Elemental, Dear Phoenix

Chapter One: True Lies

The mist lay thick over the fields, pale white beneath the full moon as Phoenix gazed at it from her window seat. It was almost magical, she mused, hoping that the mist and the moon combined would bode well for her sixteenth birthday. She checked her watch: 12:32pm. She had been sixteen now for thirty-two minutes. Sixteen, and never been kissed, she sighed.

Grabbing her bag, Phoenix, or "Nix" as her family affectionately called her, headed outside for an early birthday celebration. She knew her parents would flip if they knew what she was doing, what she had been doing since her fifteenth birthday, but then, how would they know? It was after midnight, they had been asleep for hours, and anyway, she was going out to the creek, a full acre away from the house. There was no way they'd be able to smell the pot.

The stars were out above her head, keeping her company as she walked back to the creek behind her house. There was a large rock situated by the creek, and Nix sat down on it, taking her bowl out of her bag. There was only a small nug of pot left; enough to get her stoned, but there would be no more after that. She suddenly wished that she had more; an ounce; hell, even an eighth would suffice.

As Nix took out her pot, she glanced up and saw that the mist across the fields was creeping towards her. It was an eerily beautiful sight, and she sat transfixed by it for a moment, before packing her bowl with the meager amounts of her pot and smoking.

When she looked up again, the mist was nearly upon her. The wind had started up also, and her dark brown hair was whipping about her face. The mist began to surround her, and Nix felt no panic. Perhaps it was the drug; she thought that she might be hallucinating. But whether it was real or not, she wasn't afraid. An instinct in her told her that she wouldn't be harmed, that in a way, she was coming home.

The mist got thicker and thicker as it swirled around Nix, until she couldn't see her own hand in front of her eyes anymore. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.

She was still sitting on a rock by the water, but instead of the small creek that wound around her property in Upstate New York, the rock was situated by a large bay of water. The sky was light blue with scattered clouds, but she couldn't see the sun anywhere above her. The light seemed to be coming from all around rather than one fixed point in the sky.

Phoenix stood and turned around slowly, observing her surroundings. There were a few scattered trees, and across the water she saw a small island, shrouded in mist, with a building on it that looked like it could be a cathedral.

"Where am I?" she whispered, hardly aware that she had spoken aloud.

"You are on the bay of Avalon."

She twirled around and saw a small woman with long, straight black hair and a dark blue crescent moon tattooed between her eyebrows. The woman's skin was sun-browned, and her dress was of a plain, course black material.

Phoenix tried not to look surprised. She raised an eyebrow. "Avalon? Avalon isn't real..."

The woman laughed. Her voice was low and airy, like the wind. "Yes, my child, Avalon is real. It has been removed from the world for these thousand years and more, but it still exists." She studied Phoenix carefully for a moment. "You see how there is no sun in the sky?" Phoenix nodded slowly. "That is because Avalon no longer exists in your world. Time has no meaning here. By your measurements of time, I was alive over a thousand years ago, and ought to be dead. Perhaps I am dead; I do not know, nor do I care at this point. A hundred years can pass in the blink of an eye here, while an hour may seem to take a thousand. It matters not."

Phoenix narrowed her eyes, digesting the woman's words. She radiated power like the sun did heat, and Nix was struck with curiosity. "If you don't mind my asking... who are you?"

She was rewarded with a smile. "In your legends, I am called Morgan LeFay. But my name is simply Morrigana."

Phoenix's eyes widened in shock. The woman continued. "And your name, my child?"

"Phoenix Bannon."

Morrigana smiled wider. "Then the time has come. You know, child, that you are a witch?"

"A... a what?" Had she heard wrong?

"A witch, my child. You have a great deal of ancient, magical powers in you. You are not an ordinary witch, you are an elemental one as well. You have power over the earth, the fire, and the sky above. You can make things grow, create fire of nothing, control the wind and, to an extent, the weather and cosmos, in addition to the normal magic that witches are capable of." Phoenix's expression displayed her emotions perfectly, and Morrigana narrowed her eyes. "You were not told of this?"

"Um, no. You must have the wrong girl."

"I most certainly do not!" replied Morrigana, sounding insulted. "You are the one, child. It is unfortunate that you have not been trained, but of course it was foretold that you would not be able to access your magic until your sixteenth birthday. Which, if I am correct, which I always am, is today?"

"Yes..."

"Good." She granted the girl with a smile again. "Now then, my dear, have you ever made anything happen? Most specifically, anything to do with the elements I mentioned?"

Phoenix thought hard. "Well, my lighter was out of fluid the other day, but somehow I made it light anyway... oh, and last summer, there was an awful drought for over a month. My father's crops were dying, and I went outside in the middle of the night, wishing it would rain, even though the sky was totally clear. After a few minutes, these clouds appeared... out of nowhere, it seemed, and it began to pour..."

"Wonderful! This is wonderful! Well, my dear, I must send you home again, but I will call you to me again soon. Tomorrow, you will be visited by a witch, who will take you to a school to begin training. You have a lot of lost time to make up for. Your parents--how I wish I could have a word with them, but unfortunately, I will leave that to the witch tomorrow. Your parents know of all this, they will understand." Morrigana reached into a pocket in her dress and pulled out a black crystal that hung on a black silk cord. "Wear this; you will understand. I leave you with this, and one other sign that this conversation was real. The protection spell on you, that hid your identity from yourself and your enemies, wears off now. Go carefully, Phoenix Bannon. I will see you soon."

The mist swirled around her again, growing thick, and then blackness came.

Phoenix woke up the next morning in her bed. She didn't remember how she'd gotten back into the house the night before. That had been some dream, she thought groggily.

"NIX!" her mother yelled. "IT'S TIME TO GET UP! JUST BECAUSE IT'S SUMMER, DOESN'T MEAN YOU GET TO LAY IN BED ALL DAY LONG!"

"All right, all right, I'm getting up!" she called.

There was a pause, and Nix could hear pots and pans crashing in the kitchen. "Shit!" she heard her mother swear. Another pause, and then, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEETHEART! GET OUT HERE, I'M MAKING YOU BREAKFAST!"

Nix sighed. Her mom was well-meaning, but she yelled a lot. She glanced at the clock next to her bed. 9:01. She sighed again, then heaved herself out of bed.

As she did so, a strand of hair fell into her face. Automatically, she pushed it behind her ear, then stopped and pulled a clump in front of her eyes. It was fire-red. Her heart skipped and she ran to her mirror. Her hair was red--red like blood, with strands of golden highlights.

She gasped and ran her fingers through her hair. I'm hallucinating, she thought. This isn't real.

Then she saw the crystal on a black cord hanging around her neck. The crystal from the night before, the one Morrigana had given her. But that was a dream! She picked it up and stared at it. It wasn't black anymore, it was red with swirls of red, orange and yellow, like her hair.

Phoenix thought quickly. Had it been a dream? Apparently not; Morrigana had said she would leave her with two signs that it had been real...

"PHOENIX GWENYFAR BANNON! GET YOUR PRETTY LITTLE BEHIND DOWNSTAIRS NOW!"

Her mom was going to flip out.

"Morning, mom," said Phoenix warily as she entered the kitchen, wearing a green robe over her nightgown.

"Morning, sweetie," her mother said, placing a quick kiss on her cheek and moving back to the stove. Halfway there, she stopped and turned around, staring incredulously at her daughter. "Your hair..." she murmured, walking back to her and fingering a strand of the fiery locks.

"Mom, I--"

"DANIEL! GET DOWN HERE!" yelled her mother. She turned back to her daughter. "Sixteen... my god, I'd forgotten..."

"Honey, didn't the doctor tell you yelling is bad for your blood pressure?" said her father sleepily as he walked into the kitchen. Like her mother, he stopped and stared at Phoenix. "Shit."

"Yeah," her mom replied.

"I'd forgotten..."

"Me too."

"Excuse me? Could we not pretend that I'm not here?" Nix interjected angrily.

"Sorry, cutie," her father said quickly, running a hand through his dark brown hair. Phoenix thought absently that her hair had been that color the day before.

Before anyone could say another word, the doorbell rang.

"And so it begins," sighed her mother. "COME IN, MINERVA!" she bellowed.

Her father flinched. "Katie, I think you just burst my eardrum."

Phoenix heard the door creak open, and a moment later a tall, older woman walked into the kitchen. She was wearing some sort of cloak made of dark green fabric, and her dark, graying hair was pulled back into a severe bun. She looked down at Phoenix through her square-rimmed glasses sternly, then smiled at her parents.

"Katie, Daniel, how are you?" she asked warmly in a clipped, Scottish accent.

"Forgetful," said her father, grinning. "Phoenix, this is Minerva McGonagall. Minerva, this is our daughter, Phoenix Gwenyfar Bannon."

Minerva looked down at the girl sternly again, and then her face broke into a smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, child."

"What the hell is going on here?"

"PHOENIX! LANGUAGE!" her mother yelled. Phoenix, her father, and Minerva all flinched at the volume.

"Sorry, mom."

"Perhaps we ought to go into the living room and sit down?" asked Minerva pleasantly.

"Of course," said Phoenix's mom.

They were finally seated in the living room; Minerva was sitting on a chair, while Phoenix was on the couch between her parents.

"So... what is going on?" Nix asked impatiently.

Minerva cleared her throat. "Were you visited by Morrigana last night, Miss Bannon?"

"The name's Nix, and yes. I thought it was a dream."

"Morrigana gave you the crystal, and removed the identity charm which changed your hair back to its natural color?"

"My natural color?"

"Honey, your hair was charmed to appear dark brown from the moment you were born."

"But all my baby pictures--"

"Were taken after the charm was performed," her mother finished.

"So I'm a natural redhead?"

"Yes."

"Well, that explains my temper... but it doesn't explain yours, mom."

"NIX!"

"Just joking, mom, just joking..."

"Anyway," said Minerva imperiously, "Morrigana explained your elemental powers to you, and the fact that you are a witch?"

"Yes, but I'm still very confused..."

"Of course you are, dear. Well, where to begin? I must say, this is easier to explain to eleven-year-olds, they are more willing to accept the idea of magic existing. But I digress." Minerva stared at Phoenix. "There is an entire world of people like you, my dear. Witches and Wizards exist--we hide ourselves from Muggles--non-magic people--for our own protection. A long time ago, we coexisted with them, but eventually Muggles began to fear us, and we had to hide our communities. For over a thousand years now, we have lived separately from Muggles. We even have our own schooling systems in every country, and in the United States there is at least one school for young Witches and Wizards in each state."

"Wow."

"Indeed," replied Minerva dryly. "Young Witches and Wizards are taught from the ages of eleven to eighteen in the ways of magic. I am a professor at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England--the school you will be studying at."

"Why would I go to England? You said there's plenty of schools here in America?"

"Your grandfather has requested that you study at Hogwart's, under his protection and tutelage."

"My grandfather?" Phoenix asked incredulously. "But all of my grandparents are dead!"

Minerva glared at her parents. "You didn't tell her anything, did you?"

Her mother cleared her throat nervously. "Well, we didn't know what we could tell her, and what we couldn't..."

"So you instead chose to tell her nothing?" Minerva was angry.

"Well..."

"Child, your grandfather--your mother's father," began Minerva, shooting another livid glare at Katie Bannon, "is the headmaster of Hogwart's. His name is Albus Dumbledore. He's the most powerful wizard of our time, and he will protect you against You-Know-Who."

"No, I don't know who. Who?" asked Phoenix, confused.

Minerva sighed. "All right, I'll say it once--Voldemort." She glanced around in a paranoid fashion, as though expecting this 'Voldemort' person to jump out from behind the television yelling 'BOO!' "You-Know-Who is the most feared Dark Wizard in a hundred years. He is determined to wipe out Muggles and Muggle-born Witches and Wizards, and gain control of the world."

"What's a Muggle-born?"

"They are witches and wizards who are not born of pureblood, magical families. Most people nowadays have some Muggle blood in them, but there are still old families who are pureblooded. Some of them believe that they are... superior to Muggle-borns," explained Minerva with an expression of distaste.

Phoenix was struck by an idea. "Do I need to be protected from Voldemort because... because I'm Muggle-born?" she asked tentatively.

"No."

"Honey, you're a pureblooded witch," her mother said.

"But you and dad aren't--"

"Actually, we are... sort of."

"WHAT?"

Her father winced. "Cutie, you're starting to sound like your mother."

"HEY!"

"Sorry, love."

"What did you mean 'sort of'?" demanded Phoenix.

Her mom sighed. "We're what is referred to in the Wizarding World as 'Squibs.' People of magical families who possess no magic themselves. My family is a very old and influential Wizarding line, directly descended from Queen Guenevere of Camelot. Your father is a descendent of Godric Gryffindor."

"Guenevere? And who?"

"Godric Gryffindor was one of the founders of Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the school you will be attending. Gryffindor is one of the Houses at Hogwart's, along with Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin," explained Minerva. "Actually, I have a fascinating book I can lend you that will explain all of this in further detail. It's called 'Hogwarts: A History.' It's one of my favorites."

"Mmhmm. You said students are sorted into these Houses? On what basis?"

"Each House possesses certain attributes common to the original Founders. Gryffindors are brave, Ravenclaws intelligent, Hufflepuffs loyal and hardworking, and Slytherins cunning. Each student is sorted into a House that fits them the best. You will be sorted when you arrive at Hogwarts."

"Any other questions, honey?"

Phoenix sighed. "Only about a million, but I guess I'll figure it all out as I go along. When do I leave?"

"Today I will take you to Diagon Alley in London to buy your school supplies, and from there we will go to Hogwarts. The school year doesn't begin until September the first, but you will require tutoring all summer in order to catch up to the students your own age," said Minerva. Phoenix's parents looked dismayed, but resigned. "If you would like to see your friends before you leave, I suggest you do so this morning."

"I don't have anyone to say goodbye to here," Phoenix said quickly. Minerva exchanged a look with Phoenix's parents, but said nothing.