Dumbledore stared at the pile of ashes in front of him. Fawkes normally reappeared after bursting into flames, as a newly reborn chick, but Dumbledore knew that this time he wasn’t to cast his eyes upon Fawkes any longer. The bird had been almost as old as Dumbledore himself, though maybe even older, for Dumbledore had received him when he was full-grown. He had been reborn many more times than Dumbledore could remember. But Phoenixes weren’t immortal; Fawkes had been through many straining trails that had left him weaker and older.
But yet, Dumbledore thought to himself, Fawkes had passed them with brilliant red and gold colors. Dumbledore smiled. Fawkes had proved himself. That was all that mattered.
He then, with a flick of his wand, disposed of the ashes.
A few moments later he glanced over at his shelf. The Pensieve seemed to be begging him, pleading with him to look inside. Knowing fully well what memory was on top Dumbledore reached his head closer and tumbled into his thoughts and memories.
Dumbledore’s Memories
A middle-aged Dumbledore walked the streets of Diagon Alley on a breezy summer day. He was surprised; normally Diagon Alley was crowded immensely with school children vacationing and getting ready for a new term, but the Alley was strangely empty and calm. He rather enjoyed this, for he could walk normally without fear of crashing into other witches and wizards. Almost every shop had been entered by Dumbledore as he walked down the street; he had gone to Quality Quidditch Supplies, where he had gazed at the new brooms, then even gone to Florean Fortescue’s, where he had a bit of ice cream and gazed around.
He went to Flourish and Blotts, where he bought a new journal; he went to the Apothecary, where he knocked over a set of vials; he went to Ollivanders to say hello to an old friend.
But as he walked towards the Magical Menagerie, he jumped back in surprise as a large bird came flying out of the shop doors, its cry giving its species away “ it was a Phoenix.
Grabbing his wand he prepared to stun it when it slowed tremendously. He narrowed his eyebrows. The Phoenix stared at him, cocking his head, and then quietly came forward and landed on his shoulder. Dumbledore petted the bird apprehensively.
Then, a woman came rushing out of the shop, her wand brandished. She was yelling loudly and Dumbledore felt the bird’s feather ruffle and his head perk. Dumbledore silenced her. To prove that the bird was not hurting him Dumbledore reached up and scratched his feathered chest. The shopkeeper’s jaw dropped.
“Sir!” she said frantically, “That’s a Phoenix, a “a Phoenix, and it’s on your shoulder, Sir! I “”
Dumbledore silenced her yet again and looked up at the bird. It had a peering look on its face as it stared at Dumbledore.
The bird was calm, which was unusual for a Phoenix. The birds rarely took to human beings; when they did there was a bond that would last forever.
The shopkeeper was still gaping at him.
“Where did you get this bird?” he asked.
She answered. “The bird appeared outside yesterday morning. An owner wasn’t present nor did someone report a missing pet so we decided to keep it.”
Dumbledore nodded randomly, comprehending.
“Might I keep it?” he asked.
She glanced at the bird again. It was making cooing noises as it rubbed against Dumbledore’s neck.
“It wasn’t ours to begin with,” she said. “He seems to have a bond with you. Take him.”
“Thank you very much.”
End Memories
Dumbledore saw the memory dissolve and he was soon back in his office.
He sat down at his desk.
Dumbledore sat deep in thought for a few moments.
Then, he reached for his wand and extracted his latest memory, leaving it in the Pensieve. A tear trickled down his face as he watched it disappear into the bowl’s gray mist.
Author's Note: I have several other fictions on this site. Please review.