Reconstruction of a Death Eater

For four days Remus had lived rough in the exotic grove, talking to the dying phoenix or simply sitting still and letting the serenity of the place seep into his bones. At night he slept curled in his cloak. In the day, he sat crosslegged on the mulch and allowed the scents of the aromatic herbs and spices curl into his mind. Food appeared regularly, probably brought by house-elves although he never caught them. He often offered the phoenix a share of his meal, but the bird rarely took more than a mouthful of water from him.

On the morning of the fifth day, the phoenix was restless, stretching and swaying its head, until his bamboo wind chime noises became a constant music in the grove. Remus could feel the magic building as the bird grew more agitated, the colours of its dulled plumage suddenly beginning to glow with inner light again. Suddenly Fawkes reared up on his legs, his neck and wings stretched high. The song of the phoenix became so powerful Remus would have covered his ears to block out the wildly emotionally noise, but he could not move for the strength of the song.

On the last belling notes of triumph, the great wings came down and clapped once, the detonation of magical fire knocking Remus off his feet and flinging him into the peppertree's trunk with stunning force. He managed to get an arm up to protect his eyes as the raging inferno blazed before him. The smoke and aromatic oils burned his eyes and made him cough hackingly, but he couldn't turn away as the magnificent bird seemed to split down the middle. A perfect egg of fire emerged from the shrinking belly flesh to land in the ashes. The long primary feathers of each wing fell lightly to the earth well clear of the flames as the wings shrank, the body collapsed in upon itself and the harsh leaping flames began to fade slowly down and down until they dwindled into coals.

Wiping his streaming eyes, Remus managed to scramble to his feet a few seconds before the glowing golden egg shell split and the young phoenix chick shrugged the fragments away from its small but visibly growing body. There was no damp fluffiness or ganglingly awkward cuteness about this chick. It shook off the last residual ashes and coals and leaped from the flames in a magnificent crescendo of song, wildly triumph and yet sad with loss as it circled the clearing, surveying the last remnant of its parent bird. Remus could only stare open mouthed as the newly hatched phoenix found its wings and its song once again before it spiralled down to land gracefully in the tree by the werewolf's head, tapping his cheek with the very tip of its beak.

"What? Oh, oh yes, we have to ... indeed." Gathering his scattered wits, he wiped away the tears, grabbed his rucksack and moved forward carefully to where the original phoenix carcass lay in the coals, the magnificent bird reduced to a mere chicken sized shadow of its former self. Somewhat loath to pick it up, Remus finally reached out and gently raised it, sliding it carefully into his bag while the phoenix chirruped and muttered to itself. The feathers that had not been burned were meticulously gathered up too and placed in the pack before Remus turned to the phoenix in the tree and cocked his head questioningly. A portion of ash from the nest went into the bag, followed by a selection of sticks and herbs as the phoenix indicated. Finally, the bird seemed to nod its approval, and together, man and bird made their way back to Hogwarts for the next part of the rite.

~~*~~

"I will not take part in some black magic rite just so you can raise a dead man!" Roger roared furiously, slamming a fist into the mantelshelf with ferocious intent.

Aberforth threw up his arms in disgust while Potter groaned and shook his head, running an agitated hand through the mop and making it messier than ever.

Snape sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, searching for inner strength before he slammed a wandless spell at the healer, pinning him against the far wall as he stalked forward, to snarl in his face. "You stupid, brainless sheep of an imbecile! Ask Potter what dark magic is all about, no 'please, Master Podmore, would you be so kind as to donate a few drops of your blood to help the cause of Light'. Oh no, it's 'kill the spare' and 'blood of an enemy forcefully taken' in a dark graveyard in the middle of the night. Admit to yourself what is fearfully known but never acknowledged in every heart. The Light is slowly but surely being extinguished by the sheer weight of numbers and the Death Eaters' unslakeable thirst for blood. If the Death Eaters prevail, what do you think will happen to our world? Half-bloods, Mudbloods and Squibs will be tortured slowly and maliciously, hunted down and rooted out of the wizarding bloodlines. People will be told what they can do and when they can do it, who they can speak to and when they can speak, what they may learn and what is forbidden to them. Feudal law will be applied at its worst and most ruthless degree and the only thing standing between that disaster and salvation is a dead man."

"And you really think one man will make all that difference?" Roger sneered albeit with difficulty.

"As a man, no. As a symbol, definitely! Our Ministry sits on its hands and refuses to even acknowledge that there is a problem, because they think it may not be such a bad thing. They seem to think that Voldemort would be pretty much just another Minister for Magic, that he will be more than willing to sit back and let the Ministry grind on in its usual, mindless fashion. Well, he won't; he will destroy everything -- our government, our institutions, our way of life -- and eventually he will destroy the magic."

Even Aberforth shook his head over that one, but Snape did not back down.

"You think not? Remember the witch burnings, remember the time of persecution? Well, if Voldemort has his way, he will alert the Muggles to our existence in the worst way possible, and they will rise up and destroy every one of us with never a thought or a guilty shrug. Oh, some Muggles will protest about the treatment of magicals, but most will not even blink as they use their guns and electricity to wipe us off the face of the earth in their jealousy and hate."

"Oh come now, that is just taking it a bit too far," Roger protested weakly, but surprisingly Harry shook his head.

"No, he's right. A lot of the Muggles cannot accept anyone who is different. Hey, they even kill each other because some have pink skins and others have brown or yellow or olive skins. Muggleborns will tell you that some of their Muggle relatives are really nasty to them and treat them like dirt or turn them out of their homes as soon as they dare. If Voldemort wins, I can almost guarantee he will destroy the whole of wizarding kind within ten years."

Roger bit his lip thoughtfully then eyed Snape who had finally let him go and was standing with his arms crossed tightly over his chest once again. "You say this is not Dark Magic, but you want to draw blood. I thought that was one of the main descriptors of Black Magic."

"No, it's not Black, it's High Court, European not British. Your blood has a lot of the same things in its make-up as your father's, and they call the spirit back to the flesh. Aberforth's tie is not as strong as we thought, but his hair will call to those parts of Albus that came from his mother. Harry's part is the hardest in some ways; he has to donate seed for regeneration." Snape smirked as the boy blushed. "We all must donate breath to recall the spirit, make it remember the living and the breathing world we all share."

"How much blood?" Roger asked nervously, but at least he was listening.

"It took three drops to bring Voldemort back to life," Harry muttered. "I'm sure you could spare that much."

"Three drops stolen are acceptable, but if you are willing to give them then a mere drop will suffice, although more is of course better," Severus said without inflection.

"And when will this very dodgy rite take place?"

"The first midday after Remus returns with the phoenix eld. Fawkes gave the headmaster permission to take his cast body so that he might use the regenerative powers that still linger in a phoenix mummy to restore his body to full and working condition. Such generosity is by far and above what we mere humans could put forward."

Roger's jaw dropped. "But, but that means Fawkes will never be able to regenerate again and he will die."

Severus smiled evilly. "That's correct, the phoenix will give up its eld, its chance at immortality, so that Albus Dumbledore, the man you will not even freely offer three drops of your blood to, might be brought back to the world of the living to serve a cause that has no bloody relevance to what amounts to a magically powered parrot!"

The medi-wizard flushed in temper and stormed out of the room.

"Diplomatic to the last, Snape," Aberforth grumbled as voices sounded in the hallway, and Remus came into the sitting room, a phoenix on his shoulder and a rucksack cradled in his arms. "I have them both," he murmured, a very odd look of complete contentment on his face.

To everyone's surprise, the phoenix rose from Remus' shoulder and flitted over to land on Severus, rubbing his beak along the Potions Master's chin. Even more amazing, Severus lifted his long thin fingers and scratched under the large beak, making the bird trill in contentment. "Alright, Fawkes?" he murmured softly. "We are grateful, you know?"

The bird trilled and cooed, making Severus smile as Roger came back into the room and watched for a second before clearing his throat. "It's eleven o'clock; do you think we should get started?"

~~*~~

The marble edifice was huge and imposing, carved panels depicting stages of the headmaster's life running around the sides. The top sported a base relief image of the headmaster lying down; his arms folded on his chest, a grave and dignified look on his face. Harry stood on his left hand opposite Aberforth while Roger stood at his head and Severus took his place at the foot. Remus stood off to one side, holding the tray that usually contained the instruments seen at a funeral but instead held the mummified phoenix, the feathers and an assortment of bottles and containers Severus had given him. Fawkes had taken up a very uncomfortable looking perch on Severus' shoulder, looking for all the world like a gaudy hat.

As the sun reached its zenith, although not at the top of the sky so early in the year, Severus nodded to Harry, who carefully extracted the phoenix pendant from his robes and held it over the headmaster's breast unsure of what to do with it. Slowly, the marble hands moved revealing a hollow that was perfectly phoenix-shaped, and Harry swallowed hard as he went to unloop the chain from his neck. It came off easily although it had never moved before. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry fitted the pendant into the receptacle then stepped back to his starting position again.

For a moment nothing happened then slowly, slowly, the tide of marble began to melt and flow away revealing the pseudo corpse of the headmaster laid out as it had been more than a year before. His withered hand was still blackened, his beard still held silver sparks, but his twinkling blue eyes were tightly lidded and the expressive face was a still death-mask. Harry drew in a sharp gasp, the events of that night long ago coming back fresh and painful once again. The gasp was echoed around the circle of men, each for their own reasons.

Steadying himself, Severus began the ritual, calling on the powers of earth, fire, wind and water to aid him in his undertaking. The foreign language made Roger's eyebrow raise, but Aberforth seemed fascinated and ready to laugh in delight as he watched the younger man perform magic that had not been seen outside a very few secluded places before. Ignoring him, Severus created a brazier much like a funeral brazier but instead of setting it at the deceased's feet, he caused it to hover over his chest, supported by magic alone.

A gesture made Remus step forward and place the carefully gathered ash and twigs from the phoenix grove into the brazier, arranging them meticulously. Severus began to speak again and Remus stirred, leaning forward slightly.

"Harry, when Severus gestures sprinkle your seed on the fire," he instructed quietly, and Harry relaxed. Obviously someone else knew what they were doing besides Snape, even though the Potions Master's briefing had been comprehensive and clear. At Snape's gesture, Remus offered the containers he had been instructed to give, soil in a bowl to be sprinkled on the corpse's feet, a puff of scent over the gathering to perfume the air, water on the palms of the hands. As Remus stepped back, the twigs began to burn sending the pleasant scent of camphor and laurel through the area. "The four elements are now invoked, get ready, Harry."

Severus said the words which translated as 'Seed of the protégé, fertile and rich.' Remus prompted and Harry produced a small container and sprinkled its contents over the burning twigs with a rosy blush. When he had been informed of what he had to give, he had been thoroughly embarrassed, but the other men had merely shrugged, taking it in their strides. A faint hint of steam rose as the semen contacted the fire and did not dissipate but hovered over the flames.

The next line was 'hair of the brother who shares a blood mother'. Aberforth's wand became a blade and sliced off a good foot of his waist length hair. Separating the strands, he fed them into the flame, and the smoke mingled with the steam to form a more dense and visible cloud.

Roger steeled himself but the foreign words were unintelligible as Severus separated his inner robe to expose a thin pale thigh. His wand sliced into the flesh and excised a neat half a pound of muscle without the wizard's chanting faltering. A flick of the wand sent it to rest in the centre of the coals, and the robes fell closed again. The watching men could hardly believe he had done that, but the ceremony was running on and the words 'blood of the son to summon the spirit' rang out.

Gritting his teeth, Roger neatly sliced into his wrist and allowed the rich flow of blood to join the quivering piece of flesh in the brazier, the cloud now swirling and roiling until it began to take on a human form. Severus continued the ceremony, signalling Remus to bring forth the phoenix, first the long primary feathers and as they were consumed, he was about to break up the shrivelled and blackened eld but the smoke wraith held up a hand. A voice so dearly familiar to some yet distant and thin spoke softly.

"I am a willing returnee, therefore you may use the tail only, leave the rest to my dear, dear Fawkes." Remus cocked his head in Severus' direction then did as instructed when the tall man nodded once. The blackened phoenix flesh was crumbled into the ashes in the brazier and the flames finally faded and died. The brazier drifted down toward Severus' hands as the headmaster's shade drifted down to lie above the still dead flesh and slowly sink into it.

Severus picked up the ash, ignoring the heat as it scorched his palm and sprinkled it over the neo-corpse. Moving in a circling pattern dance, using his blackened fingers he traced sigils on the soles of the feet, palms of the hands and on the headmaster's forehead. Another gesture brought the men back to their stations, although now Aberforth was at the right foot and Severus moved to the head. Remus took a stance beside Aberforth at the left foot and at Severus' nod asked everyone to blow hard on the corpse, donating air and energy. Everyone complied as Severus bent forward and blew directly into the corpse's mouth, inflating the chest then straightening as it fell then it rose again, the headmaster gasping a breath on his own, and another and another.

Harry let out a strangled whoop as the headmaster's eyelids fluttered and his eyes opened slowly, sliding his arm under the narrow shoulders as Roger supported him from the other side. Severus smiled at the two men facing him as both Remus and Aberforth swung the old man's legs down and grinned inanely as the headmaster coughed slightly as he relearned to breathe and move.

Fawkes sang joyously as his friend and master breathed on his own and smiled, stroking Harry's unruly hair and clasping Roger's shoulder in thanks. Remus grinned at Severus then moved forward quickly to grasp his shoulders as the tall man swayed unsteadily. The front of Severus' robe was damp and clinging and the smell of blood was almost overwhelming. "Oh Merlin, Sev! Roger, he's bleeding badly," Remus yelped, wrapping an arm around his waist.

The phoenix chose to hop across and rub his head against the gaping hole in the Potions Master's leg, an opalescent tear dropping into the hole and turning the whole wound into a glittering rainbow before it faded away, leaving the hole closed and gone. Severus tested his weight against the limb then sighed deeply. "Perhaps you might try your tears on the headmaster's hand," he spoke to the phoenix who seemed to chuckle and nod its agreement. "Before we do anything more, let's get out of here. Remus has a portkey to take us all straight to the Room of Requirement where we can all rest and recover. Harry has learned a new time trick, Headmaster," he added as if Harry was a trained seal and the young man stiffened angrily then shook his head in exasperation.

"Bring out the portkey," Harry said with what sounded like strained patience that made Snape snicker as the portkey took hold.

All that was left was the flat marble pad bearing the now solved inscription.

From Elder Snake to Younger Lion

In marble cold, holds the timeless bier

Come to the Blood, through Fire rising,

The Phoenix shall give up its eld."