He couldn’t feel Lily. He didn’t want to think about that; the memories of the last moments before he’d awakened were coming back, and he didn’t like what that entailed. Somehow, though, his son was alive – his son’s soul called out like a beacon to him. Never mind that it was about where his sister-in-law lived (Good God, why had they sent him there, of all places?); his son was there, and that was all that matters.
Then he felt something else at about the same place - the antithesis to everything a Phoenix is. His flight slowed; an instant later, he vanished.
***
Harry was trying hard not to believe what his senses were telling him.
All the lights had gone out; the darkness was closing in. The chill surrounded him, a blanket of ice that seemed to suck the life out of him. He knew what was coming next; he didn’t want to think about it, but he knew all the signs - maybe too well.
Dudley stood next to him. One thing about bullies: they tend to know when they’re in over their head, and this certainly qualified. He couldn’t see in the darkness, and of course blamed the one wizard in the area. “I’ll t-tell Dad!” he whimpered. “W-where are you? What are you d-do -?”
“Will you shut up?” he hissed. “I’m trying to lis-“
A high, moaning whistle reached his ears, and he fell silent. Yep. Dementor. He could hear the long, hoarse breaths in the alleyway, and readied himself for battle.
Dudley, of course, was worse than useless. “C-cut it out! Stop doing it! I’ll...”
The words died at the sound of a desperate cry; Harry looked up, and felt hope for the first time in several minutes.
Had Hermione been there, she probably could have explained things to him. Phoenix song could strike fear in the hearts of the impure. Imagine what a phoenix war cry would do to one of the most impure creatures on Earth. A shadow at the end of the alleyway startled, then flew off; behind him, another source of chill took a second longer to dissipate, but he didn’t want to think about the prospect of that.
Besides, he had a phoenix to thank. Around him, light began to return; he began to feel normal again.
That is, until a fist smashed into his face. Dudley apparently didn't take well to a dementor attack, and took it out on the one wizard he knew. “What the hell waAAH, get off me! Get off me, you stupid bird!”
Harry held his broken nose for a second, took a deep breath, then set his nose back in place (after fifteen years of living with Dudley, he was used to it). On looking up, he saw a phoenix snapping at Dudley, forcing him away, then turning back to him.
Harry smiled. It was only a chick; its bright plumage couldn’t hide its immaturity. Maybe this was what he had dreamed about – this phoenix, coming to him. Harry stood up, and raised an arm as a perch. “Here, boy! It’s okay; here!”
The phoenix chirped merrily, then swooped down onto Harry’s arm. Harry petted the bird as they walked out of the alley; the bird responded, and brushed affectionately against him.
***
James smiled at the attention his son was giving him. He knew now that Lily was dead; no way would Harry be living with the Dursleys if she wasn’t. But... Harry had survived. Small comfort for losing his wife… but it would have to be comfort enough.
His son had arrived back at the Dursleys with Mrs. Figg’s help; she’d pulled a scarf over his phoenix form to hide his phoenix-ness, then led them back to Privet Drive.
He’d almost torn Vernon Dursley apart after the tongue-lashing and near-violence that... that deadsoul had given his son. Frankly, he didn’t want to think about the treatment his son would have received from them while growing up. Vernon had nearly thrown the pair of them out right then and there; only a howler from Dumbledore had kept the pair of them from from being kicked out – and even that suggested that Harry wouldn’t be staying long.
So he waited, letting his son preen his feathers while Vernon glared daggers at them. The fact that Dumbledore was alive was a good sign; while the old man and his own son still lived, there was still hope.
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(Posted Sun, 22 Jan 2006 07:07)
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