Knight of Angels

2: Guardian

 “Diagon Alley!” Phoenix shouted, stepping into the glittering green Floo fire of the Auror’s Institute.

 There was that unpleasant little giddy feeling that accompanied using magical fireplaces for transportation, but then she was out again and in the broad daylight of Diagon Alley.

 “There you are. I thought you might take all day,” Anderi said, as Phoenix jumped down off the raised fireplace platform.

 “Not quite the whole day,” Phoenix said shakily, pushing her unbound hair out of her face. “Did we have to use the Floo network to get here? It feels—weird.”

 “Reason one: you have to get used to the dratted stuff at some point in your life. Reason two: Apparating goes haywire sometimes if you’re tired. You were in an intense magical battle less than two hours ago and are nowhere near peak physical condition. Reason three: twelve year olds Apparating isn’t something you see everyday.”

 “I still have more than a month to go before my birthday.”

 “Oh well.”

 Anderi started to walk.

 “What are we doing here?” Phoenix asked.

 Anderi sighed. “Getting you a spare wand, Phoenix. Every Auror tries to carry one at all times. The wand maker here designs special wands that shrink or even shape-shift when you want them too so you can hide them. When the enemy has your first wand, you still have one left. Good precaution and self-defense. You’ll always have one to lend to other people too, if you need too.”

 “Oh. What do you do to shrink the wand?”

 Anderi pursed her lips. “It’s a bit like riding a good broom. You just sort of think about it shrinking and squeeze it. Presto, it shrinks.”

 Phoenix nodded.

 “If you need something to keep that young brain occupied, think of a place to put your Auror’s wand,” Anderi said.

 “Is that what it’s called?” Phoenix asked. “An Auror’s wand?”

 “Yes, because only Aurors typically carry two wands around with them.”

 Phoenix ran her fingers along the length of her wand, tucked into the deep pockets of her robes. Wizard pockets went down to her knees, in order to hold a wand. Redwood and phoenix feather, eleven and three-quarters inches long. She was perfectly happy with the wand she had now.

 “That isn’t one of Ollivander’s wands, is it?”

 Phoenix shook her head. “Gregorovitch.”

 “That git? He was arrested five months ago. Now all those mainland-Europeans come to us for wands. Many of them did come to Ollivander’s before Gregorovitch was arrested, mind you, but now they all have to come here for wands.”

 “Mr. Ollivander is a wand maker?” Phoenix questioned, trying to make sure she got this right before she walked into the shop.

 “Right. Best wand maker there is, probably. He runs a shop that goes back about twenty generations in his family. I think he’s got a grandchild in there who he’s teaching the trade to now.”

 The Phoenix saw a shock of familiar silvery hair. She switched to Anderi’s other side so that Draco Malfoy wouldn’t see her. Did he know what had just happened? He wouldn’t have seen his father for months, but would he have been told that his father had just been caught?

 “Anderi, what happens to the kids of the people Auror’s send to Azkaban?”

 Her teacher sighed. “Most of them have some other family to go to. But if they don’t, they get sent to live with families very supportive of the Aurors. All we can do is hope that they forget what happened to their parents and forget what their parents taught them.” She followed Phoenix’s quick glance. “Draco Malfoy? His mother is still perfectly well and sane, although someone might keep an eye on the two of them. We can only hope that Draco can adapt at this age.”

 From her year at the Malfoy house, Phoenix had seen Narcissa Malfoy quite a bit. She seemed to be rather nervous and timid. Not the sort of person that would really be an active member of the Dark side, but not someone who could lift the shadow of the Dark Lord’s influence from Draco. Phoenix hadn’t accused Narcissa like she had Lucius Malfoy, but still…

 “Ollivanders,” Anderi said.

 Phoenix stopped. It was a small, dusty shop. In the small window that jutted into the bustling street held a single faded (and very dusty) pillow on a wooden (and even more dusty) box. On the top of these two exceedingly filthy props was a single wand that stood in sharp contrast to the box and pillow. It was polished so that it almost reflected the light from the (very dusty) lamp above it. A sign hung above the door that read, Ollivanders, Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C.

 “That’s a long time,” Phoenix said, as Anderi pushed her into the shop.

 “Good morning.”

 “Not the greatest by a long shot,” Anderi replied, as a small, elfin-like man walked slowly out from behind a shelf.

 The man looked at Anderi solemnly. “Anderi Nebulai. First wand…ten inches, willow and unicorn hair. Your Auror’s wand…ten and three-quarters, ash and dragon heartstring.”

 Anderi smiled. “That’s right. But now I need a wand for Phoenix…and Auror’s wand, if you please.”

 Mr. Ollivander—that was who Phoenix assumed he was—looked at her curiously. “Phoenix Argent? Your Auror child prodigy? Well well…may I see your first wand, Miss Argent?”

 Phoenix surrendered her wand to the craftsman, and he examined it, running the long fingers of his hands over the finger-stained wood.

 “Eleven and three-quarters inches, redwood and phoenix feather. Gregorovitch?”

 “Yes.”

 Mr. Ollivander shook his head. “A fine wand-maker…a pity he did what he did. Rather unfortunate, but not that horrible for my business, you know. Now, which side is your wand arm?”

 “Left.”

 “I see…” Mr. Ollivander pulled out a little measuring tape, and began measuring her hands, head, ears…and then the little man was running between shelves, and Phoenix realized the little measuring tape was working by itself. She laughed and pushed her hair out of her face.

 Anderi sat down in a spindly chair as Mr. Ollivander pulled down boxes and the tape measure continued to flit around Phoenix—now measuring her eyelashes, she thought.

 “Here we are…lemon and unicorn tail, ten inches.”

 Nothing.

 “Pine and dragon heartstring, eleven inches.”

 Again, nothing.

 Mr. Ollivander frowned. “Not a single reaction from either…normally by your level at least some recognition is shown…hawthorn and dragon heartstring, twelve inches…now we might be getting somewhere, Miss Argent. Maybe longer wands are best for you…very powerful, those can get.”

 A dozen or so purple sparks had come unenthusiastically out of the wand.

 “Maple and phoenix feather, ten and three-quarters inches…almost…”

 This time, a small flurry of scarlet sparks jumped out, but Phoenix felt none of the fresh tingle that her old wand brought.

 “Maple and dragon heartstring, eleven and one quarter of an inch…no…”

 Phoenix knew what to look for in her wand. Her namesake was in her first wand, and it should be in this one as well. “Try another one with a phoenix feather, Mr. Ollivander. Please.”

 The little man looked startled, but nodded. “Cedar and phoenix feather, twelve and a half inches…at last!”

 A full storm of gold sparks burst from the wand, raining down on Phoenix and Mr. Ollivander.

 The wand-maker turned to Anderi. “Twelve galleons, Anderi.”

 Anderi dug into a small purse and pulled out the large gold coins. Phoenix started to protest, but Anderi said, “Hush, Phoenix. The Aurors pay for these wands.”

 Mr. Ollivander smiled softly. “Very good wands they are, too. Worth every knut. Now let me see you shrink the wand. Just grip it firmly, and think smaller.”

 Phoenix placed held the wand in front of her. Small. She gasped, because the weight in her palm had vanished, and something very tiny was digging into her skin.

 “Bravo!” Mr. Ollivander said, as Phoenix held up the minute wand. “Just do that again, but think larger.”

 There was a curious gleam in the little man’s eyes. Phoenix focused on twelve and a half inches of gleaming wood. The wand returned to its normal size.

 “Drat!” Anderi gasped, jumping up from the little wooden chair.  “Come on Phoenix, we need to get going! Thanks, Ollivander.” She grabbed Phoenix and pushed her student out the door, into the bright sunlight of Diagon Alley.

 Phoenix blinked in the light—such a contrast to the dim wand shop.

 “Don’t run,” Anderi told her, setting off at a brisk walk. “Don’t attract attention, but we need to hurry to Hogsmeade. Now, I told you a good Auror can change the shape of his or her wand. I know you, if anyone, can do that.”

 “How?”

 “It’s the same principle as the size-changing. Picture the shape, put some power in it, and presto. You have your wand. Try it now.”

 “Here?” Phoenix asked, accidentally bumping into an old lady with a large red handbag and a rather laughable bird-topped hat.

 “Yes here, just try to do it discreetly.”

 Phoenix thought a moment. What did she want this Auror’s wand to become? Her hair fell in her eyes again, and she pushed the wand into a new shape.”

 Anderi laughed as Phoenix tied her hair back with her wand. “Very creative. Very resourceful, Phoenix. That’s practical and no enemy would ever guess what it was.”

 Phoenix grinned. “Why thank you. Don’t you think it makes a ravishing fashion accessory?”

 The dreaded Floo fire loomed ahead, green fires sparking.

 “We’re going to the school, right?” Phoenix said softly.

 Her teacher shook her head. “Just to Hogsmeade. There isn’t a Floo fire at Hogwarts. Too many people could get in that way. Too many Dark Wizards could get onto the grounds easily, and Hogwarts is one of our safe havens.”

 But the Dark Lord got me in.

 “Hogsmeade!” Anderi shouted.

 I’m not going to let that happen again. Nobody will use me that way.

 “Hogsmeade!”

 Again there was the uncomfortable banging feeling. Falling, falling, falling…

 And then she landed with an uncomfortable thump in a much quieter street. There were maybe a dozen or so other people that she could see, and there was a refreshing breeze blowing in the air.

 “You seem to have gotten the hang of that rather quickly.”

 “Not quite,” Phoenix sighed, brushing ashes off her robe and shirt. “It still hurts. Well, not really hurts, but it sure feels strange. You’d think someone at the Floo network would have nothing better to do than to add a Cushioning Charm to Floo powder.”

 Anderi shrugged. “You’d better get going now.”

 “You?”

 “I’m sorry, dear, but Dale wants me back at the Auror’s Institute soon. There’s a new batch of trainees coming in, and Dale wants me to be there to meet the new lot of them. That’s why I had to hurry you out of Ollivanders so quickly.”

 “So what do I do now?”

 “Walk up the school—I’m pretty sure you won’t miss it—and try to find a teacher or at least an adult who looks like they know what they’re doing. There shouldn’t be any students there. Get one of them to take you up to Professor Dumbledore’s office, or at least to tell you the password and give you directions. The Headmaster has an assignment for you.”

 “Like what?”

 “I really have no idea,” Anderi confessed. “You can handle it, though.”

 Phoenix nodded.

 Anderi stretched her arms. “Goodbye, Phoenix.”

 “’Bye,” Phoenix said, a little upset.

 Anderi stuck her hand out, and Phoenix clasped it tightly. “It’s been an honor teaching you, you know.”

 “It’s been an honor being taught by you.”

 Anderi stepped back into the Floo fire, burning cheerfully green. “Auror’s Institute Waiting Room!” She vanished.

 Phoenix bit her lip, and turned around. It was bright and sunny, with the wind blowing, not too harshly, toward the school. She’d make good time, she thought as she flapped off the cobbled Hogsmeade street. Good flying conditions.

 In a few minutes, the shingled roofs of the village became more spaced out, and then gave way to rippling fields of grass. With her hunter’s eyes, it didn’t take long to find the pathway to Hogwarts. The trail wrapped around the lake, and Phoenix decided to go straight over the clear water. The giant squid was flipping around in the shallows, basking in the sun.

 She had forgotten how large Hogwarts was. It took her a few minutes just to find the doors that led into the Entrance Hall, where she changed back into her human form and used her wand to open the enormous doors.

 “Expiscori Sapia!” Her wand lit up with a bright blue glow, as it detected the nearest sentient creature. Apparently, he or she was quite close. She jogged down the hall—and ran right into Peeves the Poltergiest, who she remembered dimly and unfondly from her few months at Hogwarts.

 “Students in the summer!” he cackled. “Fail your courses?”

 “No,” she snapped irritably. What an inconvienence. Peeves, if her memory worked at all, always did exactly what you didn’t want him to do. She blinked and marveled at the simplicity of what she had just thought up.

 “Be quiet! I’m trying to get to the kitchens without any teachers finding me, Peeves. Don’t tell anyone, please?”

 The poltergiest’s face broke into a huge grin. “Of course not,” he said in a saintly voice, and flew away through the nearest door.

 She could have laughed out loud. Within five minutes there’d be a teacher coming to get her. Walking in the general direction of the kitchens—in case Peeves doubled back to check her story—she allowed herself to wonder what Dumbledore wanted.

 “Stop!” someone shouted from the top of a staircase behind her.

 Phoenix twisted around. “Hullo,” she said.

 Professor McGonagall looked a little shocked. “Drat that poltergiest.”

 Phoenix grinned. “He was just doing what I told him not to. I thought it would be easier than tearing the school apart looking for a teacher to have him make a teacher get me.”

 McGonagall shook her head. “Come along then, Miss Argent. The Headmaster is expecting you,” she said briskly.

 “I know,” Phoenix said, scampering up the steps. “Anderi told me. Why?”

 “I really don’t know. I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will explain what is nessecary to you.”

 Yet again, Phoenix found herself half-running to keep up with an adult’s longer strides. Drat my size.

 “Peppermint Patties,” Professor McGonagall said to the gargoyle that guarded Professor Dumbledore’s office. She wrinkled her nose rather distastefully with her words.

 The gargoyle jumped to the side, and Phoenix followed McGonagall onto the stone escalator.

 “Miss Argent, Professsor Dumbledore.”

 “Thank you for finding her, Professor. Have a seat Phoenix.,” Professor Dumbledore said, shutting a rather large book.

 Professor McGonagall swept down the stair again.

 “Anderi told me you wanted to talk to me about something, Professor.”

 Dumbledore leaned back in his large leather armchair. “I have a family that needs protection. I’m afraid they may be very high on Lord Voldemort’s list of victims, because on one member’s closeness to Harry. Normally, a very capable wizard stays very close to them, but he and another Auror are going to go take a look at a possible stronghold of Voldemort’s in Ireland. It would be very hard to have another Auror move into a house nearby, but if you …”

 “I could pose as a cousin or something like that,” she finished for him. “I can do that for a summer.”

 “Oh no, not the whole summer. I only expect old Paul Southster to be gone two months or so. You’ll have a month left of those glorious summer days to get into whatever mischief you want.”

 Phoenix nodded. “I’ll do that. But can I ask you one question before I leave?”

 He smiled. “You don’t even care to find who you’re going to be staying with?”

 “Well, I would like to know that too at some point, but I have been wondering about something for a while…”

 “Fire away.”

 “Well, I can do some charms and magic without a wand; the magic that I do with a wand is stronger than most people ever can do and I’m not even twelve. And when I’m really in trouble, I can sort of explode and give off bursts of magic that knock people out. So, what I want to know is why?”

 The Headmaster closed his eyes behind his half-moon spectacles for a moment. “I believe, Phoenix, that you have a great deal more raw magical power than many wizards and witches. All that extra magic, when you really need it and don’t have a wand, can come rushing out of you. A few other people can work a few directionless, unchannelled charms, and these people are rare as well. Yet you have the ability to focus your power, and you can work some spells without your wand simply because you have the magic to sustain them without the added help and power of a wand. Very few people have your power, Phoenix. One of them is Lord Voldemort. He is the only one that we know of, thankfully, fighting against us.”

 “I have as much power as he has?”

 “Power, yes, but remember that the Dark Lord has had decades of practice with his magic, and is also far more ruthless than you. I would not suggest looking forward to a confrontation.”

 “I’d not look forward to that. Thank you…for answering.”

 “I answer what I may. If you have time to spare—which I suspect you will—try practicing Levitation Charms and the like without a wand.”

 “I—I will. Who am I staying with?”

 “The Granger family. Hermione Granger—you recognise the name?—is a close friend of Harry’s. I’m afraid that might put her and her parents rather high on Voldemort’s list of victems. The Grangers are a Muggle family—with the execption of Hermione, of course—so they have no protection whatsoever. I gave Hermione a Portkey that will transport the three of them back to Hogwarts if needed. What you need to do, Phoenix, is simply hold any Death Eaters off and Apparate to Hogsmeade or some other reasonably safe place as soon as the family gets away.”

 “That’s not too hard, I suppose,” she said cheerily.

 “I didn’t think you would mind. A connection of mine has a connection to someone inside the Floo network, so for today, you can get into the Granger’s using the Hogsmeade Floo Link.”

 More Floo travel today. Drat. “All right then. I should be leaving right away then.”

 “It might be wise if you were there in time for lunch,” Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling.

 “I’m not sure eating after Floo travel is such a good idea…”

 Professor Dumbledore chuckled. “Farewell, Phoenix. Good luck.”

 “Thank you,” she said, nodding. Phoenix slipped down the staircase and managed to find her way to the nearest window. From there, she simply jumped into the air. Catching an updraft from high up was without a doubt the easiest way to fly.

 “The Granger house!” she chanted, blurring forms right on top of the fire. Coughing, she stumbled out of the fireplace and promptly hit herself on the head. I’m one of the greatest magic workers in the world and I just hit my head on a mantel. Bloody brilliant, I am.

 “Phoenix!” Hermione Granger said, jumping up from a sofa and putting down a book so large just the sight of it made Phoenix bored. “Professor Dumbledore said you’d be along sometime today. Do you want some lunch? Ah…Floo powder. I’ve heard about some people taking sorts of allergic reactions to it, do you think you’re one of them? Harry doesn’t like Floo powder much either. I’ll just go get you a glass of water, shall I?”