Back in Dumbledore's office, Harry sat slouched in one of the many chairs, steadfastly staring out of the window. Fawkes perched on the armrest of his chair crooning for attention, the bird's long neck pushed out so it was visible in Harry peripheral vision.
"I'll have this settled immediately, Harry," Dumbledore was saying, "you'll have the best tutor to catch you up on all you've missed, if you study hard enough you should be able to go to university in a few years and have a normal muggle life. Of course, you can never speak of the magical world, and it's advisable that you don't return, though I suppose you could still keep in touch with Ron and Hermione."
Fawkes gave a pathetic chirp that sounded almost like a sob and brushed his soft feathered head against Harry's face.
"Careful Fawkes," Harry warned half-heartedly, and he turned to look at the bird which immediately began preening his hair, cooing. "I might blow you up too."
Something wet landed on Harry's neck and he reached up to brush it away and Fawkes pushed his head into Harry hand and that's when Harry saw the bird was crying.
"Christ!" Harry exclaimed in disgust, and Fawkes bounced to perch on Harry's leg and continued crying.
"Yeah, my life is over Fawkes, thanks for the sentiment," Harry muttered, "Eat your heart out, Voldemort."
"Harry, your life is not over," Dumbledore chided, "in fact look at this as a new beginning, a new adventure."
"Funny you should word it like that," Harry said, "someone, who I blame for this entire mess, once told me that death is the next great adventure."
Dumbledore sighed and suggested, "Why don't you go pack up your things, say goodbye to your friends…"
"Arrange my affairs, write out my will, have a black parade…"
"Harry, do stop, you're distressing Fawkes," Dumbledore sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes, "I am sorry that you've lived such an ill-fortuned life, Harry, I truly am, but I will do my best to have you comfortably placed in the muggle world. You can live a life there, Harry, a peaceful life; it is a way for you to start over without you destiny looming over you. I can assure you that Voldemort will probably stop actively pursuing you. Push yourself in your studies, learn all you need quickly, go to university, settle down and enjoy your life in a way that would be impossible here."
Harry sighed and closed his eyes and tried to think up a suitable response, only one seemed right.
"I still blame you."
"You lessened the amount of vitriol that time" Dumbledore chuckled good-naturedly, "It seems I've made progress."
"Get stuffed," Harry retorted, hoisting Fawkes (and damn, was that bird heavy) off his leg and back onto the armrest, ignoring that it didn't hurt or feel weird when he touched the phoenix...course the pheonix also felt like a strange dark, glowing purple to Harry, so he clearly wasn't te best judge of what felt right or weird... "So I'm off to arrange my affairs and say goodbye."
Harry headed over to the office door and felt Fawkes alight on his shoulder, still crying and crooning, the small feathery head rubbing tears into Harry cheek…this must look so wrong.
Harry opened the door, and headed out, he heard Dumbledore calling for Fawkes, but Harry decided if he was being kicked out of school he could take the damn bird with him.
Fawkes made a strange high pitched whine and Harry rolled his shoulder, prompting Fawkes to flap his large wings to maintain balance.
"Do you have any idea how heavy you are?" Harry asked the bird, who crooned and began preening his hair again.
"Lovely," Harry sighed, "I'm being kicked out of the magical world, and everyone's still stuck on how bad my hair looks…"
Harry continued the trek up to Gryffindor Tower and arrived with Fawkes still crooning sadly on his shoulder, Harry was pretty sure he didn't like this song anymore. It far too over-played.
Harry pulled Fawkes off his shoulder and set him down on the ground as he spoke the password and stepped in.
"Harry!" Ron exclaimed brightly, "Let's see it!"
Harry turned around and picked Fawkes off the floor and then held him out to Ron.
Ron looked extremely confused and said, "He's crying."
"Oh, don't mind that," Harry replied nonplussed, "he's been doing it since we got back."
After a moment Harry's arms got tired and he turned to give the phoenix to Hermione, who took it under protest.
"Now, I'm off to pack, say goodbye, and arrange my other affairs," Harry continued brightly. "Which reminds me, who wants Hedwig? Can't have an owl in the muggle world, now can I?"
Silence met this statement.
"Okay," Harry said, shrugging, "I'll ask the other houses later," and he turned and made his way up the dormitory stairs. He rolled his eyes when he heard people following him, probably Ron and Hermione.
He reached the dormitory and kicked his trunk open and began gathering his things.
"Harry," Hermione exclaimed breathless, as Fawkes soared overhead to perch on the top of one of the posts of Harry's bed, "what did you mean? Why are you going to the muggle world?"
"I'm being kicked out," Harry replied, as he dumped some clothes next to his trunk and then realized he wouldn't be able to get anything in there given its current state of disorganization. "I have to go back to the muggle world."
"Why?" Hermione demanded, "What happened?"
"That's classified auror business," Harry replied, "I was threatened with death if I told, but basically it all comes down to me being kicked out of school and the magical world."
Fawkes let out a mournful, eerie tune that made Harry's skin crawl.
"That about sums it up," Harry added after a moment. "So please, just give me a moment alone with my trunk."
"But Harry…" Hermione said softly, looking lost.
"Don't worry, Dumbledore says we can still talk," Harry replied, "I'll give you my address once I get one and you can show Ron how to properly mail a letter. Now just…I'll talk to you guys in a little okay."
"All right," Ron said backing away, not sure what to do.
Hermione sobbed, as she gave him a quick hug, and said, "Oh, Harry!"
"Yeah," Harry agreed, "pretty much."
They left, Ron stoic and Hermione crying silently. Harry turned to Fawkes and confided, "That went well."
Harry dropped down on his knees in front of his trunk and began straightening everything in it to make room for all of his other belongings. It took a little while to do and a bit of pushing and pulling, but it was finished.
All that was still left was Harry's broom and the photo album of his parents.
Harry sat down on his bed and began flipping through the album, though he knew what every picture looked like, Fawkes fluttered down from the post and settled on his empty nightstand. The phoenix was still crooning and crying.
"Don't you run out eventually?" Harry asked it.
The bird stared mournfully at him and continued crying. Harry fell back on his bed, and placed the album next to him. After a moment he noticed something sharp was poking him, and he reached down to see what it was.
That damn crowbar.
Harry dug in his pocket and pulled it out and glared at it, this broken thing had ruined his life—completely and utterly.
Harry resolved to take revenge: he would toss it in the Thames, melt it down, or something. It could not get away with what it'd done!
Harry got off his bed, deciding he pandered enough time away, no sense in drawing the torture out after all. He turned to his trunk to pick it up, and then realized, it would be way too heavy for him to do that.
He was going to have to get someone else to bring it down for him or charm it weightless. It was a major blow to his pride that he couldn't do things that a fourteen year old could.
Harry stared down at the crowbar in his hand and said, "I hate you." Then he pointed the crowbar at the trunk and called, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The electrical fizzing feeling he remembered, vaguely, from the night of the "accident" exploded in his chest and coursed down his arm, leaving him breathless and shaking.
And the trunk rose about a foot off the floor. Harry dropped the crowbar, but the trunk remained in the air, Harry's heart pounded in his chest. And a strange feeling, a mixture of euphoria and adrenaline spread from his stomach all over his body.
Harry sunk down to the floor and muttered in faint disbelief, "Finite."
Nothing happened; Harry grabbed at the crowbar and waved it repeating the spell and the trunk eased back to the floor. That's when Harry noticed that Fawkes was trumpeting out a song of conquest.
"You knew all along, didn't you?" Harry demanded, not able to put his heart behind the accusation, because of the shocked elation coursing through his veins, "you could've told me, you know."
Harry stared around the room not sure what to do now. All was not lost, he could still do magic, apparently Dumbledore and the rest of the magical world didn't know everything.
Harry had a bone to pick with several people; he pocketed the crowbar, and he had several people to prove wrong. Harry's eyes feel on his broom and he decided that when he proved the whole world wrong he might as well do it well.
Harry had a victory parade to arrange. But first, he unlocked his trunk reached in grabbed an armful of his stuff and dumped it on the floor.
That done, he stalked over to his broom and called, "Up!"
yes, that's it, it's over...however, I am curious as to how many of you are interested in a sequel... -hint, nudge-