Chapter Three: Finding Fawkes
Harry drew in a deep breath as he stepped into the Forbidden Forest. In the years since the Battle of Hogwarts, the relationship between the denizens of Hogwarts and the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest had improved to the point that most humans no longer had to fear being attacked for merely crossing the boundary, though insulting the centaurs was still a recipe for disaster. As the 'Master of Death', Harry had a few more privileges than the average wizard, but he was still very careful to avoid insulting the proud warrior race.
"Harry Potter." The palomino centaur seemed to appear out of nowhere, falling into step next to the wizard as Harry continued to stride into the Forest.
"Hello, Firenze," Harry greeted the blond, blue-eyed centaur. "How have you been?"
"Very well," Firenze replied, a smile gracing his features. "And before you ask, the herd is well and thanks you for your Christmas gift this past year. What brings you to our forest?"
A grimace crossed Harry's face. "A long shot." At Firenze's cocked head, he elaborated. "I'm looking for Fawkes. Malfoy's up to his old tricks again, only this time he's trying to get an innocent man thrown into Azkaban just because he doesn't match up to Malfoy's expectations for who he should be and how he should act as the Head of an old British House." Harry's eyes hardened. "Neville and I bought two days' grace and I'm hoping Fawkes will be around and willing to help."
"Ah." Firenze frowned as the two continued to move. "Fawkes is not here, Harry," he announced after a few moments. "He has not been seen in our forest since the day of Albus Dumbledore's funeral."
Harry's shoulders slumped at that.
"However, I would be remiss if I allowed you to leave without my daughter greeting you; she has been most insistent on meeting the human I allowed on my back." The centaur smiled, earning a brief grin from the wizard. "And perhaps we might consult with Magorian on this matter…we have been seeing some…unexpected movements of the planets of late."
"Is Mars bright again?" Harry asked, worry lacing his voice.
Firenze's frown grew deeper. "It varies, Harry. Of late, its light changes on a daily basis; only last night it burned almost as bright as the moon, but faded close to sunrise. We have been unable to account for why this is so. In truth, I am glad you are here, for something even more disturbing has occurred."
"Can I help?"
"I do not know," Firenze admitted. "It has been many years, nay centuries, since any Fell Creature dared to step foot into our forest, but today, a minotaur came before us, begging our aid."
"A minotaur? I've never heard of the magical world having minotaurs," Harry mused.
A snort of disdain. "They are, thankfully, quite rare. In times past, many of them served Dark Lords and Ladies, always seeking to bring down as many of our kind as they could. This one believes that we know or will know of a 'Lion-touched' in need of aid. He has asked for our help in the name of Aslan, though that name means nothing to me or the rest of my herd."
Harry considered that. The name 'Aslan' rang a bell, as if he'd heard it somewhere before, but he couldn't quite place it. "You'd better take me to him then," he decided. "If we have another Dark Lord on the move, we need to halt him in his tracks."
Firenze nodded agreement and approval as he led the way, deeper into the Forest.
Far away, on the continent of North America, near a long dormant volcano called Mount Rainier, a phoenix perched in his customary spot, surveying the area he had chosen as his home after the death of his longtime companion. In the years since the phoenix had left his former home, he had settled in quite well; he made it a point to be homesick no more than twice a week and if the nearby settlement of humans lost a few pieces of candy here and there, well, they could easily afford such treats. And he was absolutely not bored, no indeed.
A trill rattled through the clearing, the phoenix slumping a bit. Oh, very well…he was bored, he missed the human world far more than he'd expected, and a part of him was strongly considering returning and finding a new companion. Perhaps the hatchling who bore the wand made of his tail feather would do; the hatchling and his wizard had been quite close.
The phoenix spread his wings, checking for any feathers that had ruffled up and out of place. One had, so he preened it back into its former location, chirping his approval when it settled in nicely. A piping song reached the phoenix and he swept his head up and around to see who might have just arrived at his quiet retreat.
Another phoenix, a Narnian phoenix swooped overhead, piping a greeting and picking a nearby branch to land on. Greetings, wing brother, she trilled as she folded her wings and made a brief bow with her head.
Though a touch disgruntled at the disturbance of his privacy, the phoenix returned the bow. Good afternoon, wing sister, he returned. How do you fare, young one?
I fare well, the female replied. If I may be so bold, wing brother, you are the one the humans call Fawkes, are you not?
Fawkes ruffled his feathers, disgruntlement turning into annoyance. I am, he confessed. But I prefer not to speak of those years…even now, I mourn my wizard. He peered at her. You came in search of me, didn't you, young one?
The female inclined her head, the movement displaying her curiously hued crest and head feathers. I, too, have found a group of humans to befriend, she explained, One of them has been taken from his flock, his reputation defamed and his future in danger unless something is done and soon. I have come to ask your aid, honored elder.
And what aid do you believe I can offer? Fawkes inquired, his eyes hard. I do not wish to have another wizard, not for some time at any rate.
I would not dream of asking you to forfeit your freedom! the female cried, drawing back. No, the boon I would ask is that you come with me to England and accompany my friend to his trial before the Wizengamot. In your company, my own presence will not be so unusual and so I may be with my friend as he faces this challenge.
Fawkes ruffled his feathers again, turning pointedly away. I do not wish to return to England, young one. Leave and do not bother me again.
But she did not leave; instead she gave a piping trill of indignation and fluttered off her perch, moving to one in Fawkes' line of sight. Please, Fawkes, she trilled, He is a good man, with chicks and a mate of his own. He protects others, at great risk to himself, and supports his flock most faithfully.
I do not wish to return to where my wizard fell and died, young one. Leave me in peace. Fawkes lifted from his perch and flew away, vanishing in his customary fireball as soon as he could. He landed in his new location, well satisfied that the young one could not follow.
But he had not given the young one enough credit, for no sooner had he settled into his preening, then she appeared again, flitting downwards and landing on a branch close to his own. So, she observed, her eyes flashing, This is the mighty Fawkes, the phoenix who accompanied Albus Dumbledore and called him friend unto his death. Her trill was disdainful. How the mighty have fallen. Now, simply to avoid England, you ignore the plight of an innocent.
You test my patience, hatchling, Fawkes snapped. I have given you my answer.
Her head came up. So you have, she agreed, But I do not accept it, sir. I am unknown in England; they would never allow me to accompany my friend by myself.
And what, may I ask, is so critical that you must be there, young one? Fawkes gave the young one a highly unimpressed look.
She met his gaze boldly. He is a Squib, oh mighty one, and there are those who would deny him his heritage based on that alone. More than that, they would imprison him for claiming what the goblins gave him in recompense for the wrongs he suffered.
Goblins are not that generous, young one, Fawkes countered lazily.
So it is, she admitted. He was born of the Lestrange flock, but his sire deceived his mother and father, preventing them from realizing his father was not his sire. On the day he discovered his heritage, the goblins also discovered that the Lestrange flock had violated the treaties between their kind and the humans.
Enough, young one. I have seen enough to guess the rest. Fawkes considered her words. You are of Narnia; does Narnia claim this human?
Her eyes turned defiant. I have claimed him and his flock, she declared. Narnia will not violate their free will, but if they wish to be of Narnia, then Narnia will have them. She trilled challenge. Will you help him?
Fawkes grumbled to himself, but it was most clear that the female had no intention of accepting a refusal on his part. I will help, he agreed, if only so that you do not badger me to death in my refusal.
The female bobbed her head and then the two phoenixes took to the sky, vanishing in near identical balls of fire.
Harry surveyed the minotaur calmly kneeling in the center of the camp with six centaurs around him, weapons at the ready. The large creature looked almost exactly like the Muggle myths portrayed minotaurs to be: half-bull and half-man. The minotaur in front of him was mostly gray, with silver fur around his head in a sort of bull-like mane and on his muzzle, outlining his eyes and muzzle. Harry was a bit surprised that the minotaur had no ring in his muzzle as he'd seen in pictures from the old myths, but the lack of a ring actually improved the minotaur's appearance. He wore armor, heavy armor, on his chest, shoulders, and legs, but Harry could tell that there was none on his back. His two horns gleamed a pearly white and their sharp tips glinted and gleamed in the light, even as he knelt with his head partially bowed. His hands, when Harry looked at them, were not human, but not fully bull either. Instead, the minotaur had two thick hoof-like fingers and a clawed thumb on each hand, but he didn't seem to suffer from any lack; Harry could see the minotaur's battle axes being kept on a nearby weapon rack, guarded by another two centaurs. The wizard tilted his head, studying the minotaur's hooves, but his legs and hooves were hidden by his position and the dim light in the camp.
Firenze led Harry right up to the minotaur, who lifted his head to regard the new arrivals. His eyes were a soft brown and just as calm as his stance. When he spotted Harry's scar, his eyes widened a touch before he bowed his head again. "Lord Harry Potter, Master of Death," he rumbled, his voice low and gravelly.
"Who are you?" Harry demanded of the creature, unnerved that the minotaur knew who he was and what his reputation was.
Another rumble. "I am Maxus, Lord Harry Potter, Master of Death," the minotaur replied. "Named after the Captain of His Highness King Edmund the Just's guards in Narnia."
Harry studied the minotaur for a moment. "Firenze says you have come requesting aid for another."
"I have," Maxus agreed.
"Tell me about this individual," Harry requested.
The minotaur glanced up, then down as he saw Harry watching him. "Word has reached our camp that one of the Lion-touched has been falsely accused of taking what is not his. We would offer what aid we can in clearing his name and permitting him to return to his fellow Lion-touched and his home. The leader of our camp bade me come and present his case to the centaurs, seeking their aid after he and his fellow Lion-touched averted almost certain war."
" 'Almost certain war'?" Harry questioned sharply.
The minotaur rumbled assent. "But two days past, our leader foresaw in her weaving a great war between those of magic and those of technology, heralded by the rise of the moon. All nations would be engulfed in war and a Purge of magic, greater than even the Purge of His Highness King Uther of Camelot, would ensue as those of technology struck back at those who attacked them unprovoked."
Harry swallowed hard. "And?" he rasped out.
"At moonrise, we cowered, waiting for the end, but it did not come," Maxus continued. "As the moon rose farther in the sky, our leader set her loom and began to weave once more. And in her weaving, we saw the change of Time itself, the threads of Fate denied and rewoven by the Lion Himself as the Lion-touched and the Lion's Heirs risked all to avert the war." The minotaur's head lifted and the eyes that met Harry's were proud and defiant. "Once a Lion-touched gave us back the sun when we had shunned it in fear for centuries. They have not called upon us, but the Traitor's Army will answer nonetheless; we will not stand by as those who risked all are shamed and scorned by those they saved."
Silence hung; even the centaurs were shocked by the minotaur's words. The silence was broken by two balls of fire that drew all eyes upward and Harry gaped as Fawkes and another phoenix appeared and swept downwards. Maxus reacted first, rising to his hooves and presenting his arm in silent offer. Harry mentally gulped as he realized Maxus stood almost two meters taller than he did. Fawkes did not land, but the other phoenix did, trilling a greeting to the minotaur.
Fawkes fluttered around Harry, piping a greeting that made the wizard smile back. "It's great to see you again, Fawkes," he responded, offering his own arm for the phoenix to land on. "And we need your help."
The phoenix on Maxus' arm trilled rather smugly, earning an annoyed piped reply from Fawkes. Maxus chuckled, his deep notes startling Harry all over again. "Greetings, My Lady," he said to the phoenix, bowing as best he could without jostling the bird on his arm. "You have come to aid your own?"
An affirmative trill.
Maxus rumbled once again, his bull head dipping ever so briefly. "You have our thanks, My Lady, for your efforts. Do not forget our message to the Lion-touched we met; the Traitor's Army is yours to call upon if you need us." He turned his attention to the centaurs. "You have my apologies for intruding upon your domain and your time; we shall not bother you again."
"You assume we will release you, minotaur," one of the guards sneered.
The phoenix trilled her disapproval and spread her wings, letting fire dance across them. The warning was clear; she would not permit harm to come to the minotaur.
Harry spoke up. "Has he hurt anyone?"
"No," Firenze replied. "And his words illuminate why Mars has been so erratic of late; we shall need time to consider the workings of Time and Fate." The centaur trotted to Maxus' battle axes and hefted them, returning them to the minotaur. "Should you return, you will not be so fortunate," Firenze warned the man-bull.
"Your warning shall be heeded, Honored Centaur," Maxus replied, before bowing once more to Harry; the phoenix on his arm fluttered off to give him room. "I thank you for your forbearance, Lord Harry Potter, Master of Death." With that, the minotaur turned and leapt away, vanishing into the forest within five strides.
Harry's back stiffened; he wasn't sure he had followed the minotaur perfectly, but he was sure that they were running out of time. He turned to Firenze. "Please give my apologies to your daughter, Firenze. A man's life is on the line and I haven't got a moment to lose."
Firenze bowed, his eyes serene. "Go then, Harry Potter. May you triumph once more." He gave the mystery phoenix a piercing look. "The days of Old return; the forgotten Magic rises to greet the dawn."
Author note: Credit to TheNotSoMutantTurtles on for Maxus' name; yes, Maxus is from the Traitor's Army stories.
On a RL note, I'm having one heck of a time with changing the billing address for one of my bank accounts. Long story short, yesterday I had to go to two banks, call my bank again, and finally go to a UPS store to get the ball rolling again on changing the address. Even longer story on why the ball stopped in the first place. I also spent most of the weekend running from place to place and doing chore after chore, so it wasn't much of a weekend. Still tired and wishing it was Friday.
