Chapter 1. the royal phoenix

Longhurst keep, Isles of Scilly, May 31st 2023

The last day of spring in the isles of Scilly started as usual, the rising sun just a bit obstructed by seemingly harmless clouds. Somewhere by the coast of the five inhabited islands, pilot gigs were racing frantically, rowed by strong athletes. Except from some ripples left by their boats, the sea was as still as a mirror. Not even the slightest wind disturbed the unusual peace and calm of the morning, making the gale-hardenned sea wolves shake their heads in wonder. Only one person, a young man on top of a cliff in a seemingly uninhabited rocky islet, invisible by the rowers, had hope in his sleep-deprived eyes. One Marcus Longhurst, the previous year's graduate from Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, observed the approaching slightly darkened clouds and the stillness, first signs of a thunderstorm, with anticipation. "let it be a storm, just let it be a damn storm!.." – he couldn't help but kept muttering under his breath. These morning observations had become his routine for the past month or so, day after day, but the weather kept being stubbornly clear, not even a raincloud in sight. And here he was again, wand in hand, praying to whatever high powers could hear, to send the last component of his way to success.

Suddenly, from miles away, a thunderclap brought everyone, even Marcus, down to earth. "yes, yes, yes, come here!" – the wizard's heart skipped a beat, his eyes betraying more hope than humanly possible. A second clap sounded, from way closer. The clouds nearly covered the sun, the wind picked up speed. "for all the crews, get back to the dock! Repeat, get back to the dock" – the distant voice of the coastal guard confirmed it: the storm was coming. While the gigs rushed back to safety, fighting the increasing waves, the now fully awake wizard made the final preparations. Or at least tried, for clearing his mind appeared to be impossible, when a worlwind of emotions not unlike the one in the sea in front of the island, was almost uncontrollable. Hope, joy and fear fought each other, none gaining an upper hand. Any minute, any second now, all the taedious, unnerving and unnecessarily complicated work will be over. Yes, Marcus Longhurst will become an animagus, no matter what. But again, what if… what if the potion didn't brew correctly? Then it will be mandrake leaf in the mouth for a month again, along with that silly incantation every sunrise and sunset… only the first lightning, striking the water and illuminating the sky, made the soon to be animagus hurry to the small hidden door in the cliff. He quickly retrieved the vial of now blood red potion, whispered: "amato animo animato animagus" while holding the wand to his heart, and downed the concoction. An electrical surge reminiscent of lightning shot through his body, along with the sharpest pain possible, and the second heart, the one that belonged to his animal form, started beating frantically. "calm down, Marcus, calm down", - he whispered, thus attracting the attention of Alexa, his trusty house elf. Being an educated elf, and knowing all the dangers of the animagus transformation, she stood ready all throughout morning, pretending to also observe the skies. "is something wrong?" – the little creature asked but was interrupted by the transformation, now happening before her. to say the sight was unusual would be an understatement of the century. Where a tall, dark-haired wizard stood just moments ago, now the most magnificent of birds was looking around in confusion. no bigger than a swan, all golden with a few black feathers on his wings and tail, the glittering silver talons and eyes as blue as the deapths of the sea, it would surely attract all sorts of attention. But most importantly, he didn't himself know what kind of bird he was. For now, chirping something just to test his new voice, and pointing for Alexa to retrieve his fallen wand, Marcus the animagus transformed back to human. oh how little did he know back then, what sorts of unwanted attention his revelation to the public would cause…

Perks den, London, June 12th 2023

Emily Perks, the youngest daughter of John and ann Perks, was enjoying her first day of peace and quiet after the most stressful year of working as a freelancer (the concept new to the magical world) flying instructor for pre-Hogwarts children. Finally, after countless hours of hovering alongside young fliers, enduring cries of fear or squeals of excitement, even explaining to the parents of muggle-born children how a broomstick works, or outright taking them on a ride, she collected enough money to start her training in synchronized flying. Her parents, reluctant to let their precious little girl take on this dangerous sport, welcomed her back warmly the previous evening but left early in the morning, if only to avoid the unnecessary argument. Fortunately, her boyfriend, the one Marcus Longhurst, had the same plans for his career, and agreed to find a suitable coach. His animagus ability and her experience as an instructor would surely increase their chances, maybe even lead to the annual world synchronized flying championship. Even though it meant countless grueling training sessions, Emily could not help but smile imagining her parents' faces, shocked and relieved at the same time, following her every tworl and Marcus' beating wings… or again, them holding the gold medal as a pair, giving an interview and posing for a picture…

Suddenly, two things happened at the same time, pulling the girl of her daydreaming. First, The very disgruntled public service owl swooped through the open window, unceremoniously dropping the Daily prophet on the table. Then, the floo flared, signaling the incoming call. "can I step through?" – the boy sounded really distressed, so Emily decided to overlook his straightforward request. Good morning to you too, feel free, - she replied, opening the entrance. The wizard slid out of the fireplace and skidded to a hault a few metres away, leaving a decent trail of soot and ash in the process. "sorry for that. I hate floo, and the daily kindling", - he muttered, dusting himself. Just then, the girl noticed the slightly singed Daily prophet clutched in his hands. What happened?" – his sudden appearance could mean many things, but what she heard next wasn't one of them. "Skeeter and Scamander happened. Just read this." Trying not to show her worry, Emily unfolded her own paper, for her boyfriend's appeared to be utterly destroyed. From the first page, a large photo of an unusual creature stared at her, with rather big article underneath:

Royal phoenix as an animagus form?

By Rita Skeeter and Rolf Scamander

The Royal phoenix, also known by the name of goldbird, seems to have reappeared in the most unusual way. The rarest bird in the world, impossible to find in the wild, reemerged in magical Britain as an… animagus form of an ordinary wizard, namely Marcus Longhurst. The newly registered animagus was unavailable for an interview, but famous magizoologist Rolf Scamander, invited to identify the species of his form, had the following to say: "it is indeed the most unusual transformation I see. Royal phoenixes are nearly impossible to spot in the wild due to their cryptic nature and ability to use the elements for travelling. I say elements, in plural, because these birds use them all, unlike, for example, fire or earth or water phoenixes. To add, their natural oclumency shields are supposedly the strongest of all the known creatures. The only way to affect their mind would be making them drink a memory dissolved in water…"

"do memories dissolve in water?" – Emily was shocked, no, absolutely lost. "didn't you know that?" – now was Marcus' turn to look surprised. "it's now a widely known scientific fact. but things get even more interesting from here. Just read and you will see." The article rambled on and on about the bird's golden feathers and their use in potions as a substitute for unicorn horns, which was by itself a disturbing revelation. Even more frightening was Scamander's lighthearted remark about its talons covered in the purest silver known to man". One scratch was enough to contaminate the blood of a grown werewolf, and only a single gram of substance so pure would be enough for at least ten batches of wolfsbane potion. All in all, fates or gods or whatever were trying to make Marcus' life a nightmare, where danger lerks in every corner, and the less other people know about him, the better. Unfortunately, seeking a place amongst the most skilled of synchronised flying teams meant incorporating the transformation into their program. The only thing he could do was being extra careful, borderline paranoyed. "royal form for a royal price", - Emily sighed, tossing her own Prophet into the fireplace.

In a rundown shack at the edge of London, a short, dark-skinned young man also threw his newspaper into the fire. "find that Longhurst guy, learn his plans, and try to straighten your own damn life", - he mumbled, before aperating for Diagon alley.