Together Again


Harry vanished before he realized what he was doing, unconsciously
seeking the source of the sensation he was feeling. He reappeared high
in the air, and quickly spread his wings, circling lower as he followed
the feeling.

He dropped quickly as a voice drifted up to him.

"I can't believe he won't let me question them. Harry did not just run
away, he wouldn't do that! They must have done something to him! I told
Dumbledore that he couldn't be happy there. Why else would he have been
so quick to agree to live with me after I was cleared. Damn them! Harry,
where are you?"

Harry lit on a branch, staring down with wide, sparkling eyes at his
godfather, stalking through what Harry now recognized as the park near
Privet Drive. He was obviously fighting with the thought of disobeying
Dumbledore and doing something horrible to the Dursley's. Finally he
stopped and collapsed onto a bench, putting his head in his hands.

"I can't do it. I can't get sent back to that place. I can't leave him
with no-one. Dammit!" Harry could see his hands clenching into fists. "I
can't even feel good about looking for him. Maybe he's better off
where-ever he is. Better than being sent back to those damn pigs.
Curse it all, why can't Dumbledore see that?"

Feeling terrible about the pain his godfather was in because of him, but
agreeing that he did not want to be found and put back with the
Dursleys--they had killed him, after all--Harry swept down off his
branch and landed on the back of the bench, and launched into song. It
was a song without words, as Harry deliberately pushed past the ability
to speak and have it come out as bird sounds, to make the sounds
themselves.

He felt a hand come near him, and cocked his head, lowering the volume
of his song so that he could open his eye and look at Sirius. His
godfather was staring at him with eyes wide with wonder, his hand
outstretched, nearly brushing Harry's chest feathers, trembling. Harry
side-stepped along the bench back, bringing his chest into contact with
Sirius' raised hand.

His godfather let out a shuddering gasp, tears dripping from his eyes as
he stroked Harry's feathers softly. He looked at Harry, puzzlement
growing in his eyes. "You're not Fawkes," he muttered. He had been
surprised to be serenaded by a phoenix, but had assumed that Dumbledore
had sent Fawkes to try and lift his spirits, but the more he looked at
it, the more sure he was that this bird was not Dumbledore's.

"So where'd you come from, eh?" Sirius chuckled as the phoenix butted
its head against his hand, demanding more attention. When the phoenix
hopped from the back of the bench to the seat, Sirius leaned back,
offering his lap. With a prideful strut, the golden bird settled itself
on his legs, fluffing its feathers before looking up at him with a
piercing gaze and chirping demandingly at him. "Alright, alright,"
Sirius laughed, stroking the gorgeous red and gold feathers.

With his other hand he wiped his eyes, thinking of the phoenix feather
in his godson's wand. Looking into the bird's swirling dark eyes, Sirius
spoke to it softly. "Don't suppose you know where Harry is? I'm sure he
needs you more than I. But then, you probably don't even know who I'm
talking about." He ruffled the soft down under Harry's chin, and Harry
caught his finger in his beak for a moment, startling the gaunt man.

When he realized that the phoenix had not attacked him, but merely
nipped at him, much as some of the owls he knew were wont to do, Sirius
teased the bird. He found it had amazing reflexes, and would catch his
finger as he waggled it around in front of it. The phoenix never missed
its strike.

Harry felt a great weight lifting from his shoulders as he indulged in
this light-hearted play with his godfather. This was the Sirius he had
wanted to know, the happy Marauder, not the solemn, sorrow-filled figure
he had found when he first arrived.

His heart filled with joy, Harry leapt off of Sirius, lighting on a
branch and turning back to chirp at the startled man. Sirius, who
thought the bird was leaving him, stared at it in confusion.

Laughing, which came out as an uplifting trill, Harry flew over and
tugged on Sirius' robes. He was shocked when he actually lifted Sirius
from the bench with practically no effort at all, before he remembered
Fawkes' carrying four people up out of the Chamber of Secrets.

Sirius straightened his legs, contacting the ground again, as Harry
released him, darting to hide behind a tree. Laughing, Sirius chased
after him. As Sirius passed around the tree, Harry took off again,
darting ahead of Sirius, leading him on a wild phoenix chase.

Several minutes later a voice impinged on their game, and Harry's heart
leapt into his throat. Higher than Sirius, he could see the source, his
eyes piercing the foliage as if it was not present, focusing instantly
on a pair of Auror's robes. He flew back frantically to Sirius, wishing
he could convince him to stop laughing and trying to touch him. It was
clear to Harry that Sirius had not yet heard them.

Desperate to save his godfather, Harry slipped through Sirius' hands,
his talons gripping the robes over his godfather's chest. Focusing on
taking them both, he teleported them back to the bench. He wanted to
take him to Hogwarts, but he feared that Sirius was more than quick
enough to put two and two together if he associated the phoenix with
Hogwarts. The other places Harry could think of all had the problem of
too many people around who might recognize Sirius, and traveling by
Phoenix fire was far from discreet, other than the Shrieking Shack, and
that would only lead Sirius to the right realizations even quicker than
Hogwarts.

Sirius was still laughing, now with delight at the tickling, pleasant
feeling of transporting via phoenix flames, much nicer in his opinion
than most of the other means of transportation wizards used, but over
that sound Harry's keen hearing could pick up the sounds of the startled
aurors moving in their direction.

Desperately Harry searched his memory for a spell that would save his
godfather. It was only after he cast the spell that seemed to rise from
his memory, that he realized he had never learned it. Sirius felt an icy
chill flow down his spine and Harry chirped in surprise as Sirius
suddenly blended perfectly into the background. A quick Silencio
followed by a Petrificus Totalus ensured that movement would not give
him away, then Harry quickly lifted his wild-eyed godfather and set him
on the ground. 

He settled on the back of the bench himself, just as the aurors broke
through the underbrush. He cocked his head to the side as he remembered
Fawkes doing, before vanishing and reappearing high above the trees in
the same spot, high enough that the sound of his reappearance did not
reach them, low enough that his keen hearing could still pick up their
voices.

Sirius was startled, his heart racing when the phoenix with which he had
been playing, enjoying himself without fear for the first time in long
years, had suddenly attacked him. He understood, feeling a surge of
gratitude, when aurors burst into the clearing, not coming from the
path, but from the direction he had chased the phoenix. Wow, phoenixes
must be a lot smarter than I thought. I never knew they could cast
spells, he mused as the aurors searched around, discussing what they had
seen, before leaving.

"Ah, hell, that was just the Headmaster's bird, Dawlish."

"I tell you, I heard voices, I heard laughter, and it wasn't phoenix
song. You can't mistake phoenix song for something else, given how it
affects you."

"Well, there's no-one here, so let's just go."

Dawlish glared around the clearing. "Accio cloak!" he shouted suddenly,
focusing on the concept of an invisibilty cloak, but nothing happened.
He cast revealing charms here and there, but though his spell caught
Sirius full on, it had no effect on the phoenix spell.

Harry watched the aurors move on through the brush, muttering to each
other. When they finally apparated away, he flew down and canceled the
spells on Sirius, who still seemed stunned, as he just sat there,
staring at Harry with wide eyes.

"You saved me," he whispered, but Harry could see that his eyes were
still full of confusion, and no little wonder. That was hardly
surprising, given that it must have been quite shocking to be suddenly
hit by three spells. Harry was actually more surprised that Sirius had
so quickly associated the spells with himself, given that to his
knowledge, phoenixes, even Fawkes, were not capable of casting spells,
but then, there had been no-one else around to take the blame, and the
lifting of the spells had coincided with Harry's return, so perhaps it
was not so improbable for him to make the connection after all.

Harry watched nervously as Sirius shook his head and looked around.
Would Sirius figure out? Had he blown it already? Sirius sighed deeply
and grinned up at Harry. "I better get out of here before they come
back, eh? I shouldn't even be here. I'm supposed to stick to Remus until
Dumbledore can get me a new wand. Can't apparate out of trouble if I'm
on my own." Sirius shrugged. "I just couldn't sit around and do nothing
while Harry is out there somewhere, alone."

Facing Harry, Sirius bowed deeply. "Thank you for saving my life," he
said formally. Harry dipped his head in acknowledgment, his heart heavy
with guilt. Sure he had saved Sirius, but Sirius would not even have
been here if not for him. he shook off the feeling with effort. It was
not his fault that his uncle had shot him. It might be looked upon as
his fault that he had not let someone know that he was still alive, but
they did not even know that he had been shot, and it was not as though
he could simply tell them.

Sirius grinned then. "Nice meeting you! I've got to go now, but
hopefully, we'll meet again." With that, Sirius turned and started to
walk away.

Unwilling to let Sirius leave so easily, Harry flew after him, circling
overhead. Once again, a spell he did not and should not know came to
him, and he vanished from sight, following invisibly as Sirius
watchfully made his way to a thick clump of bushes, before ducking down
and coming out as a dog. That tactic completely failed to befuddle
Harry, who of course recognized Padfoot immediately. It did encourage
him to keep his distance, however. The last thing he needed was for
Padfoot's doggie senses to detect the scent of Harry on the phoenix and
put two and two together.

Padfoot had only made it a few streets when a man drifted out of an
alley and strode up beside him. Harry drifted a bit lower to listen in.

"Damn it, Snuffles. We'll find him, but this is not the way. How do you
think he would feel if you got taken while looking for him?"

Horrible, Harry thought, that is how he would feel. He recognized the
man as Remus Lupin, Moony of the Marauders. Unsure how much of Remus'
werewolf senses carried over to his human form, Harry resolved to keep
his distance from the man. Snuffles, the name Remus had used, was the
moniker they had tagged Padfoot with to keep the Deatheaters from
recognizing his name, knowing that Wormtail, their former friend, would
definitely recognize Sirus' animagus name.

Harry was very confused when Sirius and Remus stood in front of a house
for several minutes before moving suddenly, striding quickly inside and
pulling the door closed behind them as if spooked by something. Harry
swept up and down the street, but did not find anything that might have
spooked them.

Wondering if he would be able to find Sirius when he was not displaying
his loyalty, Harry concentrated on Sirius. Immediately, and as long as
he concentrated, the feeling returned. He shifted his thought to the
other members of his almost-family. To his surprise, both Hermione and
Ron registered as being in the house that Sirius had just entered.

In a spurt of invisible flames, Harry appeared in the Hogwarts owlrey.
Hedwig was sleeping, so Harry settled in to wait for her to wake, while
playing with changing his form, testing his limits.

He learned that he was able to take basically any avian form he could
imagine, even becoming a snidget briefly. He also discovered that
certain forms would disturb the owls, and he quickly learned what to
avoid.

---

Over the next week, Harry met up with Sirius almost daily, appearing
invisibly to be sure he was alone, though by the end of the week,
Harry's senses were so well-attuned that he could tell even before
teleporting whether Sirius was alone or not.

Sirius, in spite of the complaints of Remus, made a point of being alone
for several hours each day, somewhere fairly isolated, though he did not
use the same place twice. He and Harry spent those hours getting to know
each other better. Sirius discussed his friends, his godson, and the
status of their search every day, but he also spent time reminiscing
about the past while he had the luxury of Harry's uplifting song to keep
himself from becoming suicidally depressed.

Sirius also, mischievous scamp that he was, tested Harry, trying to come
up with spells, mostly of the joke or prank variety, that Harry could
not do. Harry delighted in this, though when Sirius had first challenged
him to turn Sirius' hair a bright green, Harry had been very uncertain,
wondering if he should feign incomprehension or inability, to make
Sirius question his conclusions regarding the source of the spells that
first day.

In the end though, Harry had been unable to resist the allure of being
taught to prank by the master himself, and even more so, the allure of
seeing Sirius laughing freely. Harry was always careful to undo the
effects of any of his spells before Sirius left, or before someone could
interrupt.

They were twice interrupted by Remus, but thankfully the aurors did not
make a return appearance, though they might have regretted it if they
had, given the number of prankish spells Harry had learned.

Harry did not realize that many of the spells Sirius coaxed him into
casting--Harry played hard-to-get daily, forcing Sirius to cajole him
into his first spell--were spells that Sirius had never managed during
his days at Hogwarts, but had always wanted to accomplish. By no means
all of them, of course, but Sirius found considerable delight in finally
seeing the effects he had pictured and tried to create before. Had he
not been put in Azkaban, he would certainly have managed to create
some of these before.

Harry had basically stopped thinking about the odd way that spells just
seemed to leap into his mind when he needed them, wordless comprehension
of how to manipulate the magic to achieve the effect springing into his
mind full-formed. He did not understand it, and he knew he was no
Hermione or Lupin. He did not expect to be able to figure it out. Maybe
after he could speak to those two, they could explain it to him, until
then, he would just enjoy it and memorize the interesting spells that
Sirius introduced him to.

They also played hide-and-seek and chase-the-birdy, but when Sirius
brought out Padfoot to play, Harry invariably drifted up to the top
branches of a tree and settled down until Sirius gave up. He had to
steel himself against the aching disappointment in Sirius' eyes. The man
clearly loved playing as a dog, but Harry could not risk that nose.

Sirius did not appear to suspect anything. That a bird would have qualms
about coming close to a large dog seemed normal enough to him, but he
seemed to think that regular exposure to the transformation would make
some of Harry's trust for Sirius carry over to Padfoot.

Their bonding came to an abrupt end on the sixth day of their meetings.
When Harry appeared above where he felt Sirius waiting, alone in the
mid-morning, he found Sirius crumpled on the ground, tears pouring from
the ground as his hands dug and tore at the earth.

When he dropped down and crooned softly, Sirius looked up with eyes
haunted and full of pain. "I failed him," Sirius whispered. "You
shouldn't even want to be near me. I failed him! That fat bastard shot
him! He didn't even do anything to provoke it, nothing at all!"

Harry could not suppress a startled gasp of astonishment. He had never
expected them to discover that, after the first surprise of learning
that they believed he had run away. He figured that Vernon had
successfully covered it up.

"We should have realized it when they started planning a trip. When they
left with hastily packed suitcases the same day that we learned Harry
was gone, we should have known! But we were too busy looking for him.
They burned him, but we don't even have his ashes!"

Harry had to change back, he had to show them that he was not dead! He
could not let his godfather waste away when he was still alive. He
needed him! Suddenly, he remembered his godfather and Remus Lupin
casting a spell that forced Wormtail to turn back into Peter Pettigrew.
If he could just get the idea across to Sirius . . . Before he could act
on this idea, the very spell he was thinking of sprang full-fledged into
his mind, and he knew he could cast it.

Harry felt horrible when he realized that he could have turned back at
any time if he had just thought of looking for a spell instead of trying
to use his ability to reshape himself. He was about to cast the spell
when he realized that given the state his godfather was in, and that the
others were probably in, if he turned himself in now, they would lock
him up and never let him get near danger again.

That would never do. That he would face Voldemort again seemed a
certainty, and he could not allow them to sequester him, not now that he
was finally learning things that he felt would really give him a chance.
No protection they had yet offered had kept the bastard from reaching
him, but they could keep him from learning.

A plan came together rapidly, as Harry sang wordlessly, to cover his
distraction and lift Sirius' spirits. The spell would turn him back to
himself, of that he now felt sure. He spent a moment thinking, and sure
enough, he was able to obtain from whatever resource his mind was using
the spells he would need to return to what he had decided must be his
Animagus form. If his ability to change his shape carried over to his
human form, with similar limitations, then he would be able to alter his
appearance sufficiently to pose as someone else.

He could get books from Diagon Alley, but they might be watching it,
especially once he revealed that he was still alive. It would be better
if he could hide out in a place they would not suspect, nor be able to
check. A smirk would have crossed his face, were his beak capable of it,
as a twist worthy of the Slytherin he might have been suggested itself
to him.

He remembered how Draco Malfoy, his continual rival at Hogwarts, had
sought twice to befriend him, once before, and once after he knew who
Harry was. Draco had ruined it both times by insulting those Harry had
already befriended, but if Draco was that eager for a friend . . .
though Harry did not know if that was still the case, it seemed likely.
The people that hung around him seemed more like lackeys than friends.

He could befriend Draco, and finesse an invite to the Malfoy mansion. He
would . . . what was he thinking? He knew Lucius was a Death Eater. No,
that made no difference. He could become a phoenix and vanish any time.
He would train with Draco, learn the spells that Draco knew, maybe get
access to a library with real Dark Arts, perhaps even get an idea of
what Voldemort's plans were, and no-one would ever think of looking for
him there.

Sirius had gathered him into his lap by this point, and had been
stroking his feathers for some time. Harry looked up, coming to a
decision. If his luck with learning spells held, he would try to learn
how a wand was made, and make one around his own tail-feather for
Sirius. Surely his love for Sirius would make it work for him! If he
could not learn, maybe he would be able to find out from the Malfoys
where he could get one made to his specifications.

When Sirius finally climbed to his feet, lifting Harry up, Harry was
ready to go and begin his plan. As Sirius left, his step still weighted
by sadness, Harry vanished, reappearing in the owlrey, snuggling up to
Hedwig, and vanishing them both into a safe region of the Forbidden
Forest, away from the centaurs and acromantula.

Ignoring Hedwig's protest as her perch suddenly became a tree branch, he
pushed off and drifted to the ground. A swift casting later, Harry
Potter stood proud and human once more. Not to mention naked. A series
of quick spells later, and Harry's trunk appeared on the ground,
unharmed, along with his wand and the other personal items that had been
hidden in his floorboards. They were quickly protected by powerful
indestructability and untraceability spells. The Ministry detection
spells were easily broken, as well.

It was as well that the spells had occurred to him, for what he did not
know is that his belongings had been lovingly located and collected by
his friends, and had been in what would have been his and Ron's room at
Grimmauld Place, and Ron and Ginny had been sitting on Ron's bed when
they all disappeared in a burst of flame.

Harry's swift enspelling blocked the locating charms that were quickly
activated. His breaking of the Ministry charm, on the other hand, was
done in such a way that the Ministry records, rather than recording the
spell as broken, recorded the wand as broken.

He dressed quickly, mending and resizing Dudley's old clothes as he did
so, the spells coming without effort or speech, even though he was human
now. He performed several quick tests of his abilities. His attempts to
lift a large stone, which would have been as nothing to the odd
weightlessness that a phoenix could induce, failed utterly.

His attempts to teleport across the clearing, on the other hand, left
him crowing in delight. His attempts at changing his appearance were at
first confusing, since he lacked a mirror. A quick conjuring later,
something that would normally not be taught until the NEWT level
Transfiguration classes, and Harry was smirking at the mirror, from
which his best friend Ron was staring back at him. He shifted again, and
Hedwig protested, as his hair faded to a white-gold, and his eyes turned
silver. He practiced Malfoy's trademark smirk until he had Draco's
visage properly smirking out of the mirror, only to then realize that
the mirror meant he was smirking on the wrong side of his mouth.

He returned to his own shape when Hedwig, having flown to his shoulder,
pecked his ear. His eyes popped wide, and he stared in disbelief. He
tried several more times, and discovered he could recover his original
appearance now only by shapeshifting to it, as if he was pretending to
be himself, much as he could pretend to be Ron or Draco. His natural
appearance now seemed to be over six feet, a far cry from his previous
record as the shortest in his year. He also looked uncommonly healthy and
remarkably well-muscled, and he realized that he was seeing fine,
although he was not wearing his glasses. Indeed, he did not know where
they were, as they had not returned when he summoned his belongings.

"Alright, Hedwig. I've got to write a letter, then I
want you to deliver it to Remus Lupin. You remember him, right?"

Her contemptous snort of "Of course I do," made him grin again, as he
realized that even as a human he could still understand her. He noted,
before he vanished the mirror, that his scar was gone, though he had
done his best to return to his normal form, employing no active
shapeshifting. Summoning parchment, a quill, and ink, Harry used the top
of his trunk as a hard surface. He wrote as obscurely as he could, but
incorporating as many clues as he could. He dared not write a clearer
message, for it might be intercepted and he did not want to put his
friends in danger.

---

Dear Moonstruck,

Getting shot in the head HURTS! And dying is not much fun either, but
I'm all better now.

You can tell Silverbeard that there is no way I am ever returning to the
Privacy of that house, no matter what he says or does to them. I durst
say I am through with them for good.

I was willing to allow you to believe me fled to avoid Silverbeard's
manipulations, but I cannot permit you to believe me dead as once you
thought a certain rodent.

I have found my true protector, and am in training to do what must be
done. The Phoenix shall meet the Basilisk in combat once more, though
the outcome be the same.

Give my love to all, and forgive me, if you can, for my unwillingness to
be trammeled by misguided protectiveness. Don't bother writing back, it
won't reach me.

The Golden Boy

---

Harry grinned as he folded the parchment into a makeshift letter and
handed it to Hedwig. He spent several minutes explaining that he wanted
her to return to the owlrey no matter where he was, even if she was
given a letter to bring to him. He promised to come by and check on her
regularly, and then he watched her fly off. His parting signature had
been a deliberate thumbing of the nose at Professor Snape, and he wished
he could be there to see his face.

Summoning the mirror back up, Harry adjusted his appearance. He toned
down his muscle mass considerably, not wanting to be dumped in the same
class as Crabbe and Goyle, Malfoy's heavy-set bodyguards. He kept the
black hair, but made it lie flat, and lengthened it, then swept it back
and tied it off. His eyes became a dark black, to avoid giving his
emotions away as he tried to befriend someone he had pretty much hated
for most of his school life. His eyebrows thinned, the hair shortening,
until they looked immaculately groomed.

He had no facial hair to speak of, but he tried growing a beard, to test
the look, before discarding the idea. Lucius was clean shaven, and Harry
decided he looked better that way, regardless.

He transfigured his robes to match the style of Draco's as he could best
recall them, then shrunk his belongings. He focused on Draco, to get an
idea of where he was, and staggered when he felt an intense flow of pain
wash over him. Why had it hurt so much? Was it . . . he felt it again,
and realized that he was not feeling pain because he was trying to feel
where Draco was. He was feeling the pain that Draco was feeling!

Putting his plan on hold, Harry vanished the mirror, scooped up his
shrunken belongings, and became a phoenix again. He bulled past the
initial strangeness of the spell, though he vowed to come back to it
when he had more time and figure out what had felt so odd about it, and
vanished.

---

Draco screamed, curling tighter into a fetal ball as his father held him
under the Cruciatus curse. He did not hear the phoenix appear, but he
did hear his father's curse, a normal vulgarity this time, when the
phoenix struck his wand from his hand, ending the spell.

Lucius stared at the bird in disbelief as it dropped to land beside his
son, glaring up at him as if in anger. Though he first thought was that
Fawkes had been sent to rescue the boy, he quickly recognized the
difference in plumage, though his agile mind was equally quick to
question it. He had thought that a scarlet body and golden tail was
uniform to all phoenixes.

"When did you befriend a phoenix?!" Lucius grated, struggling to suppress
his anger and his desire to curse his recalcitrant son yet again,
knowing that he would be wasting his efforts. He glanced at his wand,
wondering if it was worth expending the energy to summon it back
wandlessly. He still held the bottom half of his cane in his left hand,
which served as a concealing sheath for his wand.

"What?" croaked Draco in obvious confusion. His eyes struggled to focus,
and Lucius watched as the bird stepped closer, and tears dropped from
its eyes to splash on Draco's face, clearing his mind and body of
confusion and pain in an instant. "Wow," he breathed in wonder, staring
at the bird.

Lucius scowled, unwilling to believe that his son did not know the bird
already. There had to be some connection, or why would it have come? He
summoned his wand, ignoring the bird's glare, and turned, his cloak
swirling around him. "You will join the Dark Lord, Draco. You were born
to his service," he tossed over his shoulder as he stalked out of the
bare stone room.

Draco groaned, sitting up and putting his head in his hands. An
involuntary smile crossed his face as he heard the beautiful sound of
phoenix-song.

---

Hermione, Ron, and Sirius were sitting at the kitchen table in shared
grief, when Remus entered the kitchen, a stunned look on his face as he
stared at a letter in his hand. Hermione glanced up. "What's wrong,
Professor Lupin?"

Remus collapsed into a chair. "Hedwig."

"You found her?" asked Hermione, only mildly interested. Hedwig was a
beautiful owl, but her beauty would not bring Harry back. Harry's death
had been a blow to all of them, especially when they realized that he
had been dead for nearly a week before they even discovered it.

Dumbledore had seemed absolutely crushed, which was the only thing
saving him from being killed. If he had come in with his usual twinkle,
acting as though nothing was wrong, she thought Sirius and Remus would
have rended him limb from limb in their grief.

Remus slid the paper across the table. "Hedwig brought this."

Hermione stared at it blankly for a moment before grabbing it and
reading avidly. She stared at the signature for a long minute, before
looking up, her lip trembling. "This . . . this is from Harry?"

Ron looked up at the same time as Sirius, but he was closer to Hermione,
and he got it first. He ran through it quickly, then looked up as Sirius
snatched up the letter as it fell from his fingers. "That didn't sound
much like him," Ron said in confusion.

"It's in code," Hermione pointed out. "Silverbeard is obvious, that's
got to be Dumbledore. I guess he's still sore with the Headmaster for
not doing anything about Harry getting trapped into that Tournament and
having to see Cedric die." Ron winced at the subtle jab, remembering the
way he had shunned Harry most of the year, believing that Harry had put
in his own name.

"What's Golden Boy?" asked Sirius, staring at the paper with burning
eyes, his hands clutching it so tightly that his fingers had gone white.

Ron laughed. "That's the one bit that I recognized. Snape sometimes
calls Harry Gryffindor's or Dumbledore's Golden Boy. That's the only
thing in it that sounds like Harry to me. Except maybe the attitude
towards pain in the first sentence."

"Moonstruck is clearly a reference to me," commented Lupin, "what are
the other codes you referred to, Hermione?"

"He doesn't want to return to the Privacy of that house. He's clearly
referring to both Privet drive, and to the isolation that Dumbledore
makes him go through every year. And then, I think his use of durst
instead of dare has to be a reference to the Dursleys. He would never
use a word like that, normally."

"Well, whoever it is, he did know about the way Harry died."

"And the burning, and where Harry lived, who his Muggle family was, oh,
and he knows about Wormtail! That's the reference to the rat you thought
was dead."

"Can it really be? Could Harry really be alive?"

---

Severus Snape, Potions Master and teacher at Hogwarts, was sitting in a
comfortable chair in his rooms. They were furnished far more nicely than
any of his students expected. Rumours occasionally passed that the
Potions Master was a vampire, and slept hanging upside down from a hook
in the Potions classroom. In fact, his rooms were tastefully decorated
with a mix of colors, muted variants of the Slytherin and Ravenclaw
house colors.

He was sipping from a snifter of brandy as he pondered his fate. He had
known the boy was important and to be protected, much though he had
loathed him. He had had no idea exactly how important, or how badly his
actions would have backfired had he succeeded in getting the boy
expelled. He had thought of it as forcing the boy to go back to his
luxurious prison, there to be safely out of the way to serve as the team
mascot, keeping people's hopes alive while staying alive himself.

When Harry died, Dumbledore had finally revealed the entire prophecy to
him. Harry was the only one that could defeat Voldemort, that much the
prophecy made clear, and now Harry was dead. And worse still, he had not
died on one of his foolish adventures, sticking his neck out. No, he had
died at the hands of the very people that Severus had believed were
coddling the boy. 

Far from treating the hope of the wizarding world with kid gloves, they
had, based on the memory images Dumbledore had eventually managed to
extract from the house, treated him little better than the darker
families treated their house-elves. And in the end, they had slain him
solely for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and being forced
to witness another boy's death, though that end could also at least
partially be laid at Fudge's feet, for the letter he had sent to Harry's
relatives had as much as claimed that Harry was a murderer.

Severus had witnessed most of the memories through Dumbledore's
penseive, spotty though they were, and it sickened him to realize that
he had treated Potter's son as badly or worse than Potter had treated
him, and for far less reason.

And now, the only hope he had held for escaping from the trap he had
entered in school when he had been accepted into Lord Voldemort's
service was gone, dead at the hands of a witless Muggle.

He looked up when a knock sounded on his chamber door. "Enter," he said,
activating the spell that unlocked the door. Dumbledore entered, which
was no surprise. He was practically the only one who ever visited
Severus' quarters. What was startling was that the twinkle was back in
the blasted old man's eyes.

"There is hope again, my boy," Dumbledore chortled, and Severus just
glared at him. "Harry may not be dead!"

"Oh, please," Severus growled, looking into his glass morosely, "his
brains were scrambled and then he was burned to ash. I don't know anyone
or anything that could survive that."

"Don't you, Severus? I do believe you have watched Fawkes before?" There
was a teasing note in Dumbledore's voice that ratcheted up the level of
Snape's irritation several notches.

"You can't be bloody trying to tell me the brat is a phoenix!"

"No, no," placated Dumbledore. "But nonetheless, it does seem that he
may have survived." He held out a letter. "I verified that this is
written on paper that was in contact with Harry's trunk less than a day
ago. As you may be aware, his trunk and all of his belongings vanished
out of a house that is under the Fidelius spell, which should be
completely impossible. What is more, they vanished in a burst of flame.
I do believe that Harry may have been chosen by a phoenix!"

Snape's eyes went wide as he stared at the last line. A growl sprang up
in his throat. "Golden Boy indeed, the little brat!" Dumbledore snatched
the parchment from his hands before Severus could rend it.

"If this is indeed Harry, I seem to have lost his trust," Dumbledore
sighed. "But if he is alive, then we have hope once more."

"I suppose that means you want me to go back to brewing stronger
location potions?" Snape snarled, feeling again the ache in his head
that brewing those potions had engendered. He had been working on them
from the time that Dumbledore first tried a location spell and had it
fail, to the day that they discovered Harry was dead.

"If you would," Dumbledore agreed, as if it were not a demand. Snape
snorted at the thought. When was anything from Dumbledore less than a
command?