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A raven-haired boy walked down the dim streets of Pivet Drive. The boy, not yet 16, found himself doing this often. He had been warned, of course, of the dangers of walking alone night. When the neighbors slept and dreamed their silly dreams of power, money, and petty fame. When the lamplights flickered out and even Dementors had once prowled, and everything that went bump came out. For this particular youth, these dangers included more then just that. It included an evil wizard at named Voldemort, a group of dispassionate humanoids called Death Eaters, and numerous other magical beings. Still, this teen walked the streets. It had been a long time since he was afraid of anything. Ever since...
Harry Potter mentally sighed. He hated thinking of Sirius, his wonderful godfather, his parent's best friends. His death kept playing again and again in his mind. What he could have done different, what could have gone different, it all was shown to him. There was no end to his torment. For when the dreams faded, when the thoughts slipped his mind, the guilt came as a doom hound at his throat. How dare he forget that which he did. After all, Sirius's death was his fault.
A sharp shot of pain snapped him out of his latest daydream. Harry swore as blood trickled down his leg. He had scraped against a trashcan lid. Harry flung the lid far into the darkness and then heard a faint rustle. He froze, his mind instantly going to when Sirius had taken on hid dog-form to see him here. Of course he had thought him the Grim, but still. It seemed like an eternity ago. A happier time, a happier place.
But of course; no shaggy, black dog appeared from the gloom. Instead a beautiful bird came into view. Harry gaped in surprise at the creature. He had seen one before, but never here; not at perfectly normal Pivet Drive. He had striking euphoria, suddenly, that whenever something came to Perfect Pretty Pivet Drive, it was almost always bad, or at least Potter had thought it ill at that time.
Yet this visitor was a phoenix, a smaller one then Dumbledore's bird. With dark red, maroon, plumage of life-blood; and a beak of early dawn's golden shafts. The wise eyes were a gentle ice-blue, searching farther than flesh, and at the same time, far too human looking.
"Er... Come here birdie... what are you doing all the way out here?" Harry called to it.
The small bird approached him without fear, seeming to understand. It finally came up to perch lightly on Harry's shoulder. The small weight was familiar to him.
"So tell me, who sent you? Er... Dumbledore, no he would just use his magic to Appariate here or something. So did Voldemort send you? Are you some kind of trap."
The phoenix stared back silently, with solemn pale eyes.
"I have my wand, and I already know about Animagus, my godf—" The emerald-eyes boy swallowed hard.
An innocent by standing pebble got the blunt of Harry's anger as he kicked it hard across the empty lot.
"Whatever, look if you are some Death Eater or whatever, I will fight you and right now I am hardly in the best of moods for..." That is the shittiest threat I have ever heard. For what? You can't kill anyone, haven't got it in you... The boy-who-lived thought sourly.
There was a long pause filled with anguish and remorse. Then the small phoenix did something strange. It tightened its grip around Harry's shoulder, not letting the sharp talons bite in. And it opened its curved, summer sunrise mouth... and began to sing. The soft lamentation of the phoenix, haunting and majestic, echoing throughout strife and wounds of soul. The melody curled around his withering heart, soft hands caressing. The rhythm of it strewn through his diluted blood like fire, pounding against his skin. The high, soft tone of the bird sharpened his mind, clearing his senses so that way Harry could think, he could see and become aware again. Am I going insane? Potter wondered to the beautiful song that filled him until their was no more left. Or am I just remembering what sanity is?
The sound began to dwindle in volume, lower and lower down a hill until all of the Seeker's focus was upon it. It ended slowly, leaving wisps in the warm breeze.
The exotic bird looked deep into the jaded shafts of mortal eyes again, and this time it was satisfied. With one last note, a goodbye tug on the shoulder, it opened its glorious wings to the night heavens; and was gone.
The dark-haired youth watched the same speck of red against navy become smaller and smaller, rising up until it was no more. He felt a deep sense of peace and purpose again. Not really happiness, but Harry could carry on again. He could live again, with this.
"Thank you." He whispered to Sister Stars and Mother Moon; standing still for a moment before turning around; wondering who had sent him the creature and why.
Harry Potter walked back to his uncle's house; relived of his nightmares, but the small nip of guilt remained. Part of it, was directed to his friends as well. He climbed up through his window, sliding the glass up and slipping noiselessly onto the white carpet. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would be asleep right now. Dudley was out, prowling the streets for children to fight or people to impress. He glanced at the stack of un-opened letters from people. Not even Hermione's and Ron's had been opened. He hadn't seen a point to it. Harry had never been the best at lying in words, and telling them of his great sorrow, the alone burden he carried of Sirius's death would only concern them with more. So, with a weary sigh, Harry went through all the letters. They had become frantic towards the most recent. Harry shifted through them with sudden anxiety. They had been afraid for him. His always companion guilt smacked his head hard, and the green-eyed boy shook it off. Feeling sorry for himself was not going to help anyone. One letter caught his attention.
Dear Harry,
Please write back Harry. We haven't seen or heard from you all month. I know that you must be sad Harry, but please, I can't lose you too! Mail anyone, anyone please Harry! If I don't here from you by the end of the month, I am coming to you. Please Harry, for pity's sake write! We are all so worried about you!
-Remus Lupin
Tomorrow was the end of the month. He quickly scribbled out a note saying he was fine and woke a very annoyed Hedwig to deliver it to Remus before the night was up. She rewarded him with a friendly peck, however, good to receive some notice from him. Then Harry collapsed in his bed, knowing that this would probably be the last night he would not dream of Sirius. That bird, that wonderful dark red phoenix, it had given him a chance to see again. It had given him a chance to live on again.
But why?
He couldn't figure out why it had happened, but Harry decided what he was going to do with his new-found gift. He was older now, and stronger than before. The teen promised himself that he would fight this time, and he would win. To prevent any memory relapses from deterring him,Harry took out a piece of quill and ink and silently wrote on his left arm.
I, Harry James Potter, do swear that I will never abandon my friends, protect all from harm and danger, and kill Voldemort for the memory of all who have died.
As he wrote furiously(wondering if it was foolish to engrave one's name on one's own arm) Potter accidentally pressed to deep. The letter 'm' from memories came out in blood. He swore and tore off a piece of old cloth as a bandage. He would clean it in the morning.
"I am going to have a scar from that." He muttered to himself. But at least he would never forget now. He would bear that mark until it was fulfilled.
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"Boy, inferred freak; get down here at once." Uncle Vernon's shouts awoke Harry Potter the next morning. To his great surprise, the clarity the phoenix brought was still there, but the edge of pain was amplified.
"What am I being blamed for this time?" Harry wondered to himself as he stumbled down the steps drowsily.
At the bottom of the steps was a sight that Harry had not expected to see. No shattered glass, no suddenly wilted flower plants; but a ghostly pale Aunt Petunia, a cowering hunk of Dudely, and a beet red Uncle Vernon, pointing to a man standing at their doorway.
Remus Lupin looked bad, far worse then before. His blond hair was graying and lifeless, deep lines etched his face and pulled his thin lips into a permanent frown. Blue-gray eyes were shadowed and tattered cloak torn up to the hems added to his misfit look.
"Harry, your alright." His voice was thin and hoarse, but he tried to smile.
It stabbed at Harry to see how hard he tried to smile. "P-professor Lupin... what are you? My letter did you..."
Remus nodded. "I got your letter, but we all decided I would come get you anyways. We were... worried about you and thought you might like to come back... to the Grimauld Place."
Harry's mouth was dry for a moment. Before, leaving the Dursley's would have been a wonderful thing; but now... going back to Sirius's old home...
Harry Potter might have stayed at his uncle's house; and the future events may have never taken place. But at that exact moment, Dudley decided to take another step back from the strange wizard who had arrived at his house. As he stepped, he hit the fragile mirror hanging from the wall. The mirror shattered, and a piece of glass struck at Harry's arm; right in the tender skin from the scar. In a flash of pain Harry remembered his promise.
"I'll go." Harry burst out right before Uncle Vernon could yell.
Time froze as all eyes turned to Harry. "I'll go." He said calmer now. "Let me go get my stuff Professor."
As Harry climbed up the steps an angry voice followed him. "You bloody will not!" Uncle Vernon roared.
"All summer all you did is stay locked in your room muttering to yourself and taking walks in the middle of the night. You have done nothing to help this family, and since you seem to be feeling better you will stay and help!" He continued.
"It's not my fault that I didn't feel well." Harry replied coldly.
"Really, and what is it that could bother you so much, eh? You can't be sick for a month!" He taunted.
"My godfather died." Harry screamed out the words, hating them.
Silence fell over them all. Uncle Vernon's mouth hung open with a scream that would never come. Aunt Petunia gave him a look of almost sympathy. Dudely looked around confused, but Remus gave a haunting look of sheer pain and sorrow. The loss had hit him hard.
Harry bit his lips as he gathered his few possessions and Hedwig, then walked back down to meet Remus, not saying a word to anyone ad he walked out the door.
"We are using porkey." Lupin said finally.
Harry nodded numbly. "Yes professor."
Remus gave a half-smile. "Don't call me that anymore. I'm not your professor. Just Lupin, or Remus. Whichever you prefer."
He just nodded, and then looked up as a flash of red streaked the sky. He saw the dark-red phoenix staring at him from a tree; its icy eyes staring down at him asking,
"Are you alright with him?"
Harry gave a small smile at the bird and whispered, "I'm fine now. Thank you." He realized it was true. He was fine, he had found a purpose again; and soon he would be with his friends. He would be part of the fight again, and nothing could stand in his way.
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"Harry!" Tonks screamed as she ran over to hug him while knocking over a chair. Her hair was long and purple today.
"Hi, I missed you too." Harry gasped between her tight embrace.
"Tonks you are going to strangle the child; off with you!" Fred and George suddenly appeared.
"Hey, Harry." They greeted in unison.
"What is all the... Harry!" Ron walked down the steps drowsily; lighting up at the sight of his friend.
Ron raced down the stairs with a grin. "How are you mate?"
Harry smiled back. "Fine, you?"
"I'll alright besides the fact that no one can let a lad sleep here." He cast a meaningful glance at his twin brothers.
"No one prevented you from sleeping, my brother. You choose to wake up after we lit off the Rainbow Rockets." George said innocently.
"You launched a bloody rocket into my bedroom!" Ron retorted indignantly.
"Harry!" Another scream broke through as Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry. "How are you my dear? Why you are all skin and bones! Were those horrible muggels feeding you?"
In truth, Harry had hardly eaten after Sirius's death. It was hard to tell under Dudley's baggy clothes; but he was far skinnier then normal. Too skinny.
"Yes, but their food isn't as good as yours Mrs. Weasley." He lied and told the truth in the same breath.
She blushed. "Now there; Oh, Ginny dear come down now."
Ginny Weasly padded down the staircase.
"Hello Harry." She said with a smile, but her tone betrayed her. She was to honest to hide her emotions as well as the others. They had all been worried sick about him; Harry realized. They acted like he had some horrible disease to be pitied. He wondered if that was how Lupin felt sometimes.
"Well now Harry; Let me show you to your room." Remus came back inside. Harry nodded and followed him up the winding steps.
"This place looks great." Harry tried to break the somber silence. It was true. All the cobwebs and dust had been removed from the house; and new furniture gleamed against elegantly colored walls and coordinating decorations. It was simple, roomy, and filled with neutral colors. The house now reminded him a little of some ancient monastery, somber, calm, and filled with artifacts unknown. Still, a shadow hung about the place. The shadow of death.
"Yes, we have made quite a few new renovations." Lupin gave a small smile.
They passed the screaming portrait of Sirius's mother. The black hair reminded the boy painfully of his loss.
"And some still need to be made." He added ruefully.
They climbed the rest of the staircases until they reached the last door on the fourth floor.
"I know that you usually room with Ron, but Sirius... in his will... he said that he wanted you to have his room." The words were choppy and strained from the man's mouth.
Harry lost his voice and nodded. Sirius's room? I don't deserve this! It is my fault he is dead!
To add to his guilt, the room itself, was grand. The floor was rich mahogany wood; and the large, king-sized bed was covered in a plush dark green quilt. A single, big window faced the sunset; and photos of Harry, Lupin, Lily and James, decorated his walls. The walls themselves were a lighter ash wood with dark green border and a mural of a forest on one wall. The mural caught his eye. It was a truly magnificent painting, with tall, dark trees bending in the moonlight; their leaves painted silver. Three creatures ran through the forest. One was a shining silver wolf; with a powerful build and wild eyes. Slightly behind, and to its left was a big dog as dark as night, silhouetted by the moonlight. Its movement was playful and daring, as well as the amused eyes. The third creature was a shining stag, soaked with moonlight so it glowed white. It had a proud face and cunning eyes, prancing ahead of the wolf.
Lupin went on talking as Harry kept looking. "He wanted you to have it last summer; but we convinced him that you would rather sleep with the boys. You still can if you want, but I thought... You might like it in here." He cleared his throat.
Harry was silent for a time; staring speechlessly at the picture and who it undoubtedly was.
"Sirius had it painted... when we were in Hogwarts." Remus said quietly as he came to stand beside Harry. "Of course, that looks nothing like me..." He added bitterly. Then, "There was a picture of Peter here too, right at his heel." Lupin pointed to a dark clump of grass that undoubtedly covered up a shy rat. "But when we returned here he couldn't stand the sight of it, and had it re-painted..."
Harry was speechless, but felt as though he had to say something. "It is beautiful." Stupid, of course it is!
"I think so too." Remus whispered, sadness filling his gray-blue eyes.
Harry felt as though he had to do something for his father's last friend, help him in some way, but before Harry could move Lupin was at the door; the fake smile gracing his lips.
"Make yourself at home. We'll have tea in about an hour."
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The next few days passed rather uneventfully for Harry. He mostly just stayed up in Sirius's room and looked through old pictures his godfather had. Harry had tried to play games with Ron, like wizard chess and practice flying; but Ron always gave him this funny look, as if he was about to start raving mad. So he choose to stay to himself now.
"How can I help my friends if I can't even talk to them?" Harry asked the walls in frustration.
A faint knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Harry.. Er…. Hermione is here." Ron's voice cracked through the door.
Harry gave a small smile. Hermione, good old Hermione. She won't act like I'm crazy at least. She will yell at me though for not answering her letters…
Harry opened his door and walked down the steps to see Hermione, dressed in muggle clothes; standing at the door with a huge suitcase.
"We'll take that up for you." Fred and George said together as they cast a levitation spell on the suitcase and brought it up the stairs.
"Ron!" Hermione screamed as she ran over to a very red Ron.
"And Harry." She gave him a flashing smile. "You never returned my letters. We were worried about you!" She chastened him in her old manner.
"Good to see you too." Harry replied with a smile.
"Hermione how good to see you." Mrs. Weasely bustled in. "Come on now Ron, show her to her room."
"Right." Ron said quickly. "Come on then."
Hermione and Harry followed Ron up to her room.
"You share it with Ginny, sorry." Ron said.
She just shrugged. "So how have you both been?"
Ron looked away from Harry as he said, "Fine."
"I'm alright except for the fact that everyone here has been avoiding me." Harry said with a glare at Ron.
"Hey you stay locked up in your bloody room!" Ron replied indignantly.
"Well whenever I come out you all look at me as if I have two heads!" Harry retorted.
"Both of you stop it!" Hermione snapped. "This is the first five minutes I have been here and you cannot stop arguing!"
They both fell silent.
"Now, is it at all possible that you have been avoiding each other?" She began again.
"It's not my fault!" Ron began angrily.
"Oh, grow up!" Hermione said. "Were not blaming either of you, not stop bickering like children!"
Ron glared angrily at the floor.
She then turned her attention to Harry. "Harry," Her tone had lessened. "You never wrote once all summer. We were all worried about you. Professor Lupin came to your house once, and your Uncle told him that you were locked up on your room raving mad. They have a right to be worried about you."
Harry looked down. "Lupin never told me that he came."
"Professor Lupin isn't so talkative now." Ron added slowly.
"What do you mean by that?" The boy-who-lived asked.
"He took… he took Sirius's… death hard." Ron struggled to say.
Silence fell for a moment, and Harry was very conscience of the scar on his arm.
"Well, lets not worry about this now. It is obvious that Harry is sane and Ron isn't avoiding him anymore; so lets go… flying." Hermione finally said.
Harry and Ron gave each other surprised glances.
"But you hate flying." Ron asked.
"Fine, then you two will go flying while I read one of the books Professor McGonagall gave me." She sighed.
Ron shrugged. "Okay then. I'll go get a broom."
Harry stayed for a moment as Ron disappeared. "Thanks Hermione." He said gratefully.
She shrugged. "It isn't hard. You are both to thick-headed to see that."
Harry laughed for the first time since… As he ran off to get his Firebolt.
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