Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Lord of The rings.

"Another misconception set forth by the bloody fool." Another painting piped up, "Phoenix's will bond to whoever they choose. A dark lord by the name of Lord Chaos had bonded with a phoenix, an earth phoenix. Their bond was so great, it took nine killing curses to kill the man and sever the connection between him and the blasted bird. And Fawkes is not bonded to Him, but to the school itself. The school has a lot of ambient magic to support Fawkes' incredible lifespan. He's been with the school for over three hundred years. And Dumbledore's phoenix is a mere fire phoenix, not a royal red which Fawkes is."

"Wow." Harry eyed the red gold bird preening under his fingers. His gaze fell on the Pensieve, before his trained seeker sights caught glimpse of the crest. "What crest is that?"

Scratching Fawkes chin, Harry leaned back in the chair he is sitting in, tears glimmering at the back of his eyelids, but he refused to cry.

Phineas sighed softly. The soft murmur of outrage filled the office. Lifting his gaze to meet the bright green eyes of the teen, Phineas spoke "That is the Potter crest. Dumbledore has stolen many important items from your ancestral vaults. Though lucky for you that money could not be taken or he would of robbed you blind."

Sinking back in the chair, Harry stared blankly at the swirling contents of the Pensieve. "How do I go about reclaiming my things?" Phineas smirked, now there is the Potter spirit and fire. That many people happened to enrage on several moments, proving this teen is indeed Charlus' grandson.

Not too many people knew that Phineas and Harry's great-great-grandpa Theodore Potter had been friends, thick as thieves. Neither had been light or dark respectively, but gray. Phineas had been witness to the birth of Charlus Potter. That where they had the idea to set a betrothal between Charlus and Phineas' youngest daughter Dorea. And it had been a match made in heaven, the two had compliment each other magic wise. Dorea, with her infinite patience and kindness. Charlus with his deep love for dangerous animals and a deep abiding respect for wild magic that ran rampart in his burly frame.

A Wild magic mage, Charlus could not be defined. His temper could run hotter then lava or colder then the ice caps. His emotions defined him. He could either be the best friend you could ever imagine or the most dangerous enemy you least wanted. He had fought Voldemort many times and the dark lord came out worse then the Lord Potter.

It had taken six teams of Death Eaters to break the wards about the Potter castle. Charlus had taken out five of the six teams when the remaining team managed too kill Dorea. In his rage at seeing his wife slaughtered, Charlus had blown the castle up with him and the remaining death eaters. No bodies were found in the rubble. Phineas knew that Charlus could have survived. He should probably start looking for the missing Wild Mage.

If he had thought his son and his family was dead, there was no way in Hell would Charlus would remain in Britain, he would go overseas, to the Americas where Wild Mages ran rampart. America, most notably South America had an over abundance of Wild Mages, none of Charlus' level, but each would be a match to handle problems.

"Goblins, go see the goblins. They can and will help the last Potter reclaim his stolen things. Before you leave young champion, look on the shelf there. There is a book you might be interesting in reclaiming now."

Getting out the chair, Harry walked over to the bookcase. Finding the book Phineas had pointed out. The massive leather-bound book, heavy and warm. Staring down at the title "Gryffindor-Potter grimoire." His gaze widened. Phineas said "there will be many spells, potions, charms, and other things that the Potters and Gryffindor's are famous for. "

"How am I going to get it out of here? People are going to bound to notice this bloody big book!" Harry exclaimed.

"Try chapter six, third spell in." Phineas smirked slightly, the boy definitely had Charlus massive temper. Once the blocks were removed, Phineas knew that the boy would be one of the few Wild Mages left in Britain, something he knew Dumbledore didn't want. For Wild Mages are extremely neutral, they would fight if they had but given a chance, they'd let the two factions fight to the bitter end and when it seemed that the war would drag on, a Wild Mage would step in and end the fight.

Flipping through the book, Harry's gaze fell on the spell. "Beshen: Specifically created to shrink magic rich items, such as a family grimoire, or broomsticks. Even trunks from Trenten's Trunks. Wand movement is shown below. Pronounced Bee-shen."

Practicing the wand movement, Harry then cast the spell at the book. It shrunk down to the size of a matchstick book. Placing it in his pocket, Phineas said as he was leaving "At the goblins, have them remove the blocks on your magic."

Nodding to show he had been listening, Harry left the office. Instead of heading for the Gryffindor common rooms, he didn't need to face Ron's accusations, nor see the look of disappoint in Hermione's face. What bloody good friends he had, a jealous prat who only wanted to use him for his fame and a friend he thought was on his side, but only in it for the books.

He had seen other memories, of Dumbledore goading Ronald into making him wish he had his family and using Hermione's unwavering trust of adult figures to make her spy on him for books from the famed Potter Library.

That was if Dumbledore could ever find the massive library. Only a Potter knew where was the library. Harry knew now, but he couldn't let his former friend into the library.

His wandering brought him to the empty seventh floor corridor. Wishing he knew of a room where he could stay at, where no one would bother him. As he was pacing before a wall on the seventh floor, near the tapestry of dancing trolls.

A door appeared. Freezing, Harry pushed it open. Walking into a paradise. Literally. The room beyond is a tropical shore, sun beating down. Seeing a small hut, he walked towards it. In a rather nice looking beach house, he sat down. Resting his head in his hands, he stared at the wooden table. His emotions, his thoughts were scrambled about what he had learned about the Headmaster, his friends. Tears ran unchecked down his face, he scrubbed at his face.

"Young Master, if you be needing anything. Call for me, Lippy." The young house-elf chirped softly. Harry nodded, mind in a daze. Exploring the house, he found the master bedroom. Walking outside, he glanced around the quiet beach. Settling down in the sand, enjoying the warm sun on his face. Stripping out of his heavy robe, shucking off his t-shirt. Dressed only in his jeans, he wished he had a pair of swim trunks.

A pair appeared next to him, a rather skimpy pair, but he is alone. If he was braver, he wouldn't put them on. Staring down at his pale legs, he wondered how long it would take for him to get color on his legs.

Tugging them on, he laid back down in the sun-warmed sand. Lying there, staring up at the blue sky. He didn't know how long he laid there, but as the sun dimmed out, the sound of the night lulled him into a deep peaceful sleep. Lippy popped in soundlessly, draping a thin blanket over his thin form.

As he slept, three Phoenixia materialized in the room. Zeus glanced down at the slumbering teen. Lying his hand on his forehead, feeling the Horcrux in the child's scar recoil. The darkest of soul magics would not stand the brief connection of a pure soul as such as a Phoenixia.

Zeus murmured softly, wrapping the connection with a muffling charm. The child needed rest.

Sleeping himself out, he awoke with a start. Glancing about, he noted a thick piece of paper. Reading the letter supplied by the room. Apparently there is a time dilution field in effect in room. Rendering a minute outside an hour in. He had been asleep for twelve hours inside the room. Padding to the kitchen he called for Lippy. Getting breakfast.

Finishing off the last of the chocolate chip pancakes, the six slices of bacon, a side of scrambled eggs, toast and a glass of chocolate milk. Wiping his lips, feeling somewhat better. Redressing in his clothes, he watched as the dishes disappeared.

Wondering if the room had a fireplace connected to floo, with no one being the wiser. Seeing a fireplace appear with a pot of floo powder. After managing to finish his breakfast, Harry then flooed to Gringotts.

Gringotts Floo Center

Manning the Floo station, Griphook glanced up when the flames turned emerald. Glancing up to see the see the address. Eyes widening briefly at the address "Room of Requirement, private access. Harry Potter." Then a teen came stumbling out of the fireplace, nearly tripped over his feet as he tried to regain his balance.

Surprised to see the sickly pallor on the boy's face, Griphook thought back to the day he had met the shy, too thin savior. Then his brows narrowed. Casting several subtle healing charms he had learned at his mother's knee. The boy is a stone under weight, anemic, had several badly healed bones. And what made his blood boil, there is blocks on his magic, his core and tearing of the anus. The poor boy had been raped.

Without taking his eyes off the teen, Griphook subtly called over one of the healers. They employed both Goblin and human healers, though the goblin healers rarely worked on humans, but for this boy, they would make an exception.

"Hey Griphook, can I see my account manager?" The teen finally asked as he regained his sense of balance. His gaze fell on the healer. They had on site healers, whether they be goblin or human. The healer though approaching is Goblin. Eyes widening slightly, Harry asked "Griphook? What's going on?"

"Would you come with me Mr. Potter?" The healer spoke in a brisk no-nonsense tone, demanding that he follow. Griphook nodded, saw the teen sigh before shuffling off after the healer. Head ducked as if he didn't want anyone to see him.

He found someone else to man to floo stations. Gathering up the Potter account manager, though he sensed in that moment the goblin was going to make a break for it. As the manager dashed through the quiet corridors, jacket flapping as he ran. He did not see the knife, thrown by one of the on-duty guard. Felt the sharp prick of pain as the knife entered the base of his skull. He dropped, nary a sound.

Well, Griphook thought as the guards began to drag the corpse off, the dragon guarding the important vaults would get a good meal today. His gaze fell on the piece of paper the manager had been writing on. His lips thinned, this needed to be brought forth to the king.

For written on the scrap of paper is:

"Dumbledore, the boy is at Gringotts. A goblin healer has taken to the ritual room. Stonehaven"

While all this is happening, Harry is lying a table, listening to the soft murmuring of voices. Having had been disrobed before he had known. The goblins had seemed shock at the sight of his pallid skin. Listening to the argument happening over head, Harry sat up. Two goblin healers and two human healers were heatedly discussing something in the goblin language.

"I don't have all day." He spoke up, then flushed at eight eyes turned towards him. The healers nodded and he got the feeling whatever they had planned was going to be painful.

By the end of the removal of the blocks and limiters, he is panting in pain, sweat drenching him and feeling as if he had been stomped on repeatedly. Lying there, gasping through the pain, Harry heard the voice of the male goblin healer "The last thing, is the soul fragment in your scar. I am afraid we can't give you anything for the pain and you must be awake for the whole procedure.