Chapter 58: Lights
Harry didn't know how long he'd been under Fawkes's control nor where he was, but he knew that this was the tenth time that Fawkes had made him relive his memory from the Chamber of Secrets. After a few iterations of the memory, Harry considered getting himself petrified again by the basilisk in the memory, but if he were petrified he wouldn't be able to fight Fawkes if he had a moment of weakness. Petrification wouldn't get him very far either; he might end up immobile in the woods for weeks, for all he knew, and eaten by wolves before Albus could find him.
The first few times Fawkes played the memory, Harry was glad. It was the only time when he felt at least partially in control and conscious. He walked all around the Chamber of Secrets and saw the memory from all angles and could yell at Fawkes all he wanted. Soon, though, he got quite bored of watching Tom Riddle brag and little Harry squeaking in disbelief and he realized that no matter how much he yelled, Fawkes wouldn't take him back to Hogwarts.
Fawkes, meanwhile, kept up his dance during the memories. He alternated between flying around near his memory self and twittering in Harry's face.
"Usually I know exactly what you're saying, but, for literally the life of me, I can't figure out what you want to tell me."
"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!" bragged Tom Riddle in the memory.
"He's not as gone as you might think!" said Little Harry for the tenth time.
"Yeah, he's not gone, but I AM," bellowed Harry, "and at this rate, I'm NEVER COMING BACK. Damn it, Fawkes."
Fawkes from the memory appeared and swooped to drop the sorting hat by Little Harry.
"That's a phoenix," said Tom and Harry at the same time. Harry knew the memory well enough to recite it.
"Fawkes?" said Little Harry. Harry repeated it in a mocking falsetto.
"And that, that's the old school Sorting Hat," said Harry and Riddle.
"Bloody hell, get me out of here Albus. GET ME OUT OF HERE, ALBUS!"
"This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat. Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?" asked Riddle mockingly.
"Songbird my ass…"
"To business, Harry," said Tom smiling. "Twice in your past—in my future—we have met. And twice I have failed to kill you. How did you survive? Tell me everything. The longer you talk—"
The memory stuttered and Harry was plunged into dark unconsciousness.
The next thing he knew, he was back in the weird green light of the Chamber of Secrets. His younger self had just spotted Ginny and was running to her.
"Ginny—don't be dead—please don't be dead. Ginny, please wake up."
"She won't wake," said Tom Riddle, who had been lurking in the shadows. Harry bet that if he'd gotten there a moment earlier he would have caught Tom trying to find the most dramatic spot to hide.
"Tom—Tom Riddle?" asked Little Harry incredulously.
"Really, Fawkes? You didn't even finish the last memory," said Harry. "If I have to watch just the first half of this over and over—it'll be like watching the same stupid three minute Flootube video over and over! Are you trying to drive me mad?"
Fawkes wasn't there. Harry couldn't find him. He wasn't twittering around as usual. He just wasn't there.
"Fawkes? This is going to be even less fun if I can't yell at you," said Harry. "Fawkes?"
Harry darted around the Chamber trying to find Fawkes. He was nowhere to be found. Harry returned to the main chamber.
"Haven't you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" asked Riddle. "Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's cat."
The memory flickered out and everything went dark for Harry again. It could have been seconds or days later when he found himself back in the chamber. The memory had moved forward. "I AM LORD VOLDEMORT" was written in the air in fiery letters in front of Riddle.
"What's going on…?" Harry asked to no one in particular. Fawkes had never stopped in the middle of a memory or fast forwarded.
"You see?" whispered Tom dramatically. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry—I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"
The Chamber was silent as Little Harry processed what Tom had said. Harry banged his head against a pipe a few times.
"You're not," Little Harry said finally.
"Not what?" snapped Riddle.
"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," said Little Harry. "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."
Tom was quiet for a moment, fuming at Little Harry's contradiction.
There was a resoundingly wet sniff from behind Harry. Harry squinted. That had never happened before in this memory. He spun around, and there in the chamber, a tear glistening on his cheek, was Albus.
"Albus!"
"Hello, Harry."
"Is it really you, or is Fawkes—"
"It's me."
"How did you find me? Did you find me? Where are we? What's going on?"
"You were in Peru. I brought you back to my office. Fawkes has agreed to cooperate but you've been here for a day and wouldn't wake up, so I thought I would see what was going on in your head."
Just then, they heard strange music winding down through the pipes. Harry pointed up to the top of the column, and Albus looked just in time to see Fawkes appear with the sorting hat. Fawkes swooped down towards Little Harry and dropped the sorting hat.
"A phoenix?" asked Albus.
"Yeah. Fawkes came to rescue me when...the er...long story."
Albus squinted at the bird and walked over to Harry. "That's not Fawkes, Harry."
"Yes it is," said Harry. "Of course it is. What other phoenix could it possibly be?"
Albus didn't have time to answer because the memory changed. They were in Albus's office, but Harry knew it was still a memory because there were many more silver instruments than in 1957. The office appeared to be empty.
There was a knock on the door. It opened silently and Professor McGonagall entered with Little Harry behind her. It was odd for Harry to see her old, wrinkled, and tight-mouthed after spending so much time with her as a young, spunky witch.
"You may wait here," she told him.
"Minerva…" muttered Albus, probably feeling the same as Harry was about seeing their friend so withered.
Harry remembered what was coming next; his younger self would talk to the sorting hat and then, to his horror, watch Fawkes burn.
"Fawkes is here," said Harry, not wanting Albus to see his awkward conversation with the sorting hat. "Let's find him."
Fawkes wasn't hard to find. He was standing on his perch looking simply awful. His feathers were falling out and Harry could see his skin underneath.
"That isn't Fawkes either," said Albus.
"Of course it is. You said it was yourself, or you will, anyway, in this memory. I mean, he's hard to recognize like this, but it's still Fawkes."
"Harry, look closer. This phoenix is smaller than Fawkes. The feathers are a different color."
"But, it's his Burning Day," said Harry.
The phoenix made a gagging noise and Little Harry spun around and spotted him. The phoenix made another gagging noise and looked at Harry and Albus.
Then he winked and burst into flame.
Little Harry yelled in shock and backed into Professor Dumbledore's desk. Harry blanched, not sure of what he'd seen.
Just then, Professor Dumbledore came in looking rather somber.
"Professor," little Harry squeaked. "your bird—I couldn't do anything—he just caught fire!"
Professor Dumbledore smiled.
"About time, too. He's been looking dreadful for days; I've been telling him to get a move on."
Little Harry look entirely shocked. Dumbledore chuckled.
"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch him…"
"See?" said Harry.
"Ah…" said Albus. "I am sorry, Harry. I seem to have misled you—probably intentionally."
"What?" Harry asked.
"It's a shame you had to see him on a Burning Day," said Dumbledore, seating himself behind his desk. "He's really handsome most of the time, wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets."
"I said that Fawkes is a phoenix, not that this phoenix was Fawkes. This is something very annoying I do when I do not wish to lie but need to mislead," said Albus. "This is not, in fact, Fawkes."
And as Harry looked carefully at the tiny ugly bird in the ashes, he began to understand that it was not Fawkes. There were subtle differences in the shape of his head, in the color of his eyes.
"It's not…Fawkes," Harry repeated, trying to wrap his head around it.
The memory began to fade and soon Harry found himself lying on a bed with someone's hand grasped in his. He opened his eyes to find he was in Albus's purple bed with Albus's hand. Albus, too, had just opened his eyes.
"It wasn't Fawkes. That's why the memory didn't work. It wasn't Fawkes…How did you find me?" Harry whispered.
Albus let go of Harry's hand and grabbed something off his bedside table and showed it to Harry. Harry looked closer.
It was the Deluminator.
"I used this," he said, holding out the silver cigarette lighter. "When you disappeared I knew you hadn't done it on purpose. I created this device which allows me to find you if you want me to find you. If you or anyone else said my name in your presence, this device would lead me straight to you. I was thinking of calling it the HarryFinder."
Harry raised an eyebrow. This explained a lot. He'd been very confused about how the Deluminator worked when Ron had used it to find him and Hermione in the forest. He'd thought it had something to do with "finding where you needed to be," or "following your heart," not finding Harry, specifically.
"How did you make it?" Harry asked. He was trying very to hide his surprise that Professor Dumbledore's prized Deluminator was originally a device to find him, Harry.
"When you left, you took your wand, so I created the device with wandless magic. I managed to enchant it to turn lights on and off, too, which, as you know, has been a challenge for me. I, unfortunately, needed to borrow a wand from Nicolas to do that."
"So…you created a device to find me…and to turn off lights?"
Albus nodded. "It turns on lights as well."
"And you were thinking of calling it the HarryFinder?"
"Yes. Or the Deluminator."
"Deluminator sounds better," says Harry, trying not to smile.
"Perhaps," said Albus.
"So, what happened to Fawkes?" asked Harry.
"He's here," said Albus, "but he's promised not to do anything more (though he still won't give my wand back). I believe he ran away—or flew away, as it were—because he believed there was no hope of him regaining a body for himself. He believed that we were unable or unwilling to carry it through all the way, but I reassured him that you and I would both do whatever it took to get him back. I suggest that we get started on the potion. We can have it ready today."
Harry gave a noncommittal nod, and then something occurred to him. "Incidentally," he asked, "what day is today?"
"It is the 31st of December."
"I've been gone near on a week?" Harry asked, his eyes going wide.
"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry it took me so long to find you."
"It's not your fault. Let's get working on this potion."
The two of them stirred and brewed over the vast golden cauldron all morning. Soon they were done with the base of the potion and they left it to stew until sunset. Over tea, Harry and Albus discussed the modifications they would make to the final process; the first one was that they would finish it in the Astronomy Tower instead of Albus's bedroom. Sunset was at 3:48 that afternoon, so they moved the cauldron directly after tea.
The Astronomy Tower was the highest point in all of Hogwarts, and from there Harry could see all the way across the lake, and to Hogsmeade village, and over much of the forbidden forest. The sun was low in the sky to the Southwest, soon to set behind the mountains behind Hogsmeade. Being the 31st of December in Scotland near sunset, the air was bitingly cold, but the sky was clear and Harry and Albus could easily track the motion of the sun as it weakly sank its way lower and lower.
The sun touched the mountain, and then it was half way hidden and Harry suddenly realized that the last time he'd been in the astronomy tower he had watching Albus die. His breath caught and he felt the panic he'd felt then, frozen and invisible. The sun sank lower like Albus, poisoned, slipping down the wall.
Then the skyline flashed briefly green like Snape's Killing Curse, and Harry just barely remembered to light the potion with a snap of his fingers.
"Harry, the feather," said Albus urgently.
Harry had forgotten that he needed to stir the potion. He used one of his own feathers to stir until the flames darkened to red.
"Harry, something wrong?" Albus asked when Harry finished stirring.
"What? Nothing. Why?" he replied, shaking himself.
"You went white. You looked as though you'd remembered something painful."
Harry shook his head.
"Supper?" Harry asked, changing the subject.
They trekked back to Albus's dining room and ate. They spent the next few hours sitting around Albus's office; Albus read and Harry pretended to read.
Around ten, Albus spoke up.
"The potion needs checking. I'll go."
"I'll come with you," said Harry, a bit bored. Albus nodded. They hiked back up to the Astronomy Tower.
The potion was still burning bright red, undisturbed.
"Sit with me a while?" Albus asked. "We should discuss the last ingredients. There are some issues that Nicolas and I discussed while you were gone."
Harry nodded.
Albus wandlessly conjured a spacious calico sofa and he and Harry fell back into it.
"Have you selected a suitable memory of the real Fawkes?" Albus asked as he conjured a large blanket for the both of them.
"Yeah," said Harry. "The day he hatched should work."
"Good, good…" said Albus.
They sat in awkward silence for a moment.
"I have your wand," said Albus suddenly. He took it out of his robe pocket.
"Oh. I wondered where it'd gone," said Harry.
They were silent again. The afterglow of the sunset had long faded. The stars were out in numbers and the night air was getting colder. It must have been below zero, but Harry was warm. He wondered why for a moment until he remembered that it was probably something to do with his phoenix powers.
"Are you cold, Albus?" he asked.
"You're radiating enough heat for the both of us," smiled Albus.
Harry could have sworn that the couch got smaller and he was sitting closer to Albus than he was a minute ago. Their legs were practically touching, not that he could see them under the blanket.
They were quiet for a while longer.
"There's an ingredient that the potion needs that we didn't use last time," said Albus.
Harry was worried that he was going to bring up the matter of the feather in his wand, but he didn't.
"Something to carry Fawkes's soul to his new body."
"Oh…uh…like what?"
"Don't you still have a piece of crystal?"
"Er…" Harry thought about it. "I guess so. I dunno how it works, though."
"Nicolas is under the impression that, in proximity to you and Fawkes's body, the crystal will put Fawkes's soul where it belongs while leaving yours in your body."
Harry nodded. "That…makes sense. When my broom broke, Fawkes went and got the crystal and used it to find the part of my soul that was floating around."
"Where is the crystal?"
"It's in my room." Harry grabbed Albus around the shoulder and immediately teleported them to his tower.
The tower was dark and cold. Harry hadn't been there in over a week.
"I've missed that," said Albus, pulling the Deluminator out of his pocket.
"What?" asked Harry.
"Teleporting everywhere with you," Albus smiled. He clicked the Deluminator and balls of light flew to Harry's lamps.
Harry went and took the crystal out of the desk drawer where he kept it, returned to embrace Albus, and they were back on the sofa in the Astronomy Tower a moment later.
As soon as the flames from teleportation cleared, Harry and Albus both gasped.
The sky was ribboned with green light swirling high above them.
"The Aurora Borealis," whispered Albus. "Magnificent."
Harry, meanwhile, might just as easily have jumped and ducked behind the sofa had Albus not still been holding onto him from the teleport. Harry'd momentarily mistaken the green light for an Avada Kedavra.
"Yeah," he said half heartedly. "Magnificent."
In Harry's life, he'd never encountered any sort of green light that boded well for him; to this day, he had reoccurring nightmares about the Avada Kedavra curse. The glowing green potion in the center of Voldemort's lake, the Chamber of Secrets in which he'd just been imprisoned for a week, and even the lake in which Harry had nearly drowned in his fourth year tinted everything an eerie green.
"What's wrong, Harry? Are you tired? Sunrise is at eight forty-four tomorrow morning. Bed?"
"No," said Harry, not wanting to take Albus from his skywatching. "I'm just thinking about Fawkes," he said. The image of his own Avada Kedavra curse disappearing down Fawkes's throat played in his mind over and over. He was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep anyway, not with everything he had on his mind.
"Alright," said Albus.
Ten minutes later Harry was fast asleep, resting against Albus. The green light of the Aurora flickered off his face. His dreams were full of the green light and Fawkes bursting into flame, Harry trying to take it all back, and Fawkes bursting into flame…
Under the light of the Aurora, a tear slid down Harry's cheek. Albus took a small vial out of his robes and collected the tear. He put it back in his robes and wiped away the rest of the moisture with his thumb.
"Tears of your killer," he whispered, gently stroking Harry's hair. "Grievingly shed."