Ebon Phoenix [#1] [Complete]

Headmaster's request

"Are you sure about this, Albus?"

Honestly, I'm not sure... he wanted to say as he, Minerva McGonagall -- who had addressed him earlier -- Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, and Alastor 'Mad-eye' Moody stood. He refrained from doing so, however, and gazed at the large stone before them covered in intricate designs and a language that only he understood, just barely.

Dumbledore knew. He knew that Voldemort was back. If he hadn't, the Order of the Phoenix wouldn't have been gathered like this. It was at the point that it was impossible to ignore. He also knew that Harry would eventually have to face his destiny, but that did not stop him from worrying, even though he didn't show it. So in hopes that Harry would not be killed along his path, or even have to battle Voldemort, he called upon his last chance.

He mentally thanked his ancestors for being so attached to diverse cultures, otherwise he would never have found out about this.

"Yes, Minerva. This is all we have left... this is our last hope."

Minerva, bless her soul, knew how dangerous this was. After all, he had told her about this first. Giving one more mental prayer, the old wizard raised his right hand. In his grasp was a wooden medallion with a black skull engraved into the surface. He placed the medallion into a indentation on the stone in front of them. The wooden piece immediately clicked into place, and a bluish-white light spread from it through the tribal marks and words across the stone.

They had to take a step back and cover their eyes with their arms as the light suddenly pulsed and the stone cracked and crumbled. Moments later, the stone stopped rattling and the dust settled, revealing something that Dumbledore had only hoped for.

There, where the boulder once stood, was a tall and sturdy cross. Hung onto the cross was a man, pinned to it like Jesus Christ was said to have been. At first, they thought that the man was part of the cross, melded to it like a statue made of ivory and stone.

But then the stone began to melt and peel off of the man in strips. It separated from his body like oil and water. The last piece of stone on his feet shedded, and the man took a deep breath in, and if breathing for the first time in ages, and fell from the cross.

While the man stood and stretched, the members of the Order took their time to study the newly appeared man. He seemed to be in his early twenties, but they of all people knew better than to be fooled by his attractive, youthful appearance. He had long and wild orange hair reaching to his shoulders that only just covered his eyes. His skin held a natural tan, and he stood at six feet tall.

The man was clad in unusual black robes that resembled a samurai. On his waist sat a sheathed sword, its handle black with red, the hilt resembling a swastika. When the man finally looked at them, they found that his eyes were a warm chocolate brown, filled with ages of wisdom that one his 'age' would not hold.

As they continued to stand and stare at each other, the member of the Order began to think that the man could not speak.

"Sore wa nan-nen...?" he murmured absently, rubbing his wrists.

The British shared a few looks. This was gonna take a while...

"Do you speak English?" Minerva inquired slowly. The man raised an eyebrow at them, before a sound akin to a chuckle left his lips.

"Yes, I do speak English, Minerva," he replied fluently, though a slight accent still remained. The witch's eyes widened. How did he know her name?

"Now, I believe there was a reason for which you decided to awaken me, was there not?" he said, directing his gaze to Dumbledore.

The old wizard nodded. "A dark wizard has risen from the dead and is threatening the lives of my students. He will soon wage war. His name is Voldemort."