TEARS OF FIRE
- Into the Fire
It was just after the first pale
shadows of dawn light began to drift through the trees that Albus
Dumbledore saw the unicorn.
He had seen many unicorns in his
life, and he knew that this forest was old and strong in the sort of power that
would attract magical creatures, so the unicorn’s appearance did not surprise
him. What surprised him was the fact that the creature had stopped in its
progress through the trees to stare at him, when the distaste of its kind for
human men should have ensured its quick disappearance. But it emerged from the
forest shadows, pearl-white coat shimmering in the dawn, and stared at him -
met his gaze with a slow deliberation that seemed to imply it understood his
surprise, and was giving him time to master it.
tried to make as little noise as possible as he shifted out of his crouch,
using the trunk of the tree behind him for support as he straightened, both to
get a clearer view of the creature and to cause a disruption in the Chameleon
Charm shielding him. He had no doubt that the unicorn was perceptive enough to
know that a human hid here, masked by magic, but he wanted to be certain that
the creature would be able to see him clearly - to know him for male, and a
wizard. He hoped that it would cause the creature to flee; in these woods, in
these days, a unicorn could find itself in mortal peril by exposing itself to
the kinds of wizards who lurked here. That he and his companions were an
exception to the situation didn’t matter; it was in the unicorns’ best interest
to trust no wizard at all. At least until this was all over.
So he shifted, feeling the
camouflaging illusion around him flicker - but the unicorn did not flee. It
continued to stand in the distant shadows, like a beacon of pale light, and it
stared at him.
frowned, perplexed by the creature’s behavior. He glanced about his immediate
surroundings, searching for any sign of something amiss in the wards he and his
companions had cast around their hiding place the night before. But he noticed
nothing irregular in the feel of the wards, nor in the sleeping forms of his
companions. Antonio Carrillo lay completely cocooned in his cloak at the foot
of a nearby tree, wand clutched in the hand beneath his bent chin. And right
beside Albus, nestled among the thick roots of the
tree against which he was leaning, lay Miranda
McKinnon, her brow furrowed and eyes closed tightly in restless sleep. She had
slept hardly at all in the last week, and it was beginning to worry him.
Had she been awake, he might have
credited the unicorn’s interest to her presence. Unicorns preferred women,
virgin or not, and Miranda always seemed to have a glow about her that
attracted men and animals alike. He had found himself not immune to that
But she slept now, and the unicorn
continued to gaze at him fixedly, as though waiting for him to acknowledge that
gaze in some way.
It wasn’t an illusion, he was sure
of that much. The Clear Sight Potion he’d taken before his watch ensured his
immunity to all but the most sophisticated of illusory spells. And besides, he
doubted that any wizard in Grindelwald’s service who
found them hiding here would have bothered with illusions. The unicorn was
real, which meant that it had revealed itself to him deliberately, and like the
centaurs they considered to be their closest kin, unicorns rarely revealed
themselves in the heart of their forests without specific purpose.
rose slowly to his feet, careful to make no noise that might disturb his
sleeping companions, and took several slow and quiet steps toward the unicorn.
He stopped with the space of several paces between them, and pushed back the
hood of his cloak. Minutes ago, his body had ached with the chill and the
pressure of crouching too long in unnatural stillness; he was not a young man
anymore, and a passion for life could still not make old joints any more
limber. But now, mere paces away from the soothing shimmer of a unicorn’s
radiance, he no longer noticed the pain.
fine friend,” Albus Dumbledore said softly, and
The unicorn moved for the first
time since stepping out of the morning mist; it lifted one silver hoof and
pawed at the leaf-strewn earth. Then it tossed its head, horn gleaming, and gave
a very soft snort.
frowned again, curious, and asked quietly, “What are you trying to tell me?”
The unicorn gave another snort, one
that rang distinctly of impatience.
He smiled again. He’d heard similar
sounds many times before, from colleagues and students both. He seemed to have
a gift for exasperating people.
But before he could speak again,
the unicorn tossed its head once more, and this time the motion was clear: he
was being given a direction, guided by the angle of a silver horn. East.
The smile faded from his face as he
turned eastward, gazing into the shadowed trees as though the shadows might
suddenly part and reveal the deeper darkness lurking in wait beyond.
hadn’t considered the east. North had seemed so certain. So much evidence
pointed north. But the unicorn did not, and more so even than the centaurs the
unicorns lived in harmony with the magic and the life of their forests. If any
creatures knew where a gathering of Dark forces could be found in these trees,
it would be the unicorns.
turned back to the unicorn, to find it gazing intently at him once again.
“Thank you,” he murmured solemnly.
“We will fight the darkness for you, if we can.”
The unicorn released a shuddering
breath through its nostrils, then slowly lowered its
head until its horn was pointing directly at Albus’
hand - his wand hand, in which he still held the wand that had been drawn all
night long. The wand, it occurred to him now, which had at its heart a
unicorn’s hair - the first combination of bloodwood
and unicorn hair that had ever successfully been forged. He remembered the look
of surprise on Ollivander’s face when that wand had
come to life under his young hand, so many years ago.
a rare magic that can combine the power of a unicorn’s giving spirit with the
impassive strength of an ebony bloodwood casing. And
it is a rare man who can embody both aspects of such a magic. That wand has sat
untouched, and unequaled, in this store for three hundred years. I will be most
interested to see how you use this wand in future, young Albus.
Most interested indeed.”
had died forty years ago, leaving shop and art to his son, but not the memory
of those words. Those words lived in Albus’ memory
alone, and they had haunted him for over ninety years now. Because some
instinct had told him, even then, that satisfying the old wand-maker’s
curiosity would involve more hardship than any man wanted to bear. His
foresight in such matters, even as a boy, had always been quite painfully clear.
The unicorn before him now could
not hear the echoes of an old man’s voice or a young man’s fears, but Albus wondered if it could
sense the unicorn hair at his wand’s core, for it advanced the short paces
which separated them, and very lightly touched the tip of its horn to the back
of his outstretched hand. A gentle tingle of warmth spread over his skin, and an answering warmth ignited in the wand between his fingers.
Then the unicorn lifted its head,
snorted softly once again, and turned to disappear into the forest as swiftly
and silently as it had come. And as it left, something rustled in the branches
above, a sound almost musical in the still morning air.
looked up, trying to pinpoint the sound. Despite the cautious reaction, after
two days spent creeping through the trees, waiting for an ambush, he could not
feel too anxious about the sudden sound; the unicorn would not have lingered in
this spot if there were a threat nearby.
But except for the swaying of
disturbed branches, and the flash of morning sunlight on leaves turned golden
by autumn, there was nothing to be seen. Whatever magical creature might have
come with the unicorn had left with the unicorn as well.
He turned to see Miranda lurching
to her feet, her dark hair in disarray, and her wand in hand. She flung off her
cloak with one sharp movement to free her arms, a deeply anxious look on her
“It’s all right,” he assured her,
retracing his footsteps to return to her side.
Disturbed by the sound of their
voices, Antonio grunted and rolled out of his cloak with an ease that spoke of
practice. He was on his feet, wand in hand, in no more than a second.
demanded in a voice still hoarse with sleep, blinking furiously as he scanned
the surrounding trees.
“There’s no one,” Albus said firmly. “It was a bird in the trees. The wards
are still strong.”
Carrillo grunted again, and lowered
“What were you doing?” Miranda
asked Albus sharply, her brow still furrowed in an
anxious frown. The lines in her face had deepened over the past months, and it
pained him to see it, pained him to see how much she let the tension get to
her. But she had always been one to feel obligated to assume the full weight of
every burden - and wasn’t that part of the reason he loved her? How well he
“Albus?” Miranda’s voice was cool with the
professional edge that so often governed everything she did, especially out
here at a time like this. It was why she was one of the best field operatives
the M.L.E.S. had to boast of. “You’re
preoccupied. What happened?”
He smiled at her, hoping it would
serve to put her more at ease. “We were paid an equine visit.”
Miranda’s tense expression eased,
though she continued to frown.
Antonio frowned as well, and
scrubbed a hand through his already tangled black hair. “Horses?”
His accented voice cracked hoarsely on the final syllable.
fought the urge to give his teacher’s indulgent chuckle. “A
Antonio echoed, and glanced around the trees with widened eyes, as though
hoping to catch a glimpse of the creature. “It approached you?”
“Peculiar,” Miranda murmured. “As
far as we’ve been able to tell, the forest’s denizens have been hiding in their
protected zones for the last several weeks.”
“I believe,” Albus
put away his wand to shake out his cloak, settling it more carefully on his
shoulders, “that it was attempting to give us a message about Grindelwald’s location.”
“What?” Miranda turned back to him
so quickly that the movement looked painful. Yes, the tension was truly getting
to her. It was getting to all of them.
Carrillo muttered something in
Spanish which Albus assumed, from its tone, must be
quite a colorful curse.
“How can you be sure of this?”
“While I cannot lay claim to
fluency in the unicorn tongue,” Albus began,
gratified to see that his tone managed to draw a grin from Antonio...
“Yet,” Carrillo interjected with a
conceded with a smile. “I do feel certain that it was indeed attempting to
communicate a location to me. It directed us east.”
Miranda's attentive frown broke, and she looked for a moment almost wild with
surprise. “But all of our information
indicated that the caves in the north hills...”
“We assumed,” Antonio interjected again, looking suddenly grim. “Because we wished to assume.”
“It is equally possible,” Albus said, thinking of all the reports that had come to
them, of all the hours spent poring over maps and scrying
spells, “that the evidence which pointed us northward was planted specifically
to mislead us.”
“I know that,” Miranda snapped, her composure cracking. “Don't forget,
Albus, that this operation was researched and planned
by my department. I already
considered that possibility! But I've made patrols of the area myself and-“
“Never close enough to determine
anything for certain,” Albus interrupted as gently as
possible. The last thing he wanted to do was to further aggravate her - all who
knew her knew she had a temper best not aroused. But they did not have the time
to allow their uncertainties and frustrations to get the better of them. They
were living the final moments of this conflict, one way or another, and they
must keep their minds open to any and every possibility or chance that might
lend them victory. “And I would trust a unicorn's senses over our scrying spells in this.”
“You would,” Miranda snapped,
though it was obvious to him that her irritation was not so much for him as it
was for being forced to admit the possibility that her careful planning had
been misguided. He had been tempted many times in the course of their
acquaintance, and of their unusual relationship, to tell her that she took too
much upon herself, but he was not so much a hypocrite that he could accuse her
of anything of the sort. Not unless he wished to expose himself to the sharper
side of her tongue. And while he often found her displays of temper endearing,
one hundred years of life experience had taught him that there were some situations
in which his smiles would not earn him the desired results.
But he smiled nonetheless.
“At least we know that this is an
informant we can trust,” he said.
“The unicorn came to you,” Antonio
murmured, scrubbing his hand through his hair again in a gesture that had
become familiar to Albus in the last few days. He
then ran his hand down his tanned features, over dark stubble, and gave Albus an admiring sort of smile. “Only to
you, Dumbledore. Mas santo que
“So you think we should go east,”
Miranda muttered, pulling her cloak back on as she directed a stern but
questioning look at Albus.
“Yes,” he replied calmly. “I think
it would be unwise to dismiss this possibility.”
Miranda nodded, then
turned to Antonio. “Carrillo?”
He frowned, scratched at the
stubble on his chin, then nodded. “I agree with the
“You've been given power of
discretion by the D.S.M.?”
privately suspected that Antonio Carrillo didn't need authorization from his
department to act as he saw fit in these matters. Though Carrillo had never
claimed to be anything more than a regular Hit Wizard sent by the Spanish
Ministry to help in these attempted infiltrations, he spoke and acted with a
confidence and sense of experience that men of authority exuded in spite of
themselves. Albus would not have been surprised to
learn that Carrillo held a position in Spain's
Department of Magical Security high enough that right of rank should have
placed him in charge of this mission rather than Miranda. But Miranda McKinnon
had invested the last six months of her life in this struggle, and Antonio had
bowed to her expertise at every turn; Albus found
that sense of awareness and humility an admirable trait. He liked the man. He
only hoped that he would not be another acquaintance lost before friendship was
given a chance to grow.
“Then I agree as well,” Miranda
said after a pause. She shot Albus an exasperated
look. “Damn you, Dumbledore. I should have known that you'd start wreaking
havoc with our plans the moment we let you come along.”
“When permission is so hard won,”
he smiled, unfazed, “one can only expect the petitioner to cause difficulties
at every opportunity.”
She wanted to glare at him, he knew
she did. But he was pleased to note that she seemed unable to muster the heat
for another glare, and instead gave a light sigh and shook her head at him with
the bare hint of a smile at the corners of her lips. A somewhat sad smile,
perhaps, but every smile was precious in these times. And every smile of hers
had always been precious to him. Eight years he had known her, and he never
tired of fighting to earn those smiles. Just as he had fought
to be here today, in this place.
The Ministry had been more than happy
to hear his opinions on war matters, and to heed his hypotheses about Grindelwald's plans, his forces, his
motivations. They knew Albus Dumbledore for a notable
professor and scholar, and he had friends in the Ministry, especially in the
Department of Magical Law Enforcement. But it had taken all of his
determination to persuade them to allow him to join the M.L.E.S. in the field
on this, what many hoped would be the final engagement in a long struggle.
Before, while Grindelwald made his slow rise to power,
Albus had felt that his greater responsibility lay
with his students, and his post at Hogwarts. But after the events of this last
year, when the Chamber had been opened and children attacked within Hogwarts
itself, he had decided that the time had come for him to step onto the field
and lend the whole of his strength where it would be needed most. His
conscience would allow him to do no less.
And he hoped that, when this was
over, his dreams would not be so plagued with restless doubt. Because he felt
certain that there was something he had missed in the chaos with the Chamber of
Secrets, something vital, and the doubt hovered on the edge of his thoughts
like a dark specter he had been unable to banish.
“All right, then.” Miranda tucked
her wand into her belt and swiftly tied her dark hair, faintly streaked with
the first touches of silver, back into a knot. “Let's eat and move. We can give
this a try, but we don't have time to waste if we hope to be in position by
“Or to advise the others of a
change in plans,” Antonio added.
“Yes.” Miranda nodded. “I doubt
this unicorn of Albus' has been paying visits to
anyone else.” She grinned suddenly, the first grin to light her face in a very
long time. “I might be tempted to draw certain conclusions from that
visitation, Albus, if I didn’t know better.”
“It does seem quite incriminating,
doesn't it?” He smiled serenely in reply, then calmly set about conjuring a
quick breakfast as the morning light grew brighter around them.
After eating, while Miranda paced
the perimeter of the clearing wiping out all traces of their wards, Antonio
fixed him with a curious look and said, “Have you ever been approached by these
kinds of creatures before?”
“I've had experience working with
magical creatures in their habitat before, but my encounters with unicorns have
been few. They are typically quite elusive.”
these deep forest breeds. There was a herd of unicorns living in the
forest behind our family home,” Antonio added with a smile, his accent thickening
as his thoughts clearly wandered. “As a boy, I used to hide in the trees hoping
to see them. But I had as little luck then as I have had here.”
“These woods are supposed to be
home to many magical creatures,” Miranda said, in a lecturing tone the teacher
in Albus couldn't help but admire, “not all of them
as harmless as unicorns. Davies swears he saw a Dementor
near the caves, but no one else has confirmed a sighting yet. But we know for
certain that there are some Harpies unusually active here, and we've had
problems with Erklings on previous forays. Davisson even reported sighting a Phoenix
nest. He was very excited, finding one so far from their usual habitat - you
know how Davisson gets. But the birds themselves are
almost impossible to spot.”
Albus echoed, thinking of the flash of gold in the
leaves above his head, thinking that he had perhaps jumped too quickly to
assumptions about the origin of the rustling sound, and reminding himself that
they had made too many dangerous assumptions about this forest already.
Of all the magical creatures he had known, even those he had not yet had the
fortune to see, he found the stories of the Phoenix
the most fascinating.
He had dreamed of them in his
The Blackmist Forest
had been given its name over two hundred years ago, when a Dark witch of
immense power had settled in the woods behind the nearby wizarding village and
cloaked the entire area in an obscuring black mist. The stories said that the
forest had rotted beneath its shadow blanket, trees twisting and blackening at
their heart, plants withering for lack of sun. The villagers fled, and the
creatures of the forest fled, and all those who could not flee fast enough were
twisted by the witch's Dark magic as completely as the Forest
It was difficult, however, to
assign credibility to the stories, when the Blackmist Forest
now was a green place full of life both magical and mundane. Albus had walked beneath the heavy-boughed
trees for two days now, and he found the place beautiful. The feeling of menace
lurking in the woods was one entirely in the mind, alive only in the fear of
trespassing men - the fear of stepping over an unseen boundary and into Grindelwald's stronghold, of triggering a ward that would
alert the enemy to their presence.
thought it a sad thing that they should be bringing their fear into this place,
to taint the quiet and the green beauty with the mist and shadow of their doubt
and worry. He thought it a terrible thing that this place had no doubt already
been tainted with blood, more blood than they probably knew. So
many of the people who had disappeared while fighting Grindelwald
were never found again - not body nor spirit nor echo. Practitioners of
Dark magic had many foul uses for their victims.
lived long enough to see several wizards and witches fall to the dark side of
power, but few ever succeeded in treading that path for long before destroying
themselves - or being stopped by the Ministry. In his lifetime, those few that
managed to pose a true threat to wizarding society had committed atrocities,
certainly, but their influence was never wide spread, and after a few violent
endeavors they had always, in the end, been caught and stopped. It had been a
long time indeed since a Dark wizard had acquired enough power in Europe
to elude the forces of allied Ministries, especially after exposing themselves
in the sort of violent take-overs that Grindelwald had led or plotted.
Only now, four years after Grindelwald's first 'appearance,' did Albus
feel that the necessary steps were being taken to truly bring about the man's
defeat. The men and women currently trekking secretly through the Forest in
small teams had come willingly, all of them; trained Hit Wizards from various
Ministries who had taken it upon themselves to petition their Ministers for
permission to go into the Blackmist Forest alone, in
an attempt to defeat Grindelwald once and for all. No
never worked directly for the Ministry, but he had known many admirable witches
and wizards who did, and many of them had been killed in this underground war
against Grindelwald's forces. He wished to see an end
to this as much as any of his Ministry associates, and he fervently hoped that
today would mark that end. He hoped, and he tried to ignore the dark
premonition in his dreams and in his gut that told him there were shadows in
the future worse than any he had yet known.
He had never had the passion for Divination
that might have made it one of his stronger arts, but he had long since learned
to heed his instincts in such matters. Whether or not the foresight which had
been so clear in him since boyhood was sign of a strength in Divination or
merely a product of an analytical and clear mind, he did not presume to know.
But he did know that his foresight had proven accurate more often than he
liked, and he could only hope that this time would be the exception.
Hope could be such a fragile,
The sun was beginning its fall
behind the horizon when Albus stopped beside an
ancient black oak and ducked into the shadows cast by its low-hanging branches.
He didn't risk another Chameleon Charm, only held himself as still and silent
as possible, and allowed his gaze to drift slowly over his surroundings, taking
in every detail.
It seemed, at first glance, that he
was standing in a copse of trees the same as any other in this forest, heavy
with mossy undergrowth and the scent of growing things. Yes, at first glance it
seemed a normal place - but sight could be deceiving when it came to matters of
wizardry, and there were other details, details not so easily hidden or altered
by magic, which betrayed that this place was not as it seemed.
The air here felt thick with a
preternatural stillness, a silence that drowned all sound. No birds sang or
rustled in the trees, no rodents scurried through the undergrowth, and even the
faint whisper of breezes through the trunks and branches could not be heard.
There was no doubt in Albus' mind that the silence was magically induced, but
whether stillness had been forced on all life in this area or the magic merely
masked the sound and movement, he did not know. But one thing seemed clear: the
unicorn had guided them true.
He felt the faint tingling at the
base of his neck a moment before Miranda's voice sounded like a whisper just
inside his ears.
“The ward extends for at least half
a mile further north.”
Antonio's voice followed hers.
“And the same to
tapped his wand to his throat, then to his ear, and whispered his reply. “To
the east as well, though I suspect it extends farther than we've searched. It
would seem we've encountered a rather neat square.”
“Or a circle bigger than we know,”
Miranda retorted, sounding more pensive than argumentative. But it made Albus smile anyway.
“I do not believe,” Antonio said,
“that this is a defensive ward.”
“It's like no ward I've ever seen,
I'll admit that much,” Miranda said thoughtfully.
frowned, and for the first time since they'd sensed the alteration in their
surroundings and split up to investigate, he knelt and pressed his fingers
against the earth. He touched the tip of his wand to the earth beside his
fingers, and murmured the words of a sensory enchantment.
Circles of pale green light spread
from the tip of his wand, rippling over earth and root. The light drifted
southward without interference, but northward, into the area of stillness, the
light lines wriggled as they moved and darkened to a deep red. The earth
beneath his fingertips warmed, and sharp darts of energy tingled like pinpricks
on his skin.
“As I thought,” he murmured.
“What?” Miranda's voice echoed in
his ears instantly.
“This is a Dampening Enchantment.
It should not interfere with our spells, but we must be cautious of what our
senses tell us. They will all be somewhat impaired once we enter the field.”
“I should have brought my glasses,”
Carrillo muttered. Albus smiled.
“How did you test that?” Miranda demanded, frustration evident in her voice.
“When we have returned home safely,
I will be only too happy to give you an extensive lecture,” he replied easily.
“But for now I think we should move forward quickly.”
There was a moment of silence, in
which Albus could see in his mind’s eye the way
Miranda would be frowning, fingers moving restlessly on her wand as she
thought. Then she said, “Agreed. I’ll
alert Davisson’s team. Antonio - ”
“I will alert Rousseau.”
“As soon as they take care of their
relays, we can all move in. Albus… is there any point
in asking you to wait until we can go in as a team?”
“Miranda, you wound me.”
Antonio’s chuckle came through
louder than his voice.
“I will,” she swore, “if you don’t
He smiled. “I will - ”
But he stopped, freezing with his
hand still close to the earth as a flash of gold light in the trees ahead
caught his eye. It was gone too quickly for him to fix on it, but he did not
credit it to autumn leaves this time. He would not yet credit it to anything
more fanciful, either, but he felt certain that it had had a purpose - a
purpose served, for with his eyes fixed on that distant spot he was now able to
see what the Dampening Enchantment had most likely hidden from him: a faint
glimmer of a unicorn’s head and horn, angled around a dark stand of trees to
stare at him.
“Albus?” Miranda’s muted voice was urgent in his ear.
“A moment,” he whispered, and
lifted his hand in a slow, solemn gesture, to show that he could see his guide.
For there was no doubt in his mind now that the unicorn was
With a small toss of its head, horn
flashing, the unicorn beckoned him forward, then disappeared completely into
straightened from his crouch. “I’m afraid that I can’t wait for you after all,”
“Why?” The instant demand was
“My unicorn guide has returned.”
And then Antonio muttered, “Next time, I am staying beside you.”
would have smiled, but something in him turned, twisted away from the instinct
which filled him, the sense of foreboding. Foresight,
perhaps. Part of him knew that he should wait, that he should have his
companions beside him, for all of their sakes. But another part of him knew,
with equal certainty, that he must move forward now,
before he lost the unicorn’s path completely.
“If we are fortunate,” he said
softly, “there will not be a next time.”
Miranda began anxiously.
“I am heading northeast from my
position,” he said, knowing that the firmness of his tone would distress her,
but knowing it for necessary. “I will retrace my steps when I understand what I
am being led to see. Be cautious until we meet up again.”
Miranda’s muttered imprecations
were so soft as to be almost inaudible through the Charm. Antonio’s murmur was
clearer: “Cuidate bien,
moment, before stepping deeper into the Enchantment, Albus
hesitated on the verge of altering the Charm and speaking to Miranda alone… but
what, truly, was there to say? They had no time for the amenities of emotional
discourse, and as uncertain as many things had been between them, he did not
doubt that she knew him, and what he might say, well enough. Such things said,
at times like these, only echoed farewell before it had come to pass. No, he
would let silence speak instead, for it spoke of trust here, and surety. They
would follow him eventually, with all of their skill and determination and
trust - of that he was sure.
in deeply of the forest air - made still and silent in the Enchantment, but
nonetheless alive with the scent of things vital and resilient despite the
threat of corruption - Albus moved deeper into the Forest,
following the trail the unicorn had made for him. And for a moment he thought
he heard, in the distance, a brief, sweet note breaking the stillness of the
Continued in: Two -
The Ashes of Loss
A/N: Well, I started writing
this story several months ago, but was unfortunately distracted by other
projects and never got around to finishing it. Then I decided - hey, OotP comes out soon, and I’m sure we’ll learn more about Fawkes in it, so I’ll just wait
and finish/rewrite this story afterward, having absorbed and processed all of
that new knowledge. Because, as you can guess by now, central to this story is
how Dumbledore finds Fawkes - or Fawkes
There was only one problem:
very shortly after I’d started writing on this, I started creating family trees
for the OCs, and quickly found a way to tie them into
other stories I was also working on. So now I had a dilemma: Hold off on
posting any unfinished pieces of this, and leave all the family connections in
my head alone, because really, I’m the only who cares about it enough to miss
it since no one else would even know! Or: Post this story unfinished, and risk
having to come back and rewrite it entirely after OotP
comes out, all just for… well, just for the heck of it. J
Obviously, the latter won
out. So I know I’m going to feel like an idiot when OotP
comes out and I have to rewrite this (because I DO want to write a story about
Dumbledore and Fawkes, and I’ll do it one way or
another, dammit!), but I couldn’t help myself. Those
family connections are coming up very soon, you see, and I couldn’t resist the