Hi all, so first chapter has now been looked over by my brand new Beta: Ensteinium : ) BIG thank you to him.
Phoenix Burning; Chapter One
This is what could have been, had Harry died at the Battle of Hogwarts a second time that fateful night. If the killing curse had first hit Harry; then rebounded, only to yet again Kill Voldemort.
And now we are once more at the King's Cross station.
It was Dark...
Well no actually, technically he'd won, Voldemort was dead after all. But dead Voldemort was supposed to mean alive Harry... So in a way, he'd lost.
Sighing deeply, Harry opened his eyes and sighed again.
"Busy place tonight." He said sarcastically to himself, looking around the empty white station.
Spotting the bench under which IT had been before, Harry quickly stood, rushing over and crouching down as he checked to make sure the baby Voldemort was no longer there.
Straightening up, Harry looked around the station, ears and eyes perked, for any sign of life at all.
All was quiet. He was alone.
Would Professor Dumbledore not come again then? Or was someone else on their way?
... Or was he simply waiting for the train to arrive, he wondered. With nothing to do but wait, Harry sat himself down on the bench and thought.
He thought of the people he'd just left behind at Hogwarts. Would they worry about him having died again or were they expecting him to rise yet once more?
He thought of Neville's brave stand against Voldemort and reminisced back to when the other boy had been eleven.
Remembered all his friends and how they had grown to become who they were.
He wished the war had ended sooner. That he, Harry, had been able to destroy Voldemort before his friends had been caught up in the war. Before anyone else was killed.
Who else had died tonight?
Who had lost a brother, a sister, parents or friends on this night?
Could he have stopped it from happening, he wondered.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, in the quiet peace, lost in his thoughts, before he realized that he could hear a soft humming in the distance. It was hard to determine what it was, but he was content to simply wait and see as he came closer to him. He wasn't in any kind of hurry after all.
The sound was soothing and he felt it gradually affect the atmosphere around him. It filled his heart with warmth and sweet content, as he sat there and let it engulf him.
There was a sudden flash on the bench next to him and Harry turned to look at what resembled a pile of dried up brown leaves. He sat there staring at the pile for a while, not really sure what he was supposed to do with it.
He soon noticed that the leaves made a rustling sound every now and then, as if something was hiding beneath for shelter. A small spark of curiosity grew in him and he tentatively reached out to brush some of the leaves to the side so that he could see what hid beneath.
His hand made contact with a dry but strangely warm, soft leaf that slowly started to slide from under his fingers on its own volition.
Maybe it wasn't a pile of leaves after all, he decided. It was far too soft and silky to the touch.
His hand, which had been neither cold nor hot, liked the silky feeling of the soft material and so he kept it where it was.
The pile suddenly vibrated, making him remove his hand quickly and a small bald, head poked out slowly from the pile.
"Fawkes?" Harry asked quietly, surprised at the sight beside him.
The phoenix had changed dramatically from the last time he'd seen it. He was thin, scruffy and ancient looking, his colourful plumage gone, a dirty brown replacing it and he looked sickly with his glossy black eyes.
"What happened to you?" He asked, slowly reaching out a hand again, to pet the Headmasters beloved familiar. Fawkes gave a feeble sound of pleasure at the contact so Harry continued to slide his fingers over the bird's feathers.
They sat there in quiet companionship and Harry closed his eyes feeling very much at ease. At least he wasn't alone anymore, he thought.
Behind his closed eyelids, images began to appear.
He could see a younger looking Albus Dumbledore, and felt joy and pleasure at being in the man's presence- Saw him sitting in a plush and comfortable armchair by a merrily roaring fire. The man sat reading, and Harry could feel the Headmasters hands stroking his feathers softly.
Then he was fighting alongside the man and feeling the exhilaration of living in the moment.
Memory after memory was rolling past his eyes, faster and faster, until it slowly came to a halt.
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office at Hogwarts, stroking the soft feathers of the bird seated by his side, one hand whole and healthy and the other withered and black.
"Take care of the boy for me my friend. Stay with him through life's journeys and keep each other company. I do not wish for you to be alone when I leave this earth and the boy will need you as much as I once did. Help him heal as you have helped me." Albus asked him weakly, voice trembling softly.
He felt helpless. Why would his tears not heal this wound? He did not want to go on like this, with out his friend and master...
Harry felt the phoenix resolve to do more. To somehow unite once more with his friend and at the same time protect the youngling left in his care. He would not fail them. He would not sacrifice one for the other.
Opening his eyes slowly, Harry turned to Fawkes as the phoenix gazed back at him with sad eyes. Realizing how private the memory he'd just seen had been, Harry wondered why the phoenix had shared it with him, was he planning on bringing Harry back to his friends before joining Dumbledore in the afterlife or wherever a dead person traveled on to?
"What happens now?" Harry asked, watching with interest as Fawkes slowly made it onto unsteady feet.
The Phoenix cautiously moved closer to Harry and soon they were face to face. Harry looked into the eyes of the bird that had saved his life once. Fawkes spread out his once strong wings and embraced Harry in a tight grip. Harry, who was starting to feel mildly worried, fidgeted amongst the warm feathers and fought to sit still.
Quite worried now, he took a deep breath in, in an attempt to calm himself.
Fawkes chest, which was pressed against his own, was by now starting to get too hot for Harry and he tried to push the bird away gently.
A warm golden light shone out from under the brown feathers and Harry could feel himself get even hotter. Soon the bright light was so blinding that he had to close his eyes in order to protect his eyes.
Fawkes keened softly and Harry felt the air around them vibrate.
A shiver traveled down his spine as the crescendo built and Fawkes gave a last piercing tone.
And then there was nothing.