A/N: Well here we go: my first Harry Potter fanfic. Now let me make this clear, here, right now: this work of fiction does not comply with the Half-Blood Prince, or the Deathly Hallows.
Secondly, some of the dates aren't spot on – although they are reasonably close to what they were supposed to be; and there will be Dumbledore and Ron/Ginny/Molly bashing: it's just something that I felt the need to have – because it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
Thirdly, the size of the chapters will vary quite substantially – because when I wrote it, I didn't have chapters in mind. Lastly, this fic is actually already finished/complete/done, whatever you want to call it. It has been sitting, stagnant, on my hard drive for several months gaining dust, and I just recently decided to finish the last few chapters.
This fiction is rated – as stated in the summary – M for violence and language; which there is not much of in the first 40ish thousand words of the book. I hope you enjoy the story; updates will be posted daily until it is finished. I do not own Harry Potter.
Harry Potter had had one hell of a day. Being the first day back at Hogwarts, it was horrible; breakfast was rushed as everybody in Gryffindor – except Hermione - tried to get back into the routine of waking up early; the first class teachers rushed to update the students on the new rules and regulations that would have to be followed from that year onwards, and inform them about the specifics of their end-for-year exams; and the rest of the day was filled with frantic note-scribbling and headaches for the black-haired youth. By the time school had finished for the day, Harry was absolutely, utterly and unquestionably knackered.
He'd managed to get away from Ron's constant pestering, insisting that he have a game of Wizard's Chess, and played the card that he hated using: that he needed to be alone. Immediately Ron's badgering had ceased, and Hermione's face had dropped as thoughts of him coping with the death of Sirius swam into her head. Harry hadn't missed the look of pity on both of their faces, and he had hurriedly left them standing in the corridor to escape their expressions. He had needed to be alone, that was true, but it wasn't for the reasons that he had put to his two friends of six years – he needed to think. For the past year he couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right; it felt as though every memory, every second of his life was tainted by an invisible shadow that seemed to slither past every attempt Harry made to identify it. Harry didn't like the feeling that he wasn't in control of his life at all, and the fact that the feeling resembled a snake did nothing to ease his nerves.
It wasn't any surprise to Harry when he looked up to see where his feet had carried him and saw the entrance to Dumbledore's office; the elderly Headmaster always had the answers. Once Harry had walked up the steps that emerged at the password, he knocked on the finely engraved door, waiting for a few seconds before entering. The room looked as it always had – the shelves around the expanse holding instruments of unknown purpose, some of them humming and excreting bursts of steam, while others just sat – mysterious as ever. The eyes of the portraits followed him where he walked, and the raven-haired man couldn't help but chuckle when he picked up a lemon drop from a bowl residing by the door, a piece of parchment attached simply saying "Enjoy".
Fawkes regarded the young Wizard with an odd look in his piercing, yellow eyes, and Harry found himself averting his gaze to escape the penetrating stare from the Phoenix. He walked around the room for a few more minutes, occasionally reaching out and tapping the odd machine or object on the shelves, but making sure to check them with a diagnostic spell before he did; not wanting a repeat of one of his earlier expeditions around the shelves. Half a year previously one instrument had seen fit to transfigure him into a startlingly large Phoenix – something that Dumbledore had been equally amazed at when he transfigured the shaken student back to his original form.
After his journey around the office, he sighed: the only thing missing being the presence of the white-haired Headmaster – the only reason he was really there in the first place. He was about to leave the room when a book on the Headmaster's desk caught his attention. He knew it was none of his business, and the delicate gold engravings on the cover only emphasized that fact, but in the end – as always- a frustrated Harry found that his curiosity had once again got the better of him. He walked warily towards the desk, almost as if expecting the aging Headmaster to apparate right in front of him and loudly berate him for his actions, before leaning over the tome and observing it closely.
He was amazed at the intricacy of the design, the gold seemingly having been woven into the fibres – a feat which no muggle could have achieved – and the twisting twirls of the glittering metal flowing across the deep red cover as if it was a river in a dusty desert. Still keeping his hands at his sides, he leant down to peer at the spine of the grand book, and his eyes widened when he saw the title, regally proclaiming that it was the journal of one "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore". Harry let out a surprised gurgle as he realized the importance, value, and wealth of information that was mere inches away from him – and a laugh followed his comprehension.
"I see you recognize the significance of that book."
Harry's head whipped around in search of the voice, and finally he managed to trace it back to one of the portraits hanging on the wall. The glinting eyes and smiling face of the ex-Headmaster Armando Dippet looked down at him with a friendly and mischievous smile. After getting over the shock of being talked to by one of the portraits – something that he thought he would've been used to by now – he managed to stutter back a few words. "I'm sorry sir, I was just-"
Armando's chuckling interrupted his hurried excuse. "There's no need to explain to me my friend, in fact I feel that you should be able to read exactly what's in that book – most of it concerns you anyway." In the latter part of his speech, the humour left his voice and a frown appeared on his face. This wasn't missed by Harry, who had taken a seat in anticipation of a long chat with the old Headmaster. Harry waited for the man to continue, and was surprised at his words when he did. "I've wanted to speak to you for quite some time Harry – if I can call you that?" At Harry's surprised nod he carried on. "But I couldn't, quite simply because Dumbledore prevented me from doing so."
"But why would he do that sir?"
Armando nodded around to the other portraits and found them to be listening intently to the conversation taking place, nodding in agreement at the old Headmaster's last comment. "Well, Harry, because of what is written in that book that you were so intently studying." The young Wizard was once again about to interrupt to defend himself, but was silenced by Armando's raised hand. "As I said, you don't have to explain yourself to me – in fact I should be explaining myself to you." The old man disappeared off the side of the frame and returned a moment later with a chair which he sat in. "I've been here for the entire time that Dumbledore has been the principal of this institution, and during that time I have found myself all too frequently appalled, horrified and disgusted at things that have taken place within these stone walls."
He motioned to the room around them and Harry frowned. "I don't understand sir."
The white-haired portrait looked down at him sorrowfully. "You do, but you're not allowing yourself to believe it – you've been programmed not to." Seeing that the raven-haired man was once again going to ask a question, the ex-Headmaster continued before he could be interrupted. "The things that have disgusted me, Harry, are things that Dumbledore has done. The man that you know as the face of the light, the most powerful Wizard alive, the caring grandfather figure, the trustworthy friend and your unwavering supporter is a lie Harry – and trust me when I say that I don't enjoy telling you this."
Harry stared at the portrait in astonishment, but a moment later a scowl spread across his face and he stood from his seat. "I don't know what you're trying to do sir, but I don't appreciate you lying about the man who has helped me throughout my entire life."
He quickly turned on his heel, and had just reached the door when the portrait said six words that made him freeze in his tracks. "I know you've felt it Harry." Seeing that his words had hit a nerve, the old man continued, his voice urgent and forceful. "You've felt the control slipping from your grasp, and there are only a handful of people who could achieve such a thing."
The boy-who-lived slowly turned around and faced the man once again, allowing his hand to drop from the large handle of the door. Seeing the truth in his eyes made something in Harry snap, and he strode over to the desk, reaching out his hand to the grand tome, his fingers about to touch its plush cover-
"STOP!" Harry's hand froze mere millimetres from the red surface, and the desperation in Armando's voice became evident with his next words. "Don't do it Harry; if you touch that book he will know within seconds. The wards will trigger and you will be paralysed, and at his mercy when he returns." Harry turned to look into the portrait's serious eyes. "And he doesn't have any mercy Harry. You touch that book, and the rest of your life will be a lie as well."
Harry searched the painting's eyes for any sign of deception, and finding none slowly withdrew his fingers, returning them to his robe's pocket and sitting in the seat he had recently vacated in anger. After a few moments of silence he spoke. "You said that there were only a handful of people who could do such a thing." He met the old man's eyes, his green orbs deadly serious. "Who?"
Seeing that the young man was giving him a chance, the portrait nodded gravely. "I did indeed say that. The first person you already know, it is in his office that we speak. The second is Voldemort, although his intervention wouldn't affect you as much as he'd like to think, but there is one final person who could do such a thing; your soul mate." Harry's eyebrow quirked disbelievingly and for the second time that day, the old painting raised his hand in anticipation of the coming question. "I cannot tell you who it is Harry, such things are forbidden, but I can tell you that she would never do such a thing to you; she would rather die."
"Is it Ginny?"
The old man's nose wrinkled in blatant disgust, and he snorted. "That slag? Hell no Harry, your soul mate couldn't be further from what Ms Weasley is." He squeezed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I really wish I could tell you who it is Harry, but I have a feeling that soon you'll find out once I've finished talking with you." He pointed at the diary sitting ominously on the desk. "Every word that old, manipulative bastard has written in that book Harry, all of us," he motioned to all of the portraits around the room, "can remember." He leant forwards in the picture and frowned at Harry. "What I'm about to tell you Harry, is something that Dumbledore would obliviate you for knowing, and destroy us for telling you."
Harry frowned at the seriousness in Armando's voice, but leant forward as well. "Harry, once you know what we know, I ask you to do two things, and you must swear upon an unbreakable vow to uphold them." Looking curious Harry nodded, and the ex-Headmaster laid out his terms. "Firstly you must go to the fifth floor, and pace seven times in front of the statue of Boris the Bewildered whilst repeating the phrase 'I am worthy'. Enter the resulting room, read the book inside, and follow its instruction to the letter. Do you agree to this term?"
"Yes." With a white flash Harry's vow was accepted, and Armando nodded before laying out the second condition.
"And lastly, you must act as if nothing is different in front of everybody but your soul mate– or people we deem safe - which will include staying at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You must do this until the beginning of your seventh year at this institution. Do you agree to this term?"
Harry looked at the portrait suspiciously. "Why would I want to leave?"
The two men's gazes locked. "Because, Harry, when I said that some of the things that Dumbledore has done in this room horrified me, I was not joking – and once you find out how he has controlled you, and by extension your life, I would not be surprised if you wanted to leave." He frowned. "But you must not; you must stay and make him think he has the upper hand Harry – you're the true Wizard of the light." After a moment of serious silence, the elderly Wizard cracked a smile. "Anyways, your soul mate is here, and I just know you'll want to meet her." His smile softened. "She wants you as well Harry, and I'm sure you'll see that once you've come from the room on the fifth floor."
Harry sat still for a few moments before nodding. "I, Harry Potter, swear on my magic and my life to abide by all of the terms that the portrait of Armando Dippet has set forth in regards this exchange, so mote it be."
A blue swirl coiled around Harry's body and with a blinding flash disappeared, leaving all of the portraits looking at Harry in absolute shock. Dilys Derwent was the first to comment on his action, awe clearly recognizable in her tone; not only would he die if he broke the vow, but his magic would actively prevent him from breaking the promise made. "That spell…I didn't think it possible for it to be cast without the text."
Harry looked bashfully at the floor. "I memorised the incantation." Silence rocketed across the room; everyone well aware the length of the incantation that the vower had to recite in their head whilst saying the verbal terms aloud was substantial.
Armando broke the silence with an elated laugh, "Merlin's Beard, Dumbledore won't know what the hell happened when you hit seventh year!" He chuckled for a few more seconds before catching sight of Harry's confused look and sobering slightly. "Once again Harry, it'll become clear once you come out of the room on the fifth floor." He frowned. "If you survive it that is."
Harry's eyebrows rocketed upwards. "If I survive it?"
Seeing Harry's obvious distress the old man held up his hands defensively. "In the end it's up to you Harry; you swore to follow the instructions in the book to the letter – and the book clearly gives you the instruction to decide whether or not you wish to continue." Harry's shoulders relaxed slightly, and the ex-Headmaster continued. "The reason that you may not survive it is because only one person has ever attempted it, and he survived – we're just not sure if you will."
"Who was the Wizard that survived?"
Dilys was the one that answered, and with a hint of worry in her voice. "Godric Gryffindor." Harry's jaw fell open and Dilys fixed him with a pleading look. "Only Armando and I have managed to break free of Dumbledore's silence spells, but I think I speak for all of us when I beg you to not take the easiest road." Nods from all of the other portraits confirmed their feelings on the matter. "Please Harry, if you don't do this then there's no chance that Dumbledore won't take over once you're dead."
"Once I'm dead?"
"Harry, we'll come to that – but please take what Dilys said to heart."
Harry face displayed an expression of stricken anxiety, and he looked wildly around at the portraits in the room as if to check for any hint of it being a joke. After at least a minute of searching, and not a hint of a smile being found, the portraits witnessed Harry slouching into the chair with a look of defeat on his face. "Fine, I'll keep it in mind – but I'll still make the final choice."
Dilys' look of relief and hope was mirrored on the faces of all the other paintings, and her words received enthusiastic nods of agreement. "That's all we're asking for Harry."
Harry nodded respectfully to the grey haired ex-Headmistress, and after receiving a warm smile in return turned back to the ex-Headmaster of Hogwarts with a raised eyebrow and inquisitive tone to his voice. "So what's this about me dying?"
Over the next four hours, Harry's jaw dropped progressively lower and lower, and his anger progressively took a hold of his thoughts. The web of deception that the man Harry had previously thought of as his grandfather had spun was astounding, appalling, and made Harry want to throw up. From his miserable life at the Dursleys – the choice to place him there in the first place, a choice where Dumbledore had favoured the abusive Dursleys over Remus Lupin's care – to the manipulation of both him and his friends through the use of hundreds, possibly even thousands of memory modifications, compulsion charms, and even the odd potion; it was all orchestrated by the genius that was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
From the moment he was marked by Voldemort and his parents were killed Dumbledore had manipulated Harry's life to give him the perfect base on which to build his power, fame, respect, and in the end what he planned to be his control over the entire Wizarding world. Finally the portrait stopped speaking, and he could clearly see the fury in Harry's eyes. "Harry, keeping such anger inside you will not benefit anybody, except maybe Voldemort. Feel free to let loose; we'll walk you through the reparation spells once you are done." And let loose he did. A whirlwind of raw, untamed magic burst forth from Harry, shattering every single glass object in the room, disintegrating books, melting metal, and most interestingly, destroying every single ward that the room had except for the diary that was now sitting in the splinters that used to be Dumbledore's desk.
After another hour of repairing the wards, and the ridiculous amounts of broken or vaporised objects, Harry finally sat back down in his chair – probably the only thing in the room – save for the portraits - that had come through Harry's anger-fuelled magic outburst unscathed. The raven-haired boy let out a calming sigh and muttered a drying charm on his sweat-soaked clothing before closing his eyes for a few moments. The anger hadn't lessened at all, but it had changed. In harsh contrast with the violent, all-encompassing anger that had flowed through him moments before, the anger that ran through his veins now was deeper, more controlled – an anger that he had much experience with, having lived with the Dursley family for his entire life.
Slowly his lids rose, and the portraits were faced with the startlingly emerald orbs that seemed to glow with newfound power. "Thank you." He nodded at each of the portraits in turn. "Thank you for revealing all of this to me, you have no idea just how thankful I am for the risk you are all taking in informing me of Dumbledore's true nature and future plans."
He then singled out the portraits of Dilys Derwent and Armando Dippet specifically. "I realise that both of you have undertaken a bigger risk that all of the others by actually breaking through Dumbledore's spell work, and I am certain that he will notice the breach very soon." Judging by the looks in their eyes, he was correct, and he fixed them both with serious looks. "Armando, what branch of magic are you most experienced in?"
Armando gave Harry an odd look, wondering why he would ask such a thing, but answered all the same. "I may not look it Harry, but I am a Master of Battle Magics, and I often taught the Animagus classes at the Ministry when I had some free time on my schedule."
A small grin tweaked the corners of Harry's lips, and he turned to Dilys next. Guessing his question correctly, she answered. "I specialise in healing Harry. May I enquire as to why you wish to know?"
Harry's serious look sobered any jovial mood in the room. "I don't know who to trust anymore; I don't know who my soul mate is; I just found out that the person who I considered a grandfather is the biggest manipulator of all time; I have no real training to fight Voldemort. I will always be looking over my back with my friends because I'll know that as soon as I tell them anything of importance then they will go and tell Dumbledore – even if they are not consciously aware of doing so." He nodded at the two of them. "You are the only two people that I can truly trust at the current time. My soul mate will one day join the group of people I can trust, but until that point I only have you two."
Harry looked around the room and searched shelves that he had so recently repaired for an instrument he had seen during his studies. When he located it, he walked over and gingerly lifted it from its resting place, taking special note of what position it was in before returning to face the paintings once again. "With your permission, I want to remove you from this office and have you as my advisors, teachers, friends, and confidants."
He motioned to the instrument when Dilys opened her mouth to ask how he intended to break the sticking wards, and Armando laughed aloud at the sheer audacity and cheek of the young Wizard. "Using his prized instrument against him – I like you."
Harry grinned. "Another reason I want to release you two is because I like you." He sat silent for a moment deep in thought before looking back up at them. "So, what do you think?"
Dilys didn't even need to think about the question, and she smiled happily down at him before answering for the both of them. "We'd love to help." Harry's eyes lit up at her answer and he immediately got to work on the two paintings. After half an hour of climbing up walls, muttering incantations, and the use of some nifty spell work under the guidance of his two new mentors, some realistic replicates were stuck to the wall where the real paintings used to reside. The irony was that Dumbledore's precious instrument had aided in placing the exact same sticking wards onto the replicas so that nothing would seem amiss to the observant eye of Dumbledore when he returned from his Ministry conference.
Harry shrunk the two portraits so that they could fit comfortably in his pocket and sat them on Dumbledore's desk facing him. "I guess it's time for me to hold up my end of the bargain and go to that room, isn't it?"
Dilys nodded, but the portrait of Armando shook his head. Both the ex-Headmistress and the student fixed him with identical, quizzical looks and he explained the last task to Harry. "Fawkes, Harry."
Harry frowned. "What about him?"
The Phoenix trilled from his perch and Harry couldn't stop the expected onrush of happiness invade his mind – not that he would've wanted to in the first place, as it made the depression and anger seem smaller, and far more bearable. Armando smiled at the slight look of relief on Harry's face, "Phoenixes are creatures of the light Harry, and although hasn't happened once in the history of the world, they can change owners." Harry turned to the Phoenix in amazement, and the bird cocked its head and stared into his eyes.
What happened next nearly made Harry fall from his chair. "He's right you know."
After recovering from the shock of the bird speaking, which included a rather large amount of spluttering on Harry's part, he somehow forced some words from his mouth. "You can talk?"
The majestic bird cocked its head to the side. "Not really, I'm in your head; the amount of scarring from the obliviates is astounding." The bird frowned after another few moments. "And I'm going to have to talk to you about paying those Dursleys back for all the pain they have put you through; nobody hurts my Master."
If Harry's eyebrows weren't already high enough to be covered by his raven hair, they would've been after that comment. "Your Master?"
The friendly bird seemed to shake himself before turning back to Harry, an apologetic look in his eyes. "I'm sorry Harry, I am being too hasty." With a nod in Armando's direction the Phoenix continued. "What Headmaster Dippet is saying is that we Phoenixes are creatures of the light; of good." What could have been interpreted as a frown crossed the bird's features. "What Dumbledore has done is far from what is, and could be considered as light and as such I broke the bond between us several years ago – something which he has not yet discovered." With a simple flap on his magnificent wings, the Phoenix landed on the table in front of Harry.
When Harry unconsciously reached out and scratched under the birds chin, Fawkes trilled merrily, something that brought Harry out of his reverie. He thought for a few seconds before slowly confirming his suspicions with the magical creature. "So you want me to take you as my familiar, and leave Dumbledore?" The bird nodded and awaited Harry's next move. It was a long time coming, but Fawkes was happy to wait until the end of time for his prospective master. After ten minutes of hard contemplation, Harry cleared his throat, and Fawkes raised his head expectantly. "Dumbledore will wonder where you went." Fawkes shook his head, an evil glint in his eye, and Harry let the matter be, deciding that he would rather not know what the Phoenix had in mind. "And where will you stay?"
"In your dormitory of course."
Harry's eyebrows, having returned to their normal positions a few minutes previously, shot back up past under his fringe at the Phoenixes suggestion. "That could be a little…conspicuous, don't you think?"
"Not if you don't talk to me."
"But I need to talk to-"
"I'm in your head Harry." Harry looked into the amused golden orbs of the Phoenix and had the grace to blush, causing the graceful bird to screech in laughter. After a moment the bird sobered and looked back into Harry's eyes. "Since you are currently not my Master, I have to look into your eyes to talk to you – when they said that the eyes are the gateway to the soul they weren't joking."
"And if I take you as my familiar?"
If the Phoenix could grin, he would have – but the beak hindered the action. "Anytime, anywhere." He read Harry's mind and answered even before he could ask the question. "Your roommates will not be aware of my presence; I will simply shroud your and my magical signature and cast an undetectable ward over the room to make me visible to your eyes only."
"Why shroud my magical signature?"
"Well it's going to be rather large and obvious once you've completed the ritual." It cocked its head for a moment and then seemed to add the next words as an afterthought. "I'll need to maintain the spell constantly actually; anybody with half a brain will notice the change in you once you come out of that room."
Guessing correctly that the ritual Fawkes was referring to was the one that he would undertake on the fifth floor he nodded, trusting that the bird knew what he was talking about. "Okay then; I'd be happy to have you as my friend and familiar."
The bird stood, shocked for a moment before lifting his head to the roof and allowing the happiness inside to flow out through a song, a sound which left every person and portrait in the room feeling rather lightheaded and giddy. After all parties had recovered, the Phoenix nudged Harry's hand. "Scratch me again." Harry nodded and began stroking the birds chin once again, but pulled back when he felt a heat begin to creep up his fingers. Fawkes looked up at the loss of contact, and then a sudden realisation swam into his eyes. "Ah, sorry about that. That's the bonding, Harry. You can pull away at any time you want, but the bonding ritual will have to be restarted."
Having decided to trust the friendly Phoenix from the moment the offer of Fawkes being his familiar arose, Harry resumed his stroking of the feathered chin – allowing the warmth to spread up his arm and into his chest. Slowly the heat consumed his entire body, and eventually slipped up his neck to surround his head. The Phoenix's voice seemed to come from all around Harry at that moment. "This is the final step Harry; once you let me in, your memories, your feelings, everything that you are will be shared with me, and the same will happen to you. It will be a little overwhelming at first; I am over one thousand years old, and I was the joint familiar of both Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. I will share with you what I never shared with Dumbledore, and so having all of what I am may make the bonding a little uncomfortable."
Harry nodded to himself and took a deep breath before letting the warmth spread into his mind. At first there was a gentle probing and the amused voice of Fawkes as he answered Harry's unspoken question. "Just making sure there's enough space in here." After a few moments, Fawkes' presence seemed to retreat, but it was mere seconds later that the stream of warmth returned. Whereas before the probing had seemed like the probing was a trickle of water from a tap, it now felt as if a dam had burst. Information flooded into Harry's head, and in the real world his hand unconsciously fell from Fawkes' chin, but it did not affect the onslaught of information; the bonding having already taken place.
Memories flitted through his mind, and he desperately tried to keep up with the flood of information that now filled his head. Likewise, Fawkes was inspecting the new memories that his Master had shared with him, and found his hate of the old man – his ex-Master – growing when he saw just how horrible Harry's life at the Dursley's had been. When Fawkes peered into Harry's mind however, he was amazed to find that his new Master hadn't yet fallen unconscious from the bombardment of new emotions, information and memories he could feel himself feeding to him. After an entire hour the flood eventually stopped, and Harry fell out of his chair onto the floor with a groan. Both Dilys and Armando – not having been privy to the conversation that had been taking place between the bird and Harry for the past hour – yelled in surprise when the young Wizard collapsed like a sack of potatoes.
They both sighed in relief however, when he tenderly dragged himself to his feet and collapsed back onto the chair with a pained cry as he clutched at his head. For the two hours that followed, the two portraits and the Phoenix stayed silent as the young man's brain processed and organized the new knowledge into the appropriate places, and Fawkes whispered caringly in his mind when the flutter of activity had ceased. "Are you alright Master?"
The clarity and humour in the reply both surprised and made the Phoenix proud at his new Master and the grand bird couldn't help but chuckle. "You are really really old, you know that, right?"
"Sorry about that Master."
"And stop calling me Master, you're my friend."
The warmth in Fawkes' affirmative reply made Harry suspect that no Wizard had called him a friend for quite some time, and he smiled at the thought that he had made his Familiar happy. Twenty minutes later, after sorting out the specifics on how Harry would explain his disappearance – as he didn't know how long he would be in the room on the fifth floor for- Fawkes' living arrangements, and Dilys' and Armando' new placements; which turned out to be on a necklace that Fawkes conjured around Harry's neck, everybody found out just what Fawkes' grand plan regards making Dumbledore aware of his desertion.
In harsh contrast with the characteristically joyous and uplifting song that erupted from Fawkes' throat, the horrifying scream that echoed throughout the office – and the majority of the school for that matter – sent chills down everybody's spines. What burst forth from Fawkes' outstretched wings was equally as terrifying, but far more awe-inspiring. A wall of pure-white flame surged forth and engulfed the entire room; the only things spared being the portraits, Dumbledore's journal, and the Phoenix's master. Fawkes on the other hand, seemed to revel in the destruction, and flew into the blinding flames, disappearing from his Master's view for a mere few seconds.
Harry found himself wishing to look through his Familiars eyes, and found himself granted that exact wish a moment later, his friend laughing in his mind at Harry's surprise. "Another thing I never gave Dumbledore was the ability to experience and control me." A plan began rapidly forming in Harry's mind, and the Phoenix shrilled mirthfully when he caught where Harry's thoughts were headed. His voice full of mischief he complemented Harry on his idea, and relinquished control of his body – taking a spectator view of his and Harry's message to Dumbledore. With a final white pulse, the fire disappeared, and Fawkes and Harry's message to Dumbledore became clear to all of the occupants in the room.
Glowing molten hot in the rocks of Hogwarts, the words "FUCK YOU" filled the entire back wall of the office, which caused the uproarious laughter of every single resident in the room. Even though the silencing spell suppressed the sounds and voices of the portraits, the mirth on their faces and the tears rolling down their cheeks was a clear indication that they were laughing just as hard as Harry, his Familiar, and his two mentors.