Story title: A Phoenix's Tale

Summary: What had started with a drunken and depressed Harry, ends up with Harry returning to the past to prevent the dark future ahead. Though Harry had expected his new identity, the Rules, and many obstacles on the way, Fawkes might not have been very clear on the fact that he would take on the form of a Phoenix as well. Not that Harry was complaining.

Beta: Not yet, I first want to see how this is received (since I already have a few other stories hehe) so sorry for the very bad grammar that you might encounter. I will try to ask my beta if she wants to fix it asap.

Disclaimer (for whole story): I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters that belong to the series. They all belong to the lucky and now-quite-wealthy J.K. Rowling. I like to think that I do own my imagination though, which managed to come up with this hopefully original plot!

A/N: Yeah, Yeah, I know, here I go again! I couldn't help it, seriously! It just popped up in my head, much like my other two main stories and I immediately was like 'oh, oh…'. A few days later and viola! a chapter appeared. And yes, it is another time-travel like fanfiction. To be truthful, I wasn't about to upload it at first, seeing as I don't think I will be able to finish this any time soon (if ever), but I still want to try. Besides, I'm not sure whether it will leave my head any time soon, so I decided that if this is the case then I want to at least try to 'infect' the minds of a few fanfiction readers. Mwhaha.

Warning: angst-like and slightly insane-like moment ahead in this first chapter.

Hope you enjoy!

A Phoenix's Tale

Chapter 1: Escape the Coldness

~First Year~

'Why does trouble keep finding me? It wasn't me! Surely Dumbledore knows that right?'

Feeling quite nervous about the situation the first-year was currently in, the boy anxiously looked around to take in the office of the Headmaster. His eyes widened slightly as it he spotted all different kinds of trinkets that littered the office before they were drawn to a figure that sat on a perch near the big desk.

Harry eyes turned curious as he felt the urge to take a step closer to the animal. He wasn't sure what it was. It looked very much like a bird. But if there was one thing that he had learned in his short stay in the magic world, it was that things were not always as they seemed. Still, it did look like a bird. A very large and beautiful bird, if the first-year could say so.

Then said bird turned his head and locked his gaze with Harry's, who in turn nearly forgot what he was doing here.

He took a step closer and stared in horror as suddenly bright fire enveloped the bird's figure and only a heap of ashes remained.

Eight Years Later ~

It had been that particular moment, maybe even a few seconds, in which Harry had been very much aware of the sensations that went through his body. Especially the shiver that had coursed through his entire spine the first time that he, as a first-year, had locked his gaze with Fawkes in Dumbledore's office.

It was a moment that the wizard would probably always remember.

The shiver, which this sight had evoked from his – he dared to say it - soul, was a feeling that he had never felt before. Not a moment later, it was as if the magic within his body momentarily produced a fuzzy warmth that spread though his entire body, as if it was responding to the Phoenix that had been balefully staring down at him.

If one were to judge by Phoenix's gaze alone, one would expect that the magical creature would probably have bad intentions towards the boy, yet Harry had not felt threatened at all.

In fact, the young wizard did not feel threatened by the Phoenix at all, but actually felt an odd sense of protection instead. It was safe to say that Harry had never experienced this before in his rather loveless life.

Even after many years passed, the Young-Man-Who-Had-Defeated-You-Know-Who could clearly remember the unbelievable amount of wisdom that he had seen in the Phoenix's eyes. It had been these eyes that had been staring down at him, weighing him, studying him, looking right through him.

Fawkes had seen him.

Within that moment, Harry had been fully mesmerized. It hadn't necessarily been by the sight of the Phoenix itself, but the energy and the feelings that surrounded Fawkes. The Phoenix had felt so familiar. He felt like there was a connection to him. The soft croon that echoed through the room a moment later moved something in him.

There had been a sparkle, but it had been gone so quickly that he couldn't help but wonder if he had just imagined it.

'I did feel it.' The now-older-wizard argued with himself as he drowsily looked at the horrible design of the ceiling.

Draped over the ugly couch in a rather lazy manner, with his legs slung over the armrest, the currently nineteen-year-old man let his left arm fall to the ground and blindly moved his hand around as if he was looking for something.

'I didn't.'

"I did feel that spark." He absently continued the debate, though it was unsure whether he did or didn't realise that he was speaking out loud.

"Nope." He argued right back, popping the last 'p' in the word as he said it.

The wizard let out a dry chuckle at how ridiculous he was being, before Harry frowned in annoyance.

"Where the bloody hell is it?" The wizard muttered as he couldn't find it. His hand searched for its target a little longer, before he gave up.

With a loud and protesting groan, the teenager turned around so that he was lying on his left side and glared at the ground, mentally ordering for his target to appear within his sight. He didn't even bother to correct the position of his skewed glasses, but searched for a familiar blur instead.

"Aha!" He called out rather jovially as he finally spotted it.

With a groan Harry stretched his arm and hand to the fullest and managed to brush his fingers against the smooth surface. Moving his fingers with utmost concentration, the object rolled right into his hand.

"Ha!" The Boy-Who-Had-Defeated-You-Know-Who exclaimed as he had managed to succeed yet another personal mission.

Feeling someone content, the wizard let himself slump down on the couch once again as his surroundings swirled slightly after all the effort he had put into it.

'I haven't had that much right?' He pondered, trying to ignore the disorientation that he was feeling.

Bending his arm, the wizard moved his head to let his cheek lean on his hand and brought the bottle of Fire-whisky to his lips.

He grunted slightly at the burn that itched his throat, but he soon let out a content sighed after.

A part of him hoped that someone – maybe Molly would decide to check up on him again - would barge into the room, look at him and chide him for getting drunk like that. Again.

He could practically come up with the speech he would receive. That drinking was wrong. That drinking himself senseless was not the right solution and that it was only very dangerous for him to do so.

"You are a very powerful wizard Harry. Don't deny that. So you have to take your responsibilities. If you lose control of your magic, who knows what kind of damage you might do to yourself?" The wizard nodded slightly as he remembered Madame Pompey's words.

Bla bla bla.

Harry – when he being rational – knew very well that they were right of course.

However, they knew fully well why he sometimes couldn't help but give in to the urge.

After all, there were those moments in which it looked like it was the only way to forget. Even if it was only for a moment and he would regret it later on, that one moment of pure bliss was worth it.

'Nope, there is nobody here to bother me.' Harry thought, feeling both glad and angry – and frustrated and sad and annoyed and irritated and disappointed and lonely, so incredibly lonely - at the same time.

He felt like a mess. He was a mess. He was a drunken and exhausted mess that possessed enough magic to be dangerous. Much like ticking bomb.

'What would my time be?'

The green-eyed teenager chuckled dryly again and shook his head.

'What wouldn't they say if they saw you like this? Boy-Who-Lived my ass.' A grim part of his brain whispered to him.

The wizard took another swig.

"They are all dead. They will not be able to say anything." He grumbled again, his head started to pound as his mind couldn't help but flash back to that Battle in which it had all happened.

He dipped his head back to take an even large swig to 'cure his headache'.

"Forget it." He murmured, pushing the cool surface of the bottle again his red-tinted cheek.

"Just Forget it." He repeated, his voice rougher this time.

Unfortunately, the flashes didn't disappear like they had last time that he had gotten drunk and the wizard was once again not strong enough to pull himself out of his own misery.

"Stop." He pleaded.

Hermione run towards him, her eyes wide in horror as she ran as fast as she could. "Harry! We have to-" He felt himself freeze in horror as a shadow appeared behind her. He rose his wand in defence, seeing her eyes widen in fear as she slowly turned around. He was unable to stop the green flash struck her from beh-

The young man squished his eyes shut and pushed his forehead against the cool surface of the bottle as the knuckles holding the bottle became white.

"Just stop thinking." He whispered roughly.

His voice was anxious, as if Ron already knew that something bad had happened. "Hermione? Harry where is Hermione? What is going on? Where are you? Harry who are you holdi- Hermione!"

The knuckles tightened even more and he gritted his teeth.

"Please. Just stop it."

He was abruptly pushed to the side and a red light just barely passed his neck. His green eyes widened in shock as he saw that the red-head took the hit for himself. "No Ro-"

"BLOODY STOP IT! LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!" The broken teenager roared to no one in particular and he hurled the bottle away from him with as much strength as possible.

In his drunken stupor the normally pretty bright teenager didn't think about his actions. Instead he watched, almost with surprise, as it hit the upper part of the large fireplace and shattered in, what seemed to be, thousands and thousands of pieces. The liquid spilled nearly everywhere and then everything fell to the ground and into the fire.

Even though the name might suggest otherwise, the whisky and fire didn't mix well and a flame shot out of the fireplace and into the room.

The drunken wizard crossed his arms in front of his face to protect his eyes from the heat that erupted from the fireplace and then lowered them. His glazed eyes widened in shock as he realised that the main room of the Grimmauld Place was actually on fire.

Luckily for the teenager, the fire didn't spread like it normally would, nor did the toxic smoke. There were certain magical runes and wards that had been placed in the room that made sure of this. However, the wards and runes weren't able to extinguish the fire that was still burning on the fuel that the alcohol provided.

He would have to do that himself.

'The room is on fire.' The wizard slowly realised through his pounding headache.

Harry couldn't help but stare at the fire and feel drawn to it. He was suddenly so incredibly cold. The spell that the Firewhisky had created in his mind was suddenly broken.

He was alone. Nearly all his friends were dead.

Lord Voldemort might be defeated, but he had – in a way – managed to take Harry's whole life with him. He might have defeated the Dark Lord, but the world way in mayhem around him. Hundreds, no thousands, of people had died. The Muggles had become aware of their existence and the tensions were rising. The world was a mess. He was a mess. His whole existence was a mess.

Tears spilled on the teenager's cheeks and his shoulders started shaking. He didn't care about anything anymore. Instead he just wanted to be warm again. To feel the warmth and happiness back into his body.

'Warmth. Fire.'

Rolling over on the couch, Harry landed on the floor with a heavy "oomph} . He raised his head and stared, in an almost mesmerised manner, at the burning fire.

'I need to get warm.' The wizard desperately thought, as he suddenly felt as if a bucket of ice had been thrown over him.

He wobbly pushed himself from the ground and started crawling to the fire, his hand stretched out in front of him to touch the heat and burning flames. He wanted the cold and empty feeling to go away. He wanted to be away from the cold shadows and he – oh so desperately - wanted to go to the comfortable light, where his friends were most likely waiting for hi-

'Stop.' A logical and rational part of his mind cried out, knowing that this was wrong.

He needed to get a hold of himself.

'STOP!' Harry stopped crawling and clutched his head in a rather pathetic manner.

'Stop thinking!' He cried back pathetically.

He was going to make a mistake if he continued this.

'Fawkes!'

Harry had no idea why he cried out to the figure that had always made him feel safe in the past. After all the Phoenix was gone. Harry had never seen him again after the time that Dumbledore had died. Everything had changed after that particular moment. Everything had fallen apart. To Harry, it felt like the Phoenix had left him behind and taken its hope along with it.

So why was he desperately crying for said Phoenix?

"Fawkes." Harry muttered and started to repeat the name. He reached for the wand that he had hidden in the holder on his arm. Clutching it in a desperate hold, he held it firmly to his chest.

"Where are you?" He cried.

"Fawkes!"

"Where the bloody hell are you? Why did you leave me here? Why? Why? Why?" His was screaming on the top of his lungs and his throat started to hurt, but the wizard couldn't put himself to care.

Oh Merlin, he was definitely losing it and he was still feeling so incredibly cold.

"FAWKES!" He roared again, his magic pulsing within in him.

The pulse spread in a circle around him and the flames around him suddenly burned brighter and more powerful than before. They grew and closed in on him as more pulses of magic pulled around him. The wizard had trouble noticing though, as he was unable to pull himself out of his haze. He was only aware of the fact that he was feeling slightly warmer again, especially his hands.

Forcing himself to open his eyes, they widened in surprise as he saw his magic wand glow in his hands.

Then it started to burn.

Now completely horrified – his wand!- the wizard tried to put the fire out, but he was unable to. The wand continued to burn, until the only thing that was left behind was a very thin… feather?

"Fawkes." Harry breathed slightly.

He reached out to touch the Phoenix feather but was stopped as something bright and warm suddenly rushed towards him. Harry reared back in fear as it collided with his chest and shoulders and fell back. Disorientation took over his mind once again and the wizard shut his eyes to make sure that he wasn't going to throw up.

Then as soon as the feeling passed, he blinked up at his captor. For a moment, the wizard wondered if he was on fire. It was after all fire that was currently weighing him down on his chest.

Unsurprisingly Harry was about to scream bloody murder, before he realised how comfortable he suddenly felt. The cold feeling was waning and the tingling through his body reminded him a lot of the first time that he had seen Faw-

A soft croon echoed through the room and Harry stilled as he stared up at the figure that formed from the fire. He could practically imagine two strong claws grapping a hold of the cloth on his shoulders.

"Fawkes?" He managed to whisper.

Another croon followed, this time sounding more chiding. Strangely enough, this croon was enough for Harry's head to clear just before a sense of embarrassment overwhelmed him.

"I'm Sorry." He muttered, he looked up to the couch, unable to look the figure in his eyes.

The fire seemed to shake his shoulders and he turned his attention back to Fawkes who was now bowed over to his head, to study him very carefully.

"I'm so cold Fawkes." He whispered to the bird as he stared into the eyes that he could make out from the fire.

A few seconds later, thoughts starting to flood into his head. It didn't take him long to figure out that these where not his own thoughts, as snippets of the Phoenix Song accompanied them.

"I don't believe in Faith." He answered Fawkes, who seemed to puff up his chest in indignation. "Are you saying that this was what faith intended to happen?" He answered the bird angrily, more tears spilling out of his eyes. "They are all dead!" He cried out. Harry couldn't find the energy to raise his arms to push the fire away from him. He needed the warmth, even if Fawkes ideas were completely messed up.

More ideas passed through his head and disappeared almost just as quickly, but Harry was able to keep up just barely. His eyes widened slightly as he continued to stare at the figure hovering over him. Different aspects of the ideas passed through his head, until the pounding in his head got bad enoug

"I can go back? You want to take me back?" He whispered roughly. "You can make the cold go away?"

Fawkes crooned softly, rubbing his head against Harry's forehead in comfort.

"That isn't possible."

It was odd to communicate with the Phoenix. It wasn't necessarily a voice, but it was more like communicating with thoughts, images and emotions that accompanied it. Strangely enough, Harry could link the images to the meaning almost instantly. His eyes closed momentarily as he translated a few other images.

'Would you even offer your own magic to do so? You might become a squib. You might die. If you survive, you won't be Harry Potter anymore either.' The question popped up in Harry's head and his eyes suddenly looked a lot heavier. 'So I can't go back as myself after all.' He realised.

"Who will I be?" Harry whispered.

The Phoenix didn't really answer him, but only regarded him curiously and… was that amusement?

Still, even with the risk of becoming literally a nobody, it didn't take Harry long to answer.

"Yes I would." It had been a long time since his voice had sounded so determined.

Fawkes crooned almost happily and turned around to pluck one of his burning tails. Raising his head as high as he could the bird let the feather go. Harry stared at the feather made from fire as it seemed to flow in the air, slowly coming closer.

"Thank you Fawkes. I guess I will see you soon." He said, with a last wary smile that suddenly seemed very bright for him.

The fire finally touched his forehead and he felt everything in the room explode into energy, heat and fire. A final song from the Phoenix was one of the last thing he noticed, though the wizard couldn't help but wonder what the bird meant as halfway the song, the words suddenly became understandable.

Protect my Brother of Fire

With his Fire within

To guide the great Flow

Of Time as it should have Been

Only for Fate to Know

'What did he mean with "my brother of Fire"?' Harry pondered, but was unable to ask, because, The-Boy-Who-Had-Defeated-You-Know-Who was swept along with the energy and heat of the fire and away from the coldness that had been surrounded him for so long.

Fawkes let out a final cry before he let himself become one with the flames once more.

~ End Chapter ~

And it starts once again!

I would appreciate reviews very much, seeing as they are always a great source of inspiration, correction and most of all, motivation. Still, it is not that I can force you or anything.

Hope to hear from you guys soon!