Harry Potter: Fiendfyre and Love

"Well, Harry?" Fragment's voice returned, sharper now. "Frankly, you'll have some competition for Ginny's heart. But don't worry, I won't interfere. I'll simply observe. For now. Maybe later…"

"Shut up," Harry muttered, his mind already racing.

Dumbledore's twisted game was unraveling right in front of him, and Harry could barely breathe under the weight of it.

"...you'll let me join you. Of course, not right away. We could play house. I'll—"

"SHUT UP!" Harry roared.

Rage rolled through him in waves, crashing over him, drowning out everything. His mind was sharp, focused on the one thing that he had to do. This wasn't about survival anymore. It was about revenge.

His memories flashed like shards of broken glass behind his eyes. One sliver stood out: Crabbe, screaming in that high-pitched voice, intent on killing him in the Room of Requirement not long ago. Harry remembered the flames. He remembered the spell. The words came back to him, venomous and sharp, rising in his throat.

"Oh, calm down, Potter!" Fragment spat, irritation seeping into its voice. "Do you wish to burn some trees? The fire won't kill him."

"What about another fire?"

Fragment's smirk twisted into something else—wariness.

Harry grinned, crooked and wild, his chest rising and falling like a bellows. The fire inside him swelled, clawing at the edges of his soul, begging to be let out.

He screamed, pouring everything he had into the words.

"FIENDFYRE!"

Flames exploded outward, raw and untamed, racing across the world inside Dumbledore's mind. Fragment didn't even have time to recoil—fire swallowed him whole in an instant, as if he'd been doused in gasoline. He collapsed, writhing, wailing. It wasn't normal fire. It was alive, charged with Harry's fury, burning through even the intangible, reaching Dumbledore in the real world.

The heat was savage, choking. It slammed back into Harry, but the pain wasn't physical—it was something deeper, something soul-deep, something that would soon be consumed by the inferno. He felt his anger take shape in every snapping branch, every flare of cursed fire as the metaphorical Forbidden Forest went up in smoke.

"Are you out of your mind, boy?!" Fragment shrieked, its voice cracking like the burning wood.

"Actually, we're inside of his," Harry growled, voice low and guttural, the sound of a man with nothing left to lose. "So I'm going to burn it." He leaned forward, eyes blazing with fury. "BURN IT ALL!"

The flames roared and writhed like a living thing, snapping at the trees with molten jaws. They weren't just fire; they were Harry's rage, made manifest.

"Stop! I won't touch her. The girl. Ginny. Isn't that what you want?" Fragment coughed, choked, but still managed a weak, rasping chuckle. "I swear it."

Harry didn't listen. He was listening to Dumbledore groaning in pain. His breath came in ragged gasps, his eyes fixed on the destruction with a mix of awe and something darker. He knew Dumbledore couldn't block it. He smirked, realizing how the scar—Dumbledore's now—was burning like hell.

And then—Fragment.

It twisted and writhed in the fire, a grotesque mockery of Voldemort's soul. Its screams were high and piercing, and for a moment, Harry almost looked away. Almost.

He didn't flinch. He didn't stop. He watched as Fragment shriveled, blackened, and finally disintegrated into ash.

The last piece of Voldemort's soul was gone.

Harry felt nothing.

No relief. No victory. Only fire, spreading faster now, eating through this place—this mind, this prison. He focused on Dumbledore, who couldn't even speak. His crumpled form, clutching his head in agony, the scar burning like hell.

No wonder Crabbe couldn't stop the Fiendfyre. It made Harry feel almighty, but the cursed flames were devouring his soul, slowly turning it to ash. The pain was unbearable, but the thought that Dumbledore's mind would crumble first kept him going. That was the only thing that mattered now.

"Harry, stop it!" Dumbledore commanded, but Harry felt panic in his voice. "You're killing yourself!"

Harry's smile was wicked.

"Not only myself."

He thought of Ginny, of Ron and Hermione. They wouldn't forgive him for this—but they'd be safe. Safe from Dumbledore's manipulations. That was enough.

The flames roared, curling and twisting unnaturally, their fiery shapes taking on terrifying forms. Harry's anger poured into the curse, fueling the inferno until it erupted into chaos.

A serpent slithered forward first, its fangs dripping molten fire. A chimera followed, its claws tearing at the ground, eyes blazing with hunger. They moved as though alive, feeding off Harry's rage, growing stronger with every moment.

"Fawkes!" Dumbledore called out sharply.

The phoenix's cry echoed in response, clear and piercing, cutting through the chaos. In the air arrived the bird made of flames as an astral form of Fawkes. Harry heard a roar from his created creatures; their fiery forms faltered as Fawkes descended, his golden feathers glinting in the firelight. For a moment, it wasn't clear whether the phoenix would attack or… join.

"Don't, Fawkes," Harry spat, though the words felt more like a plea. "Don't attack them!"

Fawkes hovered, wings beating, as though unsure what to do next, and Harry used the time it wasted for a confusion. His fury doubled, and above them, a dragon took shape, its fiery wings casting flickering shadows as it roared.

"What are you waiting? Absorb the fire!" Dumbledore's voice cut through the hesitation. "Fawkes, do it!"

The phoenix lunged.

In a blur of golden feathers and flames, Fawkes tore through the creatures, his talons ripping the serpent apart in one vicious motion. Sparks flew as the chimera struck, but Fawkes absorbed the fire, pulling it into himself, his song rising as the inferno began to wane.

Harry tried to summon more flames, more beasts, but Fawkes was too fast. The creatures were falling, one by one. Harry's heart sank as the dragon lunged, only to be swallowed by the phoenix's glowing body.

"No!" Harry shouted, his voice cracking.

Harry's chest tightened as the connection to Dumbledore wavered. He fought to maintain it, pouring his will into cursed fire. It had to keep burning, or Dumbledore would shut him out forever. The chance to kill him would be lost. A small island of flames surrounded him, licking at the scorched ground beneath his feet. Around him, the fires in the Forbidden Forest were fading fast, sputtering into embers.

Harry once again tried to release his anger through magic. Another serpent slithered out of the fire, its molten body glowing faintly. It hissed, coiling low, about to strike the closest tree—but Fawkes struck first. The phoenix tore through it with a blur of talons, scattering embers in its wake. Harry conjured two more serpents, but then Dumbledore's voice echoed, loud and cold.

"That's enough!"

Fawkes froze in air, glowing like an angel, wings spread wide.

The sound of Dumbledore's command sent the serpents vanishing into thin air. It felt as though he were speaking through the phoenix, taking everything under unshakable control. Harry glared up at Fawkes, feeling Dumbledore watching him through the bird's eyes.

"I won't let you win," Harry spat.

"You already have," Dumbledore's echoed again. His tone was steady, unwavering. "This isn't a battle, Harry. It's a lesson. And it's time you learned it."

Fawkes circled above in a harsh golden light. This presence was becoming heavy with authority. Harry clenched his fists, willing the fire to flare up again.

"Oh, yeah? And what's that?" Harry stalled, his gaze darting around for any opening, any chance to regain control. The fire dwindled at his feet, small flames licking weakly at the ground.

"I am the one who knows what needs to be done," Dumbledore's voice was like a blade. "You don't. You never did. And I will not let you destroy everything I have worked for."

Fawkes swooped lower. Harry ducked, and the phoenix flew past, but claws scratched his shoulder painfully. The fire around him flickered, then dimmed, and Harry felt his magic was fading, its strength draining as Fawkes' song filled the air, smothering his fury.

"It's over, Harry," Dumbledore's voice was calm now. "Stop creating flames. Stop fighting what you cannot defeat."

"Never," he said through gritted teeth, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I won't let you live. You're evil."

"No," Dumbledore replied firmly. Fawkes flapped closer and froze once more. "I am necessary."

Harry's vision blurred, the heat and exhaustion pressing down on him. But one thought lingered, gnawing at the edges of his mind. It seemed like Fawkes was near, but keeping its distance.

"It doesn't need to be like this, Harry. Didn't you see how my great design worked? Stop pretending you didn't understand what happened. I took your body to defeat Voldemort. I brought peace to this world. I fulfilled the prophecy through you!"

"It's wrong. It had to be me," Harry whispered. Then it hit him—it was him. He had struck the final blow. The last fragment of Voldemort's soul was consumed by the Fiendfyre Curse. Dumbledore didn't even know. Harry's gaze shifted to the soaring phoenix. "I'm the Chosen One."

Fawkes flapped his wings, as if dismissing him with a gesture. Harry fell to his knees, breathless. Dumbledore grunted, displeased.

"Do you still believe you had the power to do what I've done? Do you think you would have achieved this with fewer victims? I saved dozens now. Hundreds in the past. And with your body, I will save even more in the future. What greater good could you possibly bring to this world in my place?"

Harry glared at the phoenix, his eyes locking onto the blackened claws of the bird. They looked burned—hurt by trying to hurt him. Just like Quirrell had been unable to touch him all those years ago.

The realization hit him like a cold wave, but Fawkes was still too high in the air, out of reach. And Harry… Harry no longer had the fury that once fueled his magic source. All his thoughts were on keeping the Fiendfyre alive around him, but exhaustion crept in, slow and inevitable.

Was this it? Would he end up like Sirius or maybe worse? Not the prisoner of Azkaban, but the one of Dumbledore's head, trapped behind the scar.

He heard his godfather's voice again.

The world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters. We've all got both light and dark inside of us…

Like lightning, the realization struck—there was another source of power.

What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are…

Flashes of life burst through Harry's mind.

Ginny giving him a last kiss at the Burrow; Hagrid, singing drunkenly at Aragog's funeral; Fred and George's fireworks exploding over Umbridge; Neville's triumphant face after his first successful Disarming Spell; Hermione's tight embrace after the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, just right before Ron became his friend again; Luna wearing a lion hat cheering at a Quidditch match; Sirius, as Padfoot, barking joyfully, gamboling around, snapping at pigeons, and chasing his tail; The Mirror of Erised showing him his mom and dad—Harry saw them for the first time in his life.

Happiness poured into him, like a storm of different emotions gathering its strength.

The wind began to swirl around Harry. He looked up at Fawkes, his determination blazing. Anger wasn't the answer. Love was.

"You shouldn't have possessed my body," Harry's voice thundered. "And you should never have planned to kill my girlfriend."

"Ascendio!"

Harry shot upward in a blast of magic. Wind roared past his ears—too fast, too sudden—but his hands were already stretching, reaching—grasping.

His fingers locked around Fawkes' throat.

The phoenix shrieked, an ear-splitting, ragged sound. Wings flailed, talons raked deep into Harry's chest, tearing, burning, but he clenched harder.

They plummeted like a blazing meteor—Harry fought to stay above.

Then they hit.

Fire burst from Fawkes like water squeezed from a sponge, like juice crushed from an overripe fruit. It sprayed out in all directions, uncontrolled, detonating into the forest. The agonizing heat rolled over Harry's skin, searing his hands, his face, his eyes.

"No, Harry! Stop!" Dumbledore's voice rang out, desperate, echoing through the burning world. "Listen to me! If you kill Fawkes—you risk losing your soul!"

Harry smirked, voice laced with mockery: "What's life without a little risk?"

With a final, brutal squeeze, Harry forced the last cry out of Fawkes.

"No!" Dumbledore's voice cracked, but it was too late.

The phoenix exploded into a blinding flash of light.

The fire consumed everything.

Only Sirius' voice was still echoing.

When all this is over, we'll be a proper family. You'll see…