Phoenix Feather Cores

This story is told from three points of view. All first person of Harry, Ron and Hermione.

This version of chapter one has been BETAed!

Resigned

I always wondered if fate had to answer to someone. What would happen if fate made a wrong decision? Who made fate pay for its sins? I grew up the day fate made the wrong decision. I became a man. When fate made the right decision, I became a legend - much to my disappointment, but I guess you could say it was still the right decision. If I had had my way – I would've drifted off; forgotten. These were just a few of the fate's decisions. But really, knowing all these decisions that fate made, knowing I had a hand in all of them, was it fate that made the decisions? Or did I? I guess I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.

It seemed even the gods were crying. Rain was all I'd seen the skies produce these past few days. Hell, I'd cried more times than I'm willing to admit. Their shoulders were always there for me though: Ron and Hermione. Bless them.

Albus Dumbledore's death had rocked the wizarding world. Hogwarts itself seemed empty and hollow. Echoes of a powerful man lived on in the castle. Hogwarts made sure of that. No one, no one, would forget Albus Dumbledore.

It's funny; it seemed Hogwarts and fate had teamed up. The castle changed. It was actually pretty cool. Helped me find out what kind of man I was to become.

---

The day of Dumbledore's funeral... was the day I grew up.

"Alright there mate?" Ron asked.

It was a loaded question. By the look in Ron's eyes he wanted me to be alright, to show him my strength. How the hell am I supposed to answer a question like that with a confidence everyone expected me to have? I didn't know. So I didn't reply the way I knew he wanted me to.

"No, Ron. I'm not alright. Far from it, in fact. The only man I really expected to be invincible is dead. Did you expect me to be alright?"

"No. I guess I didn't," Ron replied solemnly.

The Gryffindor common room was warm. A crackling fire was lit and so full of life, which was the exact opposite of how everyone was acting or looking.

Hermione was quiet and withdrawn. She was sitting in one of the larger sofas in the common room, arms hugging her legs to her chest. Her eyes were red rimmed, and I couldn't figure out if I was stupid for not helping her; consoling her.

All three of us were ready for the train ride home. Our belongings were sitting just a couple feet off the grate of the fire.

"I'm uh, gonna use the Little Boys Room before we go," Ron said.

I chuckled. Leave it to Ron to try to lighten the mood. ‘The Little Boys Room' – really? I sat down on the sofa opposite Hermione. She seemed to be deep in thought.

"What do we do now, Harry?" she asked.

"We fight. We find what we have to find. And," I paused, being careful about what I was to say next, "and kill who we have to kill."

I will be brave for her; I will show her my strength. Then suddenly our chairs started to move. It happened so quickly, neither of us had a chance to leave our respected positions.

This would be the first time that Hogwarts gave us a message.

Hermione and I looked at each other in surprise. She had a stray tear running down her cheek that I couldn't help but brush away with my thumb. She shivered slightly and closed her eyes.

"Everything will be alright, Hermione. I won't let anything happen to you," I said softly, "or Ron."

"You can't promise that," she replied equally as soft.

"I can and I will."

---

My breath hitched. I knew Harry was changing. How he was being strong for the sake of Ron and me. His green eyes bored into mine. They were beautiful; greener than the greenest grass or greener than the greenest leaves in any forest. They literally were the path to his soul.

Ron descended the stairs. Harry and I were in a pretty compromising situation, and the range of emotions that crossed Ron's face would later shock me. You could easily pick out the look of jealousy that turned into anger… and then the last emotion that played across his face. It looked like he was, resigned to the fact that something between Harry and I would occur.

Harry and I separated. Harry cleared his throat.

"Right, uh, best be on our way then," he said awkwardly.

Pictures of Dumbledore had somehow found their way to the walls of Hogwarts. It made me want to start crying all over again. Harry must've sensed it or saw where I was looking because he wrapped his arm around my waist and gave me a ‘half a hug', I guess you could call it.

We descended seven floors to the Entrance Hall in comfortable silence with a few detours here and there due to the marble staircases and their random shifts in direction. Professor, or rather, Headmistress McGonagall awaited us at the bottom of the steps for us. She looked and felt just like I did, but with more restraint; her eyes seemed like they'd cried less tears. McGonagall was a strong woman; something for which I always looked up to her.

"Potter." She paused. "Harry, if I may steal you for a little while?" McGonagall asked.

"Err, yeah," Harry said. "I'll catch up with you two on the train if I can."

As Harry walked away, Hermione added Harry's belongings to her own levitation of items. I figured I'd give her a hand and just added a feather light charm to Harry's trunk and carried it myself.

I'm pretty sure I knew what I'd witnessed just a few minutes ago in the common room. What every Gryffindor, no scratch that, everyone in the ruddy school thought was going to happen. It was startling. It hurt, though why I didn't expect it I'll never know. I guess I was just a big of fool as they were not to see it themselves, to think I could get in between them. I know I wasn't really getting between them, but I was a kidding myself to think I would mean something more than Harry did to Hermione. She'd deny it of course.

I'd eavesdropped a little. Harry's proclamation of what they were going to do surprised me. I guess any childlike fantasies or notions that Harry held were now gone. I wasn't naïve enough to think this wouldn't change Harry. He was no longer Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived; but he was Harry Potter, The Man-That-Would-Save-Us-All.

I grinned sardonically to myself. I'll be damned if I let Harry do it alone.

Hermione and I finally reached the Express. The line was long to get on the train; people seemed to be so dopey and slow. It was time to exercise some of my weight.

"Get out of the way! The lot of you are slower than molasses going uphill in January!" I said with a slightly raised voice.

People seemed to snap out of their slothfulness, and things started to pick up as we boarded the train. I packed both Hermione and my trunks on the racks once we'd gotten in an empty compartment.

I sighed. I wanted to get this off my chest. I probably knew the answer already, but you can't blame a bloke for trying.

"Bullocks!" I vented.

Hermione looked questioningly at me, eyebrows raised. I took a deep breath.

"Hermione, I've been an absolute prat for the longest time. What I did with Lavender was foolish. I was snogging her when, all that time, I wanted to be snogging you. I know this isn't the best time, and you probably have every right to yell at me, but I have to get this off my chest. Do you feel anything other than friendship between us?"

There. I said it. I held my breath as she decided how she would answer.

---

I followed McGonagall to Dumbledore's… no, her office. It actually made me a feel a little resentment toward McGonagall. How could she take his office? It was childish of me. I knew that as soon as I finished the thought. So I squashed it like a bug.

She led me up the spiral staircase. I guess I'd missed her saying the password throughout my musings. She gestured to the chair and conjured two small glasses. She then grabbed a bottle of something (there was no label) and poured us both a drink.

All the moving instruments that had been charmed by Dumbledore were now lifeless. It made the office seem messy.

She surprised me when she quickly knocked back the shot and poured herself another glass. I did the same.

It must've been Firewhiskey. It seared my throat; I coughed just a little. It gave away my inexperience with alcohol.

"I'm surprised you're not used to Firewhiskey, at least a little," she said.

I felt a annoyed at her words. Where in Merlin's name was I supposed to get time to knock back a couple drinks with the lads?

"Not exactly a pastime I practice," I replied.

After a few seconds, I was beginning to wonder if she'd get to the bottom of why she brought me here. She just sat there with a vacant look in her eye. After what seemed like hours, she talked again.

"Dumbledore made me promise to give you this in the event of his…"

She didn't finish the sentence. Instead she got up and took Gryffindor's Sword out of its glass case from the wall.

"I don't know why he wanted you to have it. I really don't know if the Potter's are a descendant, but I suppose he took more than that tidbit of information to the grave," she said angrily.

I nodded mutely and grabbed the sword's hilt. I felt a jolt shoot through my arm. It didn't stop. It went through my arm, to my shoulder, to my head, and then it happened.

Pain, like no other, hit me full force. I grabbed my head in my hands. A million images were fighting their way into my brain. Then, all I saw was darkness.

---

"I'm sorry, Ron."

"Don't," Ron said – the hurt on his face was evident. "Don't feel sorry for me. I don't even know why I asked. I'd been thinking about what I'd seen in the common room, and I guess I just thought it was 'all or nothing', ya know?"

"Ron, I don't know what I feel for Harry. What happened in the common room was… well, I don't really know what it was, honestly," I said slowly.

"Bollocks! I guess I knew Harry had me beat."

I scowled. "I'm not some prize that can be won, Ron. And for the last time, I don't know what I feel for Harry!"

Ron paled slightly. "I didn't mean it like that, Hermione."

The next few minutes passed in an uncomfortable silence. I was a little, no; I guess I was very surprised he was taking it so well. I knew something might happen. For the life of me I didn't know what. I probably would have been more comfortable if he'd blown up in my face.

"Let's go make our rounds."

Ron shook his head, "You go on ahead. I just need to think for a little bit."

I decided I'd not scold him for abandoning his duties this one time. Sighing, I left the compartment and started to check up on everyone on the train. The mood of students on the train varied. The younger students had looked like they'd forgotten what had happened and seemed to be making summer plans. Little did they know, their parents probably wouldn't let them out of their sight during these trying times. The older students were all worried about whether Hogwarts would re-open in the fall. I was quite worried about that myself, actually. I'd gladly give up the chance of being Head Girl for helping Harry. Still, it had been my dream for the longest time.

Quite a while passed before the train lurched into movement. I started to get worried that Harry still hadn't shown up. I searched for him up and down the train, and I was convinced he wasn't on it. I decided I was not going to leave Hogwarts without Harry.

"Sod it!"

I went straight for the door of the train. It still wasn't going very fast, so I hopped off and started the walk back to Hogwarts.

The grey skies started to let the rain fall again. I hurriedly headed for the school. As soon I'd entered the large oak doors, I went directly to Dumbledore's… no, McGonagall's office.

Rounding the last corner, I saw McGonagall levitating Harry. I quickly pulled out my wand.

"Harry!"

Now I was scared. His face was so pale, so lifeless. I could barely make out his slowly rising chest. I let out the breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"Ms. Granger! Run to the Hospital Wing and tell Madam Pomfrey to await us. Tell her Harry is going through Desperatus Mentis due to a magical object! Go!"

I took off at a run. I chanted ‘Desperatus Mentis' over and over in my mind. Desperate to know what it meant; I did know ‘Mentis' meant mind. Something was wrong with Harry's mind? Could it have been an attack by Voldemort? It would definitely not be the first time. But wait, McGonagall had said a magical object!

I reached the Hospital Wing and alerted Madam Pomfrey to Harry's condition. Her eyes seemed to go wide with its mention, and she cleared her desk quickly, searching through her stores of potions. She grabbed a ‘Pepper-Up Potion' and mixed it with a thick black potion.

"Hermione! Mix the rest of these ‘Pepper-Up Potions' with the ‘Dreamless Sleep'. I need to ready… "

But McGonagall had made her way here and quickly set Harry down on a bed. Madam Pomfrey grabbed the one vial which contained her mixed concoction.

"Don't just stand there, Hermione! Mix more!" Pomfrey demanded.

I jumped into action and started mixing the potions. I'd made two more by the time Madam Pomfrey came back.

"That's enough. We'll only need these two."

I made one more, just in case, corked the top and brought it with me. I gasped at the sight of Harry. It looked like his body was rejecting the potion, and he was vomiting it.

The slightly flustered nurse cast a few spells directed at Harry's stomach and poured another potion into his mouth while McGonagall held him upright. She did this with the other potion in her hand and then quickly gestured for the one in my hand.

Harry's breathing became less labored and color returned to his cheeks. Madam Pomfrey let out a sigh and started to clean up the area.

"Go get Harry a gown from my office, Hermione." Pomfrey said calmly.

I complied and quickly returned with a gown. She must've spelled away his clothes. My cheeks turned crimson at seeing him in his state of undress.

"Control yourself, Ms. Granger," McGonagall chided.

As flustered as I was, I regained my composure and gave Madam Pomfrey the gown. I decided for my own benefit that I'd wait outside the privacy curtain until he was dressed.

A few agonizing seconds later, Pomfrey called for me.

"He needs rest, but as long as you're quiet, you may sit with him," she said in a no-nonsense voice.

Harry, however, did not look like he was resting. His breathing was fast, like he was chasing a snitch.

"Why is he breathing so fast, Madam Pomfrey?" I asked.

"Its part of the mind magic he's going through. I could explain it to you, but it'd only raise more questions. Minerva would best explain it to you. She knows more about the object than I do, I'd imagine."

McGonagall looked apprehensive. The headmistress sighed and took the other chair in Harry's privacy area.

"I don't know if I should be telling you this, but you'll probably be looking after him. I'll be damned if I let him go to those relatives of his like this."

It never occurred to me that McGonagall cared for Harry so much. It made sense; McGonagall was probably a good friend of Harry's parents, particularly his mother. From what I've been told I am very much like Lily Potter, and I am quite confident saying that I myself have a friendship with the often intimidating Transfiguration professor.

"Albus made me promise to give Harry Gryffindor's sword if he were to pass on to The Next Great Adventure, or so he called it."

I picked up on the touch of resentment from McGonagall as she said those last few words.

"And now? Now look what it's done to him! I swear on Merlin himself if he doesn't wake up, I'll go to the afterlife just to wring his neck!"

"Doesn't wake up?" I asked worriedly, "What do you mean ‘doesn't wake up'? You mean he's in a coma?"

"No, well, not far from it, I suppose. In the ages of the founders', Hermione, it was known that many wizards would imbue special memories to them into an object."

"Like a Pensieve," I stated.

"Yes, and no. The Pensieve was created to stop what's happened to Mister… Harry. Imbuing an object to force memories into one the ‘imbuer' deemed worthy is not a very comfortable process. Wizards and witches alike have, I'm sorry to say, died because of it. Thus a man named Octavius Mentis, created the Pensieve. He made the Pensieve so one may view memories one at a time. You can imagine that forcing so many memories into one's head might be . . . painful."

I'd heard of Octavius Mentis. That's probably why I knew what ‘Mentis' meant, in fact.

"But he's grabbed the sword before! Why did it happen now?"

"I don't know, Hermione. Only the ‘imbuer' could tell you. And as that person hasn't lived for the past one thousand years I don't think we'll know until Harry is awake."

My gaze went to Harry worriedly. I grasped his hand and, surprisingly, he grasped back.

"Harry?! He… he just grabbed my hand!" I said excitedly.

"Yes, he should be aware of his surroundings," Pomfrey stated. "This is a good sign that whatever the ‘imbuer' wanted him to know he's taken to learning."

"You mean to tell me he's learning from Godric Gryffindor? The Godric Gryffindor?!"

"Well, yes… what did you think the memories were of?" McGonagall asked in exasperation.

I was baffled to say the least. Perhaps I was a little jealous, too. I just hoped Harry would wake up soon. Merlin help him if he dies on me!

I decided I'd best get a note to Ron. As if on cue, Hedwig hooted from the infirmary window. I scrounged around for a quill and a small bit of parchment and wrote to Ron.

Ron,

Harry is in the infirmary at Hogwarts. Tell you about it later. He's in a magical coma, well not really, but that's about as much as I can explain in this letter. Let my parents know, would you? Tell them I'll see them soon.

Love,

Hermione

"Here you go, Hedwig. I'd appreciate it if he got this right after he gets off the Express. Can you do that for me?"

Hedwig hooted indignantly as if to say, "Well of course I can. This isn't my first day!"

I gave Hedwig an affectionate pat and opened the window for her. She took off quickly.

---

I was beginning to get a little peeved. Hermione was nowhere to be found, and Platform 9 ¾ was just around the bend. Once the train slowed to a stop, I grabbed all of our belongings.

"I'm turning into a bloody house elf, carrying all these trunks," I muttered.

Almost as soon as I set the trunks down, Hedwig landed on my right shoulder.

"You know how to give a bloke a bloody heart attack, don't you, Hedwig?"

Hedwig clicked her beak quite pleased with my reaction and held her leg out with the attached letter. I read it quickly and the words, ‘Not again' escaped my lips.

I scanned the crowd for my mother. It was easy enough to pick her out, what with her standing on Ginny's trunk and looking everywhere for me. I trudged my way toward her.

"Where's Harry and Hermione, Ron?" she asked quickly.

"Yes, mum, it's good to see you, too. What's that? Oh I love you too, mum."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear. It's just I've been so worried about the lot of you," she said, blushing slightly.

"You saw us less than six hours ago! Anyways, I suppose you do have cause for worry because Harry is in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. I just got a letter from Hermione saying he was there. There were no details other than he's in a magical coma."

"Hermione's still at Hogwarts?" a man off to my left asked.

"Er, yeah, Mr. Granger… she told me to tell you she'd be seeing you soon, though, and asked me to give you her belongings."

I always found Mr. Granger intimidating. He was a large bloke. He wore a tight polo tee that let his chest stick through. Not a man I reckoned I'd like to tussle with.

I handed him Hermione's trunk, which he took stiffly. "My wife and I will be off then." He didn't look pleased.

Mum sighed. "Well, I'll send a note off asking about his condition once we get back to The Burrow. Come on then."

"Yeah, mum, about that. I think I'm going to go back to Hogwarts. I'd rather be with him," I said.

"Ron, no, I'm sure he's—"

"No, don't try to push me off this. I'm going," I said sternly.

I don't know where I got a backbone, especially with dealing with my dear old mum, but I had to put my foot down with this one. I had to make sure Harry was alright. After a heated argument, she still did not agree with me going back, so I just waved her good bye and boarded the Express.

It was going to be a long ride back alone.

---

I awoke groggily. I stretched lethargically when I remembered what happened. McGonagall gave me Gryffindor's sword. Now where was I?

All I could see were open plains. However, there was a small abode far off in the distance. I looked around for my wand only to find that I had no wand, I wasn't wearing any glasses either.

"Bollocks!"

I grudgingly made my way towards the abode off in the distance despite my instincts telling me otherwise. I had to figure out where the bloody hell I was.

Then I heard it. A twig snapped. I searched the area around me franticly, looking for the source of the noise. Only there was none. I picked up my pace and stopped short. I heard a very distinct growl.

Taking deep breaths, I looked behind me. There on its hind legs was a manticore. I never thought I'd love Hagrid more than I did right now. He'd taught us about manticores! They were very intelligent. And any creature that felt it had a brain more powerful than man did not like being offended by one.

"Am I lunch, then?" I asked.

It regarded me carefully. I took a step back, trying to put as much distance between myself and the beast.

"You could say that," It replied with a growl, "but I think I'd like to call you supper or maybe tomorrow's breakfast."

So it either wasn't hungry or I was… bait? A man exited the abode in the distance, and the manticore seemed exceedingly pleased by this fact. I made my move. The beast was slightly distracted, and I bolted towards the man.

Dare I say it, the manticore was thrilled. He roared, and pushed off its haunches. The man I was running towards drew his sword and started to run towards me. Better he fight than me; at least he has a weapon!

The man, to say the least, was huge. He must have had giant blood in him. His arms had to be slightly smaller than my thigh. He smashed his sword on the ground twice and then jumped clear over me and sliced down.

The manticore was not easily beaten. The sword did catch the tail. The manticore seemed not to care.

"You'll pay for that human," the creature growled.

The man with the sword remained dispassionate. The manticore charged. It was quick and the man dropped to the ground. Then like a shot he started hovering on his back and sped towards the manticore.

The manticore, completely off guard, tried its best to protect its open belly. But it was too late, the sword cut through and the manticore dropped.

The breathing of the beast became labored.

The man handed me the sword, "Finish it. His head is your prize."

"But, I didn't… you… it was all you!"

"Finish it!" he said adamantly. "You give the beast no honor by showing it how weak you are and letting it see your compassion; FINISH IT!"

I cut off the beast's head. I dropped the sword and knelt down. It felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach. The wound to its belly probably could have healed… I could've hunted for its food even. But no, I killed it.

"Get up. Come with me. Indeed, you are worthy."

"Who are you?" I asked.

He looked like he expected this question. He slammed the blood covered sword into the ground so that the engraving faced my eyes. It read, Godric Gryffindor.