Phoenix Rising

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, incredible literary goddess that she is. Except for that epilogue, I mean really.


A big shout out to all those who have reviewed so far! Thank you!


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Apep might not know where Ra was hiding, but he had always known how to draw his brother out. Ra had always been weak, beholden to the pitiful creatures of this earth, intent on preventing as much suffering as he could. If only he would realize that suffering was the natural state of such a pathetic, wretched species as these humans were.


It seemed their population had grown, spreading like a plague since Apep had last walked the earth. He could see it as he flew, all the glowing lights, the cities and villages linked by roads that formed a huge, endless web across across the countryside. It was sickening to behold; the sheep needed culling.


He would start with the magical ones. They were the ones who had forced Apep to sleep so long ago, weaving a net of weariness over his mind that forced him to lay down and close his eyes.


Never again would that happen. Never again would mighty Apep be forced from this world.


As he approached the land where Ra had appeared the day before, he planned.


He would draw Ra out. Strike at the weak and defenseless humans, and he would come, shining in all his blazing, fiery glory to defend the pathetic sheep.


Apep would be waiting. Waiting with the trap he had planned for his brother before the meddling magic-users had put him to sleep. Ra would never know what hit him.


Once his brother was gone, there would be no one left to stop Apep. After he had consumed the magic-users, he would start on the rest of these weak humans.


Centuries of feasting awaited him, and he screamed his satisfaction to the air.


Flicking his tongue delicately against the air currents, Apep shifted course. He could sense a large draft of magic coming from a location not far to the north. He passed across the waves and over sandy shores, looking forward to the tasty meal that awaited him.


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After sleeping most of the day away, Harry was finally allowed to return to Gryffindor tower, with the admonishment that he make sure to get plenty of rest for the next few days. Apparently his body temperature was still elevated, but he didn't want to tell Madam Pomfrey about the strange feeling of heat in his chest. Better to discuss it with Hermione and Ron first.


The fat lady opened for him with a murmured “Aura Aurora,” and he found his two best friends waiting for him on one of the cushy couches near the fireplace.


He greeted a few Gryffindors on his way across the common room, brushing off questions about his whereabouts for the last day. He wasn't sure what had happened to him the other night, but he was damn sure he didn't want to talk about it with his entire House. He was relieved to sink beside Ron and Hermione, relaxing into the worn leather with a sigh. He felt much better than he had just that morning, with barely a twinge of a headache, but his body still felt tight and pressurized, like a new bottle of Butterbeer.


“Oy, welcome back, mate!” Ron enthused. “We saw Malfoy earlier.” Harry perked up a bit. “'Mione asked him what happened. Called her a Mudblood and said he should've left you up there to rot. Typical.”


Harry grunted. That was typical Draco. Caustic and evil. Harry wished again that he hadn't seen the bastard naked. He'd love to fuck that devious smirk off his pretty blond face.


They asked him how he was feeling and Hermione gave him his missed homework and some notes from their shared classes that day. Harry could tell Hermione was dying to ask him more questions about the incident on the tower, while Ron looked ready to let Harry tell it at his own pace. Before Hermione could even ask, though, Harry started his story. Ignoring his lingering tiredness, he told them everything, from the lack of connection with wand to the the strange heat he could feel pooling in his chest at that very moment, and all the events in between.


Hermione didn't interrupt, but by the end she was almost bouncing in her seat, fingers twitching as if seeking a quill to start scribbling down her thoughts. “Oh, Harry! It sounds like you've hit your magical maturity! I read that it can happen all of a sudden if a wizard needs to call on all his magic at a single critical moment! This just shows how powerful you're going to be!”


Harry frowned. “But I don't feel any different. And what about the wings?”


“That's probably just the form your magic decided to take at the time, to stop your fall.” Ron was looking back and forth between them, his brow furrowed, but nodded in agreement with her words. Harry had to admit, it sounded plausible. However, other things still bothered him.


“But what about the hot feeling in my chest?”


Hermione paused a moment, but she had an explanation for that, too. “Maybe it's just a remnant of your magical exhaustion, or it could be your new magic hasn't had time enough to spread and settle throughout your body. You'll probably feel more comfortable after sleeping again tonight.”


Harry nodded. The way she said it, it all made sense. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the feeling in his chest never went away, or if it was really just his magic, after all. It had an almost foreign feel to it, like a live creature. But perhaps it was as Hermione said, and it would feel more natural after it had settled further.


“Hey mate, have you tried using your wand since the fall?” Ron asked.


Harry's eyes widened. He hadn't even thought to try his wand again. He'd simply taken it from Madam Pomfrey and gone back to pondering the strange feelings in his body. And of course Draco Malfoy.


He pulled the length of Holly from the pocket of his denims. It still felt cool to the touch, with no apparent life to it. He was about to try a simple levitation charm on the ottoman when Hermione grabbed his wrist firmly.


“I don't think that's such a good idea, Harry. Charms, remember?”


Harry dropped his arm sheepishly. He's almost forgotten in his excitement.


He looked over to his two friends, and grinned. “I think we require a safe place that's magically warded, don't you?” he asked, emphasizing the word. They smiled back.


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Ten minutes later, they found themselves in a barren room consisting completely of flecked, greyish stone, carved with intricate runework on all four walls, ceiling, and floor. Hermione, the only one of the three of them who had any knowledge of Ancient Runes, said that their purpose seemed to be to provide a barrier against any magic performed in the room. After the walls had neatly absorbed a few hexes cast by her and Ron, Harry believed it. The Room of Requirement had outdone itself.


Harry stared pensively at the wand in his fist, mentally crossing his fingers. He could feel the fire coiling in his chest. It was probably just his imagination, but he could feel it getting excited, starting to heat up and flicker in anticipation.


He planned to start with something simple, the shield charm. He'd done it a million times, and it had never failed him, even with his recent trouble focusing.


He raised his wand and sucked in his breath. The coiling heat seemed to pause, waiting.


He snapped his wand sharply to the left, intoning “Protego!” in a firm voice.


Before the last syllable had left his mouth, he knew he was fucked.


The fire roared and exploded from his chest, galloping down his wand arm as the length of Holly simply erupted in his hand, sending bits of wood and ash flying as a white-hot flame burst from the core. For a moment he could see the red-gold tail feather that was his last connection to Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, glowing a molten gold against the white heat of the flame, before it seemed to melt into the almost bluish flame that blazed down his arm. The two infernos met, and a concussive shock had Harry reeling backwards, a swarming ball of fire roiling in front of his face.


He heard Hermione screaming behind him as he staggered back, almost falling over. His wand arm dropped as he stumbled, and the fireball twisted and swirled with his movements. Harry began to panic, even as the flame twisting through his body seemed to rejoice. Fire had consumed the sleeve of his robe, and was spreading across his chest and back. The flames moved like liquid, spitting and hissing, dropping molten tears of flame to the grey stone floor.


But Harry's skin wasn't burning.


Gouts of water hit him from behind as Ron and Hermione had apparently recovered their wits enough to try and help him. The water sluiced over him, making what was left of his robe hiss and steam, but doing absolutely nothing against the beachball-sized orb of flame still spinning merrily in front of him.


“It's not working!” Hermione cried. “Harry! Can you put it out?”


He concentrated hard on flame, on the heat that seemed to race through his very bones. He could feel it, a living thing, yearning for direction. And though it behaved like a creature apart, he could feel his connection with it. It had come from his body, and it could go back. It was like having invisible threads winding through his chest and out down his limbs, twining into his bones and muscles and woven with the running flame. His body felt alive with it.


He gathered his will and pulled hard along the threads that linked him to the hissing ball, imagining them as physical strands that he could manipulate. He gathered it, trying to draw it back inside his body. It responded only reluctantly, like it didn't want to return.


Like it wanted to be used.


Harry focused all his energy on constraining it, stamping it down, and yanked.


The fireball collapsed into itself, flooded up his arms and back into his body, and winked out of existence.


Harry fell to his knees, shaking and gasping for air. His body felt like a furnace, and his robe hung in tatters off one shoulder where the fire has consumed it.


In seconds Hermione's arms were around him, her hands running down his bare wand arm. “Oh, Harry! Are you all right? Are you burnt? And your wand!”


He could only shake his head, trying to breathe. Ron squatted on his other side, looking concerned, but slightly wary. Harry wondered if they thought he might burst into flame again.


“We've got to get the headmistress! This is crazy, Harry, your magic shouldn't be -”


“No!” he gasped. She stared at him incredulously. “Just...... no. Give me a minute.”


She waited at his side, muttering spells at his arm and body, presumably trying to find some damage.


There would be none, Harry knew. The fire hadn't touched him.


He could feel it now, piled like shifting sheets of packed power beneath his skin. He could feel it moving in his chest, racing up and down his arms. His skin was tingling like mad.


Though he still felt overheated, he shivered.


What was happening to him?


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Draco hadn't seen Potter for the entire previous day. Not that he had been looking for the speccy git. So what if he had finally had his eyes corrected and tossed those hideous glasses? He would always be a speccy git.


That was why he definitely was not looking towards the Gryffindor table at breakfast the next morning, and it was only by pure coincidence that he noticed Harry trooping into the Great Hall with his little entourage arrayed around him.


The Gryffindor Golden Boy looked a bit pale this morning, a full day and half after his fall from the tower, but there was something else different about him. Draco squinted, but could not put his finger on what had changed since two nights ago. His eyes weren't glowing as Draco had last seen them, but were their usual sharp emerald green. No, it was his skin, as if the faintest possible reflection of the fiery white light that had carried Potter back up to the safety of the tower still remained with him, scorched into his flesh. Draco wondered if anyone else even noticed the miniscule radiance the Golden Boy was shedding.


You're probably the only one obsessed enough to see the difference, he thought bitterly.


He forced his eyes away and tried to eat his toast with all the dignity befitting a Malfoy, but was shortly interrupted by the arrival of the Prophet being dropped directly onto his plate. Bloody common owls couldn't aim for shit.


He stopped caring once he noticed the headline:


'RAMPAGING BEAST' SNATCHES CHILDREN IN DIAGON ALLEY
by Rita Skeeter


Families remain in shock as what is being described as either a “dragon” or more simply a “flying beast” descended on shoppers in Diagon Alley late last evening, snatching children from their parents' very arms. Spells cast against the beast, as large a train car by all accounts, had no discernible effect, bouncing from a leathery hide.


“It was horrible!” says Henrietta Cornfoot, owner of Cornfoot's Complete Cures for Blemishes, Blotches, and Bunions. “It took little Susan Copperpot from her mum right outside my shop! It's the work of You-Know-Who, is what it is!”


Other witnesses seemed to be in agreement that this beast was somehow left behind by the late He Who Must Not be Named, defeated last year by the Saviour Harry Potter in the Battle of Hogwarts. “The Dark Lord has returned again!” screamed an unnamed witness, who ran in terror past this reporter.


Some, however, were skeptical. “Old Voldie is dead and gone, thanks to Harry,” says George Weasley, owner of Weasley Wizard Wheezes. “That monster that showed up today... I don't know what that was.”


Various reports have described the creature as having the head of either a dog or snake, with a dragon's body and wings, and a long black tail. One witness, close enough to see the beast's face, described catlike, glowing yellow eyes, and a forked tongue that flickered like that of a snake.


Aurors dispatched to the scene did not arrive in time to save any of the three children taken by the beast. Since the attack, Ministry officials have been contacting dragon reserves across Europe, asking for an account of any that may have escaped recently and that fit the beast's description.


Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared outraged at the blatant attack on one of the Wizarding community's most popular shopping destinations. “We will not rest until this beast is found and destroyed,” he vowed. “Wizarding families deserve to be able to do their shopping in peace and security. Until this creature has been neutralized, Auror squadrons will be conducting regular patrols of Diagon Alley during all business hours.”


Although this is the first major threat to the Wizarding public since the downfall of You Know Who, this reporter has to wonder about the timing of the event. Is it in any way connected to the huge burst of magic felt near Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry two nights ago, or are the two events unrelated?


The article continued with more reactions about both the attack in Diagon Alley and the magical explosion from two nights ago, with speculation that the former was a Dark magic ceremony used to raise this beast.


Draco snorted. Terrific investigative reporting by the Prophet, as always.


He wondered, though, as he looked back across the Great Hall to the Golden Trio, who were hunched like a war council over the paper, whether the Daily Prophet might be right for once. What were the odds that Potter would be involved in such a ridiculous display of magical power, only to have a ravening dragon-beast start terrorizing Diagon Alley the next day?


Regardless, it was looking like another possible job for the superpowered Boy Wonder.


Just then a pair of brilliant green eyes lifted over the rim of the newspaper across the hall. Draco blinked, caught staring. Before he could look away, Potter made a slight jerking motion with his chin, towards the Great Hall doors, a question in his eyes.


Before he could really think, Draco nodded back. Bloody Potter and his bloody powerful eyes. It should be illegal to use mind control like that. Someone should report the git, Golden Boy or not.


Draco made an excuse about having left his homework in the boys' dormitory. Pansy narrowed her eyes, then looked across the hall at the exact most inopportune moment, to see Potter getting up from the Gryffindor table. Draco stalked quickly away before she could ask, pointedly not looking at the completely-incapable-of-being-surreptitious Golden Boy as he walked out the great double doors. He could feel her eyes on his back the whole way, but refused to dwell on it.


Denial had gotten him this far, after all.


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“So.”


They were in an abandoned classroom on the second floor near the Defense corridor. Malfoy stood with his arms crossed and a sour look on his face, leaning back against a desk.


“You wanted to talk, Potter. So talk.”


Harry sighed. Why must Malfoy always be such a git?


“Why are you always such a git?”


Malfoy rolled his eyes and made to leave. Harry quickly moved in front of him, palms up. “Wait, Malfoy.” The other boy paused, looking at the floor. “Please.”


The Slytherin seemed almost defeated by the word, as he looked Harry in the eye with much less fire than usual.


“I need to know what happened the other night. What you saw on the astronomy tower.”


The other boy looked at him incredulously. “What I saw, Potter, is you almost getting yourself killed, and me saving your sorry, passed-out arse after the fact.”


Harry restrained his temper by force of will. He needed to find out what Malfoy had seen, and breaking the other boy's pretty face would not help him, no matter how satisfying it may feel.


“Thank you. For taking me to the Hospital Wing afterwards, I mean. But I really need to know what happened. From your perspective.”


“So you cause the biggest magical event at Hogwarts in a generation, and you're telling me you don't bloody know what it was?”


Harry snapped. “No, Malfoy, I don't! Why do you think I'm here asking you? All I know is that it almost bloody killed me and you're the only sodding witness! Besides, it's only because you startled me that I fell in the first place!”


“Right, Potter. It's my fault you were leaning over the edge of the astronomy tower late at night. What, the adulation of the masses getting to be too much for Saint Potter?” He rolled his eyes dramatically and affected a high-pitched whine. “Oh, woe is me! An Order of Merlin and the love of millions! Life is not worth living!”


Harry seethed, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He longed to wrap his fingers around the blond's neck. “The war is over, Malfoy. Excuse me for thinking that with Voldemort gone and Daddy locked away you could finally stop being such a miserable little shit.”


Malfoy looked like he'd been punched in the stomach. “Fuck you, Potter. If you think that I'm just going to run and ask you and your ruddy friends for forgiveness, then you're more barking than Voldemort. I did what I had to do to survive.” His face was flushed, his eyes stormy and voice passionate.


It was really quite distracting for Harry. He tried not to stare at Malfoy's lips.


There was silence for a few moments, the two of them simply looking at each other and breathing heavily. Harry wondered how they had gotten so quickly from Harry's fall the other night to old grudges about the war. He realized this was the first time this year that they had actually argued and exchanged insults. It felt unfamiliar, wrong. A bad memory he was being forced to relive.


Harry looked at Malfoy. Really looked at him. Beyond the anger, beyond his distractingly pretty face. Really looked.


And Malfoy looked tired. He had undereye circles that reminded Harry of sixth year, and his eyes held a tight, almost haunted look. It made Harry want to hug the bastard.


“You should have asked me for help,” he said softly, staring into the other boy's grey eyes. “I wish you had asked me for help.”


Draco laughed so bitterly that it made Harry flinch. “When, Harry?” He didn't seem conscious that he had just used Harry's first name. “In sixth year, when the Dark Lord threatened to kill my mother if I didn't help his Death Eaters into the school and try to kill Dumbledore? Or in seventh year, when I was held captive in my own home, when it was my own life he constantly threatened?” He shook his head, looking incredibly weary all of a sudden, all the fight drained out of him. “You were everybody's hero. Everybody's. Except for the Slytherin's. And except for mine.”


Harry's heart ached. He remembered sixth year, casting Sectumsempra and almost killing the blond. He wondered what he would have done himself, if he had had a living mother. If she had been held captive by the Dark Lord. He didn't want to think about it.


Harry also wondered if Malfoy realized he had as good as admitted to wanting to be saved. Instead he said, “I never knew what was going on. If I had...” He trailed off, looking distantly over Malfoy's shoulder.


“If you had, there wouldn't have been shit you could do about it. My father chose our side, and Mother and I were dragged along in his wake.”


Silence fell again, both wrapped in the horrors of the past. Harry wondered if there would ever be a way to move past the history and animosity between them, to some neutral ground devoid of insults and hostility. But Malfoy spoke before he could voice those thoughts.


“You fell over the wall of the tower,” he started, voice empty of emotion. He didn't look at Harry. “I thought you would die, but then came that light, and a crash like thunder. I couldn't tell if it came from you first, or from the sky. You came back up over the wall, surrounded in light. I couldn't even see your body at first, it was too bright. Then it all faded, and you passed out.”


He shrugged tiredly. “That's all I know, Potter.”


Draco made to move past him to the door. Harry grabbed the blond's wrist.


Draco froze, staring at the point where Harry's fingers touched his skin.


Merlin, his skin is soft. He yanked his hand back as if burned, heart pounding. The stacked plates of heat within him shifted.


“I... just... Thank you, Malfoy.” He swallowed. “Draco.”


The blond stared pensively at his wrist for a second, looked once at Harry, and left.


By the time Harry was ready to leave the empty classroom, he had missed all of Transfiguration.


TBC


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ThyLadyX: Thanks the for the reviews! No, I have never posted this before! This is actually my first ever attempt at fanfiction, but I'm glad you're enjoying it :-). Also, I feed my plot bunnies a lot of coffee... And plantains. Plantains are key.

AngelMary89: Thank you for both the constructive criticism and positive reviews. I sometimes take creative license with descriptors such as “yawned his jaws” and “full to overflowing”, both of which I think are understood, although perhaps not perfect grammar. I hope it doesn't put you off much from the story! :)

DestinyDragon: Thanks for reviewing!

angelmuziq: Haha wow, where to start? Thanks for the nicest review ever!! Yes, Harry will be more dom, but this will not be an Mpreg story. I usually very much dislike Mpreg fics, as I think it moves away from the essence of slash and the male/male relationship. And you will have to keep reading to discover the mysteries of Harry's new powers, whether they be inheritance or otherwise ;-). Thanks for taking the time to review!

Tachimaru: Thanks for reviewing!