Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a comedy with a little bit of dark edginess. But the implications have made it horror, and canon is all but dead at this point. Enjoy!

 

Disclaimer: I don’t own HP or ME.

 

They bore down upon me at a sedate pace. I wanted to check my watch, but Petunia had long since sold the thing at a pawn shop. She needed more knickknack money. The loss of my watch then was more pressing than the creatures racing towards me. After seeing my breath, I thought they would already be on me. Instead, it felt like I could have tossed out some more one-liners. 

 

I spread my fingers out and blasted them in three bursts. The beams of concentrated qi ripped through the shoggoth like Vernon through an open septic tank. Even more, concerning my simple probing, beam attacks ate through the eldritch horrors until nothing but a sprinkle of ashes remained. 

 

“They aren’t shoggoth at all; they’re dementors. So that’s why they’re so frail.”  I said. 

 

My feet left the ground as I hovered over the Aurors, and just to be a dick, I blasted the phoenixes below. This time when they burst into flames, I kept my spirit sense on high alert. The burst of light and fire was punctuated by a gravitational wave. Suddenly the fire and light were drawn back into the beings. I spotted their weaknesses then. I took hold of the fire and heat of one phoenix as I crashed down on a squad car. 

 

I jammed my hand into the fire of a burning phoenix and absorbed the fire and light before the gravitation force could. The ashes remained ashes when I drew my hand back. All around me, the Phoenixes were frozen in shock. One of the Aurors stumbled and started looking around, then started screaming about his kidnapped wife and children.    

 

Before the others could get their bearings, I snatched up the hysterical wizard and shot off through the air. The screaming man finally quieted down when I tossed him in an old tool shed. Once I closed the door, there were only the two of us. 

 

“What’s going on? Where am I?”  The wizard lifted his wand. “Why isn’t it lightning up? Lumos,” the wizard said.

 

I blinked and rubbed my temples. “The damn phoenixes don’t want their hosts to know actual magic, or it's possible they use magic through you like a wand,”  I said before shaking my head. “Maybe, or it could be something else I’m not sure,”  I said.

 

“My head feels strange.”  The wizard said. “Oh, Merlin!”

 

Tears rushed down the wizard’s cheeks, and his face turned red. “What’s going on? I was doing an important assignment for the ministry? The death eaters must have captured me and obliviated me afterward.   I’m a super Auror.”  The Auror said.  

 

“It was all a dream, a waking hallucination created by a phoenix song,”  I said. 

 

“No, I have a wife and child they were kidnapped, and I have to save them. Dumbledore, I have to go to the headmaster. He’ll know what to do.”  The wizard said. 

 

I told him what I knew. 

 

“So, this has happened before, or perhaps it’s something instilled with children. Do they bond young phoenixes with children? I imagine a young phoenix doesn’t have to eat as much. So, if a young one makes a mistake, the magical humans are programmed to go see the headmaster.”  I said. 

 

I felt like another important piece had slid into the puzzle. So, what amount of the harry potter universe was real and what amount was fake. Were the cabal of phoenixes limited to Great Britain, or has it spread worldwide? Was the wizarding world an illusion too? To what extent did this go. Would I care if I wasn’t a magical as well and in need of a reliable infrastructure? Was Harry Potter my name, or was it the name of a phoenix chick destined to peck out my brain? 

 

No, I was being dumb.

 

“I’m going to lock those birds up into cages and make Mcnuggets out of them,”  I said. 

 

“Phoenixes can flame anywhere they want to go.”  The wizard said.

 

“Then I will have to find a way around that. What’s your name, stranger?”  I asked.

 

“Jim Bilbo, I’m a muggleborn in Dumbledore’s secret order of the Phoenix,”  Jim said. 

 

I closed my eyes and counted to 10 in Japanese. “Harry Potter, I’m a wizard and cultivator of spiritual energies. Correction, you were a muggleborn perch and snack table of a now-dead phoenix.”  I said. 

 

“Cheryl was my partner; she couldn’t have been using me. No one else but the headmaster had a phoenix either. They’re of the light and rare. How could there be enough to enslave wizarding kind?”  Jim said. 

 

“They want you to think you’re special and that having one with you means your good. Fire and light are no better than water and dark. Phoenixes are a species of bird that reproduce by laying eggs and have a client species in humanity to protect and feed them. Go ahead if you want to go to the headmaster and become food for Fawkes or be fed upon by another bird. I won’t stop you. This reality is difficult. I won’t blame you if it's easier to be food. Go back to the farmer little piggy and pretend to be a secret auror.”  I said. 

 

“You’re an arsehole. Don’t you understand, my life could be a lie? Are my children even real? What about my wife?”  Jim asked. 

 

“Fawkes could have long since eaten them. Who knows how many magical humans live to be fed upon at the ripe old age of 11? On the other hand, we could be unlucky, and they’re hostages. You said you had a wife. She probably has a phoenix too. I know, why don’t you tell me where you live. Let’s see what your living arrangement is really like.”  I said. 

 

“I don’t know if I can apparate both of us,”  Jim said. 

 

“Let’s try it out. I can’t wait to see a real wizard’s home.”  I said.   

 

He scrunched his face up, and I grabbed his arm. Suddenly, it felt like we were being squeezed through a tube. Then with a light pop, we were in front of a perfectly square blockhouse beside rows of uniform blockhouses. Phoenix songs filled the air as we walked up the stone steps to his front door. Above us, phoenixes flew, letting their droppings fall anywhere they wanted. Glassy-eyed children with red hair ran around their small fenced-in backyard, skipping around with brooms between their legs. 

 

“That’s the Weasleys; they weren’t next door; no one lived next to me before. My children had hundreds of acres to play in.”  Jim said, his voice hollow.