Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Walking Dead and I don't earn any money with this story.

Author's note: Well, most people's interest in this story seems to have waned, therefore I have decided to cut it shorter than initially planned. There will be one more chapter after this one.

Rating: M

Warning: more angst

„That's not what should've happened...," Araminta whispered faintly next to Daryl, her disbelieving gaze fixed on the empty magic circle, which seemed to be mocking them. They'd been apprehensive of the phoenix tears not working against the infection, but none of them had expected that Fawkes wouldn't appear in the first place.

"The ritual worked," Severus determined, scowling, as he leant down to pick up one of the pitch-black crystals. "There are only two explanations, either Fawkes is dead or he somehow resisted the summons. Each case is equally probable."

"We can try again, right? With another one?" Daryl inquired with a frown. Harry was outwardly calm, but the brunet felt the wizard's razor sharp claws digging through the leather of his west and pin-pricking his shoulder. The other man could play at being indifferent all he wanted, but Daryl knew better and wouldn't give up until they had no other choice.

"And which one do you propose? Like I said, phoenixes don't grow on trees." Severus sneered condescendingly. Daryl took a step forward in response, glaring right back.

"Boys, calm down! Arguing now doesn't help anyone," Araminta interrupted exasperatedly, drawing their attention. "Daryl and Harry brought back wands from Demelza's, some of them have a phoenix feather core. Can we repeat the ritual with one of those or does it have to be a feather from the phoenix you know?"

Daryl blinked in surprise at her, because he'd never mentioned the wands, but then he remembered that she also had some mind-reading mumbo jumbo going on, which was… actually kind of alarming. He ignored the witch's apologetic smile and turned towards Severus to await his verdict. The older man was pensively rubbing one fingertip over his lips, while perusing the remaining ritual items, which were set out on a small, round table in one corner of the room.

"A second ritual should be possible. It will be our last chance, however. Most of the items are relatively easy to procure, but we only have four more crystals on hand. They can only be purchased from goblins and as far as I know none of them are available anymore."

Daryl uttered a sigh of relief and disappeared to his room to fetch the wand bag. Upon returning he upended it until a few dozen boxes came tumbling out.

"There should be two with the feathers."

"Accio phoenix feather core wands," Severus enunciated, waving his wand, and at once two boxes sprang open and their content snapped into the brunet's free hand. He broke them without preamble and studied the emerging gold-red feathers.

"Indeed, these should work perfectly well. We can try again tomorrow morning."

Daryl reluctantly left the room and kept busy for the rest of the day. He would've preferred to try again immediately, but understood that Severus needed time preparing another magic circle for the ritual. At night, sleep evaded him and he ended up outside, pacing along the fence and smoking the pack of cigarettes he'd found in the jewelry store.

The brunet wasn't at his best the next morning, but he was functioning. It wasn't the first time he'd pulled an all-nighter, after all. The remains of the previous ritual had been replaced by white chalk lines, glistening gems and crystals. The feather resting in the center of the circle was more golden than red, but just as captivating.

The ritual commenced like the previous day. The potion was poured over the feather, Severus began to chant and after a few minutes of crackling static against their skin, a blinding light brightened the room.

When Daryl opened his eyes, he noticed that the circle was, yet again, pitch black and it looked like another failure to him, until he noticed the moving ball of fluff where the feather had been. It was red and gold, with a beak too big for its body and, to be absolutely honest, it was kind of ugly.

"That's a phoenix?"

He went ignored by everyone, specially Harry who hopped off his shoulder and closer to the small chick. It chirped happily and met the merlin halfway, where it proceeded to bump its head against the bigger bird's chest.

"It's not a phoenix," Severus mumbled astonished. "It's Fawkes. Apparently more than two wands have been crafted with his feathers as cores… and only Potter would be lucky enough to find them."

"Looks like he had a burning day recently, maybe even yesterday. That would explain why he didn't appear," Araminta chimed in. Instead of looking relieved that they had accomplished their goal after all, she looked uneasy. As if reading Daryl's thoughts, and she probably did, the blonde turned towards him with a frown.

"If he just had a burning day, his tears aren't potent enough. It's like putting out a blaze with a pipette full of water. It'll take a month or two until he's grown enough."

"So what? We'll just wait." Daryl really didn't see the problem.

Araminta's inscrutable gaze wandered to the center of the room, where Severus was currently explaining the situation to the little phoenix, which was still nuzzling into Harry's side.

"Let's hope we have that time."

The next few days were uneventful - Severus healed completely from his injuries, the morale was high when it became known that they might be capable of curing the occasional bite victim in the near future and Rick started to act a bit more relaxed.

That's when things went downhill again.

In the beginning Daryl didn't even notice or wrote it off as a figment of his imagination, but it quickly became apparent that Harry's health was declining. He was starting to blank out more and more often and his legs became warmer with every passing day. Apparently there remained enough human in an animagus' animal form to be affected by a walker bite, albeit more slowly.

Daryl was outside, leaning against a concrete wall in the darkness and just trying to breath, when he heard approaching footsteps. He squinted his eyes, but only managed to recognize who it was, when the person was standing in front of him.

"Harry?" The brunet pushed off the wall and stepped closer until their bodies almost touched. The wizard looked flushed and his skin was coated with sweat, a clear sign of the fever the other man was currently suffering through. "Ya shouldn't-"

"Maurice and Severus suggested a magical coma until Fawkes has grown enough," Harry interrupted. "And I decided to give it a try. It can't make the situation any worse," the brunet added as he cradled Daryl's cheek with his hand. "I didn't want to do it without talking with you…" And I don't know if I'll have the chance again, went unsaid but understood.

"I should've warned you beforehand that problems seem to find me," Harry mused with a wry grin, stroking along Daryl's jaw with the pad of his thumb. "I'm really sorry it turned out this way and… I'm really really grateful that you went to the trouble of helping me and didn't run for the hills." The brunet dropped his forehead against Daryl's shoulder and fell silent for a moment. "I hope it- I-"

Swallowing thickly, Daryl grabbed the other man's shoulders and pushed him backwards until he could look into Harry's slightly fever hazed eyes.

"You'll wake up, alive 'n kickin' and I'll be there when ya do." And he would stubbornly think of his words as the truth until proven wrong.

The corners of Harry's lips curved upwards, not quite a smile, but not the same grim expression either. He leant forward and covered Daryl's lips with his own. It was nothing more than a peck, similar to their first kiss, but it nonetheless managed to sooth Daryl's frayed nerves.

"I'd like to kiss you some more," The wizard mumbled against Daryl's stubbled chin. "but I'm pretty sure I'm about to pass out."

Daryl's eyes widened. He quickly wrapped an arm around Harry waist to prevent him from falling in case the brunet's prediction came true and led him towards the closest door. During the first few steps Harry was helping along, though Daryl ended up bringing the brunet to the sickbay in a fireman's carry. Maurice and Severus were already waiting for them, both wearing identical frowns on their faces.

"Put him here," Severus directed, while pulling the stopper out of a vial containing a black liquid. Getting Harry to drink the concoction wasn't an easy job, but they somehow managed it and when it began to take effect, the brunet turned deathly pale and stopped breathing.

Daryl turned panicked eyes to the two wizards.

"It didn't work?"

"It did," Maurice, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, assured. "This is as save as we can make him for now and if everything goes well we can wake him up when he's recovered. As with all artificial comas, things can go wrong, but let's hope it won't come to that."

Fawkes hopped off the bed frame and onto Harry's unmoving chest, where he started to chirp. The sound was a bit shrill, but Daryl felt the tight muscles in his shoulders loosen slightly as he sank into a chair next to the bed.