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Story Notes:
First and foremost, no infringement upon the rights of one Rowling, J. K., or anyone else who may lay claim to any aspect of the world of Harry Potter.

Second, I have absolutely no idea where to go with this, so if you do, have at it.
Fawkes’ body turned to ash around Harry as Voldemort’s curse landed its mark, forever fusing their life forces. Avada Kedavara- I destroy as I speak, and Harry was reborn, as phoenix are, of flame. He now existed independent of time.

That’s how phoenixes are reborn time and time again. They live their life cycle, but are frozen at the moment of death, and doomed to repeat their lives in a different time, and so it was that, after many lifetimes of study, Harry learned that by concentrating with every fibre of his being at the moment of his end, he was able to control his new beginning.

Harry was occupied with more than his studies, however. He spent these years ridding the world of evils, namely one Tom Riddle, who was much less formidable without his wand, which had snapped cleanly after he’d cast the Avada on Harry.

Next, the wizarding world noticed a rash of pureblood vanishings, though they couldn’t be counted missing, as no one seemed to be missing them at all. A younger generation, particularly of Slytherins seemed to be a bit spacier, and missing gaps in time, but this, too, was ignored by Britain’s wizarding community.

Once settled that his tasks were done, Harry set about ensuring that they were never necessary at all. As he stepped off a curb directly in front of an oncoming truck, he focussed intently not on the blaring horn, but on


27 October, 1981.


These were strange, bleak times. Times that, though alien to him, bore eerie resemblance to the world he’d known. A short, rotund man dressed in ratty clothes scampered in the shadows.

Harry’s wand silently drew to his fingertips and, cloaked by shadows, he hurried to follow the man, pouncing upon Wormtail before he had opportunity to enter the small cottage.

“Tell me” Harry whispered. “Tell me, where is Potter.”

“I…I…I” Peter stammered. He felt the tip of a wand press into the temple. “It is there” he pointed.

Harry followed Peter inside, wandless deflection spells already on his lips.

“Who are you” James demanded. “What business have you here” he continued as he silently cast binding and disarming spells.

Harry, already prepared, deflected both, but allowed his wand to release from his hand. It dropped effortlessly into his pocket.

Sirius had a grim countenance as he stood between his godson and the stranger. He sniffed the air. Strange, he couldn’t catch the scent of the stranger before him except… he eased forward, sniffing more intently as he moved.

How is this possible he wondered, as he reached the man’s feet. He turned round and barreled toward Lily, sniffing the bundle in her arms, then back to the stranger, and finally gave a terrific shake as if he’d just got out of the bath. By the end of it, he stood, a man. Sirius Black.

“Harry” he barked, his voice still not quite human.

Harry sighed. This wasn’t quite what he had in mind.

“Harry” James asked in surprise, turning back to his wife and child, then snapping back to attention, facing his now grown son.

In light of Padfoot’s identification, James could see it. Lily’s eyes were unmistakable.

“I just um… I thought I might suggest a different secretkeeper” he smiled sheepishly.

That was a little too easy James thought.
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