just managing to snare her by the waist before she could get into a fight with an inanimate object.

"Harry let me-"

"Do you really want to get in a fight with the only thing that might be able to let us in?" he hissed in her ear, keeping his voice lowered. Kally considered it, hissing a breath of her own and deciding he was right.

"Okay," she acceded, holding up her hands in defeat. "Fine."

Slowly, very slowly Harry let go of her waist.

Crunsantheus straightened up, stretching out his face to give a posturing sort of celebration. "Now that's more like it, girlie! You respect my knockers or I will happily remove those delicate fingers of yours. Bet you can't do things to your boyfriend then." He made a mock snapping with his teeth.

This time it was Harry who lunged.

The doorknocker yelped. "Alright! Alright! Always violence with you two! No sense of humor. Like I'd bite her fingers. Who knows where they've been!" He shot them both a pointed look, one that had Harry going for his wand – no magic advising from Pomfrey be damned.

He would have gotten it out had Kally not managed to snare a hold of his forearm to fight with him.

Crusantheus rolled his eyes, the door knob magically turning and swinging in. "Go on! Get! Besides, he said to let you in anyway."

Harry's mouth opened, the word, "He?" managed before the door swung all the way open, thudding against a bookshelf. They stood there, Kally's fingers still tightly wrapped around Harry's forearm, Harry's hand still halfway rooting in his pocket, when they caught sight of the inside of the office.

And it wasn't empty.

Harry's mouth opened, surprise coming out. "Dobby?"


ECOTS


Dobby stood there in Dumbledore's office, holding a potion's vial and wearing mismatched socks of such shocking neon that Harry had to wonder if they had been gifts from the Weasley twins. He was pretty sure the ones Hermione had once hidden around the common room had at least matched.

The house elf stood there on his disproportionately sized feet, his bat-like ears straight up as he beamed nervously at them. "Harry Potter is alright! Harry Potter made it. Oh, Master Albus Dumbledore knew he would." Dobby's large, tennis-ball like eyes swiveled behind him, presumably landing on Kally. "And Harry Potter brought Harry Potter's mate!"

Kally made a strangled sound, Harry only realizing right then that he still had his hand shoved down his pocket, his girlfriend clinging to his arm in an attempt to stop him from using magic on the doorknocker.

They still hadn't moved from where they stood in the doorway.

Harry coughed, clearing his throat and abruptly yanked his hands back out. "Dobby," he repeated, dumbfounded. He couldn't help that he stared. Dobby was in Dumbledore's office, and had just greeted him as if he had been expecting him.

"Er…Dobby, how the hel-" he choked on the word, courtesy of Kaylens digging her nails into his arm. "How um…how'd you get in here?" he corrected more kindly. He looked around the office, half expecting to see Dumbledore but seeing no one.

Dobby suddenly looked inexplicably nervous, shifting from foot to foot, his oversized jumper that Hermione had knitted him hanging down to his knees. "Master Albus just asked Dobby to wait. He said something bad might happen, so he asked Dobby to come to wait and take care of him."

For a second hope blazed within him. "You mean Dumbledore's here?"

The way Dobby's ears flopped down, his round green eyes suddenly downcast, answered that question. Harry could have sworn at himself. "No," he sounded morose. "Master Albus is-is-"

His friend gave a loud sniffle, quickly turning his back to them with a loud wail. "Look away! Look away! Master Harry has been through too much to see Dobby cry!" The supplication was followed by muffled sobs, Dobby grabbing a pillow off the nearest chair and ramming his face into it repeatedly.

"Dobby!" Kally instantly released her hold on his arm, shoving past him and into the office. His girlfriend cast him an irritated look at his inaction before dropping down to her knees alongside the elf, a hand gently placed on the elf's shoulder.

She looked half afraid, but did it anyway.

"Dobby please don't. It's okay…"

Dobby let out a high-pitched wail, clutching the pillow in an attempt to smother himself.

Alarmed, Kaylens started promptly attempting to yank it out of his hands in the strangest game of tug-of-war Harry had ever seen. "Dobby…Dobby stop!"

The house elf dropped the pillow, spun around, and flung himself at Kalliandra to openly sob. Harry caught words like 'Master Dumbledore,' 'should have stopped him,' 'Harry Potter,' 'mate,' and disturbingly enough 'sire offspring.'

Harry choked on air. He was pretty sure his head couldn't handle any additional surprises.

Kally just cautiously patted him on the back, awkwardly murmuring, "There, there." Had the situation been different Harry might have laughed. Comforting people was not Kaylens' forte.

He drug a hand through his hair, feeling a throbbing headache coming on. "Dobby," he asked hesitantly, finally stepping into the office and looking around. "Dobby it's okay…you didn't know." Harry wasn't exactly sure what he was talking about, but it sounded good inside his own head.

Dobby let out several more full body sobs, before he drug himself away from Kally and straightened up to his full height – all three feet of him – nodding resolutely at her. "Harry Potter chose rightly. Harry Potter's mate is-is kind."

Kally stared at him like a deer in headlights.

Harry tried to ignore that little stabbing in his stomach upon seeing her look afraid of the concept. Instead he just focused on the task at hand. "Dobby," he half-croaked, still wondering if Kaylens was going to freak out over what he'd told her his intentions were yesterday, "what do you mean take care of him? Do you mean Dumbledore?"

Dobby smoothed down his jumper with both of his thin arms. Several gadgets made a steady whirring and humming sound on the shelves, the quiet noises impossibly loud as Harry waited with baited breath.

"Master Albus' phoenix," Dobby finally said, his large eyes still brimming with tears. "He was going to be hurt by what Master Albus' had to do. And he-he made Dobby promise to take care of him so he could help Harry Potter."

Harry stared. "Dobby," he said, a feeling of foreboding, "where's Fawkes?" But Kally had already made a startled sound, the non-witch staring behind the desk where he couldn't see.

"Harry…"

Harry approached, walking around the desk and towards Fawkes empty perch with trepidation. He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but when he got to the other side he could only stare.

Fawkes wasn't on his perch, because he was on the ground. Dobby had made him a nest out of a pile of old, colorful socks and shredded Daily Prophet clippings, the phoenix bald and patchy in spots, looking like a newly hatched fledgling.

Harry had seen Fawkes burst into flames and reemerge before, only then the phoenix had looked healthy.

Now the phoenix looked anything but.

The phoenix he was partially bonded to looked weakly up at him with barely open black eyes, his golden beak opening up and giving a mournfully sad trill.

All thoughts of the diary fled his mind. "Fawkes…" he whispered, kneeling down by the bird. Harry outstretched a callused hand, the fading scar bearing the words I will not tell lies carefully stroking the bird's crest.

Fawkes made a pathetic trilling sound, nudging his beak and head more fully into Harry's palm. Harry complied, shifting so that he could gather the clearly sick bird up onto his lap. He felt like his chest was being pummeled with something, the realization as to why he hadn't healed how he should have sinking in. "Dobby…what happened?"

Dobby sniffed, the elf padding over to where they sat. Kally too had stood, her golden eyes flickering over the trio with naked concern.

Harry made what he hoped was a comforting sound to the bird. Fawkes was normally the size of a swan, resembling a majestic eagle. Right now he was no bigger than a small duck.

"Master Albus told Dobby when it happened, that Fawkes would be sick," Dobby said quietly. "That Dobby had to watch over him, to make sure he was okay until Harry Potter was better." Dobby unearthed the potions vial he'd been holding when they walked in, uncorking it and extending it to the bird in Harry's lap.

Instantly a woodsy, spicy aroma filled the air, Fawkes letting out a slightly more 'alive' trill. The phoenix feebly squirmed in Harry's lap, his beak moving to immerse it in the vial's large top, lapping up the contents.

Petting Fawkes like he would a pet rabbit, he sat there in silence as Fawkes drank the contents. The more he drank, the warmer his tail feathers became.

Only then did Harry realize that the tail feathers had been cold.

"Dobby," he asked, uncomfortable on the floor and unwilling to move, "what is that you're giving him?"

Dobby's face screwed in a look of pure determination. "Gum of frankincense mixed up with juices of amomum. Dobby listened. Master Albus said it would help him."

Harry swallowed tightly. "I-I think it is." He had no idea what any of those were for or did, beyond that he was pretty positive they were stocked in Snape's potions cabinets. Wetting his lips, he added, "His tail is warming up."

Kally made a quiet sound, like an 'oh' of understanding, both Harry and Dobby shooting her identical questioning looks. Her golden eyes, so golden they matched the hue of Fawkes' normally gleaming feathers, flickered over the bird worriedly. "Amomum has camphor in it," she said simply. "It activates nerve endings. We use it for potions sometimes. It can create a warming sensation if used vigorously." She shook her head slowly, tucking an errant strand of golden hair behind her ear. "I guess it makes sense that a phoenix would like it."

Dobby positively beamed at her, Harry wondering if he ought to warn Kaylens that she now had a new fan. "Harry Potter chose wisely," the elf reiterated, once more eliciting that startled look from her.

Harry just shot her a strained smile, before glancing down at the phoenix in his lap. Fawkes looked terrible, bald patches where hatchling down feathers ought to be. "So what's wrong with him?" he questioned Dobby. "What can we do?" He'd seen Fawkes burst into flames and be reborn again, but when he'd been reborn he'd at least looked healthy. Right now Fawkes looked like a fledgling that was anything but.

The woodsy, comforting smell was still heavy in the room, Fawkes finishing the vial's contents with a quiet clack of his beak.

Then the phoenix let out a slightly more contented trill, the bird nuzzling his arm and getting comfortable. Dobby took several cautious steps forward, picking up a sock and placing it over the phoenix like a blanket, while it remained in Harry's lap.

Slowly but surely Dobby began to rebuild the nest on Harry, Harry not missing the slightly amused look on Kally's face.

"Master Albus said that when he-when he-" The elf's eyes brimmed with tears, his friend wiping them quickly away with a sock. "It would tear him in two. So Fawkes would need Harry Potter to be whole again."

Harry blinked. "Come again?"

Dobby looked up from where he'd just finished placing a vibrant purple sock over Fawke's head, the phoenix's pathetic crest of red, patchy feathers matted down by the cotton. "Harry Potter can make Fawkes whole." A stern look crossed Dobby's face, it almost uncharacteristic as he said, "But Master Albus told Dobby that Harry Potter must be better first. He can't still be sick too."

"I'm not sick, Dobby," he said lamely.

If it was possible to receive a non-verbal scolding from a house elf, he was certainly on the receiving end of one now. "Dobby might be a house elf," he said sternly, "but Dobby knows when a wizard dies that he is not well."

Harry closed his eyes and let out a groan. "I was only dead for a little bit," he protested.

Instantly Kally and Dobby made disgruntled sounds, Harry cracking his gaze to find them both glaring at him.

"Only a little?" Kaylens repeated dangerously.

Dobby nodded stiffly. "Harry Potter was dead. Harry Potter cannot die because Harry Potter is a great wizard." The house elf then turned an adoring look on Kally, adding, "Harry Potter's mate saved Harry Potter. Harry Potter's mate saved us from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named because if we do not have Harry Potter we cannot win."

Harry's internal organs all began to squirm uncomfortably at once.

"Harry Potter cannot do that again." Dobby said this with such dogged determination that he was actually semi-concerned for his own well-being. Pissing off a house elf was never a good idea. He'd seen what Dobby had done to Lucius Malfoy.

Kally was just blinking at Dobby, once again looking startled.

"Does everyone," Harry groused, still stroking Fawkes gently, "know about that?"

His girlfriend turned her attention onto him. "I didn't tell anyone."

"Dobby heard," Dobby intercepted, "Mistress McGonagall speaking with Regulus Black." He nodded severely, continuing, "But Harry Potter cannot help Fawkes until he is healed, which he is not. So Dobby will take care of Fawkes until then."

Harry suddenly, desperately wanted Hagrid. He would know what to do. Harry had literally no idea what Dobby was talking about, or how he was even supposed to begin to help Fawkes. How in the hell was he supposed to do it? "Dobby," he ventured, sounding far more clam than he felt, "how am I supposed to help Fawkes?"

Dobby's determined look suddenly vanished, replaced by one of abject confusion. "Harry Potter doesn't know?"

Harry sighed. "No, Harry Potter doesn't know," he affirmed. "In fact, let's just pretend that Harry Potter is a blithering imbecile for the-"

The air in the room suddenly crackled, Dobby all but standing on his tip toes to jab him in the nose. "No one speaks badly about Harry Potter! Not even Harry Potter!"

Harry froze, the distinct sound of Kally snorting earning two green glares in her direction. The non-witch simply held up her hands in a pacifying gesture. "Sorry Dobby, it's just nice to see someone else telling him to shut it."

"You," Harry groaned, "are no help."

She shot him a shrewd look. "Was I supposed to be?"

Dobby smiled, then turned back to him and Fawkes. "Harry Potter has to complete his bond with Fawkes. Then Fawkes will be whole on both sides."

"Both?"

"There are two Fawkes." Dobby said it simply, like it was obvious.

It took Harry a second to process that. He'd assumed Fawkes was ill because Dumbledore had died, and the two had been bonded, but saying two like that… "Dobby," he said, not daring to hope, "do you mean Fawkes split in half? Like…reproduced?"

Eyeing him as if he had gone a bit stupid, Dobby nodded. "What else would Dobby mean by there being two?"

Harry's chest gave a lurch. Until that moment he'd never given any thought to how phoenixes bred. It sounded like they just split. And if there were two Fawkes, and one had to bond with him in order to be well again, then that meant…

"Dobby, is the other Fawkes here?" he asked, trying to not sound too eager.

Dobby shook his head in the negative.

"Do you know where the other Fawkes is?"

Dobby frowned, but nodded.

Harry held his breath. "Dobby, where is he?"

Dobby's eyes welled with tears once more, the elf sniffling. "Dead, with Master Albus."

The muscle within Harry's chest thumped loudly, the Gryffindor feeling a sudden surge of hope. "Dobby," he reasoned carefully, "you can't reproduce if you're dead."

And with that he met Kally's gaze, the non-witch's irises glinting with sudden understanding.

Dumbledore had died by bursting into a torrent of flames beneath the sea, taking out the attacking inferi with him.

Words from long ago came back to him: "Fawkes is a phoenix Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes."

Dumbledore wasn't dead.

Harry's gaze locked with Kally's. "We have to get back to that island."


ECOTS


Tiredly Kally raked her fingers through her long hair, flipping another torn page of the diary. It'd been a simple matter for Dobby to retrieve it for them; that had been the simple part. Harry and she now sat side-by-side on the floor of Dumbledore's office reading through page-by-page of the twisted teenager's mind.

Some parts were so sociopathic she felt the need to scrub her skin raw in a shower just from reading it.

Fawkes remained in Harry's lap, her boyfriend keen to not let the ailing phoenix go. That meant Kally had become the unofficial page turner, the two trying to find clues – any clue – regarding the potential whereabouts of the next horcrux.

Dumbledore had told Harry a young Voldemort had favored symbolism, meaning in things, erroneously thinking that if a horcrux had personal meaning it would somehow make it stronger.

That wasn't the case, but it made searching for the items less random.

Dumbledore.

Professor McGonagall was at Mr. Weasley's funeral, so against their better judgment they'd asked Dobby to find Professor Snape. Someone senior in the Order needed to know about Harry's suspicions for the Headmaster. Kally had been fairly shocked that Harry had suggested Snape, but he'd just muttered something about 'old grudges,' 'getting past it,' and 'maybe he'll listen to Dobby better than me.'

Kally might have made a passing comment about how he was apparently 'maturing.'

Harry had promptly told her to sod off.

Her lips curved at the very thought.

Now they waited.

In the interim they were trying to be useful.

Kally hissed a breath, flipping another page backwards. "So far all he's done is brag about how superior he is in all his classes compared to anyone else."

"If it's later in school, he probably was," Harry pointed out, looking like admitting that was unpleasant. She shot him a look, the Seeker just shrugging. "What? You don't get to be the most powerful evil wizard without getting passing marks somewhere along the line."

"Oh good," she rejoined flatly, "with that kind of logic Ron's the only one who won't wind up evil. Goodie."

Harry shot her a glare at the passing insult of his friend.

Kally just pursed her lips at this, frowning as she again reached a section of the page where the words cut off, a large hole torn in the leather-bound book. Black ooze appeared to have bled up from the wound, staining at least a centimeter of paper around it like a bleeding bullseye.

It made reading anything there utterly impossible.

She held up the book, arching a pointed eyebrow at him. "You couldn't have tried to stab it somewhere less inconvenient?" she queried.

Harry flat out snorted. "Sure. Next time a basilisk is breathing down my neck, I've got poison slowly killing me, and I'm facing down ole Riddle while Ginny is dying I'll try to take greater care with where I stab something." He shot her an uncharacteristic wink. "You know, just in case my future girlfriend wants to read it."

She made an upset sound, not at all liking his synopsis of real events.

As if to pile on, Fawkes lifted a tired-looking beak off of Harry's hand and let out a disapproving trill at her.

Kally shot the phoenix a look, the bird not having even opened its eyes. "Not you too."

A huff of air emitted from the bird's beak in what she swore was a scoff, right before he dropped his head back down onto Harry's callused hand, his brilliant, crimson feathers ruffling as he nuzzled against her boyfriend's knuckles.

Kally gaped, glancing up at where Harry was outright smirking at her. "Mother of Merlin you've already trained him."

Harry gave a cocky shrug. "Hardly my fault he agrees your expectations are unreasonable."

She made a frustrated sound, dryly threatening, "I'll give you unreasonable. Next time you're sleeping-"

"That's your go-to? Threatening me in my sleep?" he interjected with a raised set of eyebrows. "Really Kaylens, that just means you're in bed with me. Have to come up with better disincentive than that."

She growled out loud, thumping the back of her head against the bookshelf they leant against. Harry just nudged her shoulder with his, her gaze cracking to find him smirking at her.

"You're impossible," she growled half-heartedly.

His lips just twitched more.

With a defeated sigh she conceded defeat to a bird and looked back down at the diary. She heaved a sigh. They'd already found the segment where Riddle, a young Riddle, had written about the tales of Blackbeard, and a latter segment where he spoke of the Forbidden Forest, but there had been little else to go on so far.

It was a thick diary though.

"Any reason we're going backwards?"

Kally's brow furrowed, nodding as she chewed on her lip.

Harry snorted. "Planning to divulge?"

"You comprehend better," she murmured distractedly, flipping another page backwards, "when you're not reading something like it's a story…" Her fingers went still upon the current page, running over the paper.

It was highlighted.

Heavily highlighted, with a second set of inked calligraphy scrawled in the margins.

Harry instantly sat up straighter. "That's Dumbledore's handwriting."

Biting down on her lower lip, her champagne colored eyes flew across the page swiftly. "He's highlighted names," she murmured thoughtfully, flipping another page to see if the trend continued.

It did.

Kally started leafing backwards, Harry grumbling she was going too fast, the Reach steadfastly ignoring his complaint as she skimmed swiftly. "There are two names that are repeated a lot," she relayed, a trinket on the shelf making a sudden whirring. "Paul and Hazel." Her eyes flickered up to Harry's. "Do you know those?"

Harry's brow had heavily creased, the wizard shaking his head. "No. I mean, Dumbledore said Voldemort had a gang of followers while he was in school but those names never came up." Harry shifted closer, taking care with Fawkes as he squinted at it through his magical glasses. "Avery, Mulcifer, Nott, Lestrange, and Rosier were in it, but…those weren't their first names."

Kally gnawed on her lip thoughtfully. "And to think," she mused aloud, re-skimming the page, "Hermione said you never paid attention in History of Magic's history lessons."

"I do if it pertains to someone trying to kill me."

She shot him a fierce look, restraining the rising temptation to snog him to within an inch of his life. For some reason the reminders of how often and creatively that Voldemort tried to kill him elicited that reaction in her.

Kally flipped back several more pages, to the first mention of Paul and Hazel. The artful furrow between her eyes was something someone else might have missed, but Harry knew her better than that. "What is it?" he prompted.

Her lips parted in silent curiosity, her fingertips idly finding Harry's leg and running across it. "You know how he talks about other people as if they're pawns? Like he's manipulating them?"

Harry caught her eyes, nodding.

She shook her head, an errant strand of hair falling to veil her face. "He doesn't talk about them that way. It's almost like…" she paused, frowning. "Like they were actual friends." Her eyes flickered up to his, gold catching green. "You know, in a twisted Voldemort style."

Harry's eyebrows both rose so high and so quickly they disappeared beneath the dark hair covering his forehead. "Come again?"

Kally flipped another page, ignoring Harry as he leaned over and tried to read alongside her. She shook her head. "He's almost…" she flipped a page. "Well it's written like a stalker's national anthem. It's almost poetic. Look here, he even has threats about someone who made Hazel upset their second year. Says he's going to 'take care of them and their filthy blood when the time is right.' Some girl named Myrtle."

Harry made an abrupt choking sound. "Myrtle?"

She glanced up. "Yeah, why? Do you know who that is?"

For a second Harry just looked at her as if remembering she was not privy to some important piece of information. "I can do you one better," he croaked. "I can introduce you."

That was how she found herself standing in the threshold of an out-of-order girl's bathroom not ten minutes later, Fawkes calmly nesting in a satchel slung around Harry's neck. The mirrors looked dingy, like they hadn't been cleaned in some time, a thick layer of dust coating the sinks.

Harry caught where she was looking, explaining, "The house elves…they don't like to clean in here since no one ever uses it and because-" He stopped abruptly, dryly adding, "Well…you'll see." Her boyfriend looked like he was about to take a particularly horrid test, his chest rising and falling in a heavy sigh. "Stay there for a second. She's not…the most friendly to new visitors."

Then Harry stepped through the doorway, Kally remaining where she was, watching curiously.

"Hey um…Myrtle, you here?"

His voice echoed around the empty bathroom almost hauntingly.

Nothing.

Standing there, his t-shirt clinging to him as he adjusted a satchel with a sick-looking baby phoenix's head sticking out of it, Harry turned and glanced back at her. She arched an eyebrow, to which he shrugged. "Sometimes she's in other pipes. Though," he glanced around, "she's usually here. Maybe she's in the Prefect's bathroom."

Kally's hazel eyes flickered towards the sinks, rising up to look at the high walls. It sounded like he was talking about a portrait, which would be distinctly creepy. "I'm more concerned about why you think someone would spend all their day in a bathroom..."

As if on cue there was a sudden hissing of water, a toilet apparently suffering a minor explosion that sent a quarter centimeter of water rolling across the floor from beneath a stall.

Then that same stall door slammed wide open, bashing loudly against the wall. Kally actually jumped slightly, staring. "Harry," she murmured, "was that you?" She took a slight step back.

Harry acted like he hadn't heard her. Instead he started talking to himself.

Kally stared, eyes flickering back and forth between where he was looking and where he stood. It was like he was talking to someone.

Someone invisible.

Truth be told, he looked rather disgusted, as if he'd seen or heard something particularly off putting.

He was also attempting to smash his hair down with his free hand, muttering, "Not interested…" Then he gestured at her, saying, "Myrtle, this is my girlfriend, Kally. We were hoping you could help us with something."

Viridian eyes sliced towards her, Harry giving her another one of those helpless shrugs, and she just stared at him. Then, upon seeing her expression, he frowned heavily. "Kally?"

"Harry…who are you talking to?" she asked as if half-afraid of the answer.

Her boyfriend just stared at her.


ECOTS


"See Harry? I told you. All the girls just come down here to mock me. Even she's ignoring me."

Right then Harry was ignoring Myrtle too, the pig-tailed witch levitating two meters off the ground where she'd perched herself atop a stall door. Instead his attention was fixated on Kally, who was looking at him with unveiled concern, as if worried for his mental health.

It took Harry precisely ten seconds to realize it: Kally couldn't see ghosts. "You can't see her," he stated, dumbfounded.

His girlfriend blinked at him. "See who?"

A leaky sink dripped, the droplet plunking in the ceramic basin. It was like a gong going off in his head. "Myrtle. She's a ghost."

Kally stared at him blankly.

Abruptly Harry drug a hand through his unruly hair, forgetting all about the rather perverse comment Myrtle had made about his hair. Apparently it made her want to run her ghostly fingers through it in its messy state. It'd given him the sudden urge to hex himself bald. "Kaylens, how in the hell are you passing History of Magic?" he questioned instead.

Her lips parted, aghast. "I'm not in History of Magic."

It took Harry a moment to realize that she was right – if she was she'd have been in his class. "Oh," he muttered, fingers gripping his hair, "right."

"What does that even have to do with-"

"Professor Binns is a ghost."

A look of comprehension crossed Kaylens' face, and he swore to things unholy she paled. He's personally witnessed the non-witch face down dementors, Death Eaters, undead yet reanimated sharks, and werewolves, not to mention the fact that she'd apparently survived the heart of the zombie-freaking-apocalypse, yet the thought of a ghost in a magical school sent her paling.

Harry couldn't help it: he laughed.

Her brow creased instantly. "It's not funny."

He was in for it later; she sounded annoyed. Still he flat out snorted, gaze dancing with mirth amidst all the darkness. "Sure it's not."

Kally's glorious golden eyes glared at him outright. The sink dripped. Myrtle scoffed.

"Oh Harry, you brought me a Muggle."

He sent her a glare. "She's not a Muggle."

"Well," Myrtle cooed from above him, looking down with a simpering and highly disturbing smile, "she's certainly a trollop. What did she use on you, Harry? A love potion?"

Harry gaped. "She's not a trollop. And we're dating. She didn't need to use a sodding love potion for-"

"Excuse me?"

Both he and Myrtle's heads snapped towards where Kaylens stood, looking affronted. "Did the ghost just call me a trollop?"

Harry knew that expression and instantly lost all ability to form coherent sentences. "Er…"

Kally hissed something foul, reaching into her jeans and snaring her wand. "I don't need a sodding love potion for Harry you insolent little bit-"

Harry didn't hear the rest.

In the deep recesses of his mind it occurred to him that Kally could probably actually kill a ghost. She was a Reach, a living-sodding-grim, and separating any form of life – even a ghost - from its tenuous grasp on reality was definitely in her wheelhouse.

The only thing Myrtle had going for her was that she couldn't actually see her.

Harry was on Kaylens in two seconds flat, snagging her wrist and changing the subject. "Myrtle, we were hoping you could help us with something. We were-"

Myrtle fixed him with a dark eyed look, twisting her ponytail around her finger. "Mmm Harry," she cooed, "I can help you with all kinds of…things." She sent a dark eyed look down his form, licking her lips.

Harry's words cut off, a strangled sound replacing them.

Kally, unfortunately, noticed. She also unfortunately recognized that was a sound he made when semi-horrified.

She tried to yank her wrist away, growling. Harry jerked her back, hissing, "Chill."

If he hadn't been developing the sudden urge to vomit at the looks Myrtle was giving him and his girlfriend hadn't been trying to kill a ghost for outright implying she was some type of scarlet woman this would have been going a hell of a lot better. In fact, the only actual upside was that Kally didn't yet know that Myrtle was blatantly hitting on him.

The fact that that was an upside was horrifying.

Inside the satchel Fawkes rustled his wings in a contented fashion, as if enjoying the spectacle.

Harry gulped. "Myrtle," he tried again, ignoring the way Kally was muttering gonna kill her beneath her breath at him, "when you were in school, did you know any students by the name of Paul or Hazel? Possibly in Slytherin?"

Myrtle's reaction was instantaneous.

"I think I'll go back in my toilet now and pipe off to see what Ronald's doing. Goodbye Harry."

Before Myrtle had a chance to fully mist away – the ultimate in subject avoidance – or before Harry had a chance to realize that she'd just implied she was going to spy on his best mate in the loo, he blurted, "Please Myrtle? I think-" he exchanged a look with Kaylens. "I think it has something to do with what killed you."

The ghost girl froze, hovering half in and half out of the stall door.

Slowly, emphasis on slowly, she wafted back out of it. "I thought you already killed what hurt me, Harry?" Her dark eyes looked him up and down in a way that made him gulp down some bile. "Even little you were so brave, all for me."

She practically simpered it.

Harry made a mental note to reevaluate all his life decisions, including and up to exactly why he'd ever considered Myrtle a tappable source of information. She'd always made…comments, but as he'd gotten older they'd gotten worse.

Her bugging him in the Prefect's bathroom during the triwizard tournament had proven that much.

"Er…sure," he said, not bothering to correct her. He'd done it to rescue Ginny, not her, but given he needed her help he wasn't exactly about to tell her that.

Myrtle tilted her head, her brunette hair wafting as if she were underwater. "You seem different Harry. I heard you almost died." The smile she sent his way was far too happy. "We could have shared a toilet together."

And then, at the realization that they no longer could, the ghost witch pouted.

Right. He'd just been propositioned to live with a female ghost, in a toilet. Harry about choked, his fingers tightening around Kally's wrist mainly to reassure himself that he still had a living, breathing girlfriend who wasn't Myrtle.

He was beyond glad that she couldn't hear any of this. He'd think on why that had his stomach twist a bit strangely later. For now he croaked, "Myrtle, please. We need to know if you ever knew a Hazel or a Paul when Tom Riddle was in school here." He paused, seeing her disgusted look. "It's really important."

Myrtle looked at him from behind round glasses, eyes curious. "Why do you need to know about those horrible people, Harry?"

"I can't say." He winced even as he said it. "I'm sorry. I'd tell you if I could." He so wouldn't.

Myrtle glanced between him and Kally, Harry not liking the look she was giving them. "Let me guess, you can tell her."

Salazar's dead basilisk was welcome to make an appearance, if only it meant that he wasn't actually dealing with a ghost girl's jealousy. "Myrtle," he dodged, making sure to copiously use her name – Remus had mentioned that got him out of trouble with Tonks sometimes – "what do you mean horrible people? What did they do to you?"

Pretending to commiserate and be concerned about past wrongdoings worked, Myrtle tearing her annoyed gaze away from Kally, her attention once again fully on him. "Well for starts that Hazel tramp stole my Paul." Myrtle sunk partway through a sink, crossing her arms in a defiant out. "I told her I liked him, and then she took what I told her in the privacy of our dorm and went and-and-"

She let out a dramatic sniffle.

Harry immediately frowned. "So Hazel was in Ravenclaw, with you?"

"Well how else would I have been able to tell her in our dorm, Harry? You really don't know what goes on in girl's dorms, do you?" She batted her eyes. "I could show you. She can't see me so doesn't have to know." She sent him a little, secretive smile. "It'll be our little secret."

Harry choked. "Er…thanks but, I'm good." Abruptly he tugged Kaylens pointedly against his side, jostling Fawkes in the process. The phoenix let out an unhappy trill, Harry quite literally forming a vice on Kally's hip.

His hand flexed tightly, the wizard reminding himself that she was his.

Kally simply shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. "Not going well I take it?" she said sarcastically. Her hazel eyes flickered up and down to his hand.

Harry ignored this. "So," he changed the subject quickly, "you knew Hazel. What about Paul? Were they friends with Tom?"

Myrtle rolled her eyes. "I don't know why you want to know about these people, Harry. They seemed nice but weren't. Of all people I thought you would understand two-faced liars. They betray you."

Harry silently raised both eyebrows at her, not trusting himself to talk and hoping the temptation of a conversation would be enough to get her too. They were four horcruxes down, and they needed to find the others.

Too many people had already died for them to not, and thus far this was the only lead they had. Maybe if they could find out something about them, or better yet talk to them – assuming they weren't Death Eaters – they could get clued in on the next one's location.

His mind raced, and against his side Kally let out a sigh, finally relaxing enough for him to slide his free arm around her waist. Right then he needed that normalcy.

Myrtle shot the both a glare at the gesture, Harry steadfastly ignoring it. "I suppose you could call them friends," Myrtle said. "At least they were before-" She stopped, looking down at her translucent form forlornly, indicating her death.

Harry frowned. "Sorry…" he muttered, unsure of what to say. "But they weren't after?"

Myrtle shrugged. "I didn't exactly pay attention, Harry. I had other things to worry about, like being dead. But that horrible Hazel used to come by and cry to me about how Tom wouldn't talk to them anymore, like I didn't have my own problems."

"So Tom wrote them off then?"

Myrtle sighed dramatically. "Yes, you know, once they got on in years." She rolled her eyes. "The girl used to cry about it all the time. As if I cared when she stole my Paul."

Then Myrtle's eyes shifted towards Kally, the ghost girl outright glaring. "Like she stole you. But don't worry, Harry. I learned how to do corporeal things if you understand. I bet you I can show you what girls talk about in a dorm much better than she can."

She practically cooed this.

To make matters worse, as she'd talked Myrtle had begun drifting rather close, a truly frightening look on her face as she began to sink through the floor, getting a little too close to his-

Harry yelped when he realized what she was trying to do, all but jumping back and hauling Kally with him.

Right. This wasn't going to go well if he had to watch everything he said aloud in response to Myrtle's advances out of fear of Kally trying to kill her.

Abruptly he seized Kally by the waist, all but bodily dragging her out of the bathroom.

"Harry what-"

Before she could realize what he was doing – which was not leaving the bathroom with her – he'd slammed the door behind him and locked it. She couldn't do alohomora, so that ought to hold her for a bit.

"Harry! What the actual hell?" Kally shouted from the other side, a loud thump indicating her fist striking it.

Harry heaved a breath, turning back to get the information he'd come for.

Myrtle, unfortunately, took his attempt to prevent his girlfriend from killing her as an invitation to her earlier advance. Harry about choked, straightening up and adamantly telling her, "Myrtle no! I love her. I wasn't inviting-"

"Well of course you weren't, Harry," she said with a delusional wink, drifting closer.

Harry shuddered, quickly skirting around the bathroom wall to avoid her. "Seriously Myrtle, I need to know what happened to them."

Myrtle did not stop her near-dead assault, her fingers trying to go for his belt and nearly snagging it, only for him to spin away and backpedal across the bathroom. "Well how should I know, Harry? With all that horrible girl's blubbering did you honestly expect me to listen?" She paused, adding, "Do you know how annoying listening to wailing is?"

Harry thought that was pretty hypocritical, coming from her, but wisely kept his mouth shut on the matter.

Instead he walked backwards until his back hit the wall, gulping. "So she was upset." He racked his mind. There were a lot of things that Voldemort could have done that would have upset a person. Unleashing a basilisk, killing Muggleborns, framing Hagrid…

Him having friends still didn't seem to match up. Especially the idea of non-Slytherin friends. And since he apparently had had friends, at least two, two that had dated, what had changed? He-

Something disembodied tugged at his belt, the latch clicking.

In his distraction Myrtle had disappeared to carry on her illustrious quest.

This time Harry didn't backpedal. He didn't bolt. He didn't yelp. Instead he fixed the area where he imagined the invisible girl's head was with a look so dark that even Fawkes ducked his head back down into the satchel. "Make another move, and I promise you Myrtle I will make the basilisk that killed you look like child's play."

The tug at his belt froze, Harry's teeth grinding. He was fairly certain the chest pains he was now having were a sign of his looming, stress-induced death to come.

If Kally dumped him over this he'd kill Myrtle. He'd take her out with him so he wouldn't have to share any toilets with her.

Then he'd probably have to become a ghost all of his own to stalk Kaylens into forgiving him. Granted he'd be dead, so it'd make making up a bit problematic….

Suddenly Myrtle materialized, now floating a safe two meters away, looking quite put out. "You were always so nice to me, Harry," she sulked. "I just wanted to return the favor. I've even been practicing."

Harry stared, blinking. "On who?" Then he realized what he'd just asked and winced as if physically slapped. "No, scratch that. Nevermind. I don't need to know."

Myrtle let out a disembodied, disturbing giggle.

Harry debated allowing Snape to scramble his brain with Occlumency lessons again, if only to ensure that image was permanently banished. He did not need to know that a ghost had learned to give blow jobs.

"But really, Harry, if you ever change your mind…"

His cutting green gaze sliced across the room towards her. "Unlikely." Heaving an irate breath, he added, "And if you even think of doing anything to Kally I'll make those people you went to school with seem kind." There were ways to banish ghosts. Dumbeldore had mentioned as much once.

Myrtle looked absolutely scandalized, Harry not caring. Hell, it took him a second to re-seize upon his original line of thought after her meddling. "Myrtle, were either Hazel or Paul Muggleborns?"

"No," she half-whimpered, still looking quite put-out. "Why?"

He shook his head. "Not sure. And you don't know what happened to make them fall out?"

Myrtle now shook her head, looking disinclined to help him further. That was fine by him. Harry had already decided that he'd spent far too much time in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom already. With haste he headed towards the exit.

"Oh and Harry," she called after him.

He froze, almost at the door, clenching his gaze shut tight in annoyance. "Yes?"

"That girl of yours? I don't like her"

Harry growled. "Gathered that."

"Well I didn't tell you why."

His retreating back had been to her until then, Harry finally sighing in resignation and turning around. "Fine Myrtle, why?"

The pig-tailed brunette stuck her lower lip out. "Because not only did she steal you, but she also looks like her."

For a second Harry stared, having been so close to escape. "Her?" he repeated dumbly. The word practically echoed across the domed ceiling.

Myrtle rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated pout, sighing and crossing her arms. "Yes. Her. Hazel." The dead witch's eyes flickered towards the door. "I don't like her. You really should ditch her, Harry."

Harry felt like his stomach dropped to his knees. "What do you mean she looks like Hazel?"

Myrtle gave a dramatic moan. "Just that she looks like her, Harry. Really, for a boy who is supposed to save the world you can be a bit thick sometimes."

He didn't care if he was thick. Instead a hot, unpleasant coil welled in his gut. "Myrtle, what was Hazel's surname?"

"Scott. Why?"

Harry didn't answer.

Instead he flicked the lock open, darting out the bathroom door and into the corridor, eyes landing on those of his very irritated looking girlfriend's. Being locked out she'd taken to lounging against the corridor wall, her arms crossed, foot tapping in annoyance.

She looks like her…

Suddenly Kally's lips parted, staring at him.

Then she made an upset, angry sound and tried to storm right past him and back into the bathroom.

It took him a second to realize that his belt was still unbuckled and hanging askew.


ECOTS


Kally was going to kill that ghost. The ghost would already be dead had Dobby not popped back into existence right between she and Harry and the bathroom door.

Apparently Snape had actually listened and was already in route to the island. If caught he could at least pull the loyal Death Eater card and claim that he was ensuring that Dumbledore was well and truly dead.

Harry had looked like he might keel over in shock at the idea of Snape listening to anything he or an elf had suggested. He avoided it though. Instead he snared a strong vice around her waist, ignoring her struggling as he yanked her away from Myrtle's bathroom.

Had she not been so utterly pissed the way a still-injured Harry had manhandled her might have actually been hot. But it wasn't. It just reminded her that she couldn't struggle too much or else she might actually hurt him.

Not to mention he still had Fawkes slung from a satchel around his neck.

While Harry had been dragging her and Fawkes down the corridor he'd made several strange requests to Dobby, the house elf heeding them. Apparently Hogwarts had a trophy room and a section of the library dedicated to historical Hogwarts. Dobby had been sent to visit both, to search for anything he could find about either Hazel or Paul.

A trophy case photo here, an old library book documenting the school prior to 1950 there, and Dobby had found what Harry had requested, bringing them to the Gryffindor boy's dormitory shortly after her, Harry and Fawkes had gotten there.

If nothing else Dobby was at least quick at ferreting out information.

Now they sat, cross legged and across from one another on Harry's bed, staring at the picture of one Hazel Scott.

Harry's brow was creased so hard it looked like permanent grooves might get carved. "And you're sure," he asked, looking up at her, "that your mother's maiden surname was Ross?"

Hissing a breath, for the twelfth time she repeated, "Yes." Shooting him a pointed look, she added, "Harry, there's no way we're related. You can calm down any time now."

Harry just shook his head, black hair sticking up in various directions, looking more askew than it normally did. "Yeah…" he agreed absently. Fawkes was curled up off to the side, a gentle trilling heard through the phoenix's beak every time the bird breathed.

He leaned back against the bed frame, still frowning. "Kally you're su-"

"Yes!"

The look Harry shot her was only mildly irritated.

She glared right back.

Harry drug a hand through his hair, looking deep in thought. "Well…at least we know why Voldemort was so interested in you last time he was in my head," he observed darkly.

Last year, back when they'd still hated one another….she could still feel the way Harry had slammed her against the corridor wall, pressing against him with his entire body, demanding answers…

An unconscious shudder seized her.

Harry had already filled her in: as soon as Voldemort had seen her through his eyes he'd been oddly curious. He'd wanted to know who she was. Later on, once Harry had found out she wasn't a witch, he'd assumed it was because she was a Reach, that he might have somehow recognized her.

He might have been wrong. As it turned out, Kally looked a lot like someone the dark lord had once allegedly called a friend.

Harry opened his mouth again, Kally already anticipating the question. "Both my parents were only children, Harry. I knew both sets of grandparents. Both were old by the time they had kids and all four died before I was twelve." She raised both eyebrows. "Happy yet?"

Every muscle in him looked tense. "No."

Kally's teeth practically ground. "It's a coincidence, Harry. Lots of completely unrelated strangers can look alike."

It wasn't even that they looked alike: the resemblance was only passing. It was simply that Hazel's hair and eyes matched hers perfectly. Kally wasn't an idiot, she knew that kind of coloring was unusual, even by wizarding standards. Hell, her own brothers and father hadn't even had hair quite the color that hers was. Her mother certainly hadn't: she'd been a brunette.

Point was, Kally didn't exactly look like everyone else.

Harry leaned forward, snagging the moving photograph to stare at it closer. "You both look," he muttered, "like reverse veelas."

Kally drug a frustrated hand through her long, golden hair. Harry had mentioned that more than once in the past, but until today when he'd said it it'd sounded complimentary. Now though…

Now he was looking at her as if unsure of what to do with her.

She hissed a breath. "Yeah, you've mentioned that," she finally replied. "Several times actually."

Green eyes rose above the top of the photograph. "It just me, or do you seem stressed?"

From her spot at the foot of his bed she shot him a look. "Oh? And you'd be nice and relaxed if you looked like someone out of Voldemort's personal diary and were getting looked at like you had grown a second head?"

Harry actually winced. "It was just a question."

She simply shot him a look, the dorm room impossibly quiet. "Sure. But hey Potter," she casually, dangerously shot back, "while we're at it, remind me to walk out of a bathroom with my pants undone after being in there with a ghost, no explanation. I'm sure that wouldn't stress you out either." Really, she ought to add that to her 'to do' list just to get a rouse out of him.

He hadn't given her an explanation yet, and she rather figured he did owe her that much. As ridiculous as it was, her stomach had clenched and she'd felt an inexplicable stab of annoyance.

Harry just clenched his gaze and grimaced, shaking his head as if trying to dispel a particularly unpleasant image. "First," he stated emphatically, "Myrtle's a ghost, can disappear, and managed to get practically on me before I realized she was even there."

She scowled. "After you locked me out and yourself alone in there."

"So you'd stop trying to kill her!"

"I never said I was going to kill he-"

Harry snorted so derisively that even Fawkes sent him a curious look. "Sure you weren't. And what was your body count last time we checked?"

Kally's golden eyes narrowed fiercely across the bed and onto her soon-to-join-that-body-count boyfriend. "Not…helping…your…case."

Harry ignored her with practiced patience. "So if it was you who had that happen," he pressed onwards, actually answering her previous sarcasm, "after I got done killing Dean-"

"Why it is always Dean with you?"

"Because," he stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "he's the only one who looks at you like I do. Ergo, at some point in this made up scenario, I'd have already killed him so it'd be his ghost. He's dense, so he'd try it again. Then I'd have to kill his ghost."

"Funny," she quipped, "you wouldn't let me do that." In fact he'd been quiet clear on that point, bodily dragging her down the hallway precisely so she couldn't murder Myrtle.

Nevermind that he'd had some excellent points about 'not being able to kill what you couldn't see.'

Harry shot her a long-suffering look. "After I got done disposing of that undead pile of plasma," he stated, disregarding her previous protest, "I'd calmly ask you what the hell happened."

Now it was her turn for her eyebrows to shoot up. "No offense, Potter, but until just now I wasn't even sure the word calm was in your vocabulary."

He met her eyes unblinkingly.

She drummed her fingers on the Gryffindor-colored duvet.

Harry let out an insufferable sigh. "Alright. You're right. I'd go bloody mental and hang what was left of his corpse from the Quidditch goals. Happy?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, considering this. She wasn't exactly happy, but… "No," she settled on, not keen to let him off quite that easily.

Harry groaned, actually shutting the book they'd been combing through. "Come on Kally," he asked, sounding only slightly exasperated, "you can't tell me you're seriously jealous of a ghost."

She arched a challenging eyebrow. "Should I be?"

The look he gave her was utterly dumbfounded. "Yeah," he drawled, "because the ghost is the one I've been fantasizing about spending my life with after all this is over. It's not like I've been repeatedly dropping hints to clue you in on that trivial fact so you won't say no." He paused. "Assuming of course we survive all this and don't spend time arguing when we need to be hunting down horcruxes, but you know…details."

Harry didn't so much as blink.

He didn't falter. He didn't stutter. Harry Potter just met her gaze and waited.

If anything he looked almost annoyed.

Kally stared at him, lips parting in silent surprise. "What?" she breathed dumbly.

"You heard me."

It wasn't the first time he'd implied it.

It was certainly the first time he'd come right out and said it.

Kally's stomach, chest, insides all came to a silent agreement and began to twist without her permission. Whether it was from the implications of what he'd just said, or from the way he far-too-casually referenced death, she didn't know. Either way, she was utterly unable to articulate anything to counter it.

All she knew was the sound of it was unbelievably amazing.

Harry uttered nothing. He just watched her, brow deeply creased, expression that of carved stone. It revealed nothing.

And she'd been worried.

"Kally," he stated bluntly, "breath."

Abruptly she sucked in a swift breath, having been entirely unaware that she'd been holding it. Her eyes flickered over his impossibly green ones, a shadow of dark amusement flashing within them. What he'd just said….and her reaction….and he was amused by it…

Harry was such an ass.

But he was her ass.

Kally closed her eyes, sighing. "I'm being ridiculous…"

Harry snorted outright. "Yes."

The matter-of-fact syllable was unbelievably self-assured.

"Could you perhaps try," she questioned with annoyance, "to not sound so smug?" She cracked her eyes in a passive glare.

It had absolutely no effect. Harry's mouth simply twitched, cracking the stony exterior. "Pardon me," he dryly ground, "but I have you sitting on my bed, not cursing me for what I just said, and you're jealous. Call me dumb Kaylens, but I'm thinking that means you want to stick around. That's not exactly ego-lowering. Hell, bit like Christmas."

"You're impossible…."

"And yet," he challenged, "you're the one dating me."

Kally's eyes narrowed, if possible, further. "Git."

He smirked outright. "Wench."

"Prat."

"Harpy."

"Better that," she countered challengingly, "than the King of Idiocy."

"Please," he retorted, "the kingdom's mine. I could order all harpies imprisoned and keep you as my personal pet."

She inclined an eyebrow. "You'd keep a pet with claws prone to violent outbursts?"

"If she's hot enough," he rejoined shamelessly. "Bet the sex would be great."

Kally about choked, Potter just raising an eyebrow in pointed, smug challenge. Her lips parted to counter that, searching for any continuation of the game of insults they at times indulged in – old habits did die hard – but came up with absolutely nothing.

Instead she laughed.

The smirk on Harry's jaw twisted into a grin. "Take it I win that round."

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Harry." The smug way he casually reclined against the bed's back board, one leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out across the duvet while he absently ran his fingers over Fawkes' head was maddening.

Harry just waggled his eyebrows at her. "Make me."

Once again her lips parted in silent shock, Potter just smirking further. It was as if they were two normal teenagers, not involved in a war, not stuck at the castle recuperating from injuries while their comrades were being buried.

The sheer thought was sobering, Kally's smile instantly disappearing. Seeing this Harry's brow creased, the wizard's gaze studying her intently. To the side the phoenix gave a sleepy trill, as if attempting to draw Harry's attention back onto him.

Kally just wet her lips, swallowing. "Sorry," she murmured, uncertain of what she was even apologizing for. For ruining the mood? For temporarily forgetting that so many others were dead? For daring to enjoy that Harry was alive even if others, like Fleur, had lost the wizard they were in love with?

Probably all of it.

Harry's expression grew strained, the wizard nudging her leg with his foot. A wane, grateful smile touched her lips, not quite reaching her eyes. And still…

Something inside her squirmed at the sight of him. Forcing her breathing calm, she let her eyes drink him in. Harry was alive. Harry was with her, and Harry wanted her.

She didn't even try to ignore the disturbing things that did to her chest.

They both remained there, in companionable silence, for several minutes. She at the foot of his bed, cross legged, looking out the window contemplatively; he at the head of the bed, leaning against the back board, studying her as if debating what to say.

Ultimately she was the one to finally break the silence, it gnawing at her.

"What makes you so sure I won't say no?" she questioned, suddenly, abruptly. Her breathing was somewhat calm, Kally's steady, crystalline eyes searching his for…she knew not. She just knew that her heart was pounding, fluttering, trying to beat but somehow failing.

Harry watched her. He made no attempt to move. Only the furrow of his brow and the turbulence tumbling behind his glasses gave anything away. "I'm not," he divulged, smug humor evaporating. "Could lose you. Just…" he grimaced. "Be a bit dumb not to try when I could lose you to a hex, or-" Harry shook his head, looking strained. "Or something else."

Neither said it, but she knew what he meant.

She was seventeen.

The oldest Reach on record had only survived to nineteen.

Harry was scared.

There was so much she could say to that. But sitting there, with him in the silent and empty dorm, heart in her throat, she couldn't think of a single thing. So she nodded, breaths coming a little less calmly as she drank in the sight of him.

Harry was alive. He was okay.

She needed him.

And he, apparently, needed her.

Somehow she said nothing. Instead she just nudged his outstretched leg with her own, a slight smile touching her lips.

Harry nudged hers right back, his lips curving to match her own. The smile did not reach his eyes, but she got that. There was too much death today, too many reminders.

There was also absolutely nothing they could do about any of it.

Harry tilted his head towards the spot next to him, inclining his eyebrow in pointed invitation. That was all it took.

A minute later found her directly next to him, the two Order members and the literal phoenix nestled closely together on the small bed. Neither she nor Harry said a word for a long while, but she tilted her head against his shoulder, eyes closing.

Slowly, so slowly, Harry's hand found hers, his callused fingers interlacing firmly between her own, an almost electric tingling traversing its way across her skin. It made her stomach squirm, sending something warm stirring inside. Merlin…

Every centimeter where his flesh came into contact with her own sensitive skin sent shivers coursing through her, Kally unable to reconcile how. This had been absent when he'd lain dead, Kally clutching at his limp hand as if it could somehow bring him back, make them closer.

It certainly wasn't absent now.

Her heart was beating so fast, nerves aflame. "Potter," she whispered, syllables a bare breath in the dorm, "about you not being sure. You know that I-"

"Don't," he requested hoarsely, brusquely squeezing her fingers. "Don't answer. Not yet." His plea was damn near desperate. His gaze clenched, the back of his head thudding against the bed's back board. "Just…don't say no."

Kally's ear had been pressing against the muscle between his shoulder and chest, so when he'd spoken…

She'd heard the way his heart had thundered beneath his ribs, beat still unsteady, yet there.

It sent tremors through her. Kally wet her lips, squeezing his hand. "Okay," she promised quietly. There was little to say to that. Don't say no.

She was in love with him.

He was a horcrux.

She'd felt it.

She still hadn't told him.

Kally's eyes clenched, a sickening sensation swelling within her chest. "Harry…" she murmured, knowing she had to. She didn't look up. She didn't need to. She practically felt the way he was looking at the top of her head, Harry's war-roughened hand tightening around hers in anticipation. "When you were dead…" she swallowed dryly. "I felt it."

There was no reaction: absolutely nothing. "Define," Harry stated evenly, "it."

"The horcrux in you."

His musculature marginally stiffened, but that was it. "Oh?"

So Kally told him. She told him how when he'd been dead and searching for any sign of life left in him, trying to restart his heart, that she'd felt it. She told him how it'd been eager to keep him dead, to use his body as a shell. She told him how it'd been so, so angry.

The horcrux in him was raw, undiluted rage. The fact that Harry wasn't walking around murdering random people was astonishing, a testament to who he was, to his own strength, resiliency. The fact that he could love so many so fiercely even more so.

It was late morning, the others still all gone at the funeral. They wouldn't be back for awhile, so there they sat, Harry absorbing the information she'd given him. Kally slid one foot up along the covers, nudging his foot with hers.

Time passed, Harry's only movement to draw her closer. He stopped petting Fawkes, the phoenix slumbering contently, so he could switch the hand holding onto hers. Then he slid his newly freed grip around her waist, pulling her closer to him. Kally submissively murmured, allowing this, needing that contact. Harry's fingers flexed, clenching into the skin of her side, the thumb of his other hand running over the back of hers.

The way she rested against him, fitting perfectly was enough to send her eyes fluttering shut, a sickening combination of fear, nerves, and comfort coalescing within. She was in love with him. He was a horcrux. The wizard doing daily battle with it held her close.

After an indeterminable silence Harry's throat vibrated roughly. "So, worse than we thought?"

Kally lifted her head from his chest, peering up. The way he was looking at her, deep and conflicted, was shattering. "I can kill it, Harry." Hazel eyes flickered over emerald ones. "I would have but…" feeling a stab of regret, shame, she murmured, "I was too exhausted. I was afraid if I did that I wouldn't be able to bring you back too, and-"

Her voice broke off, upset. Instantly she looked down, finding Harry's shirt staring back at her. She could have killed it then; she'd had the chance. But losing Harry…she couldn't risk that.

Harry's rough fingertips found her chin, his touch unbelievably gentle despite the calluses upon the pads of his fingers, on his hands. He tilted her face up to look at him, Harry looking deeply back. "I'm glad," he ground, "you brought me back." His brow creased, thumb tracing the slope of her jaw in a way that had her breath hitching. "Wouldn't want to miss a second of this. But…" he grimaced, looking almost sick, "you could have killed it, Kaylens. Left me. Voldemort would be closer to death then."

The solemnity in his tone was chilling. Kally's heart lurched.

She'd wanted to tell him she'd felt it, that she could kill it, so he could live.

Instead of relief, he just broke her heart, Kally feeling shattered inside.

He thought she should have left him to die…

Kally jerked away before he could finish, nearly falling off the bed as she scrambled back at least a meter, staring at him. Potter's hand remained frozen where it'd lingered upon her face not a second ago, looking bewildered.

Her breathing was unbelievably unstable, and looking at him Kally coldly realized something…

Taking out Voldemort would always be more important to him than anything, than anyone else.

He'd proven that already, dying for the cause.

For a second, a long, fleeting second she simply stared at him.

Then something within her chest broke. "It's always going to be about him, isn't it?" she whispered questioningly, already knowing the answer. It was amazing how swiftly things could change. "Every time you promise to not die, to do everything you can to stay, but then you say something like that?"

Comprehension suddenly swam within Harry's eyes, his glasses doing little to hide his wince. But she wasn't done. She wasn't. She was upset. She was scared. She was in love with him. "If you seriously think that I would ever leave you, that I would ever choose killing that thing over saving you then-then you don't know me at all."

There was no point in telling him again. There was no point in arguing anymore. They were already so far past that, past a point where she could have returned from having fallen for him, past a point where she was so deeply in love with him that the sheer thought of anything happening to him physically hurt…

She could never get back from that.

It didn't mean she had to listen to him plan his own self-destruction.

Kally was on her feet before Potter could get in a single word. "You promised me, Potter. You broke it. Then you promised me again, but it sounds like your mindset hasn't changed, has it?"

Harry jerked his legs back from his sprawled out position, sitting up. Fawkes stirred in his sleep. "That's not what I meant-"

"Sure it's not," she threw out, her feet carrying her several steps back until she bumped against Ron's bed post. She remained there, staring at Harry as if he were a new species. All the upset she'd been holding back in her relief that he was still alive came tumbling out.

Potter's jaw flapped wordlessly, managing to get out a half syllable before she'd cut him off again. "Kal-"

"You didn't want an answer," she said brokenly, repeating his earlier words. The heavy pressure of the sodding future, one neither of them would ever have, pressed upon her.

There would be none, because he was just going to die. So was she. What was the sodding point?

Kally wet her lips, heart pounding unpleasantly, something behind her eyes burning as she looked at him. Kally took a step backwards, towards the door. "Too bad. I'll save you the trouble. I can give you one now." Shaking her head, strands of her hair falling into her distraught face, she pressed, "The answer's no, Harry."

With that she snagged one of the books off the bed, holding it up for him to see. It was her silent way of telling him to not worry, she'd research everything she could about the next precious horcrux and its possible location. But she didn't need to be in here, with him, hearing him say things like that.

She loved him. She needed him so much it sodding hurt. Yet he was going to die, because he had a sodding martyr complex. Because he always had to play the hero. Because Voldemort would always come before everyone else, even himself. He was too short sighted to realize that losing a sodding battle didn't mean he'd lose the entire damn war.

If he lived, so he could be there for everyone who cared about him, then he could always come back another day to fight, yet Harry would always make the big sacrifice, not thinking it through.

Harry had remained oddly silent, Kally entirely missing the panicked, broken look in his eyes. She missed it because she was already headed for the door, hair flipping around as she paused, fingertips lingering on the handle.

Harry hadn't come after her. Usually she only made it one or two steps, three if he was exhausted, but this time…

He was letting her walk out.

Until that moment she'd never realized it – how he always went after her. Even when they hadn't been together he'd chased after her, starting that very first day in Knockturn Alley.

The sudden absence had a small sound coming out of her, one she tried to muffle by clenching her lips shut as hard as she could, hoping he would neither hear nor see.

Then Kally closed her eyes, feeling them burning. "You know, Harry," she murmured into the room, "it takes a lot to be willing to die for someone. But it takes even more to be willing to live for them." And with that…

Kally was out the dormitory door, already bolting down the stairwell towards her own. The Gryffindor dormitories were almost entirely empty, only two third years remaining besides her and Harry. She was suddenly so, so grateful for that.

She was grateful because she was actually crying.

Kally was running away from Harry, quite literally, all because he'd said something that hit too close to home, too close to what he'd already nearly done.

She couldn't be with him, near him, if he was just hellbent on getting himself killed.


ECOTS


Author's Note: For anyone curious about Kally's rather upset reaction to Harry, she's been repressing anger at him for a few days now so was bound to explode eventually. Poor Harry...

We will be hearing more about Dumbledore, Fawkes and the horcrux lead next chapter, which will either be out late next week or the end of the week after that. I