Chapter 57: Flight of the Phoenix

Harry was unmistakably in his memory of his second year in the Chamber of Secrets. Not only was he there, but Fawkes was there with him. Clearly Fawkes had pulled him into the memory and was able to manifest himself there.

Little Harry and Tom Riddle were talking. Harry was crouched over Ginny's lifeless form at the foot of Salazar Slytherin's giant statue, and Tom Riddle twirled Harry's wand in his long, white fingers and then pocketed it.

Tom Riddle monologued on and on about how inane he found Ginny's writing in his diary and how he enchanted her. Harry Crockett of 1957, meanwhile, turned to Fawkes.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked, annoyed. Fawkes let out a long note and stayed put.

"I think you owe me an explanation. You've been nothing but a pain in the ass."

Fawkes wrapped his long neck around so that he was glaring straight into Harry's face. The look said, very clearly, "You killed me, so shut the hell up."

Tom Riddle began to slash Harry's wand through the air, drawing out the fiery words "TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE" in front of him. He then rearranged them to say "I AM LORD VOLDEMORT." Harry could see the dumbfounded look on his younger self's face and remembered the betrayal he felt.

Tom Riddle continued to monolog about his transformation into Lord Voldemort to which little Harry responded, "You're not."

"Not what?" snapped Tom.

"The greatest sorcerer in the world."

"Dear lord, was my voice really that high?" Harry muttered.

"Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw right through you when you were at school, and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days—"

"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!"

Harry chuckled. When he was twelve, the memory of Tom Riddle had seen intimidating and pure evil. Looking back on it, Tom Riddle at sixteen was a whiny wannabe—a whiny wannabe with a horcrux and a basilisk, but whiny and unintimidating all the same.

"He's not as gone as you might think!" said little Harry wildly. Riddle was about to call Harry on his bluff when strange music began to fill the chamber. Fawkes shifted and then took off from Harry's shoulder and began circling the chamber, singing with his older self, a few notes higher. The music got louder and louder until there was a burst of flame near the top of one of the columns and the Fawkes from Harry's memory appeared gripping the sorting hat in his talons. He dove toward little Harry and deposited the sorting hat at his feet and perched at his shoulder.

Fawkes was now twittering madly, circling over little Harry and the memory Fawkes.

"What are you doing?" asked Harry incredulously following Fawkes. Fawkes swooped down and landed next to his memory self.

"Ahhh—put it in writing!" said Harry, exasperated and confused.

"That's a phoenix," said Riddle.

"Well done, Tommy," said Harry walking over to them.

"Fawkes?" squeaked his younger self.

"And that—that is the old school sorting hat," said Riddle.

"Outstanding. Top marks. Very clever," said Harry.

Riddle burst out laughing, but Harry was distracted by Fawkes who was waddling around little Harry and memory-Fawkes like he had to go to the bathroom.

"I don't know what you're trying to tell me, Fawkes."

Riddle yammered on and on in the background about how lame phoenixes and hats were. Fawkes had begun to mirror his memory-self's every move.

"Is this some kind of game?" Harry asked. "I'm trying to help you and you're dancing around with your…self!"

"Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him…" said Tom Riddle, and then he began to started hissing and spitting at the statue. Harry was confused for a moment; he didn't remember the hissing and spitting…and then he realized that it was Parseltongue and he couldn't understand it. He worried about it for a moment until he remembered all of his non-phoenix magic was gone, including Parseltongue.

"This is your bloody fault, you know," he said to Fawkes who was still dancing around his memory self getting more and more frantic.

Meanwhile, giant mouth of Salazar Slytherin was opening and Harry watched it—this was the part where, as a child, he'd shut his eyes, so he never got to see what the basilisk looked like uncoiling from the statue. A tongue flicked out followed by a giant nose and two glowing, yellow-green eyes…

And that was the last thing Harry saw.

"Harry? Harry, can you hear me?"

Harry's eyes flew open to find Albus's face an inch from his own. He gave a start and Albus stood back up.

"Oh, bloody hell. What happened?" asked Harry, still irritated from Fawkes's antics.

"You were petrified," said Albus. "Well, first you collapsed into a sort of comatose state, and then you were petrified."

"Hello, Harry."

Nicolas was standing a few feet behind Albus.

"Nicolas helped me with the Mandrake Draft," said Albus. "He knew where to find it quickly."

"Er…thanks. How long was I…petrified?" Harry asked.

"About twenty six hours," said Albus. "We cured you as soon as we could."

Harry's mouth fell open in surprise.

"Do you have any idea how you were petrified, Harry? Was it Fawkes?"

Harry sighed in frustration. "No…not…exactly. He pulled me into a memory and I got petrified in the memory through my own stupidity."

"I am sorry, but how could you get petrified in a memory?" asked Nicolas.

"Basilisk," Harry replied, cursing himself for not remembering just how potent the basilisk's gaze could be—that it could petrify even ghosts. It was no wonder that it could petrify him in a memory with direct eye-contact. "Stupid bloody thing. Well, I guess I would have been stuck in that damn memory until I figured out Fawkes's riddle, anyway. Probably would have taken this long."

"What do you mean?"

"Er…I think Fawkes was trying to tell me something," said Harry. "Dono what it was."

"Perhaps he was trying to tell you the memory didn't work because of the basilisk?" guessed Nicolas.

"Dono, maybe. I don't think so. He kept hopping around near himself and imitating the things he was doing in the memory. Honestly, I think he's gone quite mad locked up in my head…"

"Perhaps not," said Albus. "The potion didn't work, after all. Fawkes may have been trying to show you why not."

"I guess," said Harry thinking now that that was rather obvious. "Do you have any food?" he asked suddenly. "I'm famished."

"Of course. You've been petrified for a day." He snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared with a crack. Albus gave him instructions and he vanished again into thin air.

"Did anything…er…else happen while I was asleep?" Harry asked.

"I asked Nicolas to make this tower impenetrable to phoenix teleportation," said Albus. "You're safe in here now."

Harry imagined himself leaping out an open window and teleporting in mid air.

"And the windows and doors are locked," finished Albus.

Harry nodded in relief.

A house elf appeared. "We has put the food in the dining rooms, Headmaster, Sir."

"Thank you," said Albus. The three of them ascended the stairs to Albus's dining room where several house elves were laying out way too much breakfast food for three people. "Shall I invite Penny?" asked Albus.

"I'm sure she'd like that," said Nicolas. Albus left the room to go to the fireplace.

Harry stifled a groan. He was starving. He wanted to eat and didn't want to wait for Nicolas's wife.

"Please start, Harry," said Nicolas. "Penny will understand."

"Oh, thanks," said Harry, trying to hide how grateful he actually was. Harry and Nicolas sat down to the table and Harry started indiscriminately stuffing food into his face. He hadn't eaten since dinner at least thirty six hours before. Nicolas was carefully mixing a bowl of cereal.

"You know, Harry, it's the day before Christmas," he said while pouring milk.

Harry's stomach lurched and he choked on the toast he was eating. "I didn't know," he said, after he swallowed.

"I imagined you may have forgotten given the circumstances, what with being locked up here. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Wow, you really are Santa Clause."

"Yes. Now, is there anything I can help you get for…anyone?" he asked quickly.

"Actually…there are a few things…thanks for asking." Harry quickly told Nicolas about the transfiguration journals from the vault that he'd left in his room, and a certificate to Comede Noctem both for Minerva. He also told Nicolas what he'd accidentally left in his tower to make Albus's gift and finished speaking right before Albus entered the room again with Penny.

After they'd all eaten and the Flamels had left, Harry and Albus got to work on a new potion.

"This time, we'll use a different memory," said Harry. "Clearly there was something wrong with the last one."

"That sounds like a safe idea. Nicolas and I were talking and we concluded that we may need to use one of Fawkes's feathers for the last part of the potion. Do you have any?"

"Fawkes's…feathers?" asked Harry.

"Yes. Fawkes, before he died. Did he give any feathers?"

"Er…um…only two," muttered Harry.

"Two is certainly enough—one would be enough. Where are they?"

Harry hesitated, his throat drying up. "Er…we can't use either of them. One of them is in Tom Riddle's wand and one of them is in the wand that I bought—or will buy—as an eleven-year-old. I would have died if both of us hadn't had those wands."

"Is this the wand you bought when you were eleven?" asked Albus. He drew Harry's wand.

Harry didn't like where this was going. He swallowed. "Yes, but…it also has part of my soul in it. Remember what happened when my broom broke? I lost control of myself and killed Fawkes. Imagine what would happen if my magic let loose."

Harry was lying. He wasn't worried about his magic exploding; he just didn't want to break his phoenix wand, as much as he knew it might be necessary to do so to save Fawkes. He felt ill at the thought of breaking his wand. As he contemplated his reluctance, though, he felt a sense of hopelessness wash over him from Fawkes until it was all he could feel. Fawkes's emotions got stronger and Harry knew that Fawkes felt betrayed that Harry wouldn't do this to help him after all Fawkes had done for Harry.

Harry gasped under the weight of the emotion. He needed to be out from under it—he needed to get out. His vision started clouding and he felt himself running at Albus. He grabbed his wand out of Albus's hand and then dashed across Albus's study. Before he could stop himself, he dove head first at one of the large windows. The glass shattered on impact and then he was falling out the window, down from the tower. About half way down, he felt himself shrinking and his vision flared into infrared and he was no longer in control of his body. He felt a powerful surge of anger, and then he was consumed by flame. When he reappeared, he had no idea where he was and was still out of control. As he fought fading consciousness, his own hopelessness washed over him. Albus was never going to find him if Fawkes did not want to be found.

Harry had trouble keeping track of time. He was conscious for brief moments. Sometimes he was a phoenix, and sometimes he was human. Sometimes it was night, and sometimes it was day. He felt like he was drugged, and all he wanted was to be awake. He wondered, with remorse, if this was how Fawkes felt when Harry was in control. He'd been under the impression that Fawkes had been more conscious.

In the brief moments he was conscious, he tried to remember what it was that kept him grounded back at Hogwarts. Whenever he was around Albus he could stay, but Albus wasn't there now. All Harry could do was fight—and sometimes, sometimes he managed to get past Fawkes and whisper, "Albus," but he knew no one could hear him.