Author's Note: Fawkes is Regulus, or rather, Regulus is pretending to be Fawkes. And he's decided to spice things up a little, because apparently he doesn't like my plotline (or lack thereof) for Harry's first year. I wasn't planning this, but Regulus seems to be taking over my work.

HELP! REGULUS BLACK IS TAKING OVER MY MIND! SOMEBODY TEACH MY OCCLUMENCY, QUICK!

Thought

"English"

"Gobbledegook"


The Phoenix's Choice

On Christmas morning, (goblins didn't celebrate human holidays,) an aristocratic man strolled casually into Gringotts, looking around for a free goblin. Spotting one who did not seem too busy, he positioned himself in front of the goblin's desk and waited until the goblin looked up.

"I wish to speak to Manager Savio, please," he said, in fluent Gobbledegook. The goblin left quickly. The man allowed himself a tiny smile – most beings treated you better when you spoke their language. It got him quick service at the bank, if nothing else.

Another goblin arrived. This one was older than the one who had been at the desk. "Can I help you?" he asked, also in Gobbledegook.

He's testing to see if I'm fluent, the man knew. He proffered his key for inspection. "Good day, Manager Savio. Let us talk business."

The goblin smirked, sparing no more than a quick glance for the key. "Your glamour charms are impressive, Mr Black."

"Of course. Dead men do not meet with Gringotts managers." He clasped his hand over his heart in a shrill imitation of a Victorian lady: "It is simply not done!"

Savio chuckled ruefully. "Let us adjourn to my office."

Once they were in the rather heavily warded stone office, the man dropped his glamour. In the place of a brunet aristocrat was a redheaded man, still handsome, but less formal. "It has been too long, Savio." The goblin raised an eyebrow. "Since I have had a conversation with anyone but the headmaster, and since I have seen you," he elaborated.

"What business did you wish to discuss that was important enough that you would come out of hiding, Regulus?"

Ah, goblins. Always thinking about business. "The Life-Stone is not safe in the school. The self-proclaimed Dark Lord," (he couldn't keep the derision out of his voice,) "is determined to seize it. The headmaster does nothing – I believe he plans to test his secret weapon by tricking him into doing the old man's job. The weapon does not seem to be very enthusiastic about this."

"Well, that counts in his favour, at least."

"Indeed. I understand the Stone to be concealed in the Mirror of Desire. Rather clever, really: if someone wants to find it, but does not want to use it, they can get the Stone. Since I do not want anyone, including myself, to find it, I cannot get it out to hide it somewhere safer. But I can sense it's magic, so I know it is a fake and it's maker has the real one – brilliant deception, really – and now I do not know what should be done. I came here hoping for some advice."

Savio chuckled again. "Honestly, the things you get involved in … first the Death Eaters, then the Horcrux hunt, and now this. I believe I warned you not to turn to headmaster for help?"

"Yes, and I was an idiot, and I heard quite enough of that from my family when I was younger, thank you. But I know better now."

"I hope so, Regulus." Savio folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "My advice is to transport the Mirror somewhere safe. Perhaps shrink it, hide it in your pocket, and change to your Animagus form. Unless you desire immortality, you will not be tempted."

Regulus snorted harshly, and tugged at the neckline of his robes, showing Savio a lightning-bolt shaped scar just above his right shoulder. "Why would I want immortality? I cannot die, do you remember? The phoenix's curse." He and Savio both knew that 'phoenix' simply referred to a Light being that could not die, whatever the species. It just happed that all human phoenixes had a firebird as their Animagus form.

Savio gasped at the sight of the scar. "So … this means …"

"Harry Potter is a phoenix, yes. A portrait reported to the headmaster that he and his cousin are already planning to become Animagi, so he will discover it soon enough."

"I was going to say, this means that someone actually has tried to kill you. You have confirmed you are immortal."

"Yes, that too. My cousin, Bellatrix, hit me in the shoulder with a Killing Curse. I was knocked unconscious, and she Disapparated away. I understand that if someone tries to kill me, I will simply survive and remain as I was before, except perhaps with a new scar. If I die of illness or old age, though, I will revert back to infancy." He stood. "I should go. The old man will be wonder where I am. It was nice to see again, Savio, I will be sure to pop in for a visit more often."

"Tread carefully around the old man, Regulus," the goblin cautioned him. Regulus nodded, carefully replacing his glamour before leaving the office. He left the bank and slipped into a small, dark doorway, the sign over which was simply a tiny stylised 'Q', cut from a glittering stone.

The doorway was the back entrance of Quartz Apothecary; a slightly disreputable shop, since it's main entrance was on Knockturn Alley. It was the oldest apothecary still in existence, pre-dating Hogwarts itself by about fourteen years, according to the owner.

Despite its questionable location, or perhaps because of it, the shop did a roaring trade of both ingredients and ready-made potions. If you knew how to ask, you could also buy obscure potions books. The shop didn't specialize in Dark Potions, as some did, or restrict itself to ingredients. In short, it was a place you could get high quality potions of almost any sort, without many questions asked.

Behind the counter of the dark shop was a cloaked figure. The shopkeeper – or was it shopkeepers? – always wore a dark cloak with a hood covering his (her?) face, and kept his (her?) voice at whisper level.

It was a subject of much debate in the Knockturn Alley pubs whether the shopkeeper, known only as 'Quartz,' was a man, a woman, several people on rotating shifts, or even human at all. Quartz always seemed to be there, behind the counter, no matter how many customers where being served in the back rooms, where the actual transactions took place.

Quartz nodded to Regulus, knowing his business, and wordlessly opened the door beside the counter. Regulus entered the huge room. Shelves upon shelves of jars, carefully labelled in tiny script, filled the space.

He didn't even consider stealing anything – only Quartz could remove the jars from their place on the shelves. Several would-be thieves had ended up in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Spell Damage ward, with boils and hives covering their bodies, teeth and nails growing a foot a minute, liver removed from it's rightful place and plastered instead against their necks, and their eyeballs on fire.

Shaking this image from his mind, Regulus found an empty corner, shifted to his Animagus form, and fire-flashed not to Dumbledore's office, but to the bowels of Azkaban prison.

"Hey, big brother," he said to the unconscious Grim, whose cell he had just appeared in. He completely ignored the Dementors outside, focusing only on his brother. "It's been ten years. The standard sentence for attempted murder is five years, right? Then there's a maximum of two months for being an illegal Animagus. So, since you didn't manage to kill anyone, you're free to go. Come on."

He turned into a bird again, grabbed the dog off the floor, and fire-flashed out.


Back at Hogwarts, the Christmas feast was coming to a close. People were yawning, and beginning to head back to their dorms. Harry, Draco, Dudley (who had joined them at the Slytherin table), Neville (who had come with Dudley), and Sandra were among the few students who hadn't gone to bed yet.

Several owls winged their way into the Great Hall, each bearing a copy The Evening Prophet. Most went to the Head Table, landing in front of various teachers, but a screech owl made a beeline for the Slytherin table. Sandra, the only one in the group who took the paper every day, accepted her copy and gave the owl a Knut and a sausage. Unrolling her paper, she gasped loudly and laid it flat cross the table, so the four boys could see the headline as well.

SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES AZKABAN!

Most of the page below this headline was taken by a photo of a gaunt, pale man with massive quantities of filthy black hair. His waxy skin was stretched like parchment over his bones, giving him the appearance of a living skeleton. He stared with haunted eyes at the five students as they hurriedly read the article about him.

At an undisclosed time today, presumed to be in the morning, mass-murderer Sirius Black disappeared from his top-security cell in Azkaban prison.

"We're completely flummoxed as to how he did it," admitted a Ministry spokeswizard. "The locks on his cell weren't damaged, there's no way he could've Disapparated, and he can't have had outside help, since no one is allowed to visit the top-security prisoners.

"We are doing all we can to recapture Black, and beg the magical community to not panic. Any sighting of Sirius Black should be reported to the Auror Office immediately."

The public is reminded that Black, who was sentenced to life in Azkaban after he murdered thirteen people with a single curse, is extremely dangerous, and should not be approached under any circumstance.

"There'll probably be a longer article tomorrow," said Sandy quietly. "This was a last minute addition – they'll add more when they know more. Are you okay, Harry?"

"Why wouldn't he be?" asked Neville, clueless. Harry's response was forced out through tightly gritted teeth.

"Sirius Black is the reason my parents are dead." He turned away and swept out of the Great Hall.

Harry's survival instincts were barking instructions: write to Uncle Remus to warn him before The Daily Prophet arrived tomorrow (Remus didn't get The Evening Prophet), write to Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon so they would know what was happening, then barricade himself in his dorm, because Black might come after him and would probably expect him to be in Gryffindor like his parents. Tomorrow, he and Dudley would have to comb through the library and find warding and protective spells to use for times outside Hogwarts. In his hurry to get away, Harry missed Neville's apologetic whimper, Dudley's scathing glare at the paper, Snape's expression of mingled disgust and fear, and Dumbledore's quick but subtle exit.


Dear Uncle Remus,

I found out something rather disturbing a few minutes ago. A friend of mine, Sandra Quartz, received a copy of The Evening Prophet with a front-page article about Sirius Black escaping Azkaban. I plan to spend tomorrow searching the library for protective spells to keep him from finding me. Do you know any I can use?

Don't worry, I won't do anything rash like try to track him down myself – I'm only eleven, there's no way I could take Black on even if I did corner him. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you might like some warning before The Daily Prophet arrives tomorrow. Please be careful.

Harry


Dear Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon,

I just found out that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban prison. I've written to Uncle Remus for advice, and I'm planning to hide in my dorm as much as I can – even if Black does, heaven forbid, break into Hogwarts, he'd probably expect me to be in Gryffindor like my dad. Don't worry; Hogwarts is very well protected. Neither Dudley nor I should be in any danger.

Uncle Remus will probably be able to tell you more. Please be careful.

Harry


The Headmaster got to his office as swiftly as possible without sacrificing his dignity. His fears were confirmed when several portraits and an otherwise empty office greeted his arrival. Regulus Black, a.k.a. Fawkes, was gone.

Dumbledore sank into his chair. He had lost the illusion Regulus had helped him maintain – that the Headmaster of Hogwarts had a phoenix as his familiar. Either Regulus had decided to go back to serving Voldemort, with his first act of 'redemption' being to break his brother out of Azkaban, or else he had somehow found out that Sirius had escaped from Azkaban and gone after his brother himself.

Briefly, Dumbledore allowed himself to marvel at the difference between the Black brothers. Sirius had, in his school days, been an ideal pawn – a boy from a family of Slytherins, trying to survive as a Gryffindor. He'd latched on to James, and James had in turn latched on to Sirius. They had joined the Order of the Phoenix practically the day they graduated. Sirius had everything – why did he turn to Voldemort?

Regulus was practically the opposite of his older brother, the red hair being the most obvious difference. When Sirius was the centre of attention, Regulus would slink about the background. Sirius craved the spotlight, while Regulus was content in the shadows. Sirius had an explosive temper; Regulus, when angered, became cold and aloof, or bitingly sarcastic. Sirius had betrayed the Order to join Voldemort, while Regulus had stopped serving Voldemort to … well, he hadn't joined the Order, but he wasn't a Death Eater anymore.

Another possibility that occurred to Dumbledore as he prepared for bed was that Regulus had finally decided to remove his brother from Azkaban and kill him. There was certainly enough hatred between them. Aurors would find Sirius' body in a ditch somewhere, and Regulus would come back, calm and smug, to maintain the charade.

Yes, that's probably it, he told himself, sticking his head back into his office to wish the portraits goodnight.


Harry was extremely twitchy at breakfast the next day. His nerves weren't helped by the sound of a woman shouting from the Head Table. The Headmaster had a Howler.

"ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE! I WARNED YOU THAT SIRIUS BLACK WAS DANGEROUS, BUT DID YOU LISTEN TO ME? NO! YOU SHOULD HAVE EXPELLED THE MURDEROUS CRETIN IN HIS SIXTH YEAR, AFTER THE FIRST TIME HE TRIED TO KILL SOMEONE! BUT NO! BLACK WAS THE PRECIOUS GRYFFINDOR, WASN'T HE, THE GOLDEN BOY WHO COULD DO NO WRONG!

"WHO CARES IF HE TERROIZES EVERY STUDENT IN HOGWARTS WHO ISN'T IN GRYFFINDOR? WHO CARES IF HE TRIED TO KILL A FELLOW STUDENT? NOT THE HEADMASTER! NOT THE MAN CHARGED WITH ASSURING THE SAFETY OF ALL HOGWARTS' STUDENTS! CERTAINLY NOT THE FOOL SO BUSY PLAYING GOD THAT HE NEGLECTED HIS SCHOOL! THAT'S WHAT HOGWARTS IS SUPPOSED TO BE, ALBUS, A SCHOOL! NOT A RECRUITING GROUND OR A TRAINING FIELD!

"BUT THEN! THEN BLACK ATTACKED SOME OF THE PRECIOUS GRYFFINDORS! THEN YOU SAW FIT TO LOCK HIM UP! BECAUSE THE GRYFFINDORS ARE SO SPECIAL AND SO IMPORTANT, AREN'T THEY, HEADMASTER? I SWEAR TO YOU, ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, IF BLACK MANAGES TO HURT ANYONE ELSE, I WILL HOLD YOU PERSONALLY RESPONSIBLE AND I WILL ENSURE THAT YOU ARE REMOVED FROM HOGWARTS! PERMANENTLY!"

There was a ringing silence for a few minutes, as everyone tried to move past the shock of some random woman sending a Howler to the Albus Dumbledore. Harry felt a weak impulse to applaud the letter's unknown sender, but his survival instincts wouldn't let him dare. Finally, chatter broke out again.

"Lovely woman, my mother," Sandra mumbled under the cover of babble. She was across the table from Harry, looking resolutely down at her plate as she cut up her scrambled eggs. "So level-headed and sweet-tempered…"

"That was your mother?" Harry demanded, as loudly as he dared.

"She and the Headmaster don't see eye to eye on certain issues." Sandy stabbed her fork into a piece of egg with rather unnecessary vigour. Harry glanced at the sharp utensil clenched in his friend's hand, and decided it would be best for his health not to question her just then.

Draco leaned over and explained quietly into Harry's left ear. "Mrs Quartz is Professor Snape's twin sister. She hates Black with a fiery passion, and she's not to fond of Dumbledore either." Yet another glance at the Head Table revealed a quietly triumphant smirk flickering around Professor Snape's mouth.

Severus was, in fact, giggling inside his head at his sister's rant. He'd known what was coming as soon as he'd recognized the screech owl; he'd given that bird to his sister for her eighteenth birthday, so she would stop asking to borrow his own barred owl. His sister had no reason to send him anything – she'd Flooed over yesterday to wish him a happy Christmas, and they had exchanged gifts then. If the message had been for Sandra, they would have used Gloria, a scopes owl the girl had a strong bond with.

Only Salazora, Severus thought fondly, would have the humour to send a Howler via screech owl. His twin always did have an odd sense of humour. She had seemed wholly convinced, for example, that the reason James Potter had taken so much pleasure in dangling Severus upside down was because he was gay and wanted to see Severus naked. Whether she actually believed it, or was simply trying to embarrass Potter, Severus had never known, but it certainly did keep Lily Evans, Salazora's best friend, away from Potter up until seventh year.

And, as was her way, Sally didn't use any names in mentioning Black's attempt at killing Severus. She never tried to humiliate her brother, though the rumours she'd spread about Potter being in love with him had certainly given him mental trauma. She hadn't mentioned Remus Lupin either, Severus noted with a tiny smirk; Sally and Lupin had dated from their third year right up until what Salazora usually called 'the full moon incident.' Severus had told her everything, before Dumbledore swore him to secrecy, and been shocked to learn that his Ravenclaw sister had known Lupin was a werewolf ever since their first year!

They had broken up after Black had tried to use Lupin to murder Severus. Sally was very firm in telling both Lupin and Severus that she was only dumping her boyfriend for her brother's peace of mind, and that if Lupin would allow her, she'd like to remain friends with him. She'd actually tried to set Lupin up with Lily Evans, but that hadn't worked out. She'd always been playing matchmaker for her best friend, trying to set Lily up first with Severus (which had been a disaster,) then Lupin (a friendship, but nothing more,) and finally Regulus Black.

Severus had no idea how his sister had gotten it into her head that Regulus and Evans would be a good match – maybe she'd just wanted to see how Evans dealt with a fellow redhead. The problem with Regulus was that he was … well, a bit of a coward. He'd been terrified of doing anything that might get him disowned, and dating Lily would certainly have been that.

The Potions Master sighed; he missed his best friend. Regulus had been there for him through some really hard times. When Bellatrix Lestrange had shown up and announced that she had killed her 'treacherous cousin,' and convinced him that she wasn't referring to Sirius, it was all Severus could do not to attack the witch.


"Happy Christmas, Sirius," Regulus announced, trying to spoon hot cocoa into his half-conscious brother's mouth.

"Master Regulus should not have brought the blood traitor here," Kreacher muttered from the corner. "What Kreacher's mistress would say if she saw this, she swore he was no son of hers, no, no, no – "

"That's enough, Kreacher," said Regulus. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place had been the only place he could think of to take Sirius until the older man had recovered from his time in Azkaban. "I don't want you and Sirius to fight with each other. So you are now under orders not to say anything while you are in the same room as Sirius. Is that understood?"

Kreacher scowled, but nodded his head. The elf promptly left the room, muttering very loudly once he had crossed the threshold. Regulus shook his head. He liked Kreacher, really, but he wouldn't let the elf insult his brother. Sirius was family, no matter what his mother or cousins – or Sirius himself – said otherwise.

"Come on, Sirius, just drink the cocoa," he said as soothingly as he could. He'd bought a dozen general nutrient potions at Quartz Apothecary before going to Gringotts, and had poured three of them into the cocoa. "It'll help. Chocolate helps with the after-effects of Dementors, remember? You'll feel better. Come on, Snuffles," he pleaded, using the stupid nickname he'd given his brother when he was five and Sirius was six. Sirius had been prone to colds as a child, and Regulus didn't even want to think about how badly Azkaban would have weakened his brother's constitution.

"Uh … Gully?" asked Sirius, opening his eyes. He'd been alert enough earlier to change back to human at the sound of footsteps, and was now convinced he was hallucinating. The Dementors had finally driven him mad. How else could Regulus be here? He was dead … wasn't he?

"Good, you're awake. Drink this."

No self-respecting Auror, or ex-Auror, would ever drink something offered by an unknown party. Fortunately for Regulus, ten years, one month, three weeks, four days, seven hours, thirty-two minutes and eighteen seconds in Azkaban prison had pretty much obliterated Sirius' self-respect. He opened his mouth and drank.

He instantly felt better than he had in a decade. Chocolate had innate happiness-inducing qualities, a fact well known by compulsive eaters, Dementor experts, and unhappy women. The nutrient potions, and that it was the first warmth he had experienced since being sentenced to life in prison, probably didn't hurt either.

"Where am I?" he asked, unwilling to move now that he'd noticed the warm, comfortable sheets wrapped around his body.

"Home," said Regulus simply. "Though I suppose you might argue that point, once you've got your strength back.

"Who are you?"

"Snuffles, I'm wounded. You don't recognize your baby brother?" Regulus gave Sirius a look of deepest hurt, then chuckled gently. "I s'pose I'll have to forgive you; it has been over ten years."

"You're not." When the redhead didn't react, Sirius started to worry. "You're not Regulus. You can't be. Regulus Black died years ago." Now he was on the verge of panic.

"I faked my death and I've been in hiding ever since. Cousin Trixie unwittingly helped with the first part."

No one but Regulus ever referred to Bellatrix as 'Trixie.' Reggie had nicknames for most of the family: 'Snuffles' for Sirius, 'Trixie' for Bellatrix, 'Drama' (pronounced draw-muh) for Andromeda, 'Dory' for Andromeda's daughter Nymphadora, 'Nari' for Narcissa, and 'Drake' for Narcissa's son Draco.

Had Sirius been prone to such things, he probably would have fainted.