Phoenix Ascendant

Authors Note:

This takes place after the Goblet of Fire, and anything prior to the end of that book is true and real. Just don't assume anything about anything you find out in OotP and beyond.

CH 1: Return to Privet Drive

Harry sat in the back seat of Uncle Vernon's car, scrunched over as far as he could to get away from his cousin with his uncle's seat leaned back against his knees. He stared out the window at whatever was passing by, but didn't see any of it. He'd not had an easy life these last fourteen years, but just recently he'd gone though a trial that trumped everything prior. In his mind, chaotic phrases and images surfaced at random.

Crucio! He was at Hogwarts. Master... forgive us! Bone of the father... guest of honor... Wands out, d'you reckon? Bertha Jorkins... I said BOW! It begins - and ends - with our young friend here. Imperio! ... for I had no body... Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand. Kill the spare!

"BOY!"

Harry snapped out of his trance and rapidly shook his head to clear it. He felt his uncle's spittle on his face and saw the corpulent visage inches from his own. "Uh... Uncle Vernon?"

"Quit your daydreaming and get out of the car!" He shouted at Harry. "Get your rubbish out of the boot and put it into the cupboard! Now, Boy!"

Oh. They had arrived at the house. Not home- never home. But they were at the place Harry lived throughout the summer.

"Yes sir," Harry answered, as he climbed out of the car. His aunt and cousin had already gone into the house, and he sighed as he went around to the back to get his trunk. His uncle stood in the drive, watching him, his arms crossed over his chest. He wasn't going to leave the freak alone with his Mercedes. No telling what unnaturalness he might get up to.

Harry grunted with effort as he tugged his luggage out of the boot. He almost overbalanced and fell, pulling it down on him. Then he dragged it to the front steps as quickly as he could. His uncle was not a patient man, and Harry did not want to push him any further.

Harry paused at the first step leading up to the front door, panting for breath.

"Oh, for pity's sake!" Vernon shouted, stomping over to Harry.

Harry flinched back, but Vernon didn't seem to notice. His uncle grabbed the handle on one side of the trunk and marched up the four steps, dragging it behind him. Harry winced each time the end dragging on the ground slammed into the next riser. Hopefully his potions kit and the other breakables in the trunk were padded enough... Vernon then dragged the trunk down the hall and threw it into the cupboard under the stairs. Thoughts of nasty potions components leaking all over his books and robes drifted though Harry's head, soon giving way to memories of a graveyard...

"BOY! Wake up!" Harry had been standing in the drive, staring into space again. "Get that bloody owl inside!"

"Yes, Uncle." Harry scrambled to get a birdcage out of the back of the car. A snowy owl gazed up at him. "We're here, girl."

"HOOT."

B R E A K

After three days of sitting on his bed, playing a version of fetch with Hedwig, Harry felt a little restless. He would toss a de-charmed quaffle into the air and, just before it hit the floor, the owl would swoop down and snatch it, then drop it in Harry's lap. The fact that he had his familiar at all was a surprise. Vernon told Harry the day he arrived that if he would promise to keep the "ruddy bird" inside and quiet, and only let her out late at night to hunt, she could stay in Harry's room. Otherwise Vernon would set her out somewhere on the other side of London. Of course, Hedwig was a post owl and wouldn't have any problem finding Harry again, but Harry didn't see any reason to tell his uncle that when he was being almost civil.

He'd stayed in his room for the most part the last three days. His uncle and aunt didn't seem to have much for him to do. Petunia's garden had been featured in one of the little local papers, so she mostly busied herself out there now, not wanting to take the chance of Harry messing it up. Harry thought it was nice seeing her get her own hands dirty for once. She also went to Mrs. Druthers's house for tea each afternoon.

Strangely enough, Dudley had not been hanging out with his old gang so far this summer. On his first day back, Harry had heard Dudley and Piers Polkiss shouting at each other on the front lawn. It got so bad that Uncle Vernon had to go out and stop them. Dudley and Vernon had argued after dinner every night, too. Harry was just glad that everyone was leaving him alone. So far, this had probably been the best summer he'd ever had. He'd never gotten along with his relatives very well. As long as his Aunt and Uncle were ignoring him, they weren't yelling at him. Besides, it was kind of fun to see Uncle Vernon and Dudley go at it.

Harry had just thrown the ball and Hedwig was midair when the door opened. Dudley walked in, then fell back in fright, trying to get out of the bird's path. Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing at his cousin, pointing his finger and grabbing his side. Dudley stood up, hands clenched into fists at his sides, and began to stomp towards the other boy.

Harry dug his heels into the mattress, pushing further up the bed, trying to slide away from Dudley.

Dudley glared at him. "You have a piss-poor idea of what's funny!"

Harry shot back, "If you could see the way you looked, you would have laughed too!"

Dudley turned and walked over to the window. He looked out for a moment.

Glaring at his cousin, Harry stood. "Well," he demanded. "What do you want?"

"I dropped those goons I used to chum with," Dudley muttered.

"So? Why are you telling me? Do you want a metal or something?"

"I also started boxing. I'm really quite good at it." Dudley's voice was even quieter now.

Harry rolled his eyes. "That's just what we need."

Dudley spun around to look Harry in the eye. "Look, I've laid off, all right? I haven't bothered you at all this summer!"

Harry snorted at that. "Dudley, the summer is less than a week old!" Harry looked closer at his cousin and asked, "What is it you want?"

Dudley fidgeted for a moment. "I need your help."

Harry couldn't help it. He tried not to laugh again, but it just came out. As he laughed, he felt his rage and frustration begin to boil over. "What? You want my help? That's a bloody laugh!" Harry was yelling now. "After the way you've treated me! Do you remember 'Harry Hunting?' Cause I sure as hell do! Go piss up a rope, Dursley!"

Dudley's face darkened. He stepped up to Harry, and grabbed him by the shoulders, slamming his back into the wall. In Harry's mind, he was back there again, held against the tombstone. He started frantically striking at Dudley, trying to free himself from the bigger boy. Dudley was saying something, but in his panic Harry couldn't hear it. Finally, in desperation, he tried to claw at Dudley's eyes.

Dudley was shocked at the way Harry overreacted. "Just calm the hell down!" Dudley yelled. When Harry's clawed fingers went for his face, Dudley dealt a swift left hook to Harry's gut and stepped back, dropping him.

"Pathetic, Potter," Dudley spat. "Without your stick, you're nothing. Just stay here and cry about your boyfriend, if that's what you want. If you want to learn how to hit, come talk to me." He turned and walked out, leaving Harry on the floor clenching his stomach.

Hedwig flew down to the floor next to Harry. As he groaned, she moved a little closer and rubbed her face against his.

"What was he talking about, Hedwig?" Harry whispered, setting up.

Hedwig hopped up onto his leg and looked him in the eye, cocking her head from side to side. Harry leaned on one arm and stroked his familiar. After a while, he sighed. "The dreams, I guess. He must have heard me. I wonder what he meant about learning how to hit. I can't imagine Dudley helping me with anything. Heh. I can't imagine wanting his help with anything."

Hedwig let out another soft trilling hoot and nuzzled Harry's palm. A loud bang announced Harry's aunt coming in the front door. A minute later she walked into Harry's room. She glared at Hedwig as she said, "Put that thing away, and get downstairs. You need to unload the groceries from the car and put everything away. Now!"

He sighed and obeyed. He typically went through the garage, simply because it was the shortest route. When he went into the garage, he was left gaping at the sight of his cousin in a pair of gym shorts and a tee-shirt lying on a bench, struggling with a huge barbell. After watching Dudley go at it for a few minutes, Harry shook off the surprise and started bringing the groceries in.

Every time he passed through the garage he watched Dudley. The boy was really pouring his heart into lifting the weights. It only took Harry three trips, and the food was put away quickly. When he was done, he slipped back into the garage, closing the door behind him.

Dudley was trying to put the barbell back on the rack above him, but his arms were trembling and he was having a hard time. Not wanting to see Dudley seriously hurt, Harry ran over to help him. Dudley looked shocked. He sat up and pulled a pair of earbuds out of his ears. Harry could faintly hear some sort of rap music.

"Uh, thanks," Dudley said as he sat up. "I guess that's why they say you need a spotter. So, change your mind?"

Harry looked around. "Where did all this come from? It looks-"

Dudley interrupted Harry. "Yeah, it's used. It's not exactly what I need to train, either, but it's all Mum would get me. Da said no to anything at all." Dudley scowled.

"Hey!" Harry realized, "I thought that when you were training as a boxer, you didn't do weights?"

Dudley glared at Harry. "First, that wasn't my max. You still get tired. Second, what do you know about it anyway?"

"Um... yeah. Nothing, I guess. Why boxing?"

"None of your bloody business!" As he walked over to the cooler and got a bottle of water, Dudley seemed to reconsider. "Well, it's embarrassing," he said quieter.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Does it have anything to do with why Piers buggered off?"

Dudley picked up a couple of small dumbbells and handed them to Harry, then picked up two more for himself. "Come on," he said. "I'm not interrupting my workout just to talk to you." He opened the outside door and started jogging down the street.

Harry scrambled to catch up. "What about your Mom? I'm sure she has other things for me to do."

Dudley tossed his head in a kind of shrug as he settled into his pace. "Who cares? Besides, she's at the Druthers' for tea."

They jogged for a few minutes in silence, then Harry said, "Well? What's up with you? This is just strange."

Dudley replied slowly. "Well... There's this bird."

Harry stopped running and laughed. "I don't believe it! A girl. Oh, let me guess? She makes you want to be a better person?" Harry laughed again.

Dudley stopped running and turned to face Harry. He just stood there for a second, eyes downcast, and shuffled his feet.

"Shite, Dudley!" Harry wasn't sure what to say. "You're serious? Damn."

Dudley shrugged. "I dunno, Harry. She's just... I don't know. Piers tried to feel her up a couple times. She just laid him out on the floor. Like, some kind of ninja shite. Like a Bruce Lee movie. And she's pretty. Hot, too, but more pretty. And smart."

Dudley gestured for them to start running again. After they'd found a rhythm, Dudley continued, "She don't like me, though. She thinks I'm rubbish. I guess she's right."

Harry nodded. "So that's why you aren't chumming around with the same blokes? And why you're trying to be nice to me?"

"No. Well, partly. It's why I'm not with that crowd anymore. I'm trying to be nice to you cause I need your help and I think you could use mine."

"That's the second time you said that. What do you want?"

"Well, you saw me with the weights. To do it right, you need a spotter. And to hold the bag, and the mitts, and stuff like that."

Harry glanced at Dudley. He could understand how his cousin would do something like this out of self interest. He thought about the graveyard again- about how it wasn't like in class. It was all running and hiding. If he remembered anything about boxing, it was all about footwork and dodging. That could be a lot of help. If nothing else, being in shape would make running away easier. Besides, Harry could just see himself walking up to his rival, Draco Malfoy, as he ranted on about the Dark Lord, and just knocking him out with one punch.

"Okay, Dudley. I'll help you, if you train me."

"Deal." Dudley beamed at Harry.

'Funny,' Harry thought to himself. 'He's not nearly as ugly or stupid-looking when he smiles.'

B R E A K

Meanwhile, in London...

"I don't care, Albus! I am his godfather, and he WILL stay with me. You never heard about that WOMAN! Lily hated her. My competency hearing is tomorrow, followed by the lawsuit. You can either have the Blacks in the Order, or I will do what I can to destroy it. We both know I'd rather be with you, but DO NOT PUSH ME!"

Sirius Black was a tall, spare man with long raven black hair and piercing eyes. As he ranted, he strode back and forth across the threadbare rug in his study. His cloak billowed out behind him, much more typically like the cloak of his childhood nemesis, Severus Snape.

Said nemesis rolled his eyes and leaned back in a wingback chair, crossing his arms. "As I am sure you realize, it is pointless to argue with the cur whilst he is mid-rant. Believe me, Headmaster, the last thing on this earth I would desire is to find myself in accord with him, however..." The sallow, lank haired man paused here, seemingly lost in thought. "I believe the wards on the brat's house will no longer be effective. The dark lord was resurrected using his blood."

Sirius whirled on his heal to face Snape. He was about to unleash another tirade when he realized that the other man had agreed with him. He closed his mouth as he turned to look at the third man in the room.

Albus Dumbledore sat seemingly composed. His aged hands were steepled in front of his face. After a few tense seconds of silence, he spoke. "Perhaps..." A pause.

Sirius seethed, wishing the damned old man would just get out with it!

"Perhaps you are right. After all..." At this point, a familiar twinkle showed in the old man's eye. "It is so seldom that you two agree on anything. This could be good for Harry, but his family will need protection as well."

Sirius exploded again. "I don't give a bloody damn what happens to that lot!"

Dumbledore smiled slightly behind his thick beard. "You may not, but Harry will. He is such a sensitive boy. If anything unfortunate were to occur, you know how he would take it."

Snape rolled his eyes again. "Potter does seem to think to much of his influence and capabilities. There is no doubt that the insufferable little-" Snape was cut off as Sirius grabbed him by the collar of his robes with a growl and jerked him out of his chair.

Holding Snape's face an inch from his own, Sirius growled out, "Shut the ruddy hell up, Snivellus!"

A single drop of sweat ran down Snape's face. Keeping eye contact with the mongrel, he slowly slipped his hand into the opening in the side of his robe, grasping the wand in the holster at the small of his back. He was just about to hex the mongrel insensate when Dumbledore broke the tension.

"Boys! Boys, behave yourselves or I will separate you." Dumbledore had his wand in hand and was standing now. Neither man had seen him move.

Sirius dropped Snape into his chair and spun around in disgust, walking to the other side of the room. He leaned against the mahogany paneled wall near a bookcase, a smile on his face. "So, Harry is coming here, then." All trace of aggression was gone as if it had never been.

Snape straightened his robes, glaring at Black. "That man is still unstable. Prison does things to one's mind, Headmaster. He is in no shape to be the guardian of any child."

"Severus," Dumbledore said gently. "Sirius has made much progress with his therapy over the last few months. If our esteemed Ministry sees fit to grant him competency, who are we to gainsay them?"

Snape shifted his glare to the old man, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Before either of the other men could comment, however, Dumbledore resumed.

"Now, unfortunately, my boy, I do not believe that this house would be a suitable home for the child. Nor would it do as a hideout for his Muggle relations."

Sirius looked aghast at the idea of the Dursleys in his home. He didn't have anything against Muggles in general, but he'd met Petunia and Vernon at James and Lily's wedding. He couldn't imagine a less pleasant couple, magical or not.

Dumbledore went on to say, "Not only is this place too steeped in dark magic that neither Harry nor his family are prepared to deal with, but if I accept your offer to use it as the headquarters of the Order..." The headmaster trailed off here, leaving Sirius to work out the details himself.

The Order of the Phoenix. Yes. A paramilitary group dedicated to vanquishing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Members were drawn from all parts of Wizarding society. Quite a few were a little rough around the edges to say the least. They were not the kind of company that Sirius wanted his godson to keep. Add to this the fact that Harry had a... call it a talent for finding trouble. Well, that wasn't fair, Sirius thought. Harry just saw what needed to be done and did it, regardless of what it cost him. If he lived where the Order was to meet, there was no doubt in Sirius's mind that the boy would know everything that the Order knew- and he would do what he believed was right. He certainly was James's son.

"Okay, I see your point. I'll have Eloise start looking for a suitable place." Sirius smiled wryly.

"And his family?"

"Fine."

B R E A K

On the peaceful street of Privet Drive, Little Winging, Surrey, it was a typical lazy Sunday afternoon in early July. The birds and the bees carried on with whatever distasteful activities they did, which were definitely beneath the notice and dignity of the residents. Off in the distance, one could make out the drone of a lawnmower. As one drew closer to number four, however, the discordant sounds of heavy metal music could be heard, blaring out of the garage. Inside that garage, two teenagers, stripped to the waist, were sweating heavily.

Harry Potter tossed his head to try to fling his sweat drenched bangs out of his face. The hair stayed plastered to his forehead. His cousin Dudley Dursley grunted as he struck the pad Harry had strapped to his left hand with a gloved fist, then twisted and hit the pad in Harry's other hand with his other fist. The stopwatch around Dudley's thick neck started beeping. Both boys dropped their arms. Dudley collapsed in a folding metal chair. Harry went over to the radio and hit the stop button and then opened up an ice-chest and grabbed two bottles of water. He tossed one at Dudley as he flopped onto his own chair. After a minute, Harry spoke up.

"So, what's her name?"

Dudley looked up from where he was mopping his face with a towel. "Lonnie."

Harry grinned. "Tell me again about her and Polkiss."

"Okay. Well, it's lunchtime. He comes up behind her, right? And she's there in her sweats and all. Just got in from track. And Piers comes up, and he just grabs her arse. Full on palm squeeze. I'm all about it, and like, grinning like a bleeding perv. And her arm snaps down and grabs his wrist and she spins. Before we know what's going on, Piers is flat on his face and she's got her knee in his back, and his wrist all locked up behind him. Then she gives me this look, like she knows I dared him to do it and stands up and walks out of the caf without eating. She was so pissed." While Harry was snickering, Dudley checked his watch. "We only got a bit till Mum gets home." Dudley observed. "Your go."

He tossed the boxing gloves to Harry. Shortly after, the two boys were at it again. As the endorphins kicked in, Harry's mind drifted off. He and Dudley had been training together for two weeks. Weights, cardio, even agility exercises. Dudley was actually a very good physical trainer, but Harry figured it was because he was so pushy anyway. One thing was for sure, though: he couldn't deny the results.

He was bulking up! As part of their deal, Dudley felt compelled to make sure Harry got plenty to eat. He would often find something wrong with his meal and pitch a fit, refusing to eat it. That usually led to Harry getting the "unsuitable" portion.

Besides just putting on weight, Harry found that he was getting more coordinated. He'd always had good reflexes and a knack for knowing when to duck, but he found the more he worked his body, the more it did what he wanted it to. It wasn't anything major yet, but then, he'd only been at it for a couple of weeks.

Another difference that Harry noticed was the way he got on with Dudley. After he adapted to the work out, it started to feel good. It was hard to snip at someone when everything felt that right. He didn't want to say he was friends with his cousin, but he was starting to like him a little.

Before he knew it, the stopwatch beeped.

"Time," Dudley called. "Mum'll be back in a bit. You get first shower."

After his shower, Harry started mopping the foyer and hallway, one of the few chores his aunt gave him. Dudley came downstairs a few minutes later. Although they were learning to get along, neither of them wanted Dudley's parents to catch on, so Dudley still acted like an arse whenever his parents were around.

Dudley went to the front door, walking right across where Harry was mopping. Harry glared, but he didn't say anything.

"Mum should be home any time," Dudley said, looking out the window. Then something outside caught his attention.

"Bloody hell!" he muttered, pressing his face to the window.

"What?" Harry demanded. When he looked out the window, he saw the longest car he'd ever seen idling by the curb in front of the house.

"It's a Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow stretch limo!" Dudley almost yelled.

Harry had just enough time to wonder how Dudley knew that much about what kind of car it was, then he saw a gaunt figure in a thee piece suit get out of the back of the car. Harry muttered, "Holy shite! It's Padfoot."