Chapter 51: Harry's Magic
They went back to the castle and up to Harry's tower. Albus kept his hand on the small of Harry's back the whole way. Harry was glad; he was pretty sure Albus was what was keeping him grounded.
They reached the landing below Harry's tower and stopped.
"Is this close enough for you to reach your wand?"
"Yeah, it should be," said Harry, "but I can't feel it."
Albus clicked his fingers and the trapdoor flew open.
"Wow, I didn't lock that or anything when I left yesterday…Some defense against the Dark Arts teacher I am."
"Let us not dwell on your error as it's helping us now, yes?"
Harry smiled weakly.
"Would you like me to levitate you up or conjure a ladder?" asked Albus.
Harry sighed. "I'd actually like to try teleporting. It'll either work or it won't, but I should know if I can use it."
Albus gazed at Harry for a moment. "That seems prudent, but I would ask that you take me with you."
"Are you sure? You could get burned alive."
"Doubtful," said Albus. "I trust you."
Harry nodded, hiding how under pressure he felt. "You ready?"
Albus nodded.
Harry wrapped his arms tightly around Albus and concentrated on the feelings of phoenix teleportation. During the times Fawkes did it in Harry's body, Harry could dimly make out the feeling despite being out of control. The phrase "home is where the heart is" came to mind, in that each time Fawkes teleported, he had to love the place he was going, think of it as home, long to be there. With regular apparition there was a definite determination required, but phoenix teleportation required a passion beyond that.
So Harry focused—focused all of his love he had for the Hogwarts castle on his tower.
His face felt a little warm, but nothing happened. Clearly his passion for the Hogwarts castle couldn't match up to the powerful feelings of a phoenix.
"Right," he said. "Hold on…"
He closed his eyes, and this time he imagined that Albus was waiting for him in the tower. He imagined what he wanted to do when he saw Albus in his tower. A heat rose through his body like the warmth that spread through his fingers when he picked up his wand. He couldn't tell if the heat was from flames or magic or blush, but the next moment he was on his bed on top of Albus.
He was relieved for a moment that he'd managed the teleportation without killing either of them, but then realized where he was and scrambled backwards off Albus before his "passion" could manifest itself physically.
"Er…did I burn you at all?"
"No," said Albus. "I merely experienced a pleasant, warm tickling sensation."
Harry's throat went dry. "Ah." He was quiet for a moment. "Well. I'm glad it worked."
Albus nodded. "An impressive mode of transportation. Where is your wand?"
It was on the bedside table and Harry went to pick it up. For the first time ever, he did not experience the warmth spreading through his fingers when he touched it. It felt just like picking up any old piece of wood. He waved it, trying to conjure something—anything—but he knew it wouldn't work. His gut twisted and his face fell. It was almost as bad as when Hermione accidentally broke his wand in Bathilda Bagshot's house.
"Nothing?" asked Albus.
Harry looked at him, his face betraying his loss, and nodded.
"May I?" asked Albus.
Harry let Albus take the wand out of his hand. "I don't know if it will work for you," he said. "I can—could make it work for people, but…I don't know now…"
Albus adjusted his grip on the wand and flicked it into the air. Harry didn't feel anything magical in himself, but a bunch of purple flowers flew out of the wand tip. Albus flicked the wand again, and the flowers landed in a vase of water on Harry's bedside table.
Harry felt utterly betrayed. His wand would work for Albus, but it wouldn't work for him.
"Hmm," said Albus. "Would you please give me an example of a type of magic that you can do that I could not?" he asked.
"Erm…" said Harry, through the lump in this throat. "Conjuring food?"
Albus sniffed in amusement. "Of course," he muttered. He flicked the wand, but nothing happened. He tried twice more with the same result.
"It seems," he said, "that the wand is functioning as it was designed to, but not in tandem with your magic. I'm sorry, Harry. We will fix this."
There was a knocking at the trapdoor. Albus looked to Harry and Harry shrugged. Albus got off the bed, walked over to the trapdoor, crouched over it, and opened it. He leaned back quickly as the small rock that had been knocking on the door went whizzing up through the trapdoor. It fell back down and impacted against something dull.
"Ouch!"
"Hello, Minerva," said Albus. He flicked Harry's wand through the trapdoor, conjuring a rope ladder, and a moment later Minerva emerged.
"Thanks," she said. "I had a feeling I'd find you here. Albus was like a five year old lost in a shopping center looking for you yesterday. Where did you go?"
"Good question," said Harry. He sat back down on his bed and put his head in his hands. "So, I told you I was trying to get a phoenix animagus form. Well, I did, only it seems like that let Fawkes take over. I really have no idea where I was last night. He can be in control in both my form and as a phoenix…"
"That would explain how strange your duel was." She paused. "How do we know you're not Fawkes now?" asked Minerva.
"Because…er…"
"For one, because Fawkes can't speak," said Albus. "He only ever communicated with Harry in images and emotions. He screamed during the duel, but he can't actually form words."
"You call those words?" she asked. Harry glared at her and Albus gave her a blank, silent look and didn't respond. Minerva continued, addressing Albus. "And now you're babysitting him to make sure he doesn't swan off again?
"Or phoenix off, as it were, yes," said Albus.
Minerva rolled her eyes. "So how are you going to fix him, Albus? You can't leave him like this. He might start squawking at the students."
"Oi. I'm standing right here," said Harry. "And don't provoke Fawkes. He already stole Albus's wand. He might take yours next."
"Are you sure that wasn't you, Harry?" He glared at her again. "Can't you do anything about it?"
"Probably, but I don't know what yet. Let us know if you have any brilliant ideas that don't involve putting me in a cage or making sarcastic remarks at my expense."
"I'd love to help," she said, still with some measure of sarcasm, "but I've got to pack. I'm leaving tonight after the feast."
"Somehow I get the idea she doesn't think this is very important," Harry said to Albus.
"Oi! Standing right here," said Minerva.
"Sorry," said Harry sarcastically. "Where are you going?"
"Believe it or not, I'm going to spend the holidays with my family. They're expecting me, and I'm not sure what I could do to help that you and Albus don't have covered—but keep me informed. Right, well I've got to go. I'll see you at the feast. Harry, don't hurt yourself. Albus, don't let Harry hurt you."
She dropped down out of the trapdoor, presumably having cast a cushioning charm on the ground as the impact noise was muffled.
"Makes you wonder why she came up here in the first place," said Harry.
"I can still hear you, Crockett!" shouted Minerva.
"Oh, go pack!" Harry shouted back. The trapdoor shut of its own accord. "Right." They were silent for a moment.
"There are a few solutions, Harry."
"MMhmm," said Harry, refocusing on Albus.
"Unless you intend to spend the rest of your life fighting with Fawkes over the custody of your body, that is."
Harry shook his head.
"And if Fawkes wanted to share, he would be doing so."
Harry shrugged. "I suppose."
"Then I think it's time to get Fawkes a new body."