This is my first fic, so be gentle.

RATING: PG it could go up later, but for now, there's nothing too terrible future chapters.

DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and friends don't belong to me, because if they did, I wouldn't be posting this right now. However, Alexandrea is mine and so is almost everything else that you don't recognize.

SUMMARY: After a mysterious light takes Harry Potter away from Privet Drive and he doesn't seem to be returning, he is presumed dead. Then exactly a year after his disappearance the Dragon Prince appears.

Harry Potter and the Heir to the Phoenix Throne

Chapter One: Heir to the Phoenix Queen

The night was unusually cool for July, he thought as the wind blew through his hair. He closed his eyes to enjoy the quiet moment, the stillness, the breeze: this was serenity, this moment. It was one moment's peace in a summer of hell. Rest, in the life of a boy who wasn't meant to have any.

"BOY!" his aunt screeched, breaking his reverie, "Get in here and clean this kitchen!"

With his back still turned to the sliding door his aunt was standing at, the young man rolled his eyes. Then, after taking a moment to memorize the calm quietness of the evening (a type of evening that wouldn't be happening again in some time,) Harry Potter turned his back on the night, and bravely went forth into the gate of Hell: into the house on #4 Privet Drive.
The kitchen had been obscenely filthy and it had taken Harry and hour and a half to make it clean enough to meet the Dursley Standards. By the time he was graciously excused from the presence of his Uncle and Aunt and their pet whale—I'm sorry—his cousin, it was nearly ten o'clock. Guessing that if he would be receiving any gifts for his sixteenth birthday (it was the night of July the 30th), then they would be arriving around midnight. So, Harry grabbed a book on hexes he had taken from the library for the DA meetings and had failed to return, and began reading to pass time.

Reading. Harry had been doing a lot of that lately. It kept him busy, kept his mind off of other things, like a certain prophesy and an even more certain veil. His strategy was working simply wonderfully, except for those moments when he tried to fall asleep, or when he awoke after being haunted with his godfather's face in his dreams, or that one time when the ministry sent him a letter:


July 1st, 9'clock in the evening, in the smallest bedroom of #4 Privet drive:

A regal looking owl landed on the desk Harry Potter was working at. Curious, Harry put down his quill and reached to take the letter from the owl. Noting the ministry seal on the envelope, Harry winced.

"Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that our senior auror in charge of the recapture of Sirius Black (name withheld for protection) has assured us that he has been terminated and is no longer a threat to the wizarding world. Due to Black's personal connection with you, We at the Ministry of Magic felt it necessary to assure you that your life is no longer threatened.

Thank you for your patience on the matter.

Yours sincerely,

Cornelius Fudge,

Minister of Magic"

His scream of outrage shook the house (thank god the Dursleys were out with "friends"). Harry was so absolutely livid with the entire pompousness of the letter, that he was seriously contemplating murdering the minister.

Finally, after taking a few moments to calm down, Harry methodically ripped the letter Fudge had sent him and put it back in the envelope and resealed it. He then gave it to owl that had been waiting (no doubt for a thank you letter) and told it to give the letter back to the Minister.

After the bird left, Harry took out the mirror Sirius had given him and smashed it against his wall, tears streaming down his face.

His godfather had been "terminated."

****End of Flashback****

So yes, after that Harry read and did anything else he had to in order to keep his mind off of everything.

About half way through his book, Harry looked up to see several owls flying his way. He got up off of his bed and opened the window, almost being knocked over by Pig. Instead of scowling, Harry grinned; Ah, normalcy. As the little fluff ball whizzed by again, Harry shot his hand up, and caught him without looking.

Freeing the owls from their burdens they all left, except for Hedwig and Pig. Then, after sitting on his bed, Harry opened his first card written in Hermione's neat script:

"Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday! Sixteen! Wow! Everything's great at Headquarters, are you sure you won't come? We all miss you terribly and can't wait to see you come September. Oh, and we started cleaning out the library, the books here are ancient, I'm just dying to read them. I can't though, since most of them are Dark. Anyway Harry, I really wish that you'd rethink your decision about not coming here over the summer, Snuffles would have wanted you to be happy.

Take care. Love, Hermione"

Harry shook his head at her letter. The poor thing didn't understand. Grimmauld Place represented Sirius's sadness and depression; it was his prison. He hated the place. Plus, there, he would be forced to think of his godfather, he would be forced to grieve, and at the he couldn't handle that.
Moving on to the present she had given him, he noticed that it was quite definitely not book shaped. Hastily ripping the paper, he saw that it was a long thin box. Upon opening it, he found a necklace: a sturdy finely made gold chain with a grand phoenix pendent, not feminine and not cheesy, just a simple, yet intricately made golden phoenix with ruby eyes, literally.

"Wow, Hermione," Harry whispered to himself.

In the box was a note:


I found this in Diagon Alley, it's said that the pendent protects the wearer, just as the phoenix protects its owner.


Harry quickly put the chain on, and felt the warmth of protection charms merge with him.

Setting the card aside, he moved on to the next one; opening it, he found Ron's untidy scrawl:


Hey, mate! Happy Birthday! Having a blast up here at Headquarters, wish you were here with us. Hope the muggles are treating you well. If not, send for Mad Eye, Lupin and Tonks, they'll put them in their place! See you on the train, unless you change your mind. The family sends the their regards, or something!

Cheers! Ron"

Harry just smiled at his best friend's letter. Moving on to his present, which was surprisingly book shaped, he unwrapped it, Harry grinned at the title, thinking: so Ron. The book: Rhapsody in Orange: the Story of the Cannons.

His next present appeared to be from Remus Lupin, if the signature on the card was anything to go by. Harry was about to start reading it, but his room started glowing. A pure white shimmering glow that kept growing until it consumed the little room. The glow was so magically powerful, in fact, that the wards set on the house to insure Harry's safety were broken, sending an alarm straight to Albus Dumbledore. However, by the time he and his Order got there, the Boy-Who-Lived was gone, along with the mysterious light. And there was no sign of a fight or struggle, just a half unopened card and several presents.


When Harry awoke, he was sure that the mysterious light was just a dream, along with the voice that had regally told him not to be afraid. He stretch and yawned, slightly surprised at how rested he was. Then he opened his eyes, and was so shocked, he fell out of the bed he was in, a bed that most certainly wasn't his. The room he was in was huge, the walls were a relaxed gold, the floors were a warm honey colored wood, and on ceiling was a painting of a huge ancient sun happily glowing down on him. His bed was in the center of this room, a magnificent four-poster bed with cream and gold bedding. As he quickly turned around he saw enormous French doors revealing a balcony floored in a terracotta mosaic. The shear curtains danced with the soft breeze that played gently through the room. All in all, he thought, the room was fit for a prince.

"That's because it is," came a warm alto voice from behind him, the same one from the night before.

"Huh!" he said whipping around, startled.

"The room, gehail, is for a prince." She said warmly.

This woman looked about 25. She was tall, with hip length black hair that was wildly wavy and seemed to be made of the wind. Her eyes were a deep fathomless midnight blue that looked like they were stolen from the sky, yet burned with fire. She had prominent cheekbones and red lips, gracefully pointed features and rather pointy ears. On her forehead, she wore a golden circlet that ended in a point between her eyebrows with a large dark ruby in the center of it. Her dress was deep green and swept the floor, perfectly made to give her willowy frame a goddess like appearance.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Harry demanded.

"For now I am Alexandrea, The Phoenix Queen" she said smiling slightly, "and you are in the Elven Realms."

"What is the Phoenix Queen and why did bring me here?" Harry asked, his eyes darting around in gradually growing panic.

"The Phoenix Queen is the ruler of all magical beings, sworn to protect the light, fathomlessly powerful; and you, Harry Potter, are my heir."

A/N: the word "gehail" is something I made up, it means "my son," and I will be making words on as I go along, because this is a Harry Potter story, not a Lord of the Rings story. And I'm don't really like translators very much.

I really hope you liked it! Review and tell me!