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Regression of a Wizard by Breven
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Regression of a Wizard

Breven

Disclaimer: The author makes no claims of owning Harry Potter or the Half-Blood Prince. JKR screwed that one up all by her lonesome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Seven~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was bored.

Normally, Harry was a master at keeping himself rather well occupied. It came with the territory, you see. After nearly five years of learning to look after himself and keep amused, one would think that being locked in a strange room with countless, amazing objects and fantastic…dohickies…would make keeping yourself entertained fairly easy. He was in a magical place after all. There was so much to see and do; so many things to play with and learn about that, really, the whole boredom thing should have been a non-issue.

Except there was the small issue of his keeper.

It would seem that nearly every single object in the room must contain some decidedly deadly or dangerous property. It had started out simple enough. Harry sat atop his cushions in his squishy armchair, mentally salivating over the prospect of a breakfast that, for once, he didn't have to cook. The professor guy told him he could have anything he wanted! It would be great!

If that professor guy ever got back.

The idea of a free breakfast kept Harry entertained for all of twenty-two and a half minutes. While this may not seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things, to a five-year old it was an eternity.

Before long, his head rolled over from side to side, his eyes darting around in curiosity. The books he pretty much ignored since he could not read and he seriously doubted that the headmaster had any picture books. Old people never liked the really neat stuff anyway.

He gave a cursory glance over at Fawkes who had long ago moved from Harry's messy mop of hair to the desk. The bird was watching him intently as if he could sense Harry's boredom before he turned back towards his perch and took a drink of water. Slipping off of his tower of pillows, Harry's feet hit the floor with a plop before he meandered over towards a glass case. Inside, was a gleaming, jewel encrusted sword that was almost three times as long as Harry's arms. He eyes widened in amazement as he peered into the case, his face almost pressing into the glass.

There was something very peculiar about this blade. He could feel the mysterious warmth pulsing around the blade, like ocean currents ebbing and flowing outwards. The power radiating around it pulled at his magic and without realizing it, his hand was reaching for the handle…

Fawkes landed atop the glass case with an indignant squawk, causing Harry to stumble backwards in surprise. The bird leaned over and looked Harry squarely in the eyes before quite deliberately shaking his head 'no-no.' Properly chastised, Harry backed away from the bossy bird, quickly finding something else of interest to look at. He meandered about the office for a while, looking at everything from the giant crystal (which Fawkes absolutely went nuts about when Harry reached out to touch it) to the bubbling cauldrons (which Fawkes firmly refused to let Harry even within a three foot radius). It was after being chased away for the umpteenth time that Harry finally plopped down in front of the fireplace with a dejected sigh. What on earth could be so dangerous about an old skeleton buried deep behind a chest-of-drawers? Sure, it did not even look remotely human…what with fangs and wings and all…but still! It was already dead! The thing couldn't exactly hurt him now, could it?

He squinted at Fawkes, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully before puffing up his cheeks. He blew out a lungful of air, his messy fringe flipping up and over his eyes briefly. The phoenix took notice of Harry's rather obvious melancholy and took pity on him. He fluttered over to sit on the boy's lap, fluffing his feathers before settling in comfortably. A smooth, relaxing trill bathed over the boy's irritation leaving nothing but calm and serenity in its wake. It was the most peaceful he had felt since first waking in that hospital bed. After a few minutes, his mind began to drift in and out consciousness.

Dimly he felt the warmth draw closer, tentatively reaching out to caress his thoughts. Something within him responded to the touch, answering back the question that drifted into his mind.

Play?

The whisper echoed quietly in the room startling Harry from his groggy state. Fawkes looked up expectantly, his head cocked to the side as if he too heard the question.

"'lo?" Harry called out nervously into the empty room.

A small breeze stirred some papers on the professor's desk, yet there were no open windows. A quiet giggle flowed through the air like liquid quicksilver and then the draft suddenly stilled. Harry stood quickly, Fawkes held in his arms. The pair looked around, confused but neither feeling any danger. Harry sensed something…childlike…in the air. Fawkes keened a question.

"Dunno," Harry responded uncertainly. "It feels okay though."

The warmth surged around them, pulling them with it as it flowed through the room towards a particular shelf. Wiggling free, Fawkes hovered in midair next to his new friend, a questioning look mirrored on both their faces. Shrugging, Harry went with the urge. Fawkes followed quietly in his wake as they cautiously approached the shelf. Sitting inconspicuously on a tattered red cushion was one of those funky sticks with a handle. It was almost buried underneath a pile of books and papers, but something in Harry's gut told him that all was not as it appeared. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. There was an aura of…protection…surrounding the object.

Play.

The voice urged him onward despite the doubts lingering in his mind. His hand reached out on its own accord to grasp the handle and surprisingly Fawkes did not protest. He met with unexpected resistance however. The very air around the object seemed to solidify, blocking his way. You could see the air shimmering lightly as the barrier slowly became visible. Harry gritted his teeth and pushed harder. The air began vibrating as he slowly began pushing through.

The pressure intensified and he knew he was not going to be able to make it through. His hand felt like it was going to be crushed. Before he could remove his hand however, the warmth flowed protectively around his appendage allowing him to slip though the shield like a knife through butter. He grasped the wand and quickly pulled it out, cradling both it and his hand tenderly against his chest.

"Ow," he hissed through clenched teeth. "That hurt!"

Fawkes trilled a soothing note in sympathy and Harry smiled in thanks. Lifting up the pilfered object, the two studied it with a minute feeling of apprehension. It was nearly fourteen inches long and its handle was tightly wrapped with a braided piece of leather. The leather was dyed a crimson red and the handle ended in a silver pommel. Silver and golden runes etched their way along the black shaft before ending in a sharp point. Harry had no idea what it was he was holding, but the thrum of power it was sending through his arms and chest told him it was something very dangerous. The bird and boy were both startled from their study when the voice spoke again.

Play now?

It seemed smug with satisfaction laced with minor overtones of impatience. Harry glanced briefly at the stick in his hand. The warmth wanted to play and he was bored to tears after all, and since Fawkes was not making an awful racket about it, surely it was okay. Right?

"What do you think?" he asked the magical bird. Golden eyes matched gazes with green ones, both with looks of indecision hidden within their depths. Fawkes looked away first, glancing towards the wand. He was bored too and Harry was only a fledgling after all. He was so very young. What was the worst that could happen?

His head bobbed once in acknowledgement. Harry grinned. "Kay! Lets' play!"

He waited. And then waited some more. Frowning, he stood there willing the voice to tell him what game they would play. He had the stick...but had no clue what to do with it. He sure as hell wasn't going to be playing fetch. Shaking the stick experimentally, he jumped a foot in the air when small golden sparks jumped out, fluttering serenely to the ground moments later.

"Woah…" he whispered. He gave the stick a harder shake and hundreds upon hundreds of fiery, glowing embers erupted from the tip fairly showing the entire room in a golden light. He giggled in delight, his tone nearly matching Fawkes' own musical voice. The phoenix's eyes crinkled in laughter. Little did most wizards know, to a phoenix, a child's laughter had much the same effect as a phoenix song did on wizards.

Fun play play now much fun we play now…

A massive gust of wind billowed though the office as the warmth rushed inwards, seeming to fill every square inch of the room with its presence. The boy's shirt and pants whipped wildly in the maelstrom while Fawkes had to dig his talons into chair just to stay in one place. Converging on Harry, it flowed though every pore, every single cell of his body before finding escape back into reality through the end of the wand.

There was a brief moment of complete stillness before everything vanished in an explosion of light and magic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door swung open on well oiled hinges giving way to a scene of pure, unadulterated chaos.

Both the headmaster and Hermione stood transfixed at the display before them; the elder with his mouth hanging open, the young witch covering her mouth in shock. Massive amounts of dust billowed around the room, saturating the air and covering most everything in the office with a fine, grey powder. Wisps of red, blue, and yellow light floated everywhere, giving everything a kind of mid-seventies slightly psychedelic look. The floor was littered with books and silvery objects, most in various states of destruction. Every suit of armor was toppled over like a stack of dominoes, their swords and shields twisted like pretzels and the once pristine armor dented inwards.

The multicolored crystal that used to dominate the foyer was mostly crushed, its remains left in the shape of a giant toy airplane. Dumbledore's desk was firmly attached to the ceiling, as were most of his papers and cauldrons. The desk was now a vivid shade pink. Every single portrait of the previous headmasters from years past were cocked at varying angles, some even upside down. Even worse, it would appear that the men and women had swapped wardrobes. The list went on and on.

In the middle of it all stood a stunned and bewildered Harry Potter. He was unmoving except for his brilliant green eyes which were blinking slowly in shock. His transfigured clothes were torn in several places and charred in others. His messy mop of black hair was even more ruffled than normal, with one tiny piece in back sticking straight up and still smoldering. He looked dazedly over at his partner in crime who, blinked back stupidly before giving a warble and promptly bursting into flames. The ash and feathers slowly floated around him before gently settling onto the ground.

Harry's shirt promptly changed from 'Gryffindor's Golden Boy' to 'Harry: 1, Fawkes 0.'

The boy coughed twice, puffs of blue smoke billowed out from his mouth. "Whoops," he croaked wearily. He looked up, suddenly taking notice of his audience as Dumbledore stepped coolly into the room. His ice blue eyes surveyed the damage critically.

"What on earth happened here?" he asked, his tone perplexed. The offending wand that Harry was holding fell limply from his hand with a loud clatter and he backed up in terror. The professor's gaze swiveled onto Harry, though not unkindly. The boy's reaction was alarming.

He scrambled away quickly, his back pressing to the wall as he huddled in on himself muttering apologies all the while. His eyes were so wide and scared that you could only see a sliver of emerald green iris. Dumbledore approached the boy slowly and knelt in front of him, resting his hand on the boy's head, quietly smothering the burnt hair. The boy flinched as if struck.

"There, there my boy. No harm done," the old wizard said kindly, his warm voice making Harry look up in surprise. "Watch lad." He stood up and quite theatrically rolled the massive sleeves of his robe up. Shaking as if to loosen himself up before a massive effort, he raised his arms and swept them about the room. Instantly, the air cleared and all the broken objects leapt to their previous positions. Cracked mirrors mended themselves, suits of armor straightened up, books jumped back onto their shelving, all the while Harry looked on in wonder. Even the newly born Fawkes was placed back on his perch. Seconds later, the room was back to its pristine, if somewhat cluttered, usual appearance.

"See? Right as rain." He grinned down at the still cowering boy. "Not to fret young Harry, this isn't the first time you've ruined my office and I dare say it shall not be the last," he chuckled.

The boy looked up at the wizard with a look that clearly indicated that the old man had lost his marbles. Still, he looked around the room, unable to believe his eyes. Every bit of destruction had been fixed as if it had never happened. Across the room, something caught his eye. Dumbledore's desk had been pulled from the ceiling, its piles of papers back in their proper place, but the color was still a vivid, eye-catching pink. The professor followed Harry's question gaze.

"I liked the color," he said simply and shrugged. Harry was now quite sure the man was off his rocker. In fact, he had a sneaking suspicion the entire castle was headed along a similar route.

"Oh my God," a feminine voice gasped from shock.

Harry and the headmaster both looked up as slowly Hermione crept further into the room. Her eyes never wavered from Harry. She stopped several feet from the pair, her mouth still hanging slightly open. Had his memory been intact, he would have realized that this was probably the only time he had ever seen the girl genius speechless.

"Ah yes," Dumbledore cleared his throat before stepping back. Harry stood also, placing the wizard back between himself and this new stranger. Dumbledore smiled fondly down at the young boy hiding behind him. "Harry, this is Hermione Granger. I have arranged for her to take care of you for the next little while."

He peaked cautiously around the headmaster's robes and smiled shyly up at the pretty young girl. "'lo," he said quietly, the previously copious amount of destruction quickly forgotten. Hermione stared at him for what seemed like an eternity before unleashing a high pitched squeal.

"Oh how cute!"she gushed, dashing forward, practically knocking Dumbledore out of the way before grabbing the toddler up and squeezing him in the tightest hug imaginable. Harry's feet dangled a foot off the ground as he hung there frozen.

Someone was touching him. Someone was hugging him. Someone female was hugging him. His head twisted in panic as he looked around before locking eyes with the headmaster. The unspoken message was unequivocally 'Get me the hell out of here!'

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Miss Granger, if you would please set Harry down a moment. You seem to be in serious danger of killing him by either suffocation or embarrassment." He grinned as she somewhat reluctantly set the young wizard down. "However, I would be most interested indeed to see which got him first." Harry shot him a baleful look as soon as he was freed. "Hypothetically speaking of course. At any rate," he hurried to change the subject, "we need to discuss what to do with your self at the present. If you both would be so kind as to take a seat." The headmaster gestured up towards the pink desk and its accompanying chairs.

Hermione nodded in agreement, her eyes still locked on the young Harry incarnate and trudged along next to the boy, obviously reluctant to let him out of arms reach if her worried looks and twitching fingers were any indication. Harry watched her warily, afraid to drop his guard for an instant lest she pounce again. If he let any weakness show, he knew she would snatch him up again. Females tended to be very overprotective to little kids that they perceive to be weak or injured.

Harry walked around the witch to stand in front of Fawkes perch. He pointed to the newly born phoenix which warbled shrilly in greeting. "What happened to him?" he asked the headmaster.

Dumbledore grinned widely as he sat behind his newly renovated desk. "Apparently Fawkes has finally met his match." Harry looked over at him quizzically, obviously waiting on the kooky old guy to elaborate further.

"Erm, yes, well…you see, Fawkes is a magical bird. A phoenix or, if you prefer Magicus Featherous Burnicas* for its order, genus, and species. One of the most well known traits for phoenixes is its inclination to die in a fiery burst of flame only to be reborn moments later from its own ashes." The headmaster watched in amusement as Harry took his seat next to Hermione and lean forward expectantly, hanging on the professor's every word.

"In addition, there are other situations which could possibly cause an early burning day. Say, if one is accidentally killed or placed under a great deal of stress, it could very possibly trigger a rebirth."

Harry thought a moment before looking between Hermione and Fawkes before trailing his eyes back towards the headmaster. Well, after all, the headmaster had told him it was okay to ask any questions he wanted…

"Are you making this up?" he asked skeptically, with not a small trace of disbelief in his voice.

Hermione was cut off in mid-admonishment with a significant look from the headmaster. He smiled gently down at the young boy. "No, Harry. I daresay our friend Fawkes was just in shock from whatever he witnessed earlier."

"So, our phoenix is a chicken?" Harry clarified, turning towards the young bird. "Traitor," he muttered, thought not without affection. Chuckling amiably, Dumbledore wandlessly summoned an object to him, catching it gracefully out of mid-air as it arched towards him.

"Cool!" Harry exclaimed in amazement. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

"I think you have done quite enough magic for today, young man," Dumbledore said. He held up the object. It was the slender red and silver etched wand that he had used to nearly blow up the professor's office.

Hermione sat up abruptly. She recognized that wand from her all time favorite book. "Sir, is that…" she trailed off abruptly, looking worriedly between the wand and Harry.

"Can you tell me how you got this, Harry?"

Harry looked down abashed, a knife of worry twisting in his gut. He really did not want to get in anymore trouble. It seemed like nothing he did lately ever turned out right. But, still, these people had treated him with nothing but kindness since he woke up. Besides, he never lied. It never did him any good.

"Fawkes said it was okay…" he muttered sullenly.

Whitened eyebrows shot up into his hairline as the headmaster studied the boy. He detected no sense of dishonesty from him. It was absurdly easy to read the boy's surface thoughts. Like most children, they were literally open books to a modestly skilled legilimens. There were no shields were erected to guard their minds, no evil intentions coursing through their thoughts. And yet…he knew there was no way on earth that Fawkes would let the boy any where near this wand. Especially not with the magical history it possessed.

But, at the same time, there was no possible way for Harry to end up with that wand in his hands. There had been multiple layers of shields and wards mixed in with a liberal supply of notice-me-not charms and a healthy heaping of several recent (and not for sale to the public) Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Yet, the evidence had been left strewn smoldering about his office mere moments before.

Serenely stroking his beard, Dumbledore decided that the best course of action, at least for the time being, was no action at all.

"Very well, Harry. I believe you. We shall look into this matter later once Fawkes…" he looked towards the fragile bird tottering on his perch, "…erm, grows a bit. Until then we shall consider the matter dropped. However," he gave the boy a stern look. "Please refrain from touching any more objects of a questionable nature without first consulting myself or Miss Granger there. Agreed?"

Harry looked at the barmy old man with confusion evident in his eyes. He had only understood maybe a fourth of the headmaster's flowery spiel, most of it easily going over his head.

A look of understanding passed over Hermione's face before she bent down to whisper softly in the boy's ear. "He said 'no touching without asking.'" Her warm breath ticked his ear. He'd never had anyone whisper to him before and he found the close proximity oddly comforting. Grinning up at her, he whispered back.

"Oh. Well, why didn't he just say so then?" Harry looked up at the old man accusingly. Was he trying to confuse the kid on purpose? Hermione straightened back up, barely suppressing the grin that was threatening to break out.

Embarrassedly, the professor cleared his throat, though there was a considerable amount of mirth evident in his eyes. "Moving on," he said. "Ignoring the fact that you are now both the youngest seeker and the youngest attendant of Hogwarts in the entire history of the school, we must figure out exactly what to do with you. I admit this is quite the quandary. Miss Granger," he said gesturing to the witch, "here has agreed to be the one who will be taking care of you from now on. You are to stay with her at all times. Do not leave her side unless a teacher is accompanying you. You are to remain with that teacher until they return you to Miss Granger's side. I know from experience that, while you may not do it on purpose, trouble has a tendency to follow you around." He held up a hand to forestall the burst of indignation threatening to burst from the young wizard.

"The fact remains, Harry that last night you avoided detection in a heavily patrolled castle with over a dozen trained Aurors actively looking for you. Even stranger, you said you had only seen one group throughout the entire night. There is something rather odd going on here. Something more than meets the eye and until we are able to get you to see my colleagues at the Department of Mysteries, we have to keep a very close eye on you."

Harry sat still in his chair, not really having anything to say to that. After all, what could he say? 'No?' 'I don't wanna?' Kick and scream and whine unit he got his way just like Dudders was prone to do? Hardly. For now, he would just go with the flow and see where that would take him. It'd always worked for him in the past. He sat there in his comfortable chair, deep in thought, while the Headmaster laid out his future plans to his new caretaker.

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Author's Notes:

*Magicus Featherous Burnicas - If you watch Roadrunner you know what I'm talking about.

I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. Might be a while before the next one is updated as I'm afraid we've almost caught up to where I'm at currently. The plot and outline stuff is coming along very well.

I also hope that you all are checking the review section because for the last couple chapters I've been doing my best to reply to all of your wonderful comments.

And…as I promised, here's an omake section for one of my all time fav reviewers…just like I promised. Enjoy the extra sneak peek into the 'grown up Harry' portion of the story!

The great doors to the infirmary burst open with a loud bang as Hermione swiftly crossed the white tiled floor. The large book bag that was her constant companion was tossed carelessly to the ground, its many, massive tomes spilling haphazardly everywhere. Her expression was the very definition of apprehensiveness and her eyes were large with fear as she skidded to a stop next to the bed.

"Dear God, is he ok? What's the matter with him? Has the Nurse said anything? …what is the matter with his face??" All this was said in a single breath. She grabbed Harry's hand which was lying limply on top of the covers and gripped it tightly between both of hers.

Ron looked up from his injured best friend with the most serious expression Hermione had ever seen on him before glancing down to Harry's face and back. Harry, for his part, was lying comfortably beneath the crisp, sterile sheets of the bed that was universally referred to by one as all as 'his.' The glasses that normally shielded his bright, expressive eyes were lying on the desk beside him, leaving his features unusually naked for them to see. His eyes were wide and glazed. Pupils dilated so much that only a sliver of emerald was seen. The grin that threatened to split is face in two was…creepy.

"Ron," Hermione breathed breathlessly. "What's wrong with him?"

"It's bad," her other best friend said gravely. "He took a cheering charm right to the head," he deadpanned.

Hermione blinked stupidly before unleashing her barely suppressed fury.

"What?!" she exploded. "They brought him to the hospital wing for that? Of all the senseless, absurd, most irresponsible stunts ever! Honestly!"

Ron held up his hand calmly and waited for her to draw a breath before continuing.

"It was one of Dumbledore's I'm afraid. He apparently thought Harry needed...well, to quit being a great, bloody, depressed wanker and hit him with one." He paused, considering. "Full blast."

Hermione removed one of her hands from Harry's and covered her face.

"Oh dear." She murmured as Harry let loose a loud giggle.