Chapter 9: Return of the Phoenix

A/N I no likey lawyers, especially when they belong to J.K. Rowling and Scholastic. Not my work.

Ginny woke up to a white owl tugging on one of her braids. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and yawned deeply.

“Hello Hedwig. What do you have for me?” she asked the owl stroking its head.

The owl dropped the tightly rolled parchment then hooted softly.

“I’ll write back I promise, I care about him as much as you do.” This seemed to satisfy her as she hopped up to the window and took off.

I hope he’s okay, Harry usually doesn’t write this often, two letters in one week sure is a lot for him.

Gin,

First off don’t worry, I am okay. I just wanted to write you again because I feel that I can tell you stuff that I can’t tell Hermione or your brother without having them both go into some form of panic. The last time I got a letter from you was the first night I didn’t have some sort of nightmare, so thank you for writing me. I still can’t get rid of them but every once and a while I will get a nice dream of me having a picnic on some hill somewhere. It’s really quite nice and quiet.

On another, unrelated topic, what do you know about your brother’s incredible crush on ‘Mione? I was thinking that we might be able to prod them together in some way or another. Maybe seeing them squirm will help me get over these dreams. Anyway, if you happen to come up with an ingenious plan worthy of the twins write me back and maybe we could put it into action.

I can’t wait till I can come back to the Burrow, it’s the closest thing I have to a home. I hope I will be soon, but with Dumbledore and the bloody Order breathing down my neck I might not come back too soon. Maybe you, Hermione, and Ron could work on that for me.

Well Aunt Petunia is yelling at me to go and clean the dishes. I have to go I guess, even though they’re petrified now that I can do magic wherever I want to now. I think I might just have to wash the dishes with magic just to give my Aunt a heart attack.

Harry

Once again Ginny had tears in her eye from reading one of Harry’s letters. He could be a complete moron sometimes, but every once and a while he says the right thing.

She looked outside her window at the perfect green hills in the background, the same green hills that she were in her dreams, and from what she could tell, Harry’s too. She looked at the letter again and smiled. He’d actually called her Gin’, she hated the name when anyone else used it but for some reason it sounded amazing when he said it, so she had written him back and told him to call her that.

So Harry had noticed Ron and Hermione’s little crush? Not that it’s hard to see, I mean a blind cave troll could see that they like each other. I’ll have to ask Fred and George if they have any ideas, I’m sure they’d be more than willing to torture their little brother. Maybe if we can get Ron and Hermione together then maybe Harry will make his move. Well I guess I’ll have to wait and see.

Ginny sighed, mentally reminded herself to write a letter back to Harry that night, and moved away from the window and down the stairs to get breakfast before Ron ate all of it.

At the same moment that Ginny was rushing down the stairs to get some bacon, Harry was trying to steal some, or at least a scrap of toast. Dudley had been allowed to go off the diet because Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia called it barbarically cruel, and even went so far as to threaten the school with a lawsuit for child abuse. Although the Dursleys now avoided Harry little like the plague ever since Harry threw his uncle down the stairs, he was still denied food and expected to do his chores. The one upside to all this was that he was never sore anymore from the beatings he used to get from Vernon.

The food problem wasn’t too big of a bother for him. He just got up earlier than the rest of the house and would steal down the stairs and into the spotless kitchen, to steal some bread, or leftovers from last night’s dinner. While he wasn’t starving Harry’s body still showed the signs of hunger that, coupled with his grief and a teenager’s growth spurts, gave his face a very wan complexion.

This morning Harry managed to make a few pieces of toast and get a glass of orange juice without alerting the Dursleys, and was now nibbling on them in his bedroom as he studied a defense book labeled Mastering the Minions of the Dark which mostly taught how to defend against dark creatures or beings. Harry just finished an interesting chapter on bewitched statues and figures, which unnervingly reminded him of the Department of Mysteries when Dumbledore had bewitched the fountain to protect him. The only difference was that that time it wasn’t used for evil but for good.

Harry finished off his toast and swigged the last of the orange juice, then closed the book and headed over towards the window. He couldn’t see anyone but he knew that there was an Auror right outside the front door waiting to tail him the moment he left. The fact that he was being followed didn’t upset him nearly as much as the fact that Dumbledore was still doing things behind his back, even though they directly concerned him. He thought that after the confrontation in his office only three weeks ago, the headmaster would have opened up a little more.

Harry sighed, fogging up the window, as he remembered that if Dumbledore came to talk to the Massey’s he would have to talk to him again, and do so in a cordial manner. He didn’t want to break a window, or catch something on fire because he let his anger get out of hand. That would definitely not set a good example of the wizarding world.

Harry’s mind now turned to Ginny, and the letter he’d sent her. He hoped that it wasn’t going to worry her to know that he still had the nightmares, and that he wanted to come back to the Burrow. For some reason writing her was therapeutic in a way, just as swinging and talking with Emma was. Harry had written to Ginny a few times over break now and every time he did so the weight of the prophecy seemed to be lessened.

I just wish I could tell them about the prophecy, I want to be able to explain why I’ve almost gotten them all killed multiple times. I want them to know that I don’t have a choice. Harry knew that that was a greedy thought, but just once he’d like to not feel all alone. Ever since Dumbledore had revealed his fate his world had shrunk down to just himself, no one could understand what he was having to deal with.

Over the past few weeks Harry had seriously contemplated breaking off his friendship with Hermione, Ron, and the Weasleys. He didn’t want to put them in harms way, and he knew that by being their best friend they were sure to be on the top of Voldemort’s most hated list.

After suffering through Sirius’ death, Harry didn’t know if he had it in him to watch another member of his surrogate family be murdered, let alone know that it was his fault that they were killed.

However for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to cut his ties. Every time he came close to sending the letters of explanation, the idea of never going back the Burrow or spending hours playing chess with Ron and Hermione in front of the commons fire halted this action.

He was brought back to the now and then when a flash of fire and light came out of nowhere by his bed. Harry spun around, wand already drawn and pointed in the direction of the disruption. His hand relaxed though, after seeing what it was that had actual just appeared. Sitting regally on his bed post was Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix. Harry smiled at the elegant bird; he felt a great tie to Fawkes, as it was she who had saved his life from basilisk venom in the Chamber of Secrets.

“’lo Fawkes,” Harry said softly, holding out his hand and letting her hop up onto it. The phoenix crooned softly, and Harry’s mind became completely at ease abolishing the previous grief and sorrow he’d been wallowing in. He stroked the bird’s head softly several times before noticing it had a tightly rolled piece of parchment in its talons. He pulled the letter from her grasp and set her back on the bed post so as to allow him to read the letter. Once unfurled, Harry squinted at the small loop-de-do cursive that he knew all too well.

Harry-

I have just received word from Alastor about your confrontation with him. First off, let me say how sorry I am I have not told you everything, alas I am still trying to overcome the secrecy I built around your protection. I promise I will strive to tell you more explicitly of what is going on.

Furthermore I also understand that you have befriended a young girl by the name of Miss. Emmaline Massey. She is indeed a witch and has also just received her letter of acceptance. Alastor told me that you wish that I speak to her. I can completely understand and am willing to help. I would be honored if you went with me to their house this Thursday so as we can better tell her about the wizarding world. I also see it as a time where we may be able to sort out a few other problems that may be bothering you. Please respond via Fawkes, for Fudge is still keeping an annoyingly close watch on all incoming owl post coming in and out of Hogwarts.

Yours humble servant,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry reread the letter once again to take in all the information. He then sat down on his bed and once again began petting Fawkes. While the letter certainly helped take the edge off of his resentment towards Dumbledore, he couldn’t help but still feel somewhat bitter towards his headmaster. I just wish I could be told everything. I mean isn’t it me who has to fight Voldemort, so why is everyone keeping secrets from me when I need to know what he’s doing the most. Harry’s scorn rose once again in his belly, and the mirror in front of his bed started to shake somewhat.

Fawkes called softly once again, nuzzling the side of his head. His anger once again subsided as the phoenix’s calming effect took hold. “Thank you Fawkes, I guess I should write that reply shouldn’t I?” Harry stood up, rustled around for a piece of parchment and rapidly penned out his response.

Headmaster,

I’ll meet you at the Massey’s house at 11 AM on this Thursday; if this is acceptable you don’t need to reply. Concerning the other topic you mentioned, I’ll be willing to discuss it with you when we meet.

Until then,

Harry

Harry forced himself to be as polite and curt as he could when responding back to the headmaster, although he wanted to write a scathing note worthy of Rita Skeeter he held himself back knowing it would do no one any good to get in a public fight with Dumbledore.

He rolled the note up and placed it in Fawkes’ talons. The phoenix called out once more then once again disappeared in a flash of light and flames. Harry sighed once more when he heard Uncle Vernon come marching up the stairs in a huff. In his anger he seemingly forgot the last time he caught Harry in a bad mood, he stormed in and headed right for the boy. His pudgy hands extended and aimed at Harry’s neck. Harry held up his hand palm outwards and just looked at Uncle Vernon with a rueful smile.

“Not right now Uncle Vernon, actually it would be best if you never did it again.” Vernon had come to a sudden halt just a foot away from Harry and was now hovering a good foot off the floor looking at the boy with the utmost incredulity. “Bye-Bye” Harry said as he pointed to the door with his hand and the fat man went sailing through he door once again. Apparently you can’t teach old dogs new tricks, or in this case a fat uncle a lesson. Harry thought to himself with mild amusement. While Madam Bone’s had warned him about misusing his allowance to do magic, he simply wrote this little incident off to protecting his own neck, literally.