Despite all his layers of clothing, Albus still felt cold. It was the wind, he told himself, as he walked back to his house with his head down. It was only the wind. His boots crunched on the ice as he tried not to let himself slip.

He had been down to the graveyard to put flowers on his mother's and Ariana's graves for Christmas. He had sent an owl to Aberforth, hoping his brother might come home at least for this, but had received no response. That was why he was doing it here, now, two days after Christmas.

It was moments like these, that he felt more alone than ever. Of course he missed his family, missed Gellert, even missed Elphias, but the pain of loss got more acute now that it was Christmas. He'd spent the better part of the day itself asleep and had been trying to avoid Bathilda Bagshot's attempts at goodwill. This was the reason that Albus was now leaving the road and cutting through the woods.

It was slow going walking through the woods, as the snow lay thick, and he couldn't tell what was under it. Twice he stumbled over a log or a rock, and when he was just in sight of his house, he stepped in a hole and fell flat on his face. Muttering to himself, Albus hauled himself to his feet when he heard the noise.

It was a wailing so plaintive that it chilled him almost as much as the cold. What could it be? He tried to remember back to his schooldays, tried to figure out what creature native to England could make such a noise. The crying got louder as he moved toward his house, which he thought was unusual, as he couldn't see anything. He pulled off his glasses and wiped them on the sleeve of his cloak. There was something down there in the snow. It was a baby bird. It was tucked next to the root of a tree, as if it had fallen a long way. As he approached, he could see that it looked to be in a terrible state. It barely had any feathers, and it really looked to have had a tough time of it.

Albus frowned. It was the middle of winter. It seemed odd that there should be a baby bird fallen from its nest, especially since none of the trees around him had nests. So sad, he thought to himself, as he turned to go.

Suddenly, a dusty memory from years past came unbidden to his mind. His sister had always loved animals. She would have taken care of the baby bird. Quickly, he whipped off his scarf and wrapped the bird in it. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. Of course, Albus couldn't say he was an expert on birds, but something told him that this was no ordinary songbird. For one thing, it seemed very large, and for another, it seemed somehow more… intelligent. Perhaps he was going mad.

He managed to get the bird inside without any of the neighbors inquiring after him, and began to see about making the bird comfortable.

"I can't just go on calling you 'Bird'," he remarked, as he settled the bird in a warm nest of blankets by the fire. "Perhaps you'd like some goat's milk?"

The bird made a terrible guttural gagging noise. At least it had stopped wailing. "I can't believe I'm talking to it," Albus muttered, as he prepared a saucer of milk. "I really am going mad."

Suddenly, the bird burst into flames. Albus dropped the saucer and rushed forward. "I don't believe it," he breathed as he cleared the ash away from the new-formed baby bird. "You're a phoenix! But how on Earth did you get here?" He gently rubbed the top of its head with his finger. The phoenix chirped happily. "And here I thought you were just an ordinary bird," he murmured. "And then you go up like a guy on Bonfire Night." He smiled. "I think that's what I ought to call you---Fawkes!" He chuckled at his little joke and Fawkes chirped appreciatively.

The following morning, Albus went next door to talk to Bathilda.

"Do I know anything about phoenixes?" she pursed her lips. "I don't think I do. But it's nice to see you again, Albus." She smiled.

He smiled back.

Elphias's letter contained slightly more information. Elphias had been able to look it all up in a book while he was at the library at Salem and had given Albus several tips and wished him luck. I'll be back in England by the spring, he had added as a postscript. Perhaps I'll see you.

Albus was quite surprised by how quickly Fawkes grew once he followed Elphias's instructions. By the time the Easter holidays arrived, Fawkes was nearly the size of a chicken and had a beautiful plumage of red and gold. He took a picture and sent it to Aberforth. Gryffindor colors! he wrote on the back. Aberforth sent a short note back.

I might be home for Easter, he wrote. Maybe.

Albus smiled and stroked Fawkes's head. "You know, I think everything might not be so bad after all," he mused.

Fawkes chirped.