Phoenix Intuition

Chapter Three

Rogers got into his car, his workday having ended; he made the usual call, and got the usual response. His position more than merited a limousine and driver, but he had chosen to forego them. He said that it was because he was perfectly capable of driving himself, and wanted to save taxpayer money, but the real reason was that a driver would inhibit his pursuit of female companionship. He fumbled for his keys, and started to put one in the ignition.

Drake lifted the Disillusionment spell he'd put on himself, and spoke from his position in the seat directly behind Rogers. "No sudden movements, please, Mr. Secretary," he said calmly. "There is a submachine gun pointed at your back, one of the types which your political party thoughtfully keeps legal. I suggest you listen to what I have to say."
He didn't actually have a machine gun, but he was sure Rogers would believe him.

Rogers managed to avoid sudden movements, but his heart was racing, despite the fact that he had faced death before, during his time in Vietnam. It had been a long time. Speaking quietly in an effort to stay calm, Rogers replied, "You'd never get away. There are security people all around here."

"I think I could, but let's set that aside for now. I fear you will have to keep Heather waiting, though not for too long. I know how you look forward to your... encounters. Speaking of which..." He reached into the front seat, offering a small group of photos which had been made from the images he'd gotten in Heather's apartment. "I must say, it was very impressive for a man of your age."

"How did you get these?" croaked Rogers, wanting to sound aggressive but sounding fearful instead. Could Heather have double-crossed him?

"That's irrelevant," countered Drake. "What is relevant is that I also possess an audio-visual record of your conversation with your deputy last week, a conversation that if made available to the press, would do little for your professional standing. The pictures, of course, would do far worse damage. I am also aware of the abortion you had arranged for a rather young woman in a place and time where it was illegal, but I trust I have your attention in any case. Do I?"

Rogers sighed. This was very, very bad. "You do. What do you want?"

"For now, not much," replied Drake. "Simply that when you advise the President, your tone and words be more aggressive. For example, that if Iran were to start becoming more hostile, or more forward in its nuclear intentions, that a few dozen smart bombs delivered to whatever points the Defense Department sees fit would not be objectionable, and diplomatically defensible. Keep looking ahead, Mr. Secretary," Drake added, as Rogers had started to turn in disbelief.

"Who the hell do you work for? Defense? CIA? Or are you one of those Rapture types who don't care if things go to hell, and don't mind getting a head start on killing the heathen?"

"My motivations are also irrelevant; I strongly suggest that you do as I ask. I will not hesitate to distribute these. Please believe that I will know whether or not you have done as I have asked. My resources are considerable."

"You shouldn't have even been able to get in here, this lot is guarded," agreed Rogers grudgingly. "Why not just take all this to the press? I'd have to resign, and the President would replace me with some hack who'd advise him just as you'd have me do, all on his own."

"True," conceded Drake. "But as your deputy pointed out, the words will mean more coming from you. You are a lonely voice of reason and moderation in this administration."

About to be extinguished, thought Rogers. Could this man really know what he said to the President alone? He supposed the President had friends he talked to, friends who this man could be connected to. Or maybe he has extremely advanced surveillance equipment; he must, if he has the information he already has. Goddamn unaccountable government agencies... "I suppose you'll have other requests for me in the future?"

"It depends on the flow of events. It seems likely. Now, please bow your head as far forward as you can, and close your eyes. I will be taking my leave of you now." Drake exited the car after Disillusioning himself again, then walked to a distance where the Disapparation sound would not be heard. Rogers lifted his head and looked around. This was a secure lot, so where had the bastard gone?

* * * * *

Harry got an impression, one of the kind he was so familiar with; it was from Hermione. We're ready for you anytime, she sent through their link.

He told the other teachers he would see them tomorrow, and accepted their last-minute words of encouragement. Hermione had told them what Harry would try to do, so he had naturally endured a fair bit of good-natured teasing about what animal he would become. He teleported to the park in Hogsmeade, which had been chosen in case Harry became an animal that wanted some running space, or a bird, in which case he would want to fly. He was still hoping for a bird, but told himself to accept whatever came, and not try to force any particular animal.

Waiting for him were Hermione, Mandy, Padma, a few others from their department, and Belinda Thorpe, the head of the entire Magical Research Institute. He hadn't expected to see her there. As he greeted the Ministry people, he also noticed a dozen Hogsmeade citizens, including some children, notice and start to move closer. Didn't think I was going to have an audience for this, he thought.

Mandy spoke. "Thanks for coming, Harry. You know what we want you to do, right?"

He nodded. "Decide to become an animal, but not choose which one it is. I read a little about this last night. You sort of focus on your 'inner animal,' tell yourself you want that expressed outwardly, something like that?"

She shrugged lightly. "I know the book that says that. I'm not convinced that that's necessary, just do whatever seems natural for you. If it doesn't happen immediately, don't worry about it, just keep trying. We won't speak until we hear something from you."

"Okay. And also, don't look at me, okay?" He smiled to let them know he was joking, and got a few chuckles. "One more thing, Ginny wanted to be here when I tried this." He asked her in his hand if she was ready, then teleported her there. She kissed him on the cheek, and stepped back.

Harry moved to a spot where he was fifteen feet away from everyone, in case he became an enormous animal, such as an elephant. He closed his eyes, and focused his intentions. He mentally followed the instructions from the book he'd read. Whatever animal is within me, whatever animal I'm naturally in tune with, whatever animal reflects my essence, come out and show yourself, he said to himself.

In less than ten seconds, it started to happen. The change was disorienting, like traveling by Floo powder, but it lasted less than a second. It was done. As he moved his head to look down, he noticed that his neck was more flexible than it had been. He twisted it enough to see gold feathers, and he suddenly realized what he was. He looked ahead at the astonished assemblage, and he knew what he had to do. He flapped his wings, and took flight.

Hermione and Ginny looked at each other, and each noticed that the other's mouth was open slightly, still in awe at what they had seen. As her eyes tracked Harry as he flew higher and higher, Hermione reached into her robes for the paper Ron had given her. She opened it, and in Ron's nearly illegible scrawl was written the word 'phoenix.' She showed it to Ginny and shook her head in further amazement; Ron wasn't usually given to such insight. She smiled as she thought about how happy he would be to win the Aurors' pool.

Misunderstanding Hermione's smile, Ginny asked, "What does he think of this? What's he feeling?"

Hermione reached out to Harry through the link, but found nothing. Surprised, she opened herself up to his feelings, which she was sure must be very intense. After a few seconds, she answered Ginny. "The link's not there. It must be the case that I'm only linked with him in human form."

Ginny nodded. As she watched her husband soar through the air, her amazement subsided, and she now only had one thought: he could bond with me. That link I've always envied him and Hermione, I could have that with him, at least while he's a phoenix. I'd really love that, I hope so much that he does it.

She knew, however, that she could never ask him; he had to decide to do it on his own. It would hurt too much if she asked him and he said no. He would know that she wanted him to do it.

Harry had always greatly enjoyed flying on a broom, but that was nothing compared to this. He spread his wings wide, savoring the feeling. Now that he had wings, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

As he flew, though, he noticed something else. It was a feeling of happiness, well-being, euphoria, and it had nothing to do with the joy he took in flying. It dawned on him what this was: it was what phoenixes felt all the time, it was their natural emotional state. This is why phoenixes always radiate calm and peace, he realized.

He got a sudden impression: there is much more to it than that. He suddenly saw Fawkes and Flora gliding alongside him; the impression had come from Fawkes. Fawkes then sent another impression, which Harry interpreted as the words: welcome, brother.

They sat in a meeting room at the Ministry of Magic. There were the ten researchers in the energy-of-love study department, all of whom Harry knew, as he had taught them. Thorpe, the Department head, was there, as were Ginny and Hermione. Also, knowing that the Prophet would be doing an article on it, Harry had summoned Luna into attendance. He knew that the Prophet would generally send a more experienced reporter for such a big story, but by calling in Luna to witness the meeting, he could ensure that she would be the one to write the story. He had learned a few things about manipulating the media since leaving Hogwarts. He absently wondered how Hugo was doing in his travels, as Hugo would normally cover the story.

He had set up a magical recorder, hovering in the air above them; it would record the meeting for anyone who wanted to see it later, so he wouldn't have to explain many times what had happened. "Okay, where to start... of course, I didn't try to do that, since Hermione had said that you couldn't--sorry, that it had never happened that someone's Animagus form was a magical animal. But I did do the bit from that book, about trying to meditate on your 'inner essence.'"

"Being a phoenix is your 'inner essence?'" asked Padma incredulously.

"Well, this is the interesting part," he responded. "I wouldn't have thought that myself. But I really think--and keep in mind that most of what I'll say is going to be... what's that word, where it's just from your point of view, but it can't be proved--"

"Subjective," supplied Hermione.

"Yes, thanks. Most of what I say will be subjective, or speculative. I really think that if I had become an Animagus at any point before Hermione and I went into the Ring, when I had that revelation that allowed me to do anything that could be done by magic, if it was before then, I wouldn't have been a phoenix. It was only because of that experience that I could become a phoenix."

"Is that because you could become anything you wanted, and you--maybe unconsciously--wanted to be a phoenix?" asked Mandy.

"Not like that, no," he responded. "It's a little hard to explain, but I'll do my best." He paused to think, then continued. "You all know what I said after the Ring, about the fact that knowing about the connection between magic and the spiritual realm was what allowed me to do what I can do with magic. You have to know that the spiritual realm is there, be really sure of it, have had contact with it. There may be other things necessary too, since I've tried to teach others and failed, even some mystics who contact the spiritual realm often.

"The knowledge that allowed me to do anything that could be done by magic was what allowed me to be a phoenix. What I discovered, while flying around, was that... phoenixes have a natural, built-in connection to the spiritual realm. It's one of their senses. When you're a phoenix, all you have to do is let yourself feel it. Fawkes helped me do it; he could sense that I was using only the standard five human senses, and he sent me impressions that helped me access that sense consciously. It was... words can't describe it." He glanced around the room, energized, trying to find a way to explain so they could understand. He shook his head, knowing it couldn't be done. "It was... beautiful, spectacular. I'm sorry, but there really aren't any words. I'll have to check a dictionary later, see if I can find some. It's just something you know is there, that you can feel, that you can't not feel. Albus described what it was like in the spiritual realm--he knew what it was like, even though he hadn't been there--and it was like that. Phoenixes are the only living things on Earth that are born with an easy, direct connection to the... power of creation, the intelligence behind everything, what Muggles call God, what Albus called the spiritual realm. Phoenixes can just tap into it. And we never knew."

There was silence around the table, as everyone digested what Harry had said. Finally, Hermione spoke, quietly. "Why didn't they tell us this?"

Harry thought for a few seconds. "They did, in their own way. To you and I, to phoenix companions. They always send us their feelings; we just interpret them as calm, peace, and love. They get that from the spiritual realm, but it wouldn't occur to them to tell us in just that way. If we're getting the feelings, it shouldn't be necessary to explain where they came from."

"Wow..." marveled Hermione. "They're going to have to do an updated version of Reborn From the Ashes."

"You would think of that," chuckled Harry.

To Harry's surprise, Luna spoke up. "Harry, you could have a very long life now, couldn't you? That book title reminded me, phoenixes are reborn, so when you get old, you could just become a phoenix, and continue on until you had a burning day... right?"

Harry exchanged impressed looks with Hermione and Ginny. "I wouldn't assume that," Harry cautioned her. "Animagi live as long as humans do when in animal form, not how long that animal should live. Peter Pettigrew was a rat for thirteen years, but rats don't live that long. By that logic, I may not be able to have a burning day, whether I'm in phoenix form or not when I die. But, who knows, this whole thing is so new. We just can't say."

"That makes sense," agreed Hermione. "But Luna's question made me think of something else, another connection to the spiritual realm. You learned from Albus about reincarnation, that we die and keep coming back. The way phoenixes die, and are reborn, is... symbolic of that."

Harry's eyebrows went up. "I hadn't thought of it, but it makes sense. It's almost like phoenixes are living representations of what the spiritual realm is like, so we could... get an idea of what it's like, maybe for them to help us along to reach it. I never would have found out what I did without Fawkes's help all along, I'm sure of that."

Thorpe asked a question. "Harry, Hermione told us that she couldn't feel your link while you were a phoenix. This brings up the question, could you bond with someone, as phoenixes do?"

"The thought occurred to me," he said, with only a glance at Ginny; he didn't want to air private matters in front of such a large group. "But I shouldn't, at least not yet. I don't know why, maybe it's one of those 'phoenix-intuition' things where they know what the right thing to do is, but not why. As a phoenix, there's no reason that couldn't happen to me, too. But I think I could if I felt like it was the right thing to do. And the link with Hermione wouldn't interfere with that, since that's only when I'm in human form. And my bond with Fawkes wasn't there either, when I was a phoenix. I communicated with him and Flora in the same way phoenixes usually do with each other."

"There's another connection to the spiritual realm, the phoenix-intuition thing," said Hermione excitedly. "Albus told you that intuition is listening to your greater self, the part that's spiritually connected. If phoenixes are connected to the spiritual realm, it would make sense that their intuition is that much greater."

"Some things certainly make more sense when you look at them like that," agreed Harry. "So, are there any more questions?"

There were, and the meeting lasted another half hour. After Harry teleported himself and Ginny away, he joked that Ron should take them out to dinner with the money he won in the Aurors' betting pool. Harry wondered aloud how Ron had guessed; Ginny joked that it was 'Weasley intuition.'

Harry smiled. "Let's go to the Burrow and get James. He'll love Daddy's new trick."

* * * * *

Hugo lay on his bed in the darkness. The rule was lights out at ten p.m. unless one was on a mission; Drake kept the same hours himself. Hugo wondered how long it would take for him to be able to lie down and fall asleep quickly, as he had when--Hugo ruthlessly, fearfully slammed the door shut on that line of thought. He preferred not to think specifically of the time when he had been free, at least not in those exact terms, as it led to thoughts of how that freedom might be regained. He could lament his state, but not contemplate any other.

He'd had any number of thoughts on variations of 'what have I done to deserve this,' though in the final analysis he understood that it had nothing to do with whether he deserved it or not. Sometimes bad things just happened to people, and they had to cope, or not cope. Bad things had happened to Drake, and he dealt with it by deciding to inflict his fate on as many people as possible in retribution. But Hugo remembered a story he had written ten years ago about a young woman who had suffered losses at the hands of fate similar to Drake's. She suffered through it, and ended up dealing with it by devoting what time she could to helping others who had suffered like her, and trying to help prevent it from happening to others. It had made her feel useful, and that there was a purpose in her living while others around her had died. What was it about her that allowed her to find a greater purpose in adverse circumstances, while Drake had succumbed to darkness? Hugo supposed that was one of the great mysteries of life.

And what could he, Hugo, do? With no choice in actions, and limited choice even in thoughts? I suppose I could succumb too, he thought. Heaven knows I've indulged in more than my share of self-pity over the past two weeks, however long it's been. I'm more than entitled, but I could just continue down that road, give myself up to the darkness, take my anger out on the innocent, since I can't take it out on the one who caused it. Or I can hold my head up high, so to speak. Do what I must, even if not under the Imperius Curse, because there is no choice either way, but do it without self-loathing, just an awareness that one has no choice. Sleeping with Jolene that night in San Francisco would have been worse than what I did today, because I had a choice about that. I should hang on, stay as mentally healthy as possible, and continue to make the choices I think are right, even if the only choices I can make are the ones in my mind. Dumbledore said that we should do what's difficult and right over what's easy and wrong; giving in to darkness would be easy. Keeping my chin up while every day being used as a tool to cause death and suffering, that will be hard. So that's what I should do. And if he decides to make me a slave, as he's said he might, then I won't resist pointlessly, but I won't give in to darkness as I'm pushed in that direction. There is always hope, no matter what, even if I can't contemplate the idea any more specifically than that. This is a little similar to what happened to Snape. He clung to the idea of love and happiness, though he couldn't experience them. I can't experience hope, but it exists as a concept. For now, that has to be enough.

Hugo then returned to focusing on love, as he'd decided to a few days ago. Drake had seen it in Hugo's mind, and hadn't cared; he didn't care what Hugo thought, except that which was forbidden, as long as he did what he was told. His thoughts drifted occasionally, and he had to pull them back. It took him another hour and a half to fall asleep.

* * * * *

As Hugo struggled with how to endure his living hell, thousands of miles away, Harry Potter had to cope with an overabundance of good fortune. He could spend time with his loving wife and his happy, playful child, or he could become a phoenix, fly anywhere he wanted, explore the world, and bask in the peace and love of the spiritual realm. However, Ginny had an idea, one he seldom if ever objected to.

As they lay together afterwards, she eyed him with a smile. "Now, when you're out there being a phoenix, you'd better stay away from the female phoenixes," she teased him. "That still counts."

He laughed. "I'm not sure I'd even know what to do."

"Probably if you got horny, you'd work it out," she joked. "And yes, I know, phoenixes only mate when they need an increase in the population."

"I know you know," he assured her. "And you know that I would never cheat on you, no matter what species I happened to be at the time."

"What more could I ask for in a husband," she bantered back. "I suppose you're going to want to go out for a fly before bed."

"Well, now that you mention it..."

"What a liar, you were going to do it anyway. You probably did this just to get me in a good mood, so I wouldn't object to your leaving."

He smiled. "The usual reason is that James needs a brother or sister, but it's not as though we ever need an excuse. But, fortunately, I know you're kidding."

"Just don't take too long, you do need your sleep," she advised him.

He stood to walk to the dresser, then suddenly stopped. "It's funny, I was going to get dressed, and then I realized there's no point. It feels strange to go outside naked, but phoenixes don't exactly need clothes."

"Okay, but let me admire you a bit before you go." With only a slight pause, she added, "And then I'll admire you as a phoenix, too."

He chuckled. "I am at your disposal."

"No, you mean you were just now. You're about to not be. Okay, go ahead and transform, but stay around for a minute. I do want to get a closer look at you than I got before."

"You mean, as a phoenix, or--" She rewarded him with a smile, and he transformed. He fluttered up from the floor onto the bed, landing on her stomach.

"Funny how your wings are mostly gold, but your body is mostly orange. Hardly any red on you." She petted him for a few seconds, then smiled again. "You're really pretty, both as a phoenix and a human. Go ahead, now. I won't wait up for you." She leaned forward and kissed the phoenix on the spot that most closely approximated his cheek. He flew upwards and disappeared.

Suddenly high in the air, he soared through the night sky. Flying was intoxicating, exhilarating. He wondered if it was the flying alone, or the connection with the spiritual realm combined with flying. Maybe he would never know, since he couldn't fly without being a phoenix.

After flying over England for a while--he didn't know how long it had been, and found himself not thinking in terms of time--he decided to visit other parts of the world. He teleported first to Hawaii, where it was around noon, clear, and warm. He spent some time flying around all four of the islands, being careful not to fly anywhere he could be seen by people. He found some nice beaches which were less crowded because they were harder to get to than others, and decided to suggest to the others that they come there some weekend soon to lie around in the sun. He wondered if James could make a sand castle, but decided it was probably too ambitious a task for a two-year-old, and that James would probably be happy to just play in sand.

Next, he decided to check out Antarctica. He marveled at the spectacular scenery, reflecting that there was something impressive about a vast, flat, snow-and-ice-covered landscape that wouldn't be so interesting if it were just regular land, though there were mountains as well. He noticed as he flew that he wasn't cold, despite the no doubt subfreezing temperature. He hadn't been overly warm in Hawaii either, so he assumed that phoenixes were relatively immune to temperature extremes.

He then decided to go to Asia, and flew over the Himalayas, admiring the natural beauty of the mountains. Again he felt blissful, the scenery combined with the link to the spiritual realm seeming to emphasize the point that the Earth was no more or less a living organism itself that the creatures that resided on it; he had never thought of it that way before, but it just seemed to make sense. He felt bad thinking about all the factories and pollution and depletion of resources that kept the ecosystem going, and understood that it would have consequences if something didn't change soon; if the Earth was an organism, it was being wounded, and at some point self-protective mechanisms would activate to heal the wounds, or to fight off those inflicting them. He wondered if it would happen in his lifetime, and seemed to get an answer from the spiritual realm--was it really an answer, or intuition, or were they the same thing? It said that the future wasn't written, but the rate of degradation was accelerating, so the chances of an environmental catastrophe were continuing to increase. All actions have consequences. His first thought was that he should tell people, but he quickly realized that they already knew, but did far too little anyway. Dentus had explained long ago that in politics, wizards as well as Muggles tended to operate in their short-term self-interest until the reason not to do so was obvious and pressing, and by that time, it was often too late to take corrective measures. He also understood that there was little he could do; Muggles, not wizards, were causing the damage, and he wasn't supposed to interfere in the Muggle world.

Another phoenix was suddenly flying with him, ten feet to his left. Harry sent an impression of greeting. The phoenix returned the greeting, and sent an impression that wondered what Harry was up to; it knew, as apparently all phoenixes did now, that as of yesterday their number had increased by one. Harry sent his impression of wonder and awe at the beauty of the Earth; the phoenix returned the impression that it was pleasant to see through the eyes of a 'new' phoenix, who had not yet had time to become used to such things.

The phoenix asked if he had been to their gathering place. Harry responded that he had been there once, as a human. He was sent images of it, and an impression that told him where to go by teleportation.

Both disappeared, and reappeared in the air above a small island in the South Pacific. Harry followed the other phoenix down, through the trees and to the stream which he now associated with talking to Albus, even though he hadn't talked to Albus in that actual place, but a version they created. He landed on the ground, and noticed that there were about forty or fifty phoenixes around. Many sent him impressions of welcome; he sent that he was honored to be among them.

He spent the next while trading impressions. He expressed how excited he was to be able to experience what phoenixes did; they conveyed impressions about how they lived, and how they felt about companioning or not companioning humans. Harry asked why they companioned humans, since their lives were so pleasant without them. One replied that they did it for the challenge, and the experience. Another sent an analogy: spirits in the spiritual realm, Albus had explained to him, exist in an atmosphere of love, but live lives in physical planes in order to learn and experience; life in a perfect atmosphere is all well and good, but perfect became ordinary without something to contrast it with. Pain, loss, despair, and even evil had to be possible in order to appreciate goodness and love. It was similar with phoenixes: their ordinary atmosphere was idyllic, but some felt, perhaps too idyllic. Bonding with humans was their equivalent of spirits living lives in human bodies. Once bonded, phoenixes could/would not leave, as spirits did not leave their physical bodies until the body's death; while bonded, the phoenix could experience the full range of feelings, including negative ones, which they could not independently, given their connection to the spiritual realm.

Harry never ceased to be amazed at the atmosphere in which the phoenixes existed: one of love, calm, and connectedness with creation. No wonder their presence and their song conveys calm, he sent. It is natural for us, replied one, but it pleases us that most wizards respond to us as they do. Speaking of songs, sent another, if you are interested, we would be happy to teach you to sing. It is partly natural, but there is an art to it as well. Harry eagerly sent that he would very much like that, and spent the next few hours lost in that experience.

It was ten minutes to eight as Hermione walked into the staff room of Hogwarts, just having finished eating breakfast at the teachers' table in the Great Hall. Sitting at a table, she looked into her left hand and spoke quietly. "Okay, sure. Tell her I will." She spoke to Sprout, as John, Snape, and Vector listened. "That was Neville. Ginny just popped by our place; apparently, Harry went out as a phoenix last night and never came back. She knows he's still a phoenix because she can't see him in her hand when he is. She thinks he must have lost track of time, and spent all night as a phoenix. She asked Neville to tell me, so I can send to Flora that she and Fawkes should find him and tell him to come back or he'll miss his classes." She focused on her connection with Flora, sending the message, and got an impression of acknowledgement.

"I can see why he'd lose track of time," mused Sprout. "That must be an extraordinary experience. In a way, it's too bad this didn't happen in the summer; he could have spent days at a time as a phoenix. Given how it makes him feel, he's going to want to do it a lot more than he'll be able to."

Hermione smiled. "I'm sure that's true. Flora just told me that some phoenixes have been helping him learn how to sing."

"Well, I hope he'll favor us with a song, when he's ready," said John humorously.

"Okay, he's on the way," said Hermione. "I really got the impression that he was reluctant to stop."

A few seconds later, a gold and orange phoenix appeared in Harry's usual spot on the sofa. "I don't suppose you're going to try to teach your fourth years as a phoenix," remarked an amused Sprout.

Harry transformed back into his human form, and was just starting to register the stunned expressions of the other teachers when he noticed that he wasn't wearing any clothes. "Aaaaaaa!!" he exclaimed, startled, and instantly conjured a black robe around himself.

The other five teachers present burst out in hysterical laughter. Harry could see the humor, but was still too embarrassed at what he had done to join in. Sprout tried to say something, but doubled over in laughter again; Snape was laughing much harder than Harry had ever seen him do. Snape and John in particular had clearly reached the point of laughing so hard it hurt, and were trying to control themselves.

After what Harry was sure had been a full minute, it had finally started to die down when McGonagall entered the room. She looked around in bewilderment, particularly at Snape, who was making supreme efforts to get himself under control. Lifting an eyebrow, she said, "May I ask what was so amusing?"

Hermione tried to answer, but didn't last long. "Harry was--" was all she could get out before starting to laugh again. She apologized through their link, but he knew she couldn't help it, and sent as much back. "I'd better tell it, Professor, since they'll just start laughing again if they try," said Harry, bracing himself for McGonagall's mirth at his expense. "I stayed out all last night as a phoenix, and I just transformed back to a human a few minutes ago. The only problem was, I forgot that I wasn't wearing any clothes when I became a phoenix last night."

McGonagall laughed, but not nearly as hard or long as the others. She sat on the sofa next to Harry. "I very much see the humor," she said sympathetically, "but as the only other Animagus here, I can see how it would happen." Adopting a confidential tone, she went on, "Once in my early twenties, shortly after I became an Animagus, my parents and two friends dropped in at my flat unexpectedly. I had been relaxing as a cat, and as the four of them stood in my living room chatting, I transformed back to a human, forgetting that I had been wearing only the... barest underclothes." She displayed a rare self-deprecating smile. "Fortunately, I was standing in a doorway at the time, and only my mother happened to be looking in my direction, so I was able to dart out of the way quickly, and no harm to my pride was done. Needless to say, however, I never again forgot to consider such a thing, and usually took care to be dressed adequately before transforming. It is a very understandable mistake." Harry was gratified, especially that she told a somewhat embarrassing story about herself to help ease his embarrassment.

"Understandable, but extraordinarily funny," amended John with a wide grin. "A lot of the humor was the sound he made, and his expression. It was one of those priceless expressions that you'll never see again."

Harry sighed. "I certainly hope not. Oh, wow, it's five minutes until class starts. I need to eat. I haven't had anything since last night."

"You don't have time, Harry," pointed out Hermione.

A place setting and utensils materialized in front of Harry, who had summoned it from where he knew it would be in the kitchen, waiting for him. "Yeah, I do, I'll just have to stop time while I eat. If anyone wants an extra fifteen minutes, I'll extend the field around you as well." He summoned from the kitchens a large cup of coffee, which after not sleeping, he figured he might be needing.

"You know, that's kind of a peculiar thing," remarked John. "Stopping time seems like a major, earth-shaking thing to do, and you do it like it was nothing, so you have time to eat your breakfast. It's like, I don't know, reversing the Earth's rotation a bit because you wanted to see a nice sunset again."

"Well, this doesn't affect anyone but me, or else I wouldn't do it," said Harry, though he knew John wasn't serious. The others decided to take the extra fifteen minutes, though Snape reminded them that it wasn't really fifteen extra minutes, that it would come off the other end of their lives. No one was unduly disturbed by the notion.

At five minutes to noon, just having finished his morning classes, Harry teleported to just outside the Potions dungeon so he would catch Snape before he left. He entered as the last students were leaving.

Looking up and seeing Harry, Snape tried unsuccessfully to stifle laughter. "All right, all right," said Harry, with annoyance that was mostly feigned. "How long are you going to be laughing about that?"

"I don't know," said Snape frankly. "It popped into my head during my last class, and I almost laughed again. What did you come to see me about?"

"I wondered if you could whip me up a quick Wakefulness potion," said Harry, looking mildly embarrassed. "I felt like I was going to take a nap on my feet a few times in my last class."

Snape chuckled, and jars of ingredients began flying off shelves and landing near Snape's cauldron. "Professor Granger would no doubt give you a lecture on self-restraint, so it is fortunate for you that she is not the Potions master. What exactly was so enthralling that you forgot about your human responsibilities?"

Harry thought for a minute as Snape continued preparing the potion, and shrugged. "I don't think words can do it justice. You can have a look if you want."

Snape raised an eyebrow and touched his wand, spending a few minutes looking over Harry's memory of the previous night. As he did so, both eyebrows went high. "Fascinating," he said after he finished, and resumed making Harry's potion. "I cannot be sure, but I think certain nuances do not come through with Legilimency. Nevertheless, it is quite remarkable."

Snape put the finishing touches on the potion, and offered it to Harry. "I have calibrated it so that it will start to wear off around mid-evening; I believe you will become quite tired at around nine p.m. Needless to say, I recommend that you resist the urge to transform tonight, and get plenty of sleep."

Harry nodded his understanding; Snape always gave a similar caution to anyone he made a Wakefulness potion for. The potion tasted sour, and as he drank the last of it, Harry thought to make some comment about that, but Snape was well-known to be tired of people commenting that potions tasted bad, and usually had a snide comment at the ready. Instead, Harry did his best to act like he'd just had butterbeer. "Mmm-mm!" he said enthusiastically. "How do you get it to taste so good?" Snape's disdainful look was his only response.

"Right," said Harry, not bothered. "Well, thanks, I appreciate it. Were you heading to the Hall, or...?"

Harry helped Snape put the ingredients back, and Snape stopped Harry as he started out of the dungeon. "Harry," said Snape. Snape used Harry's given name occasionally, but not as a matter of course. Harry turned and gave Snape his attention.

"Of course, I saw your emotional atmosphere, as well as the events I witnessed; your feelings were the most important part by far of the whole experience. I know that you are extremely eager to return to phoenix form, and will likely do so at the first available opportunity. I cannot say I would not feel the same way if I were you. However, I would strongly caution you against overindulgence. Partly because the experience could prove irresistible, becoming something like an addiction. I could easily imagine someone in your position deciding to simply remain a phoenix, finding it greatly preferable to living as a human. You do, however, have many human responsibilities.

"I also mention this because of Ginny. She will be tolerant at first, and pleased for you. But if you do it excessively, she will feel that you are being neglectful, both of her and your son. I believe the most challenging aspect of this for you will be resisting the temptation that living as a phoenix offers. Granted, today was the first time, but you would for the first time ever have missed your classes had Ginny and Professor Granger not intervened. That may illustrate the dangers fairly well."

Harry nodded. "Phoenixes don't really care about time, it doesn't have much relevance to them. I guess if I do this, I'm going to have to work out something to deal with that. Okay, thanks for the warning." As they headed out of the dungeon, Harry thought, I shouldn't do it tonight, and tomorrow I'm supposed to visit Dudley and his family. Maybe sometime Friday evening, definitely the weekend...

* * * * *

Rogers took his seat in the Oval Office opposite the President. On his left were Defense Secretary Richard Adams and Chief of Staff Jim Evans, and on his right, Tom Richardson, the National Security Advisor. It had long rankled Rogers that Adams participated in routine briefings on international affairs. Richardson's presence Rogers could accept, as their bailiwicks overlapped somewhat, but Rogers strongly felt that there was no reason for Adams to be there and, worse yet, interject his opinion. But that was the way the President wanted it; he felt that since the military's activities were connected in many ways with how foreign policy went, it was better for the Defense Secretary to have firsthand knowledge of the direction of foreign policy. Rogers wondered whether the President really believed that, or if it was just a way to give Defense a stronger voice in foreign policy.

"So, Tom, I gather Iran's been getting a bit frisky lately," began the President. "Want to give us the bullet points?"

Richardson's stodgy and formal speaking style contrasted sharply with the President's casual, direct manner. "Yes, Mr. President. First of all, despite our warnings, Iran continues to be very active in its covert activities in Iraq. They are funneling money and other resources to Iraqi Shiites who share their goal of a fundamentalist state, and they are encouraging and infiltrating terrorist groups. We have recently captured a few Iranian agents working inside Iraq; one has already talked." Rogers wondered how much torture had been used; considering that these were prisoners whose existence had never been acknowledged, probably a lot, he thought. "He is confirming much of what we understood about Iran's strategy and tactics, such as--"

"I did say 'bullet points', Tom," interrupted the President with mild exasperation. "I'll read the details in your reports later." Rogers had long since learned to be concise with the President, whose attention span Rogers felt was 'challenged', but Richardson still had a difficult time.

"I apologize, Mr. President," said Richardson. "Secondly, the tone of the Ayatollah's statements is becoming even more belligerent, with the word 'sovereignty' being used more and more, and they've stepped up their propaganda campaigns extolling the virtues of military service. Their activities suggest that they anticipate, or are preparing for, an American invasion."

"Well, there's a hundred and fifty thousand American troops on their doorstep, it makes sense they'd be a little antsy," put in Rogers.

Richardson glanced at Rogers expressionlessly, as if to note that he was just giving facts, not soliciting opinions. "Lastly and most importantly, intelligence suggests that Iran is stepping up its nuclear activities. We have tracked some purchases of dual-use items that we believe are being used for their nuclear project. We also have several locations at which we believe nuclear weapons research is taking place. Our consensus is that Iran is working expeditiously to develop nuclear weapons as a deterrent to a possible American invasion." Rogers wondered to what extent that 'consensus' was driven by the understanding of what the President wanted to hear.

"Bob? What do you think?" asked the President.

"It's pretty clear that they're scared, Mr. President," responded Rogers. "They know it wouldn't take long for us to pivot and head in their direction. They don't expect us to, as they know we'd pay an enormous price in the court of world opinion, but they don't put it past us, either. They regard us as a clear and present threat to their 'sovereignty,' and will continue to do so until we're out of Iraq. They could very well be attempting to cause us to believe they're developing nuclear weapons when they really aren't, for the deterrent effect."

"But that would have the opposite effect right now," pointed out Adams. "That was the whole reason we invaded Iraq, we thought they had WMDs. Why give us a reason?"

"They remember that we gave Iraq every chance to back down, for the sake of Barclay's political future and world opinion. The Brits wouldn't be along for this one, of course, but Iran would expect us to give them the same chances, and we would have to give negotiations a chance while we moved into position. They would always retain the option to back down and allow inspections, and we would have already taken enormous international heat for reaching that point. The anti-American protests, boycotts, and so forth would be twice as bad as they ever were before Iraq."

The President nodded. "And if it turns out they are going nuclear, how do you think we should handle it?"

Rogers remembered the mysterious man with pictures, but at the last minute decided to equivocate somewhat; he knew that what he would do wasn't exactly what the man had told him to do, but it was close enough that it probably wouldn't provoke a reaction. Maybe at most a warning to be more aggressive in the future. If he takes me down, thought Rogers, then it's bad, but I'll live. I have to push back a little, see what I can get away with. "I think we need to push the Europeans to negotiate with Iran on the nuclear issue. We don't even have an embassy there, of course, and Europe is big on negotiating, so we can tell them to put their money where their mouth is. They'll be the carrot, and we'll be the stick, or you can call it good cop-bad cop. We can put the onus on them to demonstrate that there are alternatives to invading, and we can decide that the time is up whenever we want."

"Oh, yes, the Europeans will persuade the Iranians to give up their nuclear ambitions," said Adams, in a gently mocking tone, which Rogers felt would be less gentle and more mocking if not for the President's presence. "They're quite well-known for their willingness to stand up to Arab regimes, and for their hardball negotiating tactics."

Rogers thought to point out that Iranians were Persians, not Arabs, but decided that the distinction would be lost on Adams, and the President as well. "I'm not saying I think they'll succeed," countered Rogers, with a 'do you think I'm an idiot?' tone. "I'm saying it's good for diplomatic reasons, we lose nothing by pushing the Europeans to do it, and we don't dignify the Iranians by negotiating with them ourselves. The Europeans can say no, but then they can't complain when we don't negotiate."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind," agreed the President. "But let the Europeans know privately that if they don't want to see us bombing nuclear sites in Iran, they'd better show some initiative." Great, thought Rogers. They'll love that.

After the meeting ended, Rogers returned to his office, which he thought was otherwise empty. Invisible, Drake performed Legilimency on Rogers, then placed a Memory Charm on him. Rogers shook his head, wondering what he'd just been thinking about, and got back to work.

At mid-morning the next day, Rogers went into his office, just having returned from a meeting with the Kenyan ambassador. I don't know why we even bother pretending the African countries are important, he mused. We should farm out Africa policy to a temp agency, no one would notice. If we can ignore a couple of genocides, we can ignore anything on the continent. If they start making nuclear weapons, then I'm sure we'll notice them.

He sat at his desk, and quickly noticed a newspaper clipping with a note underneath. 'Georgetown Junior, 20, Found Dead In Apartment; Overdose Suspected,' read the headline. His mouth dropped open in astonishment and horror as he saw that the name in the picture caption was Judith Henderson, but he recognized the woman as Heather. He felt deeply saddened, furious, and anxious all at once. That son of a bitch, he thought. He scanned the article. 'A concerned friend stopped by her apartment after she failed to show up for an appointment or answer her cell phone...' 'An empty bottle of painkillers was found near the body...' '...foul play is not being ruled out, police said...' There were quotes from friends who agreed that she was the type who'd never kill herself, and that she had been as happy as ever until the day she died. He scanned the rest of the article, then with trepidation turned to the note underneath, which was handwritten. He read:

Did you not think I meant what I said? Did you think I went to all this trouble to be ignored? You decided to test me. Well, this is the result of the test. Before, if you had defied me, you would only have lost your job and perhaps your family. Now, your freedom is at stake as well. Before Heather died, she wrote in her own hand an anguished diary entry which implicates you, and is strongly suggestive of your involvement in her death. There is also DNA evidence linking you to her. The diary and other evidence can be made available to the police in a highly plausible manner at any time of my choosing, and it will if you violate my instructions in the smallest way. You are not indispensable to me. I also remind you that your family is not safe. Any attempt to warn them of any danger, resign your office, or relate your situation to anyone will cause exactly the result you wish to avoid. You will follow my previous instructions. You may follow the President's instructions regarding the Europeans, but you will no longer advocate negotiations; you will advocate a hard and uncompromising line. You will ask no questions and make no attempts to determine my origin or motives; I will know instantly if you do. You will do as I tell you, and in all other ways behave as though everything is perfectly normal. You will tell your deputy that your thinking on these matters has evolved. I am very serious. Do not test me again.

Rogers felt his heart beating faster, and he was sweating. Who could this possibly be, he asked himself frantically, who could he be working for? Why go to all this trouble? Never mind motive, who is even capable of this? His mind focused on those questions for a minute, with no result. He then looked at the picture in the article, and was ashamed to realize that he was far more preoccupied with the situation he was in than with her death. There was nothing he could do about that, however. And he had to face the facts: he was in a nice, airtight box. He was thoroughly compromised, and so in a way was his country. He would do everything that was asked of him; the penalty for not doing so was too high. He could only hope that the consequences of his future actions would not be as bad as he feared.

Drake and Hugo were in the office, Disillusioned and noiseless. Hugo read Rogers' mood, and it was eerily similar to his own at many times in his captivity. Powerless, knowing that one is to be used as a tool, more concerned with one's own fate than with others'. Hugo was monitoring Rogers' mood for Drake, and would soon report that Rogers had now been brought to heel. Hugo was not under the Imperius Curse, but did not even consider trying to escape or warn Rogers. He did not have a wand, so he was not tempted to consider it.

Hugo tried not to think about how he had been used in this operation. He had used his ability on Judith to help Drake compose a diary entry that would be consistent with her character, after which Drake had put her under the Imperius Curse to force her to write it, then take the pills. Hugo had given Drake advice as to the phrasing of the letter, to maximize its impact on Rogers. Hugo told himself again that he had no choice, and he believed it. He asked himself what he would do if Drake told him to kill or torture someone, and he found that he didn't know. Would he just beat me down so far that I would eventually do it just to avoid the Cruciatus Curse? Hugo took some small solace in the knowledge that Drake would not force him to make the choice for no good reason, or for entertainment. Drake had other people for killing and torturing. Hugo was for information and planning. Hugo knew Drake felt that each tool should be used for its ideal purpose.

He and Drake watched Rogers rest his head in his hands. Hugo knew that Rogers would need some time to adjust to his new circumstances. Rogers folded up the note and the article, and put them in his inner jacket pocket, intending to keep the letter as possible future evidence against... someone. One never knew what might happen.

Forty minutes later, Rogers reached into his jacket pocket to re-read the letter, but it was gone, as was the article.

* * * * *

At exactly five-thirty p.m.--he knew extremely well the value the Dursleys placed on punctuality--Harry rang the doorbell at Four Privet Drive. After a few seconds, Dudley opened the door. "Hi," said Dudley, gesturing Harry inside. "Just got here a few minutes ago myself." Dudley had had his own apartment for over a year, since he'd started working full-time. Harry was, in deference to the Dursleys, wearing Muggle clothes.

Vernon and Petunia greeted Harry politely, though not warmly, which he'd come to expect. Because he knew it was expected, Harry asked Vernon how the business was doing, and Vernon had gone on for five minutes before realizing that everyone was still standing. "Sit, sit," he said to Dudley and Harry, taking his usual recliner. "Would either of you like a drink?"

"I'll have some of that Scotch, I think," said Dudley.

"No, thanks," said Harry. "I already have too much temptation lately."

"What do you mean?" asked Vernon as Petunia poured drinks.

Harry explained about having become a phoenix, watchful for signs that the Dursleys were being made uncomfortable by too much talk about magic. Before he could finish the story, Vernon asked what it had to do with temptation, so Harry tried to explain the connection to the spiritual realm, which he could tell Vernon and Petunia didn't quite believe. He thought of a way to put it in terms they could understand. "It's like... you remember that spell that only I can do, that makes people do what I tell them because they feel really good. It's a lot like that, like people said they feel when I do that."

Dudley surprised Harry by saying, "You know, I've wondered about that. Do that one on me."

Vernon and Petunia were now surprised, and looked disapproving. "Dudley, I'd really rather not," said Harry. "You know how I feel about this. I shouldn't use it for entertainment."

"It's not entertainment, it's demonstration," protested Dudley. "You say it's hard to resist being a phoenix, because it feels like this. I want to know what it feels like, so I can understand what it is you're trying to resist." Harry sighed in acquiescence; he wondered if Dudley was just taking a good opportunity to experience the Imperius Charm, which he'd heard so much about.

"Wait a minute," put in Vernon. "What are you going to have him do?"

"Nothing. I don't have to have him do anything for him to experience it."

"Well, I want to try that, too," said Dudley. "I want you to try to make me do something."

Harry frowned in confusion. "What?"

"I don't know," replied Dudley. "Just pick something you know I wouldn't want to do. Have me eat some food I hate, put my shoes on the wrong feet, like that. And I'll try not to do it."

"Okay," agreed Harry. It took him a few seconds to decide what he wanted. "And let me apologize in advance, and remind you when you get annoyed at me that you did ask."

Harry cast the Charm, and Dudley's face took on the blissful appearance that Harry had seen many times before. Harry sent his instructions, and Dudley turned to Petunia. "Mum, I just wanted to say that I love you," said Dudley happily. Petunia smiled at first, then frowned at Harry; Vernon snickered and tried hard not to laugh.

To Harry's surprise, Petunia spoke to Dudley. "Dudley, are there any women you fancy right now?" Harry and Vernon chuckled; Dudley responded, "Sorry, Mum, I'm not answering that." Petunia glanced at Harry in surprise. "I have to be the one to ask him," explained Harry. "And I'm not going to ask him that. Dudley, how do you feel?"

"Amazing," responded Dudley. "Wonderful. Words can't really cover it. This is really what it feels like to be a phoenix?"

"I think so," said Harry. "Do you want me to stop it now?"

"No way, leave it going a while."

Harry smiled, then turned to a disturbed but fascinated Vernon and Petunia. "This has happened before. He'd have me leave that going for as long as I would do it. I could make him ask me to stop it, but if he has the choice, he won't. And it's not because he's under the spell that he doesn't want it stopped, it's just because it feels so good." He turned to Dudley. "Okay, Dudley, I'm sorry, but I'm going to stop that now."

He did, and Dudley's face registered his disappointment. "That was... unbelievable. It was like the opposite of the dementors. Everything was all right, and it felt like I would never be sad again. If that's really what it's like to be a phoenix, then I'm amazed you don't do it every chance you get."

"Like I said, it's very tempting," agreed Harry.

"So, let me get this straight," said Vernon, obviously inspired by curiosity to overcome his discomfort with magic. "You could make him, or anyone, do anything you wanted."

Harry nodded. "So long as it wasn't something I knew was morally wrong."

"Now, why is that?"

Harry had tried to explain this before, but he knew it was difficult for Vernon and Petunia. "Because the whole point of this is that it's based on love, that's where the energy comes from. That's why it feels so good. Something that you know is wrong is contradictory to love, and so won't work."

Vernon thought again. "As I understand it, you can create anything you want, and you can have anyone do anything you want. So long as it's not wrong, I know. But you try to avoid doing either, as much as possible. Why? Most people would do, create, all kinds of things. You could live like a king, and so forth... you see what I'm getting at. So why don't you do that?"

Harry could answer easily, but tried to find a way to put it that Vernon would understand. "You still play poker with your friends, right? Once a month, small stakes?"

Vernon nodded. "Yes, just for fun. As much to talk and drink as for the game."

"Suppose you weren't playing for money, or the money was so small it didn't matter. You'd still be interested in playing, because it's a test of skill, though there's a lot of luck involved. But now suppose that you had the ability to, before every hand, arrange the cards exactly as you wanted. You could do it just with a thought. Would you still be interested in playing?"

Vernon slowly nodded. "Okay, I see your point. Winning would be fun, but it would get boring fast. And there would be no challenge, it would be pointless."

"Exactly. As many of my friends have pointed out to me, it's very ironic that to have this power, it's necessary to understand that it really shouldn't be used. Even if I used it for the benefit of others, not for me, the more I did it, the more their lives would become like that poker game. For example, Uncle Vernon, I could make your business really boom, by causing people who would have chosen to do business with someone else to choose you instead. It wouldn't even hurt anyone--well, okay, maybe your competitors, who might have got the business instead of you. But even if it was totally new business, it wouldn't be that gratifying to you to get it. You'd want to earn it, not get it by me sending it to you."

Vernon grunted. "Well, maybe one or two nice contracts..."

Harry smiled. "I know you're not serious, but then after you got that, you might decide, why not one more, and pretty soon you'd have all the business. When you can have anything you want, it's sometimes hard to know when to stop."

"Like you, on nine-eleven," suggested Dudley.

Suddenly somber, Harry nodded. "I guess that's a good example, it was extremely hard. If it hadn't been for the risk of exposing the wizarding world, I would have saved them all. But that leads down a road I really don't want to go down. So I just try to limit it to what I can see in front of me, and not look for more. And not to watch the TV news."

There was silence for a minute, then Petunia asked, "And you're the only one who can do this?"

Harry nodded, then qualified it. "As far as I know. I hadn't really thought about that, I just assumed I was the only one. But now it occurs to me that if someone else could do it, they might not want to tell anyone. I had to tell people, because it was how I defeated Voldemort. But for the next few months after that, I had to spend a lot of time explaining why I couldn't or wouldn't do this or that, that people wanted me to do. What I just explained to you, it's hard to explain in the newspaper. By now, of course, most people--" He cut himself off as the doorbell rang.

Dudley quickly stood. "I'll get it." Harry finished his thought as Dudley walked to the door and opened it. In a few seconds, Dudley came back to the living room, a brown-haired woman in her late thirties behind him. Harry and the Dursleys stood as Dudley said to Vernon and Petunia, "She said she needs to talk to you..."

Dudley trailed off as the woman gasped. "Oh, my God," she breathed, looking directly at Harry, clearly stunned. "It's you... you really exist..."

Harry looked only a little more bewildered than the Dursleys. "How do you know him?" Vernon asked the woman.

Not taking her eyes off Harry, she answered, awe still in her voice. "He saved my life, last year. On September eleventh. I was in the ninety-second floor, about to die... and then suddenly, I wasn't. Is... is your name really Harry Potter?"

"Oh, man, this is not good," whispered Dudley, to himself. Then, to Harry, "Did you forget to do a Memory Charm?"

"I'm pretty sure I didn't," said Harry, now almost as stunned as the woman. "How did you..."

"It's a bit of a story, if you want to hear it," she said. Recovering somewhat, she approached Vernon and Petunia. "I'm Vicky Sheldon. You must be Vernon and Petunia, it's nice to meet you," she said, shaking their hands. "And Dudley," she added, looking at him.

Forgetting for the moment that it wasn't his home, Harry gestured her to a seat near him. "Please, sit down. I'd like to hear this story, if it's all right," he said, glancing at Vernon and Petunia, who offered mute consent, still very surprised.

She began by explaining how she came to think something very strange had happened to her that day, the result of the phone call that she was made to forget. "Very soon after that, I started to have dreams about what happened to the towers. People running around, in panic, that sort of thing. It sort of confirmed what George--my husband--told me about the phone call I couldn't remember, but it didn't help me understand what had happened. But one thing that I started remembering from the dreams was one face: yours. It kept coming up in my dreams, and soon I could see it as clear as day when I was awake, even though I had no idea where it came from or why I was seeing it." Harry was very anxious--could he have already blown wizarding secrecy?--but also mesmerized. Hermione asked through the link what was happening; he realized that he had to be sending his feelings. He sent back an impression of being in the middle of something, that he would tell her later.

"This went on for some time, and it started to drive me a little crazy," Vicky continued. "Who was this man? Why did his face keep coming to my dreams? What did it have to do with nine-eleven? I didn't want to write it in my blog, because what I was writing was already crazy enough. I did tell a few friends, and none of them could help me, but one suggested I go for a hypnosis session. I thought it was a stupid idea, because of how you see it on old TV shows--you know, 'you are getting sleeeeepy...'" She mimed holding a watch on a chain and swinging it back and forth. "But she'd had it, and swore it was helpful. So I agreed to try.

"It took a few sessions, but finally I was able to relax enough to recall what had happened. I recalled the phone call with George, I could smell the smoke, I was running and trying to find a way down... and then I was on a rooftop, looking you in the face. You said, 'you'll be okay,' and then I was on the street, which is where my normal memory resumed. But then, of course, I remembered the trip to Starbucks, which I now assume never happened.

"So, now I knew what had happened, but I still couldn't believe it. I thought, the hypnosis memory must be wrong, just my imagination. This one young man couldn't have done that, no one could do that. I started doing lots of internet searches, anything I could think of that had to do with what I'd seen. I stumbled on the idea of using the word 'magic' in searches--I'd already tried 'aliens,' so this wasn't much stupider than that--but there were way too many results to be helpful. I tried 'magic' and 'nine-eleven', but nothing useful.

"Then I remembered a detail from hypnosis: you had a scar on your forehead, it was pretty clear." She reached over to Harry, and moved his hair to reveal his scar. "Amazing. It just happened to be visible when I saw your face. I tried 'magic' and 'scar', and I got fewer results. Then I added 'lightning', and got a lot of matches that said 'Harry Potter.' I clicked on a biography, saw a picture, and it was the one I'd seen in my dreams. I almost had a heart attack, I couldn't believe it.

"I spent the whole next week reading. I quickly discovered that anything to do with you was presented as fiction, but it clearly wasn't, as difficult as that was to believe. I understood that there really was such a thing as magic, and a community of people who did it, but wanted to keep it a secret. I read about you, and discovered that you're a hero to that community..." She paused and smiled as Harry blushed. "Sorry, I know it said you're easily embarrassed. Guess that's true, too. But that is how you're regarded, you beat back this huge threat to your people, almost killed so many times... wow, it's true, everything in those pages is true..."

"Well, he's never been to other planets," clarified Dudley with a smile. Vernon and Petunia looked at him quizzically, as did Harry. Dudley quickly explained, telling his parents that he occasionally looked at the pages to see what Harry was up to.

"Yes, I assumed that was an allegory for nine-eleven, that they couldn't write about it directly," agreed Vicky. "A fairly good allegory, really. So, now I was convinced, but I wanted to get some evidence, just to confirm it to myself. Not to expose your world--who would believe me anyway?--but for my own peace of mind. Looking through the archives, I found an old page in which Dudley's real name was mentioned, and some internet searching helped me find the real one, and then, you two." She gestured to Vernon and Petunia, still quite surprised. "So, I persuaded George to take us to England on our next vacation, which this is. Your address wasn't hard to find, especially since it's given in the wizarding web archives, just slightly changed. I wanted to visit, to ask you about it, since I knew I couldn't get into Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade; you were my only link. I was just incredibly lucky that you were here, I never expected that," she added to Harry. She looked around, entranced. "So, this is where you grew up... so, that's where you captured Draco Malfoy?" Then, to Dudley, "And you kicked him in the head?"

Harry and Dudley chuckled. "My proudest moment," joked Dudley.

"You remembered all that stuff you read pretty well, didn't you," remarked Harry. "So, now that you've confirmed what happened to you, what are you going to do?" He decided to use Legilimency to check the truthfulness of her answer.

She shrugged. "Nothing. I'm just happy to know, to finally know for sure what happened. I will tell George, but not the kids. Neither of us will tell anyone else; like I said, no one would believe us anyway. Are you worried about your world getting exposed?"

Harry nodded. "If you found us, someone else could. I'm just amazed you did. I'd heard that things suppressed by Memory Charms could come up in dreams, but I thought the dreams would be forgotten. I also had no idea that hypnosis could get past a Memory Charm. I have to talk to Hermione, see what she thinks."

"Oh, Hermione!" repeated Vicky excitedly. "She sounds so interesting, I'd love to meet her, and Ginny, and the rest... and see your Chocolate Frog card, and Diagon Alley... Yes, I know I can't. It all just sounds so intriguing."

"Not quite the word I'd use," muttered Vernon.

A timer went off in the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes," announced Petunia as she headed for the kitchen.

"I should go," said Vicky, standing. "I didn't mean to take up this much of your time, and I did come unannounced."

The men stood as well. "I may want to get in touch with you," said Harry. "I'll have to tell Arthur about this, and he may want to ask you some questions. Would that be okay?"

"Of course," she agreed. "How will you find me? Wait, of course you can find me, you can do anything you want."

"It's not quite like that," he explained. "I can't find anyone I want, just like that. I have to know roughly where they are, then I can do a remote search. But I can't just know where any particular person is, just by wanting to. That can't be done by magic. But here's what I'll do." He reached for her necklace, putting it into his palm for a second. "I've left a magical signature on this. If I need to find you, if you're wearing this, it'll lead me to you."

They walked to the front door, which Vernon opened. Vicky said goodbye to Vernon and Dudley, then looked at Harry, her expression earnest. "There's something I told myself I'd do if I ever found you." She leaned toward Harry and kissed him on the cheek, holding him by the shoulders. "Thank you for saving my life," she said, in a voice so quiet it was nearly a whisper. She held eye contact with him for a lingering second, then let go and left.

The three headed for the dining room. "Looks like you have another fan," said Dudley.

Immediately after leaving the Dursleys', Harry collected Ginny at his home, leaving James with Dobby, then went to the Burrow. He displayed the memory to all present (Ron and Pansy were out for dinner; he summoned Hermione through their link, since she had wanted to know what was happening) as an image in the air; he had learned how to do that so he wouldn't have to use the Pensieve so often. Arthur agreed that while it wasn't good, it wasn't dangerous in and of itself. There was still no proof of anything, but this was a real indication of a possible future danger.

Arthur felt that there should be a Prophet article about it, but that he shouldn't be involved in it, since he had been warning about the dangers of the internet for long enough that it might appear that he was using the incident to push his own agenda. It was agreed that Dudley would tell Luna about it the next day, after which Luna would interview Harry and write the article. Arthur warned Harry that he might face renewed criticism for his year-ago actions, but Harry didn't much care, and thought it was worth it if it showed the seriousness of the situation.

Luna ended up interviewing not only Harry but also Vicky, who cheerfully confirmed that the wizarding websites had been a big help to her quest, and that she never would have learned of the wizarding world or found Harry without them. Harry had another talk with her, emphasizing the importance of not communicating with anyone except her husband about the wizarding world, and put Forgetfulness Charms on both, to be on the safe side. He hadn't seriously considered giving her a Memory Charm, since (as was explained in Luna's article) she would simply do the same things she had done before, and upon discovering her meeting with Harry covered by a Memory Charm, might document her experiences on the internet. It was better to try to get her voluntary cooperation, which she seemed willing to give.

Luna's article caused a minor uproar in the Ministry. Much attention was focused on Arthur, as it was his department's responsibility to prevent such incidents, but he obviously could not be blamed, as he had been long trying to focus Ministry attention on the problem. Bright authorized Arthur to use any measures he saw fit to stop the wizards who posted information about the magical world. Arthur then took the unusual step of visiting the ISPs of the wizards involved, and using magic covertly after hours to find the wizards' personal information. To his frustration, however, Arthur discovered that the wizards had anticipated such a move when their activities had been made technically illegal, and had already replaced the files, substituting false information. Arthur was able to get their accounts shut down, but was no nearer to discovering their identities.

Things got worse a few days later, when the wizards (Arthur believed there were only about fifteen or twenty of them) returned, now contributing information to the same websites, whose archives had been transferred to computers owned by Muggles. These Muggles had evidently befriended the renegade wizards, having become fans and followers of their 'fictional' world. Now that Muggles hosted the archives, there was little or nothing that could be done; aggressive efforts to shut them down by tracing them through their ISPs would be only temporarily successful at best, and would almost certainly arouse intense suspicion among those so pursued that perhaps this world they read about was not so fictional after all, as someone didn't want the information around, and if it was fiction, why would anyone care? Even provoking the wizards to go further underground and working through Muggles was bound to be noticed by whatever Muggle community read the stories, and would itself arouse suspicion. They might think it was all part of the grand story--a story in which the storytellers themselves were being pursued by a repressive state--but it only added to whatever danger already existed. Arthur was deeply frustrated by what he considered the wizards' extremely irresponsible and dangerous behavior, especially in that they had reprinted the Prophet article about the Muggle woman finding Harry. Thank goodness Luna didn't use the woman's real name, thought Arthur.

* * * * *

In the form of a collie, Brenda trotted around the outskirts of the Burrow, keeping a discreet distance. Ever since Harry had become a phoenix, her nearly full-time responsibility had been surveillance of the Burrow. Her master wanted to know Molly's routine, and if possible, a way inside Potter's home, which was a hundred yards away. She was under orders not to go anywhere near it; Potter could if he chose recognize an Animagus in an instant, and if he happened to be in a paranoid mood, might check a stray dog near his home. If Brenda were captured, Drake would not be far behind. Her first priority was to be careful.

As soon as she had been conditioned to banish all thoughts except those to do with serving Drake, he'd had her undertake the study and practice necessary to become an Animagus. It was a good way to keep her occupied when he did not need her help, and she could be useful, depending on the animal. If she had become a deer or a sea lion, for example, it wouldn't be helpful at all. He'd been very pleased that she'd turned out to be a collie.

She'd made a couple of forays near the house, and had actually gone inside once, very quietly, under an Invisibility Cloak she held with her mouth. She'd learned nothing of importance, however, except that the Burrow could be accessed. It would be difficult to move freely within it, however, even if no one was home, because the house-elf could show up anywhere, anytime.

Even though she didn't know whether anyone was watching, she decided to chase some garden gnomes. It was important to act like a dog at all times, so her master had said.