Please note the 3 asterisks divide two different stories. The first is based on Chamber of Secrets, the second is right after Dumbledore's death.
Prompt: Fire
Rating: PG
Pairings: N/A
Word Count: 457
"My dear Fawkes, how you have helped me throughout the years. But alas, how you are growing old, even older than I. May your ashes revive you greatly, I will see you in a new life," Albus Dumbledore said softly, stroking his pet Fawkes.
Fawkes squawked in reply, flapping his wings a few times. His red body accented with faded yellow tips at the wings. His black beak and calculating eyes were worn with old age. He was reaching his Fire Point; his death in a burst of flames.
"I must go upstairs for a moment, if you reach The Flame before then, farewell my friend, and hello to the new you," Albus said softly, making his way up the stairs.
In his absence, Harry Potter had entered the room. After being named the Heir of Slytherin and learning that he himself can speak Parseltongue without knowing so, he was told to visit Albus.
"Mr. Potter," Albus said, watching young Harry stare wide eyed as Fawkes reached The Flame and burst into a glow of yellow orange and red light.
"Sir, there was nothing I could do, he just-," Harry said quickly.
"Ah!" Interrupted Albus, raising his hand, "Fawkes is a Phoenix, Harry. When they grow old, they burst into flames and a new one is born from the ashes," he explained as a baby Phoenix poked its small red head out from the pile of black ash.
Albus now moved towards the baby Phoenix and scratched underneath his beak.
"A new Fire Phoenix is born," Albus said softly.
In the quiet Hospital Wing, Harry could hear Fawkes the Phoenix calling a mourning song out into the dawn air. The sun was rising on the horizon; the clouds in the sky were casting a shadow on Hogwarts. Red filled the morning sky; a sign that evil was done the night before, and help was needed now. Fawkes' song was sad, his master had passed, and he had no purpose at Hogwarts anymore.
Flying higher in the sky, he passed the lake, a tear dropping into it; but it would heal nothing. Phoenix tears were powerful, but nothing could truly raise the dead, and nothing was to be healed in the lake.
The song changed, fading slowly in wind, pace slow, and pitch high. A voice of angels in the sky, biding Albus farewell, and cursing the Death Eaters whose feet had tread on the castle grounds could describe Fawkes' tone.
Still too young to burst into flames for a new life, Fawkes would fly until he was ready to return. Perhaps he would find a new master; perhaps he would go with Aberforth. Or perhaps Fawkes would die with his master, too affected do move on.