Chapter Text
Disorder of the Phoenix (2020s version)
Dyslexia: Language disability, I, magically, still possess.
Summary: Harry Potter had never imagined life would get more difficult after Hogwarts, but freshly divorced and burning himself out at a job he hated, his godson is threatened by a man believed long dead. Fawkes the Phoenix saves the day, or rather, the decade. Time Travel AU.
I was JacobApples: This is a completely new take on the same premise of my old fic. The Disorder of the Phoenix was my first complete fic and I’ve grown since then. This story will be shorter, however, the big things I’m hoping to change are making Harry more of a person and not sacrificing Nymphadora’s intelligence while depicting a toxic relationship.
I don’t feel I could edit the old story because I’m so profoundly unhappy with the choices I made. All that being said, I hope my old fans enjoy this evolution, and that my new readers remember me for this kind of writing instead.
Why another story? : I’m grieving right now and starting new stories helps me cope. Real life comes first, I don’t know my speed or which stories I’ll get back to in a timely manner, but if it isn’t marked complete it’s not officially abandoned.
P.S. Character death in the first chapter? Sort of. It’s traumatic, regardless, for the bystanders.
Chapter 1 - Catching Fire
Harry stared at his soon to be ex-wife across an uncomfortably small table with three other people.
Ginny’s dark eyes were framed by bold kohl and the smoky eyeshadow belonged to someone waiting to be photographed in a studio, not some dingy office in Gringotts Bank. Harry supposed she was dressed for the occasion as both the papers and the history books would remember the day; Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, divorces his school year sweetheart.
He would either be painted as the saint or villain, depending largely on what they hoped to get from him or what sold more copies of their print.
Harry was merely wearing his Auror uniform which made him look like the hired help when compared to Ginny’s truly elegant green dress. It was a deep hue that remained his favourite colour and contrasted beautifully with her pale freckled skin and brightly flaming hair. The photos would surely do her a disservice in black and white.
Ginny was lovely, inside and out. Her fury in being here only made her all the lovelier. She wasn’t the girl he had married, she was a brilliant, competent, independent witch, and she was the wife he had failed to please.
But Harry was so sick of trying. So sick of doing his best, of doing and giving everything he had and not being enough for her.
Not for her.
Not for the Wizarding World.
He knew, even as upset she was, that this was the right choice.
Harry couldn’t make her happy in the last five years, and he wasn't going to be happy in the next fifty if he stayed with her.
Ginerva Molly Weasley may not have wanted to lose the Potter name, but Harry no longer wanted to be married to a witch who he kept disappointing. He had never imagined how different their expectations for life could be.
He had wanted a family and Ginny had wanted a public life. Despite her expectations being more realistic for who he was, he couldn’t help resenting her for not wanting to start a family of their own.
Just as she couldn’t help resenting him for wanting children.
It didn’t seem to Harry like a problem marriage counseling could solve.
Apparently, neither did the Wizarding Laws of Britain despite the stricter regulations of marriage than in the muggle world.
The wanting and not wanting of children, in wizarding history, had led to a number of historic murders, and thus was the reason either partner could be granted a divorce on the grounds of wanting or not wanting heirs.
So here there they sat.
Harry, with every intention of returning to work after this fiasco, and Ginny in the most alluring outfit she owned, prepared to have her narrative carved into the history books.
A goblin mediated between them and their lawyers as their marriage was dissolved and property exchanged hands.
Ginny was getting far more out of this; the Potter Manor, a good portion of his gold, and even his broomstick.
The last stung a bit, but Harry had plenty of memories of Sirius to despair over whether or not he had his old broom.
It was just money and material things, things that meant more to Ginny than they did to Harry.
“This is a mistake,” Ginny said.
“Our marriage was a mistake,” Harry agreed, not for the first time and not likely the last as he imagined his presence would still be expected at the Weasleys’ for the holidays.
“I love you,” she said, her voice deepening.
Harry sighed, closing his eyes as his own heart constricted in his chest, “Love isn’t enough.”
“You’re right,” she said.
His eyes snapped open, Gin hadn’t given any ground on this issue despite the pen in her hand and the document beneath her polished nails waiting to be signed.
“You’re right,” she repeated. “You never loved me enough. You never put our love above your selfish ideas of what a woman ought to be.”
Who my mother thought I ought to be, was the unspoken hurt Harry had reinforced with his actions.
She slashed her signature on the parchment, looking at him in defiance, waiting for him to protest.
He didn’t. What would be the benefit in arguing with her at this point?
He could have said that wanting children wasn’t selfish, that he would have been more than happy to adopt if she didn’t want to be a part of the children’s creation. But those arguments hadn’t convinced anyone except for Andromeda and Luna that it wasn’t his desire to make Ginny a ‘proper wife, stay at home mother of proper pureblood society’ but his desire to be a stay at home parent.
He wanted to be the father he never got to have, he wanted a family of his own. If he had imagined Ginny wanting otherwise, he would never have married her in the first place, no matter how much he thought he had loved her.
His wanting a family of his own was not a new personality fault he had magically grown into.
Yet even Hermoine thought he would regret divorcing “the love of his life.”
If only Hermoine and Ron’s marriage could be considered an aspirational relationship.
It wasn’t.
Harry was tired of everyone in his life, except for Luna and Teddy, being utterly miserable, including himself.
The lawyer representing Harry questioned him one more time if he was sure he didn’t want to contest any of the assets he was surrendering to his ex-wife.
Harry tugged the parchment out of the man’s hand and signed it as his response.
“You’ll regret this,” Gin warned, blinking her eyes to keep the tears from ruining the mascara she had donned like armour. “For the rest of your life, you will regret this.”
Standing, she towered over where he sat, her boots emphasising her lean and lithe figure.
However, her beauty no longer moved him, and that lack of desire was just another indication of how they had grown apart.
“You’re right,” he agreed. “I will always regret hurting you, I will always regret being a disappointment to you, Gin. I love you, I didn’t marry you with the intention of this happening.”
She scoffed, “This didn’t ‘happen’ , Potter. You did this. This is all your fault.”
Without any other word, she left, slamming the door behind her. Her lawyer had already gotten a head start out of the room while Harry finished signing.
Harry’s lawyer let out a breath of relief.
It was the goblin, Roksay, who said, “I don’t believe you will have as many regrets as you seem to think.”
It was Harry’s turn to let out a tightly held breath. He didn’t not rise, lingering as the lawyer and goblin finished their business. Unlike Ginny, he was not looking forward to the press reports waiting in ambush for him outside. What he wouldn’t give for a shard of privacy in his private life.
There was no earthly way that Gin wouldn’t be taking full opportunity to direct the narrative to her own benefit.
He was glad, in the end, that he never had children with her, that there had been no custody battle to add to these divorce proceedings.
Small mercies, he supposed.
oOo
Harry made it home to his now permanent place of residence at the Tonks House, in time to read his godson a bedtime story.
It was Halloween, thankfully, however, Andromeda was fine not to celebrate and his godson was a bit young to track the calendar.
Teddy was very insistent on the book Stellaluna lately.
Practically having it memorised at this point, Harry gave himself to the picture book, changing his voice to dramatise the tale of the lost fruit bat finding her way back to her mother.
Teddy, who was all of five years old, clung to Harry, his hair changing colour to match the shade of the sky on each page, completely rapt in the story.
When Harry finished Teddy was nodding off.
“Another, Daddy,” Teddy demanded between a yawn.
Harry hummed, petting his godson’s hair back, “Shhh, you need to sleep, little man, I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Teddy’s eyes shot open, “Really?”
Harry smiled, someone, at least, was happy for the divorce of the Golden Couple. “Really, really, I’ll make breakfast so Grandma can sleep in.”
Teddy’s hair turned a luminous golden blonde with streaks of blue, pink, and green. “But it isn’t Saturday!” Teddy exclaimed before deflating and saying in a whisper voice. “Aunt Ginny will be mad.”
Harry hated that Gin’s feelings, even with the limited space she had occupied in Teddy’s life, had made the child feel unwanted.
“Aunt Ginny is keeping the manor all to herself, which means no more pixie hunting in the gardens, but it does mean I get to stay here with you and Grandma forever.”
Teddy’s smile was larger than his face could hold, “Forever and ever!”
“Forever and ever,” Harry agreed, vowing he would lose no more of Teddy’s childhood to unhappy relationships. “Now sleep, Teddy-Betty, I’ll make your favourite in the morning.”
His godson snuggled into the warm spot he had left. Teddy allowed himself to be tucked in, the appropriate number of stuffed animals packed in around him.
Harry kissed his forehead, “I love you, Teddy-Betty.”
“Love you too, Daddy-Addy!”
Harry grinned, and gave his godson another kiss before he set the illusion charm in the room. The nightlight charm consisted of shadows of fish swimming across the dim blue light of rippling water.
He paused outside Teddy’s door and let himself take in that he didn’t have to leave tonight. He didn’t have to go back to the empty Potter Manor and pretend its large halls filled with generations of history and wealth was a place of comfort.
He never had to go back.
He was free.
All his stupid choices after the war had imprisoned him as surely as Dumbledore had, and only now, was he free.
Free to be himself.
Free to be a godfather to Teddy in a way Sirius was never able to be there for Harry.
When he entered the kitchen, Andromeda was prepared and waiting for him.
He smiled, gratefully accepting the fruity monstrosity ice cream she had concocted for him. Harry saluted her as he sat on the island table before digging in.
It was amazing, as all her crazy creations were. Unlike Aunt Petunia who was more obsessed with presentation than flavour, Andromeda’s cooking and baking looked like a mystery and tasted like heaven.
Andromeda Tonks was a rather quiet woman, at least in the time Harry had known her. When he was here, she often disengaged, taking time to regain the energy that having a young child under her care took from her while dealing with grief.
She bore it well, with grace, but grief was a weight and distraction that was difficult to cope with.
Harry didn’t imagine he could handle Teddy’s passing as well as Andromeda was handling, or rather, managing, with Nymphadora’s loss.
“Thank you,” Harry said after he had his fill of the fruity mix of lemon custard, vanilla ice cream, and freshly cut strawberries.
She smiled gently, “I hoped it would make the implicit I told you so go down better.”
“Ha ha,” Harry said drily, but after the final spoonful, he conceded, “You were right, about all of it.”
“Of course I was. My intuition with these things is always correct. Regrettably, only I have ever taken my own good advice when choosing a spouse,” she said.
Harry hummed in response, Andromeda had attended his wedding, though really, it was more of a rushed ceremony that a lot of people had shown up to.
Andromeda had told him that if he wasn’t happy on his wedding day, he wasn’t likely to have a happy marriage. At least, not when he couldn’t even name to himself the source of his unhappiness.
Andromeda had been right.
“How’s your job?” she asked.
He rolled his eyes, “I know you hate my job, so why do you ask?”
“Because you hate your job,” Andromeda said, licking her spoon. “I was hoping your well-informed divorce might open your eyes to that fact.”
“I don’t hate my job.”
“Really?” she purred. “Did you have fun working with Ronald today?”
Harry winced.
Ron and Hermione were furious with him for not, in their words, ‘trying to work it out’ with Ginny.
“He left early.”
“Oh, what a surprise.”
“Your sarcasm isn’t as charming as you seem to believe it is.”
She waved the spoon at him, “But you’re smiling.”
He was smiling, “I don’t have to leave tonight.”
Andromeda’s expression softened. “No, you don’t.”
He sighed, “Some days, I think all I want to do is to stay home with you and help raise Teddy.”
“And why don’t you?” she challenged. “You do not have to work.”
“Now, you’re starting to sound like Ginny.”
“Don’t demean me, it is the truth.”
“I’m a workaholic, Andromeda. I might be able to take a few months off, but I have neuroses that wouldn’t be fair to Teddy.”
“And you think I don’t?” she asked.
“You’re better than I am with him than I am,”
Andromeda’s gaze darkened, “That simply isn’t true, just because I have parented before doesn’t mean your own efforts aren’t correct or meaningful. Teddy adores you.”
Harry looked down into his empty dish, “And I him.”
“You deserve to be happy.”
Harry had no time to respond to that statement as the wards around the Tonks House were suddenly shattered against by an unprecedented force.
Andromeda and Harry ran for Teddy’s room.
No sooner did they have the door open than Teddy was fighting against his blankets. They moved as one, she wrapped the little boy up in her arms and Harry wrapped them both as he made to jump them out.
Only, he couldn’t.
Harry tightened his arms around his loved ones as another bombardment magical force fell onto the house.
A house that all in a single breath burst into flames.
Teddy screamed.
Harry accioed their portkey to himself but it was blasted from the air by a counter spell.
Their intruder was already inside.
When Harry looked up, every wall was engulfed by fire, the reds and yellows far too close as they fed on their home.
It was happening so fast that the smoke had yet to affect his breathing, the heat, however, was profound.
The fire was alive, being controlled by someone.
The young man who walked from the flames laughed.
Harry raised his wand, throwing up a shield that protected them from the flames. He shielded Andromeda and Teddy with his body as a young man stepped through the flames.
“This is all your fault, Harry Potter.”
“Who are you?” Harry demanded of the face he had never seen before.
A face that was a mass of burn scars, the man’s pale eyes danced with fire, “Don’t you remember me?”
Harry stared, and then… he saw it.
So, someone he had known after all.
“Vincet Crabbe? You survived,” which was less than a cheerful revelation given their current circumstances, and the circumstances of their last meeting.
“Ask, and the Room of Requirement will provide,” the Boy Who Died said.
Harry’s mind swirled, he could take Crabbe in a fight, he knew that he could. However, he did not know if he could take on Crabbe, fight Fiendfyre, and keep Teddy and Andromeda safe.
So Harry wished upon a star, he called out for help, to the flames around them, “Fawkes! Help us! Please, help us!”
No one had seen Dumbledore’s familiar in years since his death.
And yet, when Harry called…
“ No!” Crabbe yelled as Fawkes burst into being.
The phoenix effortlessly fell through Harry’s shield, his wings draping over the three of them.
Fawkes cried a song, and a feeling like water and silk brushed over their senses as the four of them fell back away from fear and flame to land on a springy twin bed.
Teddy was sobbing, loud and panicked.
Harry blinked into the darkened room as Fawkes’s flames blew out. In his hand, Harry was cradling a baby phoenix.
“I thought you said you upgraded your wards,” Harry accused as he waved his wand, or began to until he realised he no longer had it. Biting back a growl, Harry made the more complicated hand gestures to perform the health check charms on Teddy and Andromeda.
“I thought you killed that one!” she hissed back, rocking Teddy in her arms. “Why did you call out to the bird?”
Harry shrugged, convinced he only survived the things he did due to his distinct shortcomings in the sanity department. “It worked, did it not?”
“But why was phoenix your first thought?”
“I don’t know, he saved me from a basilisk once. And fire makes me think of him, alright? Where are we?” he asked. The room was the same but it was…
“Nymphadora’s room.”
Harry frowned, “But–”
The door was thrown open and a dishevelled Ted Tonks stared at them, wand in hand, tears falling freely down his full cheeks.
He blinked at them, they blinked at him.
Harry was in a mind to doubt this, but he snatched Teddy from Andromeda as she lurched toward the other wizard.
“ Ted! ”
“ Andy, ” he replied, with the same tone of desperation.
They were in each others’ arms in moments, clinging to one another as if they were the last solid things on Earth.
For the first time, Harry saw Andromeda cry, freely and truly.
Harry had never felt that with Ginny, in truth, he felt much more strongly for Hermione than he had for Gin after hormones had run their course.
Teddy was simply done after all the excitement, his tears adding to the chaos of the moment. Harry placed the fire-chick in the five year old’s hands. With something to take care of, Teddy calmed some, gently holding the bird and curling into Harry’s chest.
Harry hushed him and rubbed his back as he tried to make sense of their situation.
He suspected time travel, if not a trap, then time travel.
Only he had no idea how it had worked, nor did he know of any device or spell that could have taken them back years and be reversible.
“I watched you burn!” Ted exclaimed.
Andromeda slapped his chest, “You ran! You utter fool! You ran, I could have protected you! You left me! You left me, Ted, how could you? How dare you leave me?”
She was shaking as she shook him.
Ted pulled back to look at her, running his hand through her dark waterfall curls, lingering on the silver strands. “What happened to you, Andy?”
“What year is it?” Harry asked, ruthlessly interrupting the reunion.
Ted and Andromeda stopped to stare at him.
Harry sighed at them both, “Well, he’s not a zombie, is he? So what year is it?”
It took some time for them to come to terms with the current revelations, and even longer for them to devise a plan.
They were left with many, many questions, none of which the phoenix was able, or seemed willing, to answer.
oOo
Sometime Earlier on the 31st of October, 1994
oOo
Ron Weasley was kind of glad it was Cedric Diggory who got picked for their Champion. Cedric was a nice enough guy and quidditch player, and the Huffpuff’s were the least likely to upset anyone.
So of course, of course, things didn’t go the way they were supposed to.
Dumbledore suddenly stopped speaking as the fire in the goblet turned red once more. Sparks flew as another piece of parchment burst forth in a blaze of flame.
Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He simply stared at the slip in his hand for an extended moment before he cleared his throat and read the name: “Harry Potter.”
Ron had a moment to feel cheated, to look at his best mate and feel betrayed for not being told Harry was even planning to compete.
Ron would have supported him. But for him to put his name in the Goblet of Fire and not tell his best friend he had outsmarted the age line when the twins and Hermione hadn’t?
Though maybe Hermione was in on it.
For his part, Harry looked truly shocked, upset even.
He stood, looking as if he might protest. Then, Harry clutched a hand to his heart and gasped as if the air had been sucked from his lungs.
His fist was white knuckled where he grabbed his robes.
Harry coughed and embers escaped between his lips.
Someone screamed.
But sound seemed to be drowned out by the ringing in Ron's ears as he watched his best friend catch fire.
A wisp of black smoke escaped Harry’s scar as the rest of him blazed bright.
Falling to his knees, Harry began to shatter into embers.
There was a panic, everything was moving but Ron fought to stay as Harry reached out for help, as he burned too quickly to cry.
Harry’s emerald eyes closed and his body fell in on itself in a shattering of sparks and embers. Even those began to dissolve as the flames abated, a pile of coal breaking apart into black ash, and then…
And then…
Nothing.
Everything that he was, a boy, a wizard, a friend, burned until there was nothing left, not his bones, not even his shoes.
Everything, save his wand that laid inert on the stone floors in a sea of chaos.
It had all happened in less than a minute’s time.
No one else caught fire.
No one else burned.
Just Harry.
Just Harry Potter, who was declared dead; the Boy Who Lived no longer.
oOo
AN: Thoughts, coati, or reactions, pretty please?