AN: I'm not exactly sure of all the animagus details and such, so just go with it and try to remember that it will all make sense in the end. I own nothing. I know the dates won't match up, I'm sorry, but it is just easier to make my own. R&R!
On June the first, eleven years ago to the day, a child was born to Dudley and Hannah Dursley (nee Abbott). It was in Hannah's dying breath that she wished to name her daughter Feather. Dudley, so grief stricken, agreed, never thinking once it was odd.
To Hannah, it also was not. She failed to mention to Dudley she was a witch, for fear of rejection. In the wizarding world, names like Feather, Bathilda and Severus weren't considered odd at all.
Even with Voldemort gone, Hannah still suffered terrible dreams, flashbacks and fears that another evil would return or emerge. It is fair to say she worried herself to death. All that worrying and stress is awful for the heart, and something as common as childbirth can be too much. So she passed, leaving another witch as her legacy, and a clueless Dudley.
On June the first, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall felt a strange urge to head to the future student record room, where the enchanted quill was kept that wrote down all new witches and wizards' names that would need their letters. As she walked down the halls, she was a bit hesitant to open the door, for it was an odd feeling, a first.
Why would a new name make her feel this way?
She drew her wand, unlocked the door, entered and closed it behind her. When she turned, the quill was scribbling wildly. She picked up the scroll.
With a gasp, she dropped the scroll and rushed back to her office, needing to send an urgent owl to an old student.
Who could forget the name Dursley? Perhaps it was a mistake? Another Dursley family in Britain? Not the same who boarded on torturing young Harry Potter?
As she hurried up past the gargoyle and the cold, hard steps, the door opened ahead of her, leaving a very intelligent woman dumbfounded for the second time in a very short period.
Next to her desk was a small pile of ashes in the old, ornate phoenix perch. In the ashes, a small head poked through and cooed affectionately at the sight of her.
It was Fawkes. He had returned for the first time since Dumbledore's death.
Fawkes returned for a reason. He had to have. It had been years since his dramatic departure.
Minerva was determined to find out why. She sat down and pulled out a new roll of parchment with a tight face and pursed lips.
Dear Mr. Potter,
It seems we may have a problem.