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Black Phoenix	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 21568 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
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Chapter Twenty-Four--Portable Souls
            "Lord Potter, I have a great deal to say to you--"
            Harry raised a hand, and Briseis halted in the door of his office, maybe seeing for herself what the problem was. Harry smiled at her and turned back to Madame de Lis. "You were explaining to me why you can't take rooms even in the dungeons?"
            Madame de Lis ruffled her robes in a way that suggested she would be growing wings if not for the inconvenience of an audience, and sniffed at Briseis once. Briseis stood very still. Perhaps that was her way of gentling a wild beast, Harry thought. The Veela weren't very far from being that, sometimes. "We told you already."
            "No, you really didn't," Harry said, as gently as he could. "You said that you needed rooms with nothing below them, so that your trees could grow downwards from them." He knew that Madame de Lis was bristling at the word "trees," but he didn't know what else to call them. He still hadn't seen one. "So I offered the dungeons, that have nothing beneath them but the earth. And you said it wasn't good enough." He propped his chin on one fist, and wished that Persephone was awake and alert and looking threatening on her perch along with him, rather than out hunting in the Forest. At least he could hope that she was strangling the life out of something small and furry. "I'm awaiting the explanation now."
            "We need to live in light places," said Madame de Lis. At least she was answering right away this time, Harry reflected. She seemed to have learned her lesson about lying to him. "We need to be where we can see the sun. And that would not do in a dungeon."
            "Is that all?" Harry laughed and lifted his hand.
            The stones of Hogwarts began to shift apart, checking as they went to make sure they weren't opening holes in floors where people were standing at the moment. They would take in windows they met along the way, Harry knew, leaning back in his chair and rocking it a little. The Veela were involved in gaping at the new breach that was opening. It seemed that seeing him open a small tunnel for Persephone the other day hadn't inured them to the wonders that Harry could perform thanks to his bond with Hogwarts.
            For that matter, Briseis was gaping, too, the wonder on her face so open that it made her look like a young child. Harry smiled and shook his head a little. Briseis deserved a holiday from the worries that plagued her, too many of which Harry feared he caused himself.
            The breach at last reached the dungeons, and began to part. Sunlight poured in through the gap. Harry concentrated, and it began to turn rich, deep gold, the color of a late summer afternoon. The scent of ripe and growing things drifted in with it. Briseis and several of the Veela moved towards the light as if drawn.
            Madame de Lis wasn't one of them. She clamped her hands on the arms of her chair, apparently to keep from rising, and rolled a suspicious eye at the real window in Harry's office, the one Persephone usually flew out of. It showed nothing but rain and a grey sky beyond it.
            Harry nodded to her. "This is a huge version of an enchanted window. It will lead all the way to the dungeons and let in light no matter what the season of the year is, or what the weather is like outside."
            "We cannot flourish in the absence of real light," said Madame de Lis, but she was frowning a little, as though she didn't know that for sure.
            Harry tilted his hands, and the light falling through the breach streamed in to touch Madame de Lis's hair. She lifted a hand and felt along her scalp. Then she glared at him. "It is warm," she said. "That does not mean it is real."
            "Try it and see," Harry said. "Bring one of your portable souls here from France, and move it into the dungeons. I'll create a breach like this. We'll see if it grows with this kind of sunlight or not."
            "That would be taking a risk greater than we could justify," said Madame de Lis, but her voice was thoughtful.
            "For a Veela who has a mate already, and so another soul moving around outside their body?" Harry gave her a politely disbelieving smile. "Bring the soul of someone who has a guarantee. I don't wish to kill one of your people. But there's only so much I can do for you. I can't extend the walls of Hogwarts without taking stone from elsewhere."
            "You cannot build onto the castle?" Madame de Lis's eyes were narrow. "A limited power to your supposedly limitless bond, if so."
            "I could," said Harry. "But I would have to attach the stones with mortar in the ordinary way, and then bond with them, the same way that I would take some time to become expert with a new limb, if I was suddenly to have one attached. It's your risk, Madame de Lis. Do as I ask, and find yourself able to have a new home in case the French Ministry ever turns against you, as you fear they might do." From what Ron had been able to learn, the French Ministry wasn't interested in turning against the Southern French Veela any time soon, but this visit to him might make some people in France panic. "Please think about it, and make the right decision."
            They exchanged polite smiles, understanding each other perfectly well. Madame de Lis nodded and rose to her feet. "We can at least see what we can do. We will discuss it among ourselves."
            Harry bowed and stood back, letting her escort the Veela out of his office. He kept his amusement at how long it took her to detach some of the Veela from the sunlight to himself.
            Briseis lingered, face grey again, although now and then she looked at the breach and took the kind of deep and invigorating breath that the Veela had been drawing. Harry was almost sorry when the last one had left and he had to close the breach. He nodded to her. "What was the news you wanted to give me?"
            Briseis tightened her fingers in her parchment. "I hope that you can forgive me for interrupting--"
            "It must be bad, if you're apologizing like you really are a Death Eater," Harry interrupted, and saw her smile tremulously. "Come on. Tell me."
            "Minister Tillipop has retired from the Ministry race," Briseis said, and put the newspaper she'd been carrying down on the table in front of him. "They're saying that a council will govern the Ministry until the election can be properly held and someone elected."
            Harry gaped at the paper for a second, then snatched it up, not because he doubted what Briseis was telling him, but he because he wanted to see for himself. Yes, there was the photograph with the unmistakable banner, and Skeeter's breathless article below it. It looked as though Tillipop had announced his retirement right before the confrontation he was supposed to have with Draco.
            "Have you heard from Draco or Rosenthal?" Harry murmured, skimming through the article. It told him little more, though. Skeeter had turned out to be smarter than he'd ever thought she was, and more of an ally, but that didn't make her speculations about what would happen next the truth.
            Briseis shook her head. "They're probably trying to deal with the news themselves, and the implications for Ministerial Candidate Malfoy's campaign."
            Harry nodded his understanding and cast the paper on the table. "I suppose that we should be contacting him, then, and asking if he can spare us any time."
            Despite the circumstances, Harry had to grin. Briseis was giving him one of the most offended looks he'd ever seen.
            "Of course he can spare you some time," Briseis said. "You're the Dark Lord who's supporting him."
            Harry shook his head. "Not openly, or he would never have made this much progress. I don't think the Ministry would have let Tillipop retire no matter how afraid he was, if they thought they couldn't deal with Draco as Minister. And Draco's election is almost a sure thing, you know."
            "Well, perhaps they have some plan for stopping that," Briseis muttered. "Perhaps that's what his assassination by Gorenson was meant to secure. And no matter what you have to say on the surface, Malfoy knows what he owes to you in private."
            "We don't think of our relationship that way," Harry said quietly, giving her a warning glance. Being Briseis, she took it in good part, but still scowled at him a little. "Anyway. We need to move to have a public statement ready, in case someone's brave enough to ask for one for the papers. And I should spend some more time with my court." He stood up.
            Something tapped at the window. Harry looked over, expecting an owl, but Persephone hovered there instead. He sighed and Vanished the glass. He could have dealt with a Persephone who looked kindly on him after his escape from the Unspeakables, but a polite one was more difficult to deal with.
            Persephone landed on his shoulder without the glad croon that Harry had become accustomed to receiving from her. She huddled close to him, and Harry stared hard at her. Her feathers looked matted, and her eye was glazed.
            "Briseis," Harry said.
            Briseis knew that tone, and she snapped to attention, with no attempt to argue. "My Lord?"
            "Come up with the public statement, and reassure the members of my court," Harry snarled, stepping up to the wall. It trembled and breached, the way it had when he was showing the Veela how he would provide sunlight to the dungeons, and some of the stones folded flat to provide him with a staircase to the floors below. "I'm going into the Forbidden Forest to seek out centaur healer advice for Persephone."
            "She's sick?" Briseis could have put her incredulity into that statement for a lot of different reasons, but she hushed when Harry glanced back at her.
            "It could happen," Harry said, and began to take the steps, carefully. He wanted to go faster, but Persephone was clinging to his shoulder and breathing like something was rattling in her chest. He didn't want to make her fall off and have to fly, or exert herself further than she already had.
            Once again, he cursed himself for being so ignorant of what exactly a black phoenix was like, and what they needed, and what Persephone was made of, other than fire and magic. He had had time and even a direction to look in after he escaped from Gorenson, but he had put the problem off, told himself it didn't matter as much as negotiating with the Veela and keeping the werewolves safe.
            Now, it had to matter.
            You're still a part of me, Harry thought, reaching up to cradle Persephone's head. Her beak was warm. I'm the reason that you got created at all. I need to take better care of you.
*
            Draco frowned and laid the message down on his desk. It had come by owl, as if it was an ordinary letter, but the contents weren't ordinary at all. Briseis telling him that Persephone was sick, and Harry had gone into the Forest to find healing for her...
            I hope this isn't like when Harry ran off and confronted the werewolf. He needs to think past his first impulse more often.
            "Sir. There are a few reporters outside now wanting to know what your official response to Tillipop's retirement is going to be."
            Draco sighed and turned around to face Rosenthal, standing on the opposite side of his desk. Well, if he didn't want the publicity, he shouldn't have chosen a career as a politician. There were good reasons to avoid it, the way that his father had advised him to.
            "Say that I am very sorry for him, of course," Draco dictated fluently, while his mind wandered with Harry through the pathways of the Forest. "Say that my thoughts are with him during this trying and difficult time. I'm sorry to hear of his fear, and I hope that he can recover his peace of mind in his retirement. Close with a hint about how this has elevated my own hopes for being Minister. Modestly, of course."
            "Very good, sir." Rosenthal finished scribbling and looked up. "Do we have a plan to handle Gorenson, when he moves?"
            "I think it a mistake to concentrate on him alone, when the entire Ministry council is likely to be more of a problem." Draco rubbed his hand across his forehead and sighed. "But an aggressive position might serve us well in this instance. Send a letter to the Ministry, addressed to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Request the makeup of the council, and tell them that I'm anxious to work with them in any way possible."
            Rosenthal gave him a faint, approving smile, but it faded quickly. Draco observed her, then added, "What is it?"
            "I'm still trying to figure out what made Gorenson so suddenly ready to move." Rosenthal had her eyes closed, one hand groping out as if she would grip and shake the edge of an imaginary piece of paper. "It does seem sudden, doesn't it?"
            "It does, but I don't know what chance we have to get insight into his head."

            Rosenthal half-nodded. She seemed distracted, and Draco leaned forwards, trying to draw her attention. Rosenthal looked at him abruptly and said, "I may have a way to find out, calling on some of my old Ministry contacts."
            "Not if it puts you in danger," Draco said at once. She had already been through an attempt at blackmail, from which Harry had freed her, but only by binding her to him, so that she would be in trouble if she betrayed him. "I don't want you to have to go through the consequences of violating your binding to Harry." Rosenthal gave him another faint smile that didn't reassure Draco at all. "Will it?"
            "Not if I'm careful and ask the right questions, while seeming to promise more than I really intend to deliver." Rosenthal stood. "May I go now, sir?"
            Draco sighed. Yes, it had been strange when she called him by his first name, but he was starting to think that it had been preferable to this sort of distance she was trying to put between them. "Yes, go. But remember what I said about putting yourself in danger, and what Harry said about your oath to him."
            Rosenthal waved and went to the fireplace. Draco listened until he heard the whoosh of her flames and knew that the Floo had swallowed her.
            Then he leaned back to fret, and think, and wait.
*
            Harry watched, narrow-eyed, as the chestnut centaur stepped away from Persephone. By now, she was sitting on the ground, unable to perch, her claws flexing in and out, and only clasping dirt. She still turned her head and seemed to recognize Harry when he bent down and spoke to her, but her eyes were so distant that Harry didn't know how she could see through the glaze on them at all. If she could pant, he thought, she probably would. But although she opened her beak now and then, and he saw her tongue, it remained still, with a white glaze of its own on it.
            "You know something." Harry didn't bother looking at the centaur he spoke to. He didn't see the point in taking his eyes off Persephone.
            The centaur stayed still. Harry darted him a sharp glance of dislike, and the centaur finally nodded and pawed the ground. "She is sick."
            "That, I knew already," Harry snapped, and reached down to pick up Persephone, cradling her against his chest. She leaned her neck against his, and half-spread her wings, but they drooped. Although she was so warm everywhere Harry touched her, she felt cold against him, and he couldn't remember the last time he had seen a shimmer of flame around her. He stroked her gingerly, not sure you could hug a bird the way you would a dog or a cat. "Tell me what's wrong with her."
            The centaur glanced over his shoulder. The cluster of centaurs behind him all nodded. Harry tried to hold onto his temper, since he didn't know what was going on and it could be something important, something that would help Persephone in the end.
            The chestnut centaur at last turned back to him and said, "She is more than sick. She is starving."
            Harry did have to stare at that, and shake his head. "But I let her hunt whatever she wants. And she hasn't been coming back with less food lately." He had kept a sharp eye on that, especially when she stopped leaving the corpses of small animals beside his pillow, but as far as he could tell, Persephone's food intake had stayed the same.
            The healer lowered his head further, his hoof all but digging a hole in the dirt. "She--she is a magical creature, Lord Potter."
            "Like you," Harry said, not seeing the point, although he had brought Persephone to the centaurs in the first place because he had thought they would know more about another magical creature than human Healers would.
            The centaur looked up, shaking his hair back like a mane. "No, Lord Potter. She is born of magic, formed of it."
            "Does that mean that she can't survive without it?" Harry held up his arm and called some of his power, so that it danced around his sleeve in blue flames. "I can feed her anything she needs."
            The healer winced this time as if stabbed by Persephone's beak. "No, Lord Potter." Harry was getting tired of hearing that, but he held his peace. "It means that the circumstances of her birth will determine what she needs to eat."
            "Dark magic?" Harry could do that. He had already cast some Dark spells; doing more was no problem, not if it would keep Persephone alive.
            The healer took a deep breath. "She came from flame and Dark magic, Lord Potter. But what was the first thing she ate after that?"
            Harry opened his mouth, but could say nothing.
            The healer nodded, speaking the answer that Harry couldn't bring himself to articulate, even in his head. "She fed on a human body, Lord Potter. She needs human flesh to survive. Or else she will starve to death, and even if she is renewed in fire, she will need a human sacrifice immediately after." He hesitated. "I believe that she weakened so quickly because her first meal was dead flesh. Living would be better."
            Harry shut his eyes.

*
            Christopher: Thanks for reviewing!
            Meechypoo: Probably so, yes.
            Ciara_D: Thanks! This story will probably end fairly soon, but there will be a third part before the series concludes.
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