Chapter 16:

Ashes of the Phoenix

"When I gave you free reign on creating your own body, I expected you'd try to make yourself more visually appealing than you had been in life, not less so." Harry told Wormtail as he rose in his new body.

The being Pettigrew had chosen to fashion himself into was a Frankenstein's monster somewhat resembling Hermione after her accident with the polyjuice potion. If she had managed to take polyjuice with rat hair instead of cat hair. Around the face he resembled his old body as Peter Pettigrew, which probably required a bit of plastic surgery on Peter's part, but the hands and feet both more resembled the paws of a rat, with more evenly sized and placed digits ending in sharp claws. And of course, there was the thick, tapering tail nearly as large as his body.

Harry refrained from the desire to make a splinter joke, because it genuinely was an upsetting development. With both Malfoy and Ron in the room, the latter now permanently affixed to the braindead pizza boy, boggled at the man's form.

"It is not every day a person has the opportunity to make the outside perfectly match their inside." Pettigrew said. "And now when people look at me, they will see me as I am."

Harry could relate to the sentiment, but not the execution. He wished he could have Cresspool or Warbeck in on Pettigrew's secret so they could dissect his mind. Warbeck could write his medical research thesis on the psychological effects of remaining in your animagus form for twelve years.

"You have a necromancer at your service and finally available to switch to full time work." Peter told him, standing at attention. "So far I have been able to prepare and preserve all of the corpses you have brought me, but only had enough time to make a final product for myself, and her."

Harry turned around to the other table and sure enough, a fleece bundled Hermione Granger sat up with the aid of Ronald. He helped keep her covered as she did so and Harry watched as she came to terms with the return of physical sensations to her mind. It sounded like the kind of thing that could be overwhelming.

"Are you in pain?" Ron asked her as he wrapped the blanket more tightly around her.

"Everywhere." Hermione told them. "The dull ache of a deep wound healing, all over."

"That would be the surgery wounds." Peter informed her. "They are actually mostly healed, but you'll feel them for a while."

"That means plenty of bedrest and avoiding physically taxing situations." Harry piped up before getting a coughing fit. "Same as what I should be doing."

He lifted his respirator back to his mouth and breathed deeply of the pure oxygen.

"And like you, I will not be taking proper care off this cursed body." Hermione told him with a scowl. "We are all abominations and should return to being dead as soon as possible."

Harry couldn't agree more.

"Then come." He said. "We have work to do, and the faster we do it all the sooner we can rest. Wormtail, you are to accompany Draco back to malfoy manor and get to work on the materials we put in the morgare. If anybody asks about you, tell them you are the necromancer I recruited and that's all you have to say about yourselves. They ought to leave you alone after that."

"What about the partially prepared bodies I have here?" Pettigrew asked.

"They won't be going anywhere. You can come back and get them anytime." Harry told him.

"Did you bring me my clothes?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded to a bag on top of the metal bed opposite hers and she nodded gratefully back.

"And, um... Something to hide my face?" Hermione asked. "Like a mask?"

Harry looked at her, and how here face was one of the few parts of her body that hadn't been cut open, as all the runes needed on the skull were supposed to be carved under the scalp.

"We have plenty of Death Eater masks laying around, but I'm guessing you want something more bland?" Draco asked. "I think I can scrounge up something blank for you."

"Thank you." Hermione said before pointing with her eyes at the open curtain.

Ron drew them shut as he and Draco moved away from it to give her privacy.

Arthur stared at the newspaper sadly.

For nearly a year now he spent his mornings glowering at the cheap paper displaying both Muggle and wizarding news, dwelling upon the obituaries above all other stories. This week the Muggle papers were abound with news on the micro black hole that was passing just outside of their solar system.

The muggle astrologers going on and on about how a black hole the size of a semi-truck shouldn't possibly exist and how this would surely rewrite their understanding of physics was only slightly less annoying than their constant assurances that the mass and trajectory both guaranteed that it was in no way a threat to earth. Most annoying of all was that the existence of such a cosmic object was so obviously magical that it pissed him off that there wasn't even a peep about it in wizarding news was an absolute sham.

Then again, the massacre of several dozen "Men of the law who served the make the country safe" by "the terrorist Draco Malfoy" seemed much more pressing in everybody's minds as of late. Even those who recognized the euphemism for the wretches known as Snatchers, and what they really did for a living, couldn't help being disturbed by the brutality of the massacre and the images of six dark marks above Muggle London in broad daylight.

"What are you hoping to accomplish with this stunt Draco?" He asked the presence that had been standing behind him for two minutes now. "Are you trying to break the statute of secrecy?"

"Hello, Arthur." The barely recognized and muffled voice of a young man answered. "Most people's situational awareness leaves much to be desired, but I am proud that you are so attentive."

Arthur sat up straighter in his chair, folded the newspaper, and set his face into a neutral expression. Others had warned him. Told him of what might be coming to visit him soon. A quick glance at the clock showed that, strangely, the hand for Harry Potter marked him as being "Lost" when he should be marked as being "At Home". He was there, standing three feet in front of him, the feeling of his eyes on Arthur's back all-encompassing. Like an entomologist examining a particularly interesting bug.

"What is it you have come to ask of me... Harry." He asked, barely able to say the name that did not, could not, belong to the presence in his home.

Harry Potter, in lieu of answering, closed the distance between them and sat next to him at the table. He poured himself a cup of the tea Arthur was enjoying.

Tired. Thats the only word that his appearance brought to mind. Tired of it all, eager to die. He'd met such people before. They did not last long. He removed the dark respirator from his mouth to reveal an ugly black mark crawling up his neck and chin, like fresh tar on a newly erected powerline.

"Ahhhh. Chamomile." Harry sighed as he breathed in the steam from his cup. "Where is Molly?"

"Visiting Charlie. The war is much hotter in Romania than here, and the Dragons are being trained for battle." Arthur explained. "Presumably against You-Know-Who, but in time they will surely fall into his hands as well."

"That doesn't seem like something Charlie would want to be a part of." Harry commented between sips.

"It isn't. That's why he and dozens of others have resigned in defiance. She'll be bringing him back here." Arthur explained. "So, you find me available to help without her around to worry about the dangerousness of it. I do not approve of your recent activities, but I am open to working for you if the mission is just and doesn't lead to anybody dying."

Harry nodded and seemingly agreed to his demands.

"If I have it my way, nobody at all will be dying during this next mission. And all I need from you is to enchant a vehicle with all the bells and whistles of the Ford Anglia." Harry explained, before wandlessly banishing his cup to the sink where the enchantments therein washed it.

"That's it?" Arthur asked.

"That is all. Although, it is a much larger vehicle. What will you need?" Harry asked before redonning his respirator.

"Time." Said Arthur. "Days. Maybe even weeks, if it's something like a ship or submarine."

"That I cannot give. What would allow you to get it done within mere hours?" Harry asked.

"A team of people to carve in the runes?"

"Done. What else?"

"Well... If I had an already enchanted vehicle, I could just transfer it over. So, I would have to start enchanting the engine itself now and install it at the event." Arthur told him.

"That won't be necessary." Harry waved away the suggestion. "I will make retrieving your old Anglia a mission priority. Hopefully, by the time I personally retrieve it for you, you will be finished with the rest of the work. Anything else?"

Arthur hesitated.

"Please. Take your time, sir. I only have a dozen more people to meet with today."

Arthur snorted at that one. It was good to see some humor, some humanity, from his dying son. One already on his way out of this world so soon after Arthur had just lost another.

"I need a power source to fuel the invisibility. Everything else can be easily powered by sapping a miniscule amount of magic from the riders, but invisibility is another matter. Without the time necessary to charge the invisibility enchantment slowly, we need a permanent, magical fuel source.

That conundrum gave Harry pause, at least. He leaned back in his chair and glared at the ceiling. Strangely, Arthur got the distinct impression that he wasn't mediating on if he could provide such a power source, but if he should. His instinct proved correct when, moments later, the dark man reached into his cloak and produced a folded piece of cloth.

It was the most beautiful and elegant invisibility cloak Arthur had ever laid eyes on, and as Harry passed it to him it proved softer and lighter by an even greater magnitude.

"Harry... a mere invisibility cloak is not up to the task." Arthur chided lightly, offering it back.

Harry blocked the gesture with an outward palm.

"It is not a MERE invisibility cloak, but one of legend." said Harry. "One your own wife told of in fairy tales to your children. Look closely and see the symbol sewn into its fabric."

Arthur understood, instantly, the insane claim Harry was making, but knew from experience not to doubt the impossible when it came to this boy. He did as instructed and looked closer at the cloak. Amongst the shimmering star and wavy patterns another glistened in the light as he turned it in his hands. A line, within a circle, within a triangle.

He could only stare at Harry as if he were insane. Not only for willingly handing over such a powerful artifact, but for letting somebody else know what it was.

"I trust you, Arthur. More than anybody else amongst the living. You will keep it secret and use it to save more lives than I ever could." Harry confessed. "In my hands it only serves to protect my life, in yours it could conceal hundreds from deaths vision."

It was him! It WAS Harry Potter. He hadn't changed, not where it mattered. He cared, cared so much for others than it hurt him more than the deadly curse that was obviously consuming his body.

"I will follow you Harry... just, please. Don't descend any deeper into that dark place." Arthur promised and pleaded in a single breath. "I can see the changes in you, everybody can. Superficially, you are starting to resemble him, but I know it's only skin deep. Keep it that way."

Harry stared at him as he spoke, and aged decades before his very eyes. Tired. He looked so very tired.

"I am trying, Arthur. But I've always been an angry person. And I grow hateful towards the evil that threatens those I love, and towards myself for my failure. I don't want to feel this way, but I have seen the things you and everyone else have only come to suspect." Harry told him. "It's sooo much worse than you imagine, and I am trying to not let it get to me. We all are. But there's only so much fight inside all of us. I pray this war ends and I die with it before your fears become a reality. For they are my fears too."

Arthur gulped at the confession and wept internally. For he recognized the honesty and sorrow behind the words.

"It was our job to ensure you wouldn't have to fight such demons." Said Arthur.

"Wassssss!" Harry damned near snarled at him as he stood up.

Arthur flinched away at the malice in those green eyes, the rightfully directed resentment. He strongly suspected it turned into actual parseltongue at the end there. He didn't try to stop him as he made to leave. He did, however, follow him out the back door and to the fields behind his home.

His guards stood out there, waiting for him. A masked woman with frizzy hair and a pale, freckled man. He was taken aback by the woman's uncanny resemblance to Hermione. Same height, same hair, same posture, even the same paleness on the arms and neck. He was even more taken aback by the freckled man, who stared at him longingly in a way that was far too familiar for somebody Arthur was absolutely certain he'd never met before.

The wind was strong and blared in his ears, so he couldn't quite make out what he said when Harry spoke to the mysterious man. Said man glanced between Harry and Arthur, then with that same look of longing, shook his head.

Harry put a hand on both of their shoulders and with a loud crack they apparated away.

And Arthur was left standing outside with nothing but confusion and a strange sense of loss.

Luna sat quietly in her temporary room at Shell Cottage. That was all she did these days.

Sure, the bruises and scars had faded. But her time in that dungeon with Ollivander and Griphook had changed her. Her usual cheery demeanor was lax now. She didn't feel sad, or at least she didn't think so. But every time she caught her reflection, she looked sad.

Griphook tried to cheer her up, in his own gobliny way. Reminding her of how fortunate she was and how thankful he himself was to be both free and alive. This did not comfort her. Fleur tried to comfort her in her own French way. And while she knew her food should be excellent, the croissants and onion soup all tasted bland in her mouth. Bill kept his distance, fearing the wrath of a jealous Veela wife. Ollivander kept his distance, staring off into space as sadly as she would. She enjoyed his distant company.

The wards dinged. A welcome guest? They didn't get many of those, save her father who occasionally visited to keep her informed of his efforts to smuggle her out of the country, or at least find a safe home to hide her in. Besides Shell Cottage. The Lovegood Roost was still in ruins.

Luna, mustering the mental strength to stand, made her way to the window to see who the guests would be.

A dark angel, his face concealed by a hood and respirator of some sort, was flanked by... Ron and Hermione? That can't be right. They were supposed to be dead, but she was as sure as she was of the identity of the disfigured angel that they were standing right there.

Had she hallucinated their deaths? Had that been part of the Death Eater's torture? Was she hallucinating this now? Had they simply... faked their deaths?

She smiled. The world didn't make sense, and that was okay, for she was certain of three things. She was alive, this was real, and her best friends were alive and real too. Even if Ron looked like a completely different person and Hermione was wearing a creepy mask with click hands crudely painted onto it.

Life finally returned to her mournful soul and so, barefoot and giddy, she sprinted down the stairs two steps at a time. She made it to the back door just as Harry entered and leapt up to envelop him.

He went stiff as a corpse at the unexpected contact and remained so as she dangled from his neck and buried her face into his robes.

"Haaaaarrry." She squeaked. "I missed you."

He relaxed somewhat and returned her hug, holding her emaciated frame with ease.

"You too Luna. Bill. Fleur." Harry greeted the young couple behind her while still holding her.

She let go as he swept past to speak with them and turned her attention to the doorframe. Ron and Hermione weren't there.

"We missed you too, you know 'arry. Come here." Fleur demanded.

Luna watched as she gave him a much more sterile hug, a hand on the small of his back and one on his head. Luna only assumed she didn't go for a kiss as well was because the respirator blocked it. Que usual manly handshake with Bill and he made to the table to sit and talk.

Luna ignored them and approached the back door. Looking out she saw Ron and Hermione, the new Ron and Hermione, stare passionlessly from their guard at the ward line. Luna smiled and waved. The hesitancy with which they waved back brought back the ever-present sadness.

"I am here to activate you two." Harry informed Bill and Fleur as he lowered his hood.

Luna whirled around.

"Just them?" She asked, offended.

"Indeed. Just them?" Came the dour voice of Griphook.

The goblin stood at the bottom of the stairs with Ollivander behind. The false sword of Gryffindor clasped in Griphook's hands as always.

Harry chuckled; it was an alien sound with the respirator obscuring his voice.

"I did not think you would still be here Griphook, nor did I believe Ollivander in decent enough shape to be ready for a fight." Harry told them. "And Luna goes without saying. She is always handy in a fight. After a good meal, that is."

He very pointedly grabbed the bowl of biscuits that sat in the middle of the table and held it out to her. She stepped forward and took the bowl, and ate an entire roll in an exaggerated bite.

"My inroads to a new identity, documentation and facial surgery are slow and meandering." Griphook told him as Luna mockingly made a pig out of herself. "And I am still eagerly awaiting the day you give me a price for what I asked of you."

Harry shook his head.

"My price, you cannot pay. At least not yet. The day will come when you may have the ability, but I doubt the will." Harry told him.

Even for Luna, this was rather cryptic and odd.

"Then I shall follow you until that day. Then we shall see." Gripook told him.

"And I have been feeling rather useless lately. Surely you have need of a wandmaker for your blood-soaked war, mister Potter." Olivander added.

Harry considered them all carefully.

"Very well. I'm sure you all heard the announcement on Potter Watch yesterday."

"Indeed." Said Bill. "What will you have us do during the assault on Hogwarts?"

"Not an Assault." Harry said. "And you will be joining your father in a project that will acquire us a flying fortress for the remainder of the war. It requires a great deal of knowledge on enchanting and disenchanting. It goes without saying that Garrick would be an invaluable addition to your team. But I think I know a better task for you, Griphook. Luna. Unless you prefer enchanting while under pressure?"

Griphook shook his head.

"Never had a knack for it. Always was better with numeracy and astrology. Best I can do is charge wardstones. I like the girl's company though. What will you have of us?"

And so, he explained their missions.

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