Black Dawn Ch.1: The Darkest Night (Patreon)

Pearly white beams of moonlight fell across Fawkes’ plumage and gleamed against the silver instruments around the room. The clock on the wall chimed; a small wooden phoenix popped out of its door and its squawk rang through the room.

Fawkes lifted his wing and glanced at the clock with one beady eye, ruffling his feathers. The bird turned on his perch and fluttered onto the desk, hopping across to a crystal bowl. 

“In the mood for a little Halloween celebration, are you Fawkes?” Dumbledore chuckled as the phoenix pushed the lid away with his beak, plucking a candy out of the bowl. “All that sugar isn’t good for you, you know?”

Fawkes spun away from him and flew back to his perch, settling on it. Dumbledore shook his head and a fond smile curving on his lips.

“You know, Fawkes? These were Ariana’s favorite.” He picked a lemon drop, running his finger along its sticky surface. “She always insisted that I bring her some every holiday. And I did. Alas…”

Dumbledore placed the candy on his tongue, feeling the sea of grief swell beneath his ribs and he closed his eyes, letting the citrus tang wash over him. With a weary sigh, he rose from his seat and walked to the window. 

The moonlit grounds of Hogwarts spread below him, and the waters of the Black Lake shimmered. Smoke drifted through the chimney of Hagrid’s hut and owls fluttered over the trees. Two dark figures sat in the gardens below, holding hands on the bench.

“Ah, young love.” A pair of heterochromatic irises flashed in Dumbledore’s mind, a bitter-sweet pain filling him. He gave his faint reflection a wry smile. “And students breaking curfew.”

A bright light shone in the distance, and Dumbledore squinted, dread welling in his chest. 

“Not another attack, Tom. What are you up to now that the children of the prophecy are out of your reach?”

The bright light flew in through the window, transforming into a brilliant doe, and Dumbledore felt ice creep through his veins.

“He’s here, Albus. It’s You-Know-Who.” Lily Potter’s voice emerged from the patronus. “He’s here for Harry. Save him, please!”

“No, no.” A stone dropped into his stomach. “Fawkes! Take me to Godric’s Hollow!”

Sharp talons dug into his shoulder and flames enveloped him, the phoenix song ringing in his ears. The world around him shifted and he found himself standing on a familiar cobblestone path.

‘The Potters live—’

A vortex of green and black magic ripped across the street, shattering the windows of houses, and showering the cobbles in glass. A crumbling cottage expanded into view, its walls and roof obliterated. A dark specter rose through the dust into the night with a terrible screech, sending chills up his spine.

“Merlin be merciful.” Dumbledore hurried across the street, the Elder Wand slipping into his hand. 

Golden letters hung by the open gate, the lawn buried in heaps of rubble, and the cottage's front door was all but gone.

“No, no. Not them too.” Dumbledore shoved the debris aside with a flick of his wand.

Splinters and tattered furniture filled the living room scattered over the floor amongst cracked spears and knives, the faint echo of magic still clinging on them. A body lay still by the stairs and Dumbledore rushed forward. 

A pair of round, broken glasses next to a mop of black hair.

“No, No. James.” Dumbledore’s heart ached, watching the pair of dull brown eyes, staring lifelessly at the ceiling. 

With a trembling hand, he closed James’ eyes and hung his head, a tear slipping down his cheek. Fawkes let out a low and mournful trill before his song was drowned by a loud wail that echoed through the house. 

Dumbledore’s head snapped up, a flame of hope igniting in his chest. “Harry. Harry and Lily might be alive.”

He climbed up the creaking stairs, the hair on his body prickling as he went closer. The magic in the air turned putrid, clinging to him. Dumbledore felt bile rise in his throat, but he pushed forward, stepping through a rotting door into the ruined nursery.

“Lily.” 

Dumbledore stumbled, seeing Lily Potter laying still and silent and pale as snow within splintered, scorched floorboards, her long auburn hair sprawling out in all directions like slim trickles of blood.

A bone-white wand peaked through the smoldering black robes piled before her

Another loud wail drew his attention to a pair of teary emerald eyes that pressed against the crib, a little hand stretched out of its bars, reaching for Lily.

“Ma-ma,” Harry garbled between sobs, and Dumbledore felt a knife pierce through his heart. “Mama.”

“Harry,” he whispered, looking around the crumbling room. “The explosion happened here. Merlin.”

“Ma-ma,” Harry hiccupped softly.

Dumbledore walked around Lily and gently scooped Harry into his arms, shushing him and patting his head. Harry sobbed against Dumbledore’s shoulder, and a trickle of warmth soaked into his robes. Dumbledore frowned, turning his head and lifting the soaked black locks of hair from Harry’s forehead.

Droplets of blood trickled down the right side of his face from a scar, the shape of a lightning bolt.

“Oh, dear.” He shifted Harry onto his hip, the toddler glancing up at him as Dumbledore pointed his wand at his forehead. “Episkey.”

His magic rolled off the scar, like water off a rock, fizzling away. Dumbledore frowned, pushing magic through the tip of his wand, willing the scar to heal. The trickle of blood stopped but the scar stayed. Harry stared at the wand, reaching for it with his hands, his lower lip quivering.

“Fawkes?” The phoenix fluttered onto his arms, silvery tears dropping onto the scar, rolling off Harry’s forehead.

Harry looked away, back at Lily.

“Mama,” Harry called, pointing at the Elder Wand. “Waa!”

“Shh, little one.” Dumbledore pressed Harry against his chest, a tiny hand grabbing onto his beard. “Mumma is just asleep. Why don’t we let her rest?”

Harry stared up at him with wide green eyes. “Mama slee-y?”

A tear fell from Dumbledore’s eyes. “Yes, little one. Yes. Mumma sleepy.”

“Dada?”

“Dada… has gone to work.” Dumbledore ran his hand through Harry’s hair, brushing his thumb over the scar, feeling magic prickle his skin. “Fawkes, can you get Perenelle? There’s something most peculiar about it. She might even help me figure out what exactly happened.”

Fawkes trilled and Harry’s eyes turned to the bird, widening with curiosity.

“Pwetty birdy.” He reached toward Fawkes. “Red birdy.” Fawkes disappeared in a flash of flames and Harry gasped, clapping his hands. “Magic birdy!”

“Yes, little one. That’s a phoenix.” Dumbledore pressed Harry against his shoulder. “Let’s get somewhere better. Somewhere safe.”

Dumbledore’s foot brushed against the robes and the white wand rolled onto the floor. Frowning, he picked up the wand, feeling its magic thrum between his fingers.

Harry burst into tears, fresh drops of blood blossoming on the scar. 

“Tom’s wand.” Dumbledore’s eyes darted to the pile of robes, and the scar on Harry’s forehead, and ice spread in his veins. “Oh my.”

Harry’s loud cries rang in his ears, his fingers fisting through Dumbledore’s beard and tugging at it. Dumbledore quickly slid Voldemort’s wand into his pocket, wiping the blood off Harry’s scar and his crying lessened, wails dwindling to sobs. 

“Shh, Harry. It is going to be alright. Nothing will hurt you now.”

Harry pointed his hand at the scar. “Auwy.” 

“I will get something soon. I promise.” Dumbledore looked around the room as Harry hiccupped, pressing his forehead against the headmaster’s robes. 

Quietly and carefully, Dumbledore walked out of the room, and down the stairs, keeping Harry’s eyes on him.

‘Do not see James, my boy. Please.’ Desperation clawed up his throat and his pace hastened. ‘I can’t lie like I had to for Lily.’

Stepping out of the house, Dumbledore sighed in relief while Harry sniffled against his chest. 

“Let us get you to Hogwarts first.” Dumbledore glanced over his shoulder, at the ruins of the Potter cottage. “And get you to Poppy till Perenelle—”

A roar echoed through the night and Dumbledore twisted, his wand slipping into his hand as a bright light fell across the street. A dark figure descended from the skies and Dumbledore felt his heart coil.

“Pafoo’!” Harry’s face lit up, giggles escaping his lips.

“I am sorry, Harry.” Dumbledore touched the wand to Harry’s side and smothered the stab of regret. “I cannot let you see this. Somnus.”

Harry’s eyes drooped close and his warm breath huffed against Dumbledore’s skin. The light fell over his rosy, tear-stained cheeks, the motorbike’s tires screeching to a halt. Dumbledore’s jaw tightened as he saw the man jump off the seat, and rush toward them.

“Professor, thank Mer—”

Magic flowed from the Elder Wand, smashing the man to his knees, and holding him in place.

“Sirius.” Dumbledore’s eyes blazed. “You have some nerve showing up here after betraying Lily and James.” 

“I would never,” Sirius grunted, his hands pressing against the street as he struggled against the magic. “I wasn’t the secret keeper, professor. I swear. I would never betray James and Lily. I would die before doing something like that. It— wasn’t me.”

Dumbledore forced Sirius’ head up and met his dark gray eyes, touching their thoughts together.

“You weren’t Lily and James’ secret keeper?”

“No, no, it was the rat.” The face of Peter Pettigrew rose in his thoughts, with a storm of anger that drowned under a wave of regret. “It was James’ idea. The prank of pranks. No one would’ve ever suspected someone like Peter. I thought it was brilliant. I— I should’ve stopped him. But— but—”

“I believe you.” Dumbledore let go of the magic and the pressure lifted off Sirius’ body, his eyes seeking Harry before flicking to the ruins of the Potter cottage behind them. 

“What— what happened?” Sirius croaked. “If Harry’s here, where’re Lily and James? Are they okay?”

“Lily and James are no longer amongst us, Sirius.” Dumbledore bowed his head. “They died fighting Lord Voldemort tonight.” 

Sirius’ face twisted in grief, and he stumbled back, his legs shaking. 

“Sirius—” 

The man crumpled to the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks. His fists balled up, anger shining through his grieving eyes.

“It was all because of the rat,” Sirius gritted through his teeth. “I’ll kill him. I’ll kill him.” 

“You’ll do no such thing.” Dumbledore’s voice rose, piercing through Sirius’ anger. “You have a duty to fulfill. A duty that Lily and James gave to you. They wouldn’t want you to go after Peter for revenge but take care of their son. Their son, who, if I am putting the clues together correctly, just survived the killing curse and vanquished Lord Voldemort.”

Sirius’ head snapped around. “He what?”

“I arrived in time to witness an explosion of green magic blow through their home.” He waved his hand at the houses along the street. “When I went inside, James and Lily were already dead, but Harry was in his crib, with a scar on his face.” Dumbledore turned Harry in his arms. “And on the floor, in front of Harry’s crib, there was a dark robe with a wand I recognized all too well. Lord Voldemort’s.”

The color drained out of Sirius’ face. “Merlin’s balls.”

“I have sent for a friend of mine and was taking Harry to Hogwarts,” Dumbledore added. “He needs care and love. The scar on his forehead isn’t healing. As his godfather, you are now his family, Sirius. I’ll have Alastor seal this house and begin a search for Peter. In the meantime, you are to take care of Harry like Lily and James wanted. You are now all he has.”

Sirius nodded feebly. “I… understand, sir.”

“Good.” Dumbledore slid his wand back into his sleeve and adjusted his grip on Harry, patting his head as he stirred. “I’ll tell Poppy and Minerva that you’re coming with Harry. It may not be wise for him to travel by magic, given what has happened. In the meantime, I shall figure out what exactly took place tonight and get to handling my duties as the Chief Warlock. Minister Bagnold will undoubtedly be looking to me for answers.”

“I’ll take my bike, Professor.” Sirius wiped the tears off his cheek. “For Harry. For Lily and James.”

“Sirius,” Dumbledore called after him. “Once word gets out that Lord Voldemort has fallen to Harry’s hand, his followers would be after him. And there would be other consequences too. Harry will be famous before he can walk and talk. The vanquisher of one of the worst Dark Lords Britain has ever seen. You’ll need to be careful.”

“Yes, Professor. If you could just—”

Sirius’s eye flicked past Dumbledore’s shoulder and widened. “NO!”

“Avada Kedavra!” A voice screamed. 

Sirius slammed into Dumbledore, the green beam of light flying past Harry’s head. Dumbledore watched as the curse hit Sirius in the shoulder, snatching the light from his eyes, the panic etched on his face.

Sirius fell and Dumbledore twisted to see a short, stout man standing at the gate of the Potter cottage, his rat-like face paling in the moonlight. A silver cloak dropped to the ground at the man’s feet, and he turned his wand at them, its tip glowing green. 

A burning fury swept through Dumbledore, and he raised his fingers, pouring it into his magic, ripping the wand away, smashing him to the ground.

The Elder Wand dropped into his palm, and the street under the man cracked into pieces and rose, turning to ropes of metal that wrapped around him like the coils of a snake. The snap of bones echoed through the night, drowned under shrill screams as Dumbledore strode closer.

“Peter.” Dumbledore poured magic down the length of his wand, the bonds tightening. “Have you fallen so far to kill an innocent child? A CHILD YOU WERE TO PROTECT?”

Something glinted in Peter’s eyes and Dumbledore thrust his wand, ripping the thoughts from his mind, the image of a rat running and disappearing into the night rising before his eyes. Dumbledore waved his wand and blue light shone on the metal ropes and the image crumbled to dust, scattering to ashes in a wind of fear.

“If you think you could transform or escape, you are mistaken, Peter.” Dumbledore held his wand between Peter’s eyes. “I have made many mistakes in my life. I won’t make another one tonight. You’ll pay for your mistakes.”

A stunner leaped from the Elder Wand and hit Peter, who slumped to the ground, unconscious.

The silver cloak moved in the wind, drawing Dumbledore’s eyes to it. 

“James’ cloak,” Dumbledore whispered, summoning the cloak to his hand and looking at Harry. “It is the only thing he will ever have of his father.”

Dumbledore tucked the cloak within his robes and straightened, two white phoenixes emerging from his wand and flying into the night. Dumbledore turned and looked at Sirius, who lay unmoving on the ground. Dumbledore’s heart clenched, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Another bright star extinguished tonight.” Guilt gnawed at him. “I am sorry, Sirius. Had I been more careful, you would’ve lived. And Harry would have had a family.”

His eyes flicked to Peter, and he levitated a stone, transfiguring it into an iron bracelet that melded itself around Peter’s leg. With a few waves of his wand, runes shone over the bracelet, sinking into the dark metal and Peter twitched in the bonds, still unconscious. 

“No more mistakes tonight,” Dumbledore whispered.

A loud crack rang through the street, a giant figure stepping from the shadows. “Professor Dumbledore, sir. I received—” 

Hagrid froze, his eyes falling upon Sirius, who lay face down on the ruined street, dust and glass sticking to his robes.

“Is that… Sirius Black?”

Dumbledore felt a pang as he nodded. “We lost a lot of good people tonight, Hagrid. All due to a betrayal.” His eyes flicked to Peter’s stunned body. “Lily and James are no longer with us either. Peter betrayed their secret.”

Hagrid stumbled back, shaking his head. “Professor Dumbledore, you must be making a mistake. They were inseparable. Peter would never betray them! They were brothers, sir. Coming down to my hut and causing all sorts of mischief. They… they…”

“It is the truth, Hagrid. He tried to kill Harry too.” Dumbledore ran his hands over Harry’s head. “Sirius saved him but got hit by the curse.”

“And Lily and James?” Hagrid whispered.

“Lord Voldemort got to them. But something most miraculous happened after it,” Dumbledore said. “If my guess is correct when he tried to kill Harry, his curse rebounded horribly, and he was defeated.”

“So, he’s dead?” Hagrid mumbled. “We won?”

“We won, Hagrid. But as for Lord Voldemort, I cannot be sure. There’s no body. Just a wand.”

“I ‘pose he was too far gone to be human.” Hagrid bobbed his head. “No wizard darker than him.”

“Indeed. Now, Hagrid, I wish for you to take Harry to Hogwarts. Do not apparate or use any magic for it might be harmful for Harry. I am no expert in healing but what he’s been through… is unlike any other. Take him to Poppy and then go to my office. If a woman, Perenelle, is there and asks for me, take her to Harry and tell her to check the scar on his forehead.”

“Yes, professor.”

“Take Sirius’ bike with you.” Dumbledore urged. “And hurry. It might be best for us to get Harry to Hogwarts with haste.” He conjured a sling for Harry to be carried in. “I will wait here till the Aurors arrive and take Peter away.”

Hagrid gently scooped Harry into his arms, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I’ll get him to Hogwarts, sir. I’ll protect him with my life if be.”

“Thank you.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The flames in the fireplace turned green, and Dumbledore stepped into his office, dusting the soot off his robes. Fawkes trilled softly from his perch and pointed his beak at Minerva and Perenelle. Steam wafted off the pot of tea placed on a small table between them, the faint aroma of Earl Grey and lavender drifting through the office. 

Under Fawkes’ perch, a wooden crib swayed, a small bundle of blue and white blankets curled on the small mattress within.

“Bonjour, Albus.” Perenelle rose from her seat. “You look tired, dear.”

“It has been quite a long day.” Dumbledore leaned down and she kissed his cheeks. “Evening, Minerva.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Or rather, an early morning.”

“Albus, is it true? Is You-Know-Who really—”

“Call him Voldemort, Minerva.” Dumbledore looked at her atop his spectacles. “And yes. He is. I confirmed it myself. By this time tomorrow, the whole country will know.”

“And Lily and James’ son—” McGonagall’s voice wavered. “Did he really survive the killing curse?”

“Yes.” Dumbledore nodded. “I checked the wand I found in the room— Lord Voldemort’s wand. I revisited my memory and checked the traces of magic that I could decipher in the cottage. It was the killing curse that hit Harry.” Somber silence filled the room, and Fawkes ruffled his feathers. “Speaking of which, how is our young guest?”

“Sleeping peacefully. He was under the thrall of a sleeping charm, which I removed, but he hasn’t woken up.” Perenelle’s gaze turned sharp. “You do not have children sleep by putting them under charms, Albus.”

Dumbledore grimaced. “It was necessary, Perenelle. I couldn’t cause the child more pain than he had been through already. He saw his mother killed in front of his eyes. I simply couldn’t let him see me confronting Sirius.”

“I cannot believe Sirius Black of all people betrayed—”

“He didn’t. He wasn’t the secret keeper. Peter was.” Dumbledore moved toward the crib, gently rocking Harry who was fast asleep. “After I confronted Sirius and deemed him innocent, Peter came from behind me using James’ cloak and tried to finish what his master had started.” He felt a sharp pain twist beneath his ribs. “Sirius pushed me out of the way, saving Harry’s, and perhaps, even my life.”

Minerva sat down on her seat, her arms trembling.

“Had I been more alert, perhaps Sirius would’ve been alive tonight and the last of his family wouldn’t have been extinguished.” Dumbledore ran his hand over Harry’s head, sitting by the crib. “I slipped and he paid the price. Just one of my many mistakes.”

“Albus, he came from behind.” Perenelle laid a hand on his shoulder. “And if it is the cloak you showed me a few years back, you wouldn’t have even felt it.”

“Invisibility cloaks do not hide magic.” McGonagall scoffed. “And Albus can see through cloaks the last I remembered.”

“Not this one, Minerva.” Dumbledore drew the silver cloth from his robes. “It is a very special cloak that has been in the Potter family for generations. Charlus told me a little about it when he came to retrieve it.”

“I remember the horror on James’ face when I confiscated it. And Dorea’s when she came.” A glum, fond smile curved on her lips. “Now, Harry is all that is left of the family.” 

Dumbledore inclined his head and closed his eyes, feeling the scar throb under his thumb. “Perenelle, what is this scar? It— it is unlike any scar I’ve seen. It is not a mere cursed scar.”

“It’s better if I show you.” Perenelle removed a short wand from her robes, touching it to Harry’s head, and dragging it down to his feet.

Colors swirled over him, and she stepped back, the magic churning gold, with hints of red, taking the form of a body, the golden glow cocooned in a faint layer of red. Over the forehead, the red turned darker and opaque, a thin black line tearing across it in the shape of a lightning bolt.

“My word,” Minerva gasped.

“The golden color depicts his natural magic,” Perenelle said. “Now, in a normal human body, the scan should only be golden. If something is affecting your magic, say, a curse, or some sort of potion, the color of an area— or in rare cases, the whole color might change to some other shade. This? I have never seen something like it in four hundred years of practicing healing.”

“The layer of red and the scar of black?”

“I expected something at the scar, but not this. Neither did I expect the red layer,” Perenelle admitted. “But while it is unseen, it doesn’t worry me. It is a protection, Albus. A very powerful protection.”

“Powerful enough to save him from a killing curse?” He asked.

“Maybe even more,” Perenelle replied. “This isn’t a normal charm, Albus. This is pure magic. Old magic, the likes that went out of practice centuries before we were born. Centuries before even Hogwarts was founded perhaps.”

“I thought old magic was just something that people used to justify their theories of magic being lost to time.” Minerva raised an eyebrow.

Perenelle shook her head. “It is very much real, my dear. The magic we practice now is more refined, channeled, and perhaps even advanced in a way. But it is limited in some places. What old magic can do at times, ours cannot. It is pure, it is raw, and it varies from caster to caster. The greatest example would be the statute of secrecy— the veil that protects our world.”

“The statute is a law.”

“The muggles didn’t just forget about us, Minerva,” Dumbledore said. “We had to be erased from their minds. From their stories. From their drawings. And even now, the statute’s magic protects us. It makes them less suspicious of our activities and less inquisitive. Had it not been present, we would’ve been found a long time ago.”

“How do I not know of this?” She frowned. “I’ve been in this world for my whole life and thought it was a law to be upheld.”

“It is but it is also much more.” Perenelle licked her lips. “All its records and mentions were destroyed to ensure that the magic of the statute can never be undone. To prevent people from looking into it, we were fooled, save a select few. But it is not important now. This is.”

Perenelle ran her wand through the air, a smoky black thread elongating from the scar, drifting out of the window. 

“It is foul, Albus. And it clings to him. It can’t be dispelled or suppressed. Only the protective magic over him is preventing the scar from harming the boy. Objectively, he is perfectly healthy and will continue to be so. But the scar— it has to be removed, Albus. Look at this!”

The image swirled, the dark lightning bolt scar enlarging. Smoky black threads gnawed at the red field around it, the magic pulsing.

“I think I know what it is,” Dumbledore drew the white wand from his robes, and Harry stirred in the crib, his peaceful face turning uneasy. Dumbledore laid the wand on his desk and Harry curled back, sucking on his thumb. “The scar is a connection, as I feared. A connection with Voldemort.”

McGonagall put her hand over her mouth while Perenelle’s eyes narrowed. She waved her wand, a thin, inky thread stretching between the scar and the wand.

“Can you remove the bond, Perenelle?”

“Not without harming the child, I am afraid. Or worse, killing him,” Perenelle replied. “I thought a way would be to destroy the other end of the bond, but you say he’s already dead.”

“Vanquished. Not dead.” Dumbledore sighed. “I do not think Voldemort is truly dead. He delved far deeper into the dark arts than either of us know of it. Today, when I got to Godric’s hollow, the first thing I saw was an explosion and from it, a screaming specter rose and disappeared into the night.”

“Like a wraith?” Perenelle paled.

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore whispered. “Perenelle, the magic in the room I found Harry in was foul. Like the rotting stench of human bodies. The smell of death. And it is seldom that magic feels that way. It was worse than Azkaban.”

“Necromancy. Death magic,” Perenelle murmured. “We have to remove it, Albus, if we wish to see the boy live. The protection is keeping him safe, but we do not know how long it’ll last.”

“I can strengthen it,” Dumbledore said. “I got Lily and James’ blood just in case.”

“Albus, how could you?”

“It is due to me that Harry doesn’t have a family, Minerva.” Dumbledore looked at Fawkes, staring into his bright red plumage. “It is due to me that he is suffering. The least I can do is keep him safe. A blood protection would go a long way in keeping him safe.”

“Protection isn’t enough, Albus.” Perenelle let out a breath. “It might suffice for now. But in the long run, it will only harm the boy. The connection needs to be removed.”

“You said the bond can’t be removed without harming Harry.” 

“There’s always a way, my dear.” Perenelle glanced at Dumbledore. “Albus knows a way. The basis of Alchemy.”

“An equal exchange.” Dumbledore’s blue eyes glimmered with hope. “I can remove it with an equal price.”

McGonagall’s face twisted. “You’re talking about rituals, Albus. They are considered dangerous and nigh foolish for a reason. Wizards and witches have perished in their pursuit. You cannot risk Harry that way! And you cannot do a ritual for someone else.”

“Those rituals are different.” Perenelle shook her head. “They are to be done by self, without any outside aid or interference. I daresay, Harry cannot do those.” Her lips quivered into a smile. “Albus is a master in Alchemy which is based on a principle of equal exchange. The only one who could do better would be my husband, Nicholas.”

“It has to be a fair price,” Dumbledore muttered. “Equal and fair.”

“A bond for a bond,” Perenelle agreed.

“I can sacrifice my Animagus form,” McGonagall offered. “It is the least I can do for Lily and James. I won’t be turning to a cat ever again, but he will be free.”

“Animagus forms aren’t a bond, my dear. They’re a form of transfiguration. One that connects with yourself deeply, yet not a bond. A bond is something that you have with someone or something other than yourself. Like an animal or a familiar.”

Fawkes trilled from the perch and hopped onto Dumbledore’s shoulder, and he felt a sharp pang. “No, Fawkes. You are not an option. I could never live with myself if I sacrificed our bond. You are all I have.”

Fawkes nuzzled his neck, but Dumbledore shook his head. “I’ll figure something out. Harry has suffered enough due to my shortcomings. I won’t let him suffer more.”

“Albus—”

“Minerva, please,” He sighed. “I need some space. I’ll take care of Harry tonight.”

“Let’s go, my dear.” Perenelle laid a hand on her shoulder. “Albus is much like my Nicholas is in some aspects. Let him clear his head and he’ll come up with something to save the boy. If there’s something I know of Albus is that he will not let children be harmed and he can come up with the most ingenious of solutions when it is most needed.”

McGonagall gave a jerky nod, her eyes flitting to Dumbledore briefly before she and Perenelle walked out of the office, the door closing with a light thud. Sighing, Dumbledore gazed out of the window at the moonlit grounds.

Fawkes cooed softly, his wing brushing against Dumbledore’s cheek.

“What do I do, Fawkes? What can I give to save Harry?” A pair of cold heterochromatic eyes flashed in his mind and his heart sank. “I do not have many bonds left. I broke most for Gellert or because of him many years ago.”

Fawkes nudged him, nipping at his ear and looking at him with his beady black eyes. 

“No, Fawkes. I cannot do that.” Dumbledore’s fingers sank through his bright as he stroked his head, watching his reflection stare back at him. “A bond…”

His voice trailed off, and the Elder Wand slipped into his fingers. Gellert’s defeated face flashed before his eyes, the wand soaring at him through the air, his fingers clenching around it. Memories dwindled past him, the tomes and carved symbols of the deathly hallows rising in his mind.

“The last link I have to him,” he whispered, his grip tightening against the wood, and he pressed it to his chest. “A bond for a bond.”

He turned to Harry, and closed his eyes, watching the faint smiles of Lily, James, and Sirius shine through the darkness.

“Something for all of them.”

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AND… DONE! Hope you all liked the chapter! 

So, yes. This was the first chapter of my new fic. Do let me know how you all found it and feel free to let me know your thoughts on it. 

The next two chapters are already up for Galactic Voyager Patrons! Check them out here: 

Ch.2: No More Mistakes

Ch.3: The Last Black

If you wish to discuss the chapter, feel free to do so in the comments or on my discord server. Character images and everything else will follow soon too alongside the Lore compendium. 

A huge thanks to Mughil, Shadowcheck, DarkKnight, and Zaby for betaing this chapter!

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