1 Chapter One

I

Far away from the ground, where the winds are harsher and the sun is strong, a bird from legends flies. The cold temperature of the air doesn't bother him as scorching fire always resides inside him, warming him from his talons to the tip of his wings. It's nice though he admits it's easier to ride the warm thermals of summer, less need to flap one's wings, and grow tired; the workout is appreciated.

Perhaps he would go next to a more tropical place where thermals, those bubbles of hot air that help flying, are more common. He kind of misses billowing up effortlessly, soaring up higher and higher with just a couple flaps, until he's above the clouds and can relax and float away, free.

A thud interrupts his musings and he searches for the bird he's been following. He finds it a second later, as his sight is more than perfect in this form, with its wings pressed to its back, head low, and talons tucked back, falling down like a seeker who's found the snitch. Then, with the grace only birds of prey have, it opens its wings and picks the dead animal up from the ground, soaring up once again to repeat the action.

Harry calls him Marcus in his mind as it kind of reminds him of Slytherin's captain, Marcus Flint, and what he would consider funny.

Well, it is actually kind of funny to see bird-Marcus picking the animal up to just throw it again and again. This is the third time he's seen it do it, but his amusement hasn't diminished since then. It actually makes up for missing the hawk he was following earlier and lost its tracks thanks to the surprise of watching a dead body falling a couple of steps away from him.

He would have gone closer after that if only to inspect the bird-Marcus better. Animals kind of worship him now (or at least treat him with respect), so he isn't afraid of annoying them or them attacking him.

That being said, this is one of the largest birds he's seen. His wingspan is larger than the length of his human body. It can probably fit two Harry's, actually.

He's not intimidated, not really. But he can't deny that seeing a large bird carry a big wolf just to drop it, creates a certain measure of caution. His phoenix form is not big even if his wingspan does have a respectful length.

The fourth time seems to be the charm. Bird-Marcus once again goes down, but this time it doesn't pick up the body. It begins tearing the pelt away to reach the flesh with its beak with disturbing ease. The bloodstains the white ground and its brownish chest, but its wings, black with a couple of gray feathers, remain pristine.

It's kind of beautiful to see it. Deadly and terrifying, but still beautiful in an almost candid way.

II

Harry never finished his normal muggle schooling as he went to Hogwarts when he was just eleven years old. That means there's a lot of things he doesn't know most people would call obvious and has a lot of information some would call useless. Well, it is kind of useless, now. There's no magical society here.

Though it doesn't mean there's no magic. It's weak and can be felt better if one touches the ground, tightly pressed inside the Earth, as if it's trying to restore its energy, curled up as it is. It can be found in the air, too, but fainter.

So, while there's not enough magic in the air for people with an actual magical core to exist, there's enough for some magical creatures to be born. The people instead have the same secondary sort of magical core intricately connected to their souls, which muggles and wizards also had from what he's sensed, just not as strong. There are a couple of magical plants too, so some of his knowledge of herbology and care of magical creatures is still usable, which is nice when dealing with the dangerous ones.

Not that he really needs it. He's probably one of the strongest magical creatures out there. At least one of the most respected if he doesn't count unicorns. Or he would be if he was really a phoenix and not just an animagus. Though taking into account he's been in his phoenix form for close to three years without turning back, maybe he does count as one.

He's fallen to the instinct of the phoenix and let it take it over his mind. He no longer feels does phantom aches in which the nose he doesn't have itches or he wants to curls his non-existent fingers. He's more of a bird than human. And considering phoenix is known as an intelligent creature, maybe he's smarter, too. He feels smarter.

Harry blinks when he feels clear eyes settling on him. Bird-Marcus is now edging some piece of meat towards his direction with its beak before straightening. They lock stares for a minute longer and with some sort of dread, he realizes bird-Marcus won't eat until Harry has had the first bite.

Fantastic.

Phoenix may be herbivores, but thanks to him being a human, he can eat meat and more, too. There's no excuse for him to deny it when is Bird-Marcus the one acknowledging Harry's worth by offering a part of its hunt. It'd be of bad taste to overlook it when he knows how apprehensive birds of prey are when other animals are close. Also, Harry's kind of pushover when he's a phoenix.

With a small sigh he's still capable of doing even with a beak, Harry flies to the bird's side, faintly admitting bird-Marcus is even more intimidating up close. He then bows his head if only to be polite and eats the raw flesh.

He mentally hums as he feels the blood still warm on his tongue, just now noticing bird-Marcus is actually a female bird.

Oh well.

III

It isn't his intention to follow bird-Marcus to her nest. He's simply curious where she's taking what's left of the dead wolf's body. In his mind, her nest is filled with the bones of her victims instead of the plain sticks most birds prefer. She's clearly made an impression already. If it's a good one or not, he's not really sure.

So he follows her, sometimes even plain apparition instead of flying as he always feels kind of lazy after eating some raw meat. He's also fairly sure it's close to winter and the afternoons in Russia get kind of cold. He may have fire in his veins but he likes being warm. Apparition helps with that as he has to burn to do it and the fire spreads all over his body. Not that he does it many times. While her nest is not close by human standards, it only takes them fifteen minutes of flying before they reach a rocky mountain. There are a couple of hole-like spaces between rocks that clearly are for nesting. In one of them, bird-Marcus flies in.

And well, he certainly isn't expecting the two little chicks he sees. They're cute in a potato kind of way, especially when bird-Marcus feeds them. He stays with them until the sky darkens, the only thing illuminating them being his burning tail and the stars above them. Harry then closes his eyes, talons digging into the soil as he feels the hum of magic beneath him. For a moment he can feel the Earth slowly moving, the trees above the cliff, and the breathing of the animals taking refuge near. He lets the phoenix inside him take absolute control until he can feel the life within the world, falling into a slumber as the winter approaches—all things he could have never experienced as a human.

The winds pick up and he starts singing, wishing every animal that hears his encouragement for the hard hunts that will come when the snow falls, uncaring of the noise the breeze rustling through the yellowish leaves that haven't fallen yet makes.

Other animals come close to hear him and Harry flies to the ground, igniting the fire on his tail to not only serve as a light but to actually produce heat and warm the ones that come to hear him. Not a moment later, small creatures with four spindly legs and giant flat feet come out from a smoky hole on the bottom of the mountain, their smooth, pale gray skin shining in the dark. Bulging round eyes turn to look at him, but it's brief and soon they're dancing.

He won't know they're Mooncalves until it's midnight and most animals are sleeping around him when he takes out one of the books about magical creatures that are inside the small pouch he keeps hanging around his neck, his burning tail giving him enough light to be able to read.

IV—T

Harry would never forget the first time he became a phoenix.

The battle had been over for over a month but everyone was still twitchy thanks to Voldemort's most loyal followers causing mayhem. For the non-adults meant that while Hogwarts study period was done for the year, students still resided there. Including Harry and his friends.

Though they were the best informed of all thanks to being members of the Order of the Phoenix. Everyone was completely certain they would get pulled into the thick of it as soon as they left the safety of the school so the Order didn't bother in hiding.

There were no formal classes around as no one could focus, but that didn't mean there were none. Offensive and defensive spells were a favorite of everyone, followed by magic healing, including potions and charms. The library was always opened for anyone who wanted to broaden their knowledge too, a thing that was appreciated by the ones who still wanted to pass their OWLs and NEWTs.

Even with those classes going on, plus the political lessons McGonagall gave him every night, Harry had too much free time for his liking. The nightmares didn't give him enough sleep and when he was awake the weight on his shoulders was more evident with the way everyone looked up at him. And he knew it would only become worse.

His friends decided they would spend the time trying to become animagi, to take his mind out of things, and because being able to turn into an animal sounded practical, especially when one wanted to escape. They spent months doing all the weird rituals that was needed while using their free time for meditation. The month they had to hold the leaf of a mandrake inside their mouth for a month was hard, but in the end, it all paid off.

Hermione was an otter, small but very nimble, while Ron turned into a Jack Russell, a canine, like Sirius. They kinda expected him to become a stag, as their forms had seemed to be based on their Patronus.

But that didn't happen.

Instead of the usual smooth transition as he concentrated in that shadow that was his inner animal, fire licked his form in a quick burst. His insides burned in a comforting way as the ashes of what he once was fell to the ground. His senses heightened, everything became clear.

For some reason, the memory of the first time he used a broomstick came to him. He remembered clearly the sensation of weightlessness and the wind soaring across his cheeks, brushing his hair and making it more untamable than ever—He remembered the freedom. Everything was beautiful and he loved it.

Before opening his eyes and hearing his friend's gasps he already knew what his animagus form was.

The phoenix inside him sang too loud for him to ignore.

(Another memory pushed to the forefront of his mind, but Harry ignored it. The morning in which he woke up with the unbroken Elder wand and the Resurrection ring next to his Cloak wasn't something he wished to acknowledge.

It was a secret he intended taking to his grave.)