Chapter 10

The Flight of the Phoenix

The half-written letters to the Wizengamot lay discarded and forgotten for the time being – Dumbledore had spent the last hour in his office ignoring them and instead perusing a large leather-bound book. It smelled of long ago, pages filled with elaborate drawings and ancient flowery script. Dumbledore's own notes in his slanted handwriting traced the borders of many of the dog-eared pages, giving the tome a textbook feel. He had come across the volume while on a visit to the Durmstrang Institute, a boarding school in northern Scandinavia for young wizards and witches. It was infamous for attracting students with a natural inclination towards the dark arts. He had picked up the book at a flea market near the school, an old merchant had been glad to be rid of it at a fair price. Dumbledore slowly turned the pages, looking for a specific entry…Harbinger Curse…Halcyon Draught…Helix Choke…Helpless Knife…Hex of Darkness…Horcux…

Horcrux:

Caveat: The wickedest of all magical inventions, not much has been recorded on this dark topic and associated spells. Much of the information collected for this entry has been observed and recorded from secondhand sources. As much that follows is theory and conjecture, please note that the listed information may be incomplete. Exercise caution.

Horcrux refers to an earthly object that houses a piece of a wizard's soul. If a piece of his soul is encased within an object, apart from his corporeal body, the wizard cannot die – even if his original body is destroyed beyond repair. As long as a part of his soul is tethered to the earth, unharmed and safe within a horcrux, the wizard's main soul cannot pass on – he cannot "die." The wizard would exist in an ethereal state, not much is known about this form of life. Hunger, thirst, pain – it is unknown what emotions a wizard would feel or how intense any of these emotions would be.

There are several spells (found later in this text) for reviving a wizard trapped in the ethereal state and transforming him back into a corporeal body.

It is unknown if a soul piece residing within a Horcux could regenerate into a new, whole soul over time. It is unknown if a Horcrux could last indefinitely or needs magical maintenance. It is unknown how to effectively destroy a Horcrux. This author can note that creating a Horcrux does seem to make the original soul unstable and can have debilitating effects on one's appearance, health, and demeanor.

The creation of a Horcrux is a two-step process: i) separating a piece from the main soul and ii) encasing the soul piece in an object before it reattaches itself back to the main soul.

Separating one's soul: The wizard's soul is his humanity, the source of his magical ability, what separates him from beast – the basic essence of the wizard. Splitting it requires an unnatural act, something that strongly defiles nature. The only recorded action that has been evidenced to tear apart the soul is murder. Not killing in self-defense, not killing under coercion or duress, not killing to protect a loved one. It must be cold-blooded murder, something that does not exist in nature, a complete violation of the natural code. This act rips the soul apart and a soul piece will float nearby for a time. After a few moments, the piece will try to reattach back to the original soul first and, if that is not possible, it will gravitate towards and attach itself to the closest living thing in the vicinity.

Be advised that murder, and the resulting consequence of ripping apart the soul, causes the main soul to become unstable (noted above). Repeated murder or further unnatural acts against nature can cause further soul destabilization. The potential disastrous results to one's appearance, health and vitality are hereto unknown.

The item that can safely house a soul fragment must be an inanimate object and no larger than a picture frame. This author has never come across evidence of a soul fragment being housed in a very large object or within another living creature. Destroying the object is thought to destroy or release the soul fragment in the ether, thereby rendering the wizard mortal once again. No information is known on whether or not a soul fragment can be safely attached back to the original soul to restore stability.

Please be advised that the following information is advanced dark magic and improper execution of any spells or incantations can have lethal consequences.

Spell to capture and encase the soul fragment: Before the murder is committed, the wizard must prepare an object to become a horcrux. The following incantation was recorded by the author after careful use of veritaserum on a convicted murderer before he was executed in Bulgaria. Bulgarian spell cadence is required. The incantation is as follows…

Loud banging interrupted Dumbledore's reading of the passage entry.

"Dumbledore! Professor Dumbledore! Are you in there?!" The transfiguration teacher Minerva McGonagall frantically yelled outside the headmaster's office, close to total hysteria.

Dumbledore snapped the book shut and waved his wand towards the sleeping young man on his armchair – Snape awoke with a frightened look on his face.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"You must go Severus, we've run out of time tonight – school emergency it seems. Come now, off you go."

The knocking continued, increasing in frequency and urgency.

"Professor Dumbledore! Please headmaster, are you awake?!"

"Yes Minerva, I'm quite alright. I'll be out in a second."

"Albus, it's the Order. They're in danger!"

That declaration seemed to spur Dumbledore out of his casual doldrums and into action. He quickly crossed the room to Snape, urging haste.

"Time to go! Now!" Dumbledore helped Snape to his feet and guided him to the fireplace.

"Albus open up! There are Death Eaters attacking right this instant!"

Dumbledore and Snape stopped walking and looked at each other. Dumbledore then slowly raised the sleeve on Snape's left forearm. The dark mark shone brightly on his pale arm – a small snake quickly slithered in the shape of a figure 8, glowing angrily.

"How did you not feel it burning?"

"I don't…I don't know. I was dreaming, quite vividly. He'll be furious with me," Snape stammered as he rubbed his forearm, trying to keep the snake still.

"He must be calling you to help with the attack. You must go at once." Dumbledore grabbed Snape by the collar and steered him into the fireplace. "Be sure to act your part convincingly."

"It'll be like fighting with one hand tied behind back!"

"Severus, absolutely no holding back. Injure and incapacitate, if you must…kill. He does not suffer fools!"

"Even against you?! No mercy?!"

"Forgive me Severus, but your dueling best does not frighten me in the slightest. In fact, let me apologize to you now if we are to meet, for I will not hold back against you. Now go to your Dark Lord, go to Lord Voldemort."

Snape spasmed in pain at the mention of the name. With a final glance at Dumbledore, he threw floo powder into the fireplace and vanished in a green flash.

Snape slide out of his home's fireplace and spilled onto his living room floor. He sprinted into his potions lab, grabbed a few vials sitting beside a shelf and downed the contents in quick gulps. He then grabbed the dark mark on his left forearm with his right hand and closed his eyes. Images flashed rapidly through his mind – a mountain with steep white cliffs, a forest spread out around its rocky base – there was a town within the forest, with an expansive town square – cobblestones, storefronts and a great big well in the middle of the square.

Snape closed his eyes tight, concentrated on the town square image in his mind and spun on the spot…

…total chaos raged all around him. Death Eaters and members of the Order of the Phoenix flying around, spells blasting everywhere, screams of anger and fright. The ground around Snape was being chewed up by errant spells and hexes, debris erupting all around him. But there was no sound, as if the town square were located within a space vacuum. Snape stood frozen to the ground, in the center of a wild battle. In the next moment a black shape materialized next to him and pushed him roughly down.

A face was close to his, yelling and pleading. Snape could feel hot breath on his face, spittle flying onto his cheeks, but he still couldn't hear a sound, what was wrong? Apparated too quickly? Destroyed my hearing? Then a hand slapped him hard across the face, and Snape's shock wore off. His ears were immediately assaulted by a cacophony of sounds.

"Get up! Get up!" yelled Lucius Malfoy. "What the hell is wrong with you Severus?! Get your ass up!"

Malfoy grasped Snape up by the collar of his robe and in a whirl of cloaks the two Death Eaters disappeared from the middle of the town square and onto a nearby balcony.

"What's wrong with you?! Where've you been?!" barked Malfoy.

"I'm sorry, I…I didn't…I didn't feel the mark burning," sputtered Snape. He rose up from his knee, steeling himself against the violence raging down below. Looking Malfoy directly in the eye, he screamed "Let's get back out there!"

Malfoy was gone in a flash, leaving Snape alone on the balcony. From his vantage point he could see and hear all the carnage raging below. The cackling laugh of Bellatrix, always blissful and happy to be in the vicinity of wanton violence. The Carrow siblings locked in a heated duel with Sturgis Podmore and Alastor Moody. The werewolf Lupin and fat stubby Pettigrew lording over Artemis Crabbe and Llewyn Goyle. Snape could not make out the rest of the fighters, they were just whirling streams of white and black.

Snape knew he could not watch the action indefinitely and began to stop struggling against the surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He fought down the flight response, tried to channel all his energy and focus into the fight response. He unclenched and released the tension in his body, let his energy flow and readied his mind – flashed back to the injustices of his life, thought about the drunkard of a father he had to endure growing up, reflected on his grandfather's funeral where no one showed…his long suffering mother… Black and his lackeys making his life a living hell at Hogwarts…always treated as an outcast, even amongst his own housemates…the disgusted, pitying looks others gave him…frustrations against an unfair world…James Potter, who turned his soul mate against him…losing Lily to his perpetual tormentor…Snape's eyes flashed scarlet. A green Death Eater mask with red flames appeared over his face like a second skin, now a living part of him.

Snape shot a spell towards Lupin, blowing a hole in the ground and knocking the Gryffindor alum off his feet and into the air. Lupin's head gave a sickening thud as he hit the ground and didn't stir. Pettigrew took off in fright after his friend was incapacitated, leaving the injured werewolf all alone. Crabbe and Goyle freed themselves and rushed off in search of new victims.

Snape leapt from the balcony, firing off spells towards a large lumbering mass that was throwing around Death Eaters like ragdolls. Rubeus Hagrid was raging in a half giant frenzy and Snape's spells kept bouncing off him, falling harmlessly to the wayside.

"Need some help Walden?" Snape screamed at a fellow Death Eater.

"Shoot ropes at the giant freak's legs!" came the loud reply.

The two Death Eaters shot length after length of thick black rope at Hagrid's feet, eventually wrapping him up completely. The giant fell roughly to the ground, rolling around like an angry thick log. The two Death Eaters separated, looking for more opportunities to wreak havoc. Snape searched the battlefield for his next victim when arms materialized out of thin air and wrapped themselves around him. Snape was carried across the square and slammed hard into a stone wall – he rolled to his feet, dazed and bloodied.

A tall man stood before him, looking his exact opposite. Sirius Black loomed magnificent amongst the clamor of violence – a strong athletic frame, chiseled features and a vibrant healthy glow about his eyes. A strong breeze whipped his raven black hair around his head and made him appear even more imposing. Was he supremely confident or dangerously arrogant?

Sirius flicked his wand at Snape, whose Death Eater mask dissipated – his pale face flushed red with resentment.

"Why hello there Snivellus. Expulso!" A red jet burst forth, headed right for Snape's shocked face.

The red stream bounced harmlessly away as a silver green shield appeared in front of Snape. Sirius and Snape looked around in disbelief and saw, floating to the ground like a dark ghost, Lord Voldemort. Sirius' confidence melted away and he froze in place – he didn't fire off any counter spells or attempt to flee.

"Crucio…" quietly hissed the Dark Lord.

Sirius' wails rang out over the battle as he collapsed in agony. His howls of pain seemed to frighten not just the Order, but also many of the Death Eaters. It was a curious scene – Sirius writhing on the ground, Snape kneeling close by in shock and Lord Voldemort nonchalantly waving his wand.

The sudden appearance of the Dark Lord was terrifying to behold. The intensity of the battle slowed down to a crawl. Many had fled at his appearance, Death Eaters and members of the Order alike, whereas a few Death Eaters had wandered closer, eager to watch the rare appearance of their Dark Lord in battle. A few were still dueling with the bravest members of the Order, who were trying to push closer to Sirius and save him from impending death.

Snape's shock at the turn of events turned to pity as Sirius continued to wail, which then slowly gave way to…contentment – Sirius Black squirming in pain, terrible excruciating pain. No punishment was too severe for the coward. In spite of himself, after all he was beginning to learn under Dumbledore's secret tutelage, Snape couldn't deny he felt smug satisfaction watching one of his arch enemies twisting and writhing in pure agony. If the Dark Lord had not appeared from the heavens, who knows how badly Sirius' explosive spell would have hurt me!

Snape had felt the fearsome curse before, having been the target of Lord Voldemort's wrath on a few occasions. The Cruciatus curse, one of the three Unforgivables. It focused solely on creating physical pain, pain beyond normal human endurance. It set one's inside on fire – every nerve ending sliced open, raw and exposed – bones breaking – skin flayed – organs crushed. Permanent physical and mental damage was possible if the curse lasted for more than a few seconds.

Sirius finally stopped thrashing about, letting out an anguished whimper of relief. It was unlike the Dark Lord to show any type of mercy, especially to an enemy. Confusion flashed across Lord Voldemort's face; something was wrong. The Dark Lord flicked his wand in frustration again and again, but Sirius did not react. Instead, he slowly rose to his feet, unsteady and weak. His left arm bent at an unnatural angle, his nose was smashed in and blood begun to seep from under his robe. Lord Voldemort and Snape both took a step back, wary that Sirius has the strength to break the torture curse and rise to his feet. The battered Gryffindor stared definitely at the Dark Lord, a broken scarecrow on splintered legs.

"Hello Tom, it's been a long time," said a calm voice from the center of the square. It came from a tall man in dark blue robes, with a long white beard and ocean blue eyes.

Several apparition cracks sounded at once, Death Eaters suddenly remembered they had somewhere else to be. Moody hobbled over to Sirius and they disappeared in a whirl of cloaks. A few others scattered away to the shelter of the forest to watch at a safe distance – an errant spell from Lord Voldemort or Albus Dumbledore could spell death for a lesser wizard. Snape began to crawl away, wanting no part of what was about to come. His movement caught the eye of Lord Voldemort who gave his underling a scathing look, causing Snape to stop his cowardly retreat.

"Well now, it seems as though one of your pets has a backbone," casually remarked Dumbledore. The headmaster walked confidently towards the pair of dark wizards, his magnificently splendid blue robe whistling in his wake. Dumbledore twirled his wand casually, a small smile playing on his lips, but the sharp look in his eyes belied the blasé demeanor.

"Get up Severus, you pathetic rat. I should've let the Black boy finish you."

"Now, now Tom. Like I used to tell you in school, you must learn to play nice."

Lord Voldemort's eyes flashed crimson with anger. He shrugged off his cloak and threw back his hood, pure vitriol emanating from his snake like countenance – an awful rictus lined his face as he shot daggers at his former teacher. He then grabbed Snape and pushed the young man between Himself and Dumbledore.

"Too much talking you old fool – it betrays your fear, your panic. I can feel your doubt," hissed Lord Voldemort. He spun away from behind Snape and whipped his wand towards Dumbledore – "Starliss!"

Snape felt air whip by his ear, as if a missile had just flown past – a red spell streaked towards Dumbledore, but right before it smacked him in the chest, Dumbledore's body flickered and the spell flew through him and smashed into the large well sitting in the center of the town square.

Snape was flung aside by an unseen force and a golden net materialized around Lord Voldemort, dragging him to the ground. Suddenly, the net sliced open as though slashed by an unseen knife. Lord Voldemort rose up from the torn net, furious and bleeding from small slashes on his arms and body. Snape had just finished waving his wand at his dark Master – his face shone triumphant then turned horror stricken as he realized his own spell had not only slashed the net, but the Dark Lord as well.

Lord Voldemort swung his wand down like a hammer, droplets of blood splaying all around him. An unseen force hit Dumbledore, forcing him down to his knees. His wand dropped from his hand, bouncing harmlessly away. A lump formed in Snape's throat, watching Dumbledore in such a precarious position. His mind scrambled for a way to intervene without anyone noticing, but he was paralyzed in the presence of the two great wizards.

"Goodbye," hissed Lord Voldemort. A green light jet out from his wand at alarming speed.

Snape had heard stories of wandless magic, but witnessing the skill firsthand was an amazing sight indeed. Dumbledore held up his cloak like armor and the green jet was absorbed into its folds. The cloak shivered violently as if a great wind was contained within it and then exploded into shreds.

With a scream, Lord Voldemort forcefully stabbed his wand towards Dumbledore - a ball of fire erupted from its tip and began rolling towards the Headmaster. Snape sprinted after the fireball, yelling and waving his wand in illustrious fashion, trying to make a big display of his impending attack. Dumbledore calmly waved a hand towards Snape, who tripped over an unseen obstacle and smashed headfirst into the ground.

Dumbledore then stepped back from the shredded cloak and reached out towards his fallen wand. With a violent shiver, it flew straight into his outstretched hand and he brandished it about his head in wide circles. A swirling column of water soared out of the town well and formed an aquatic wall in front of Dumbledore. The fireball crashed into the aqua wall and hot vapor streamed out the other side, leaving Dumbledore unscathed. The aquatic wall then fell away in a great torrent, the water mixing with blood and ash on the ground. Dumbledore fell to one knee, total exertion lining his tired face.

"Let us end this, once and for all," barked Lord Voldemort, sensing blood in the water.

"My apologies Tom, but I've made travel arrangements."

A blazing streak of fire flashed down from the sky, sending Voldemort stumbling backwards. Fawkes winged towards Dumbledore, furious embers smoldering in its airy wake. The loyal phoenix flew in circles around his owner, faster and faster. Snape could only just make out Dumbledore behind the swirling red, who gave him a quick wink, and then, with a bang, both headmaster and phoenix vanished – smoky haze the only evidence they had ever been there.

Lord Voldemort was incenses, a hungry lion just denied his tasty prey – shock melted into disappointment, which then grew into hot fury. Long gone were the days when Lord Voldemort had to rely on guile and charm to recruit followers. He could now freely unleash his anger and impatience with his followers, truly display his true colors. Lord Voldemort's white hot anger settled on the only target left in the broken town square – another disappointing soldier, another useless half-blood mutt.

As Snape lay spasming on the ground – the young Slytherin's very essence being tortured, his insides torn asunder from one of the unforgiveable curses – Lord Voldemort turned his attention away from screaming young man and let his mind wander. He could privately admit to himself that the old fool was a truly powerful wizard, dare he even say an equal. Wandless magic like that, even I had never seen such wizarding prowess in a duel before.

But He was not scared, He was not afraid. He had pushed the boundaries of magic further than they had ever been pushed before. He had discovered an ancient secret, He had taken steps to ensure his everlasting survival, He had done things no other wizard had ever done before…