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Odds and Ends

Arisen From the Dead

By Gaerdir

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"Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few." - Winston Chuchill

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A warning red flare shot through the cold, unforgiving air of Azkaban. The grey, overcast skies cast a gloom upon the island that had never once been removed, not even when its most faithful guardians left its shores to follow a half-blood master.

The grizzled Auror, who had tensed at the dreaded signal, grunted at the smug aura he could feel radiating from his younger protégé.

"Well, Mad-Eye? Is there anything you would like to say?" The young woman asked cheekily.

"I didn't say you were right, Tonks, not yet."

"You didn't say I was wrong, either, old man. And that signal just confirmed my victory."

Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody sighed and forked over a sizeable stack of Galleons. Tonks smiled victoriously as she pocketed them and began to twirl her wand. Alastor sighed again.

"How was I supposed to know Voldemort would attack in the morning and be all flashy? It's tactically sound to attack in the cover of darkness!" He barked in frustration.

"Know thy enemy, Moody. That's why I won. How else is he going to stamp his authority in the Wizarding World? He's gotta take on Magical Britain in broad daylight… and win, too."

XXX

A tall, skeletal man, clad in dark robes the color of midnight, stood on the rocky, barren shores of the wizarding prison. He sneered as he extended his magical senses outwards.

"Lucius, tell the men to prepare for some meager resistance. I can sense some company, regardless of how well-damped they may be." Voldemort coldly ordered, before striding towards the ominous building in the distance. "Severus, with me."

The potions master quickly followed after his master, his opaque black eyes guarding against any intrusion into his racing thoughts. Voldemort already knew of the presence of a spy in his ranks, and now of the Order's presence, but he hadn't faltered for even a minute. It was like he was ignoring a particularly bothersome fly.

Snape frowned. This didn't sit well with him at all.

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Order members swallowed their fear and organized themselves into the formations that Dumbledore had described. They were ready to defend Azkaban, as it was not only the prison to their most feared criminals, but also, it was a symbol of justice in Magical Britain, and seeing it fall would be detrimental to morale.

Albus Dumbledore oversaw the proceedings sadly, knowing that no matter the size of the efforts, the war had ended three years ago, in an abandoned graveyard, where magic of the most obscure had been performed. He sighed morosely, before suddenly whipping around and staring at a far off speck in the sky.

"What is it, Albus?" Sirius Black asked worriedly, his eyes too alighting on the steadily-growing speck.

"I do not know, Sirius. But he is of immense magical power."

The other members quickly caught on to the two senior leaders' hidden tension, and also quickly focused on the person flying towards them, quickly beginning to finger their wands.

The man jumped off his broom and flipped in mid air, shrinking his Firebolt and stowing it away. He landed confidently in a half-crouch, looking warily at the wands pointed at him.

"Woah. Woah, guys calm down!" The man said as he made a sudden movement with his hands.

"Keep your hands where I can see them!" Sirius ordered roughly as a warning spell shot out of his wand. "Now tell me… who the fuck are you?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you… Sirius." The man said calmly, before turning and facing the aged leader of the forces. "My name, the Order of the Phoenix, is Harry James Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Once again, I guess."

Strong, sure hands reached up and grasped the edge of the thick hood shadowing the man's face. The edge was slowly pulled away.

Piercing, green eyes revealed themselves, glinting mischievously, as also did a lightning bolt scar.

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Voldemort continued to stride towards his goal, before coming slowly to a stop.

His magic and wand cried out to him, trying to make him recognize what he had encountered. His senses went into overdrive as he struggled to process the sight before him.

In front of him stood a cloaked and hooded enemy he thought long gone in the summer of 1995. How had he arisen from the dead?

The figure chuckled darkly, lifting his hood away. "Guess I've been discovered then. Good to see you, Voldemort."

At Voldemort's answering sneer, the boy, no, man lifted his wand and got into a dueling stance.

"Ready to dance, Tom?" Harry said mockingly.

"It's been three years, Potter. Are you sure you're ready?" Voldemort replied, before settling into his own crouch.

The two beings, representatives of the eternal clash of Light and Dark, snarled and leapt at each other, meeting in a burst of sparks and sound.

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Tonks ducked and whirled, her mind still abuzz with the possibility of Harry bloody Potter being alive all these years. She chanced a glance over to where he had confronted the Dark Lord, and was stunned at what she saw. The 17 year old boy wonder was going toe to toe with the most dangerous Dark Wizard in the history of Magical Britain!

"Duck, lassie!" Her mentor's shout came suddenly, and she instinctively reacted, the Bone Breaker Curse just barely brushing her bright pink hair.

She nodded in thanks before refocusing on her battle, mentally thanking the gods that Dumbledore was free to assist them while Voldemort was being so masterfully handled.

Perhaps the Dark Lord's gamble would not pay off.

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Voldemort snarled in frustration. The brat was keeping up with him, not giving an inch, and not allowing the Dark Lord to take a step closer to the prison. He could see Dumbledore and his Order decimating his remaining followers. Voldemort could not believe it, but his plan had gotten skewed with the boy's arrival, and he was being beaten back.

It was time to order a tactical retreat, and return to fight another day.

He pushed Harry back, and then took the chance to activate his special portkey that would smash through the wards and take him back to Malfoy Manor. He had been beaten, and he now had to lick his wounds. But he would come back stronger.

He was unprepared, that's why Potter could hold him off, that's all.

Dumbledore looked on in disbelief as Voldemort fled from Harry, taking the few Death Eaters still free with him. Such a growth in potential and power as seen in Harry was unprecedented. He could not even begin to guess at how Harry grew into such power.

The Order stood in stunned silence, before realizing that they had won, and had given themselves more time to defeat Voldemort.

"You saved a lot of lives today, Harry." Dumbledore said warmly. "You should be proud."

"Everyone fought well, Dumbledore. The credit does not only go to me. The people of Britain owe their lives to the Order as well."

Dumbledore hesitated. "Well, my dear boy, would you mind me asking –"

"– where I've been all this time?" Harry interrupted. "All in due time, Headmaster. All in due time. I'll see you at Hogwarts."

Harry lifted a hand, and erupted into a column of flames, leaving the area with a last nod to a bewildered Sirius.

The Order gasped at the display of power.

Albus smiled joyfully.

So Harry had found a phoenix? That began to explain where his growth had come from.

But for all purposes, Harry James Potter was dead. The goblins recognized it. A will had been released from Gringotts. His magical monitoring instruments had indicated that he was dead. But now, Albus had seen him in the flesh-and-blood.

Just what was going on?

How had Harry arisen from the dead?

FIN