PART TWO: FROM THE ASHES

I was floating.

I'd never felt so serene and peaceful in all my life. I was floating on an ocean so clear and smooth it felt like glass under my fingers, and it gently lapped against my fingers like a cat's soft tongue. Imagine every tropical ocean and multiply it by ten... that's how at ease I was.

The sun was so bright above me—reds, oranges and yellows all colliding with each other like the tails of fireworks. But somehow, I knew I wouldn't burn. The water was a soothing balm to... wait, why was I here?

Lyra.

The voice was familiar, and I looked around me. I couldn't see anything apart from the endless ocean and the beating sun above me. Wait, was it getting closer?

Lyra, it's time.

The world tilted on its side, and I was thrown from the ocean, the peace slipping through my fingers like silk. The sun seemed to engulf everything around me—the ocean, my skin, my eyes. Everything was tingling...

Lyra, it's time to wake up.

Involuntarily, my eyes shut. Everything disappeared.

But then, a new surrounding was beginning to appear from the darkness, murky shapes forming. Where was I going? Was this—wait, was I dead? Was I moving on somewhere else?

"No!" my voice cried out. "Don't take me!"

Don't worry, my child. I will be there.

**

With the force of a diver catapulting off the end of a spring-board, I jolted awake. There was no ocean, no sun.... where was I?

I was lying on a hospital bed, but mine was the only occupied. Six beds opposite me were shrouded in privacy curtains, but their occupants didn't make a noise. A quick look to my right and I saw a glass-stained Hogwarts crest.

Relief rushed through my body. I was in the hospital wing. I was okay. Then as quickly as relief passed through me, it left.

Images poked at my brain, forcing me to remember. The wall of fire, Voldemort on the back of Professor Quirrell's head, Harry with the Philosopher's stone in his pocket, Katherine bleeding to death on the chamber floor....

Swinging my legs out of bed I found the world tilting sideways. Wow, I must have been out for a while. Somebody had dressed me in a long white nightgown, but somebody had conveniently left my Weasley jumper, jeans and trainers in a pile on the cabinet.

Quickly stripping off, I changed into the clothes. They fit snugly on me, especially the jumper and the trainers pinched my toes. I didn't remember them being this tight.

"Right... what now?" my mind was like a vat of syrup, everything was coming back to me slowly. Where had Quirrell and Voldemort been?

Lyra. It was that voice again! The one in my dream with the ocean!

"Who's there?" I cried, my eyes darting to my wand on my bed-side table. "Why did I hear you in my dream?"

A soft caw came from behind me. Flipping around in amazement, I saw a majestic phoenix bird sat on a hospital bed. It was large and crimson with long golden feathers that fluffed out like a peacock's. Its talons and beak looked deadly, but I wasn't afraid. As it shared the same golden eyes as I did.

"How can you talk to me?" I asked. "Am I going mad?"

It might have been my imagination, but the Phoenix seemed to quirk his beak into almost a smile. My name is Fawkes. My sister, Adara was killed and her heart and very essence forcibly consumed by your mother. You and I are linked, child. I am the cry you hear when you draw from my sister's soul to heal others.

"Oh," I said quietly. This was a lot to take in. "So, um.... Do you need something? I need to find Quirrell and my friends."

Fawkes slightly shook his majestic head. Follow me. You are needed most desperately somewhere else.

Fawkes flapped his wings and took flight. He soared low through the hospital wing and out of the door. Staring after in amazement, I hurried after him. It was only then I realised that between his talons was the Sorting hat.

**

The school was eerily silent as I followed Fawkes through the corridors. It was almost too quiet—a quick examination of my watch told me it was only just after ten. Where were all the teachers?

Fawkes stopped outside the first-floor girl's bathroom. I'd never used it—a ghost called Moaning Myrtle haunted it. "What, here?" I said sceptically.

Fawkes nudged his head against the door and it creaked open. It was flooded, the water coming up to my ankles. That wasn't unusual though—what was unusual was that one of the sinks was missing. Instead a large hole was in the floor.

Approaching the hole, I stared into the darkness. Where was this bird taking me?

I will meet you down there, child. Don't take too long. Harry may need you.

Fawkes soared into the hole with the sorting hat—all I could see was the faint glimmer of his tail feathers before he faded away into the darkness. Wearily, I stared down again.

Harry? Why had the fight with Voldemort and Quirrell moved to a secret chamber underneath the girl's bathroom?

"Don't think Lyra, do," I muttered. "Your friends need you."

Gingerly I swung my legs over the edge of the pipe. Lifting my lit wand, I could barely see anything in the pipe. I could smell a horrible smell down there, and I gulped. Here goes nothing.

Holding my breath, I let go of the edge. It was the worst slide I'd ever gone down—slimy, smelly and the fear of the unknown. It twisted and turned, and somehow I knew I was going far below the school dungeons.

Just as I began to worry about the drop at the end of the pipe, it rapidly leveled out and I shot out at the end like a cork from a bottle. I skidded onto a crunchy surface, which was the only noise in the echoey chamber.

Scrambling to my feet I held my wand in front of me like a torch. What I saw was horrific—I was stood on hundreds of tiny animal skeletons. Trying not to be sick, I hurried over the skeletons, wincing at every step.

"Fawkes?" I whispered into the darkness, hurrying my pace. I'd yet to see my friends, and worryingly I was starting to find concrete rubble scattered like a bread trail.

"Oh God, I'm hearing things now..." a familiar voice came from the end of the corridor, as it began to widen out, the rubble becoming so high I now had to climb over it.

"Things sound fun! Things, things things! It's such an interesting word, isn't it?" an unfamiliar child-like voice responded.

"Oh shut up, you—help me move this." I was getting closer to the voices, and the voice was more recognisable—Ron!

Heaving myself over a large piece of rubble, I poked my head over the other side. Ron and a strange man in turquoise robes were shifting heavy bits of rubble, trying to create a path to get further along the tunnel. This day was getting weirder.

"Ron?" I said hesitantly. "What are you doing?"

Ron whipped around, and when he saw me grabbed his chest. "Fucking hell, Lyra! What are you doing here?"

I blinked at him several times. There was something different about but I couldn't place my finger on it. "Um... who's your friend?"

The turquoise-robed man was hitting two bits of concrete together like they were maracas. Ron winced. "He doesn't matter. You—you're okay!"

"Of course, I am," I slid down the concrete to stand next to him. "You haven't happened to see a phoenix fly past, have you?"

Ron looked at me wearily. "Yes..."

"Brilliant!" I exclaimed. "I'll be back soon, I promise!"

Ron and the strange man had created a gap big enough for me to squeeze through. As I reached the other side, I peered back at him. "What ever is the matter, Ron? You look like you haven't seen me in forever!"

As I hurried down the darkened corridor, I almost swore I heard Ron say: 'I haven't.'

**

As I ran further along the corridor to try and find Fawkes or Harry—or literally anybody—it became lighter, an odd green haze casting over the corridor from green glass on the ceiling. Serpents made of emeralds and stone adorned the walls at regular intervals, holding flaming torches.

"Something tells me this isn't good..." I whispered to myself as I rounded a corner and heard several voices speaking beyond a set of open doors (with more snakes).

A horrific sight awaited me in this massive, dimly lit chamber. Lying across the floor, obviously dead was a giant, stinking Basilisk (there had been one in the fourth Ruby book, they were truly evil creatures). Right next to its head were a group of people.

They hadn't noticed me yet, but I recognised Harry straight away. A glistening sword was clutched in his hand, while his other clutched his forearm where he was wounded. Laughing next to him was a handsome teenage boy who was wearing Slytherin robes and a laugh.

"You're too late, boy. You won't win. I will return." Even though it was a young boy speaking, I could tell who it was. Voldemort was somehow a teenager. Where had Quirrell gone?

At his feet, clutching a small black book was a small ginger girl. Putting two and two together I figured it was Ron's little sister, Ginny. But wait, she was ten—what was she doing at Hogwarts?

"Step away from them!" Sudden bravery came to me as I ran into the chamber, pointing my wand directly at teenage-Voldemort's heart. "I've got a wand—you don't!"

Teenage-Voldemort smirked at me. "Well I know who you are. The sleeping girl Ginny says her brother cries about. Too bad you used all your powers saving your mudblood friend."

Still pointing my wand at Voldemort, I knelt at Harry's side. He was barely sitting up, a large gash in his arm. His eyes were heavy and they almost glazed over me. At his feet was a Basilisk fang, and I gasped. Those were fatal.

"Is this the big reveal the pathetic bird was waiting for?" Voldemort laughed. "A girl who might have saved the boy—if she wasn't all dried up."

Don't listen to him. Fawkes' voice was in my head. He doesn't know the truth.

"L—Lyra?" Harry's voice was weak, and he squinted at me. "Am I dying?"

"Yes!" Voldemort said gleely, clapping his hands together. "By the time you die, so will the girl and I will manifest into my true form."

Somehow—maybe it was Adara's essence, or maybe just a feeling—I knew what to do. What I was capable of. Throwing my arms around Harry I held him to my chest, and he sagged there like a dead weight.

"How sweet, a final hug for the boy who lives..." Voldemort was still prattling on in the background, gloating, thinking he'd won.

For the first time since before Katherine drugged me with a sleeping potion, I let my emotions free. Without a single sound, I allowed tears to escape my eyes. I cried for the confusion I'd had since I'd woken up, for the un-answered questions, for Harry being brave enough to kill a Basilisk...

I cried to save my best friend.

All the times I'd healed people, I'd always felt overwhelmed. Like there was too much power ready to escape, that even when I controlled it there was still too much. Like it'd consume me, like it wasn't really my power. Something had changed. This felt soft, and gentle—and all mine.

"Get off him!" Voldemort threw me off Harry, and I tumbled onto the floor. Looking up I saw Harry was stood up, his arm fully healed. He held the sword confidently in his hand.

Voldemort looked me up and down. "What—what are you?" he shook his head. "Never mind, you stupid girl. You shall be mine after I kill the boy. He is no match for me..."

In a quick rustling of wings and a piercing cry Fawkes soared over our heads. He dropped a battered diary at Harry's feet. Harry and Voldemort stared at it.

I stared at Fawkes. Don't say I never gave you anything.

"NO!" Voldemort cried, and shaking back to attention I saw that Harry had grabbed the Basilisk fang and sunk it into the cover of the diary.

There was a moment of silence before ink spurted out of the diary like blood over Harry's hands, my legs, the floor—Voldemort was screaming and fading in and out of focus like an old picture.

Then he was gone.

Harry and I stared at the diary. An oozing hole had burnt straight through the diary. Then Harry stared at me.

"I thought I imagined you—but you—you saved my life. By—crying on me?" he sounded bewildered.

I shrugged as Fawkes settled onto my shoulder. "I dunno, it worked though, didn't it? Guess I just needed a quick nap to re-charge..."

An odd look was on Harry's face. "Lyra..."

"What?" I said. "I'm so confused! Where the stone, where's Quirrell and head-Voldemort? Where's Katherine and wait—you look different too!"

Harry, like Ron looked slightly different. He looked taller, his hair shaggier. Harry was giving me such a soft, sad look that my stomach flipped over.

"Harry?" my voice was strangled as I spoke. "How long was I asleep for?"

Harry reached out and grabbed my hand. "You've been asleep for a year, Lyra."

---

A/N Ahh and part two of the book begins! 

The next few chapters will show Lyra coming to terms with the year she missed--and we will also see Sirius! (before he escapes Azkaban)

The next chapter might be a while as I've posted all that I've written so far and I'm busy in my part-time work at the moment :( Hopefully it'll be up in a few days!