Some day, this will be a "Last.fm/NetFlix/Amazon for web fiction" (both original and fanfiction) where you can search across many different hosting sites or rate what you've read and get recommendations. However, life keeps throwing more urgent projects my way, so I don't know when it'll be ready.
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Forging the Sword, Chapter 10He shuddered, the sense-memory still strong when he thought too long on it. The smell of burnt hair, acrid and unmistakable. The charred odor of flesh even more repugnant. He closed his eyes, then opened them again, quickly, as the images flashed across his eyelids. Quirrel burning. Quirrel screaming.
He set the candle down, and looked again at his hands.
Dumbledore'd said he'd lived because his mother had sacrificed for him. Lived because of the protections she'd left on him - in him - wound through his being. Lived because she'd loved him.
He'd looked up fire, once. Wondering why the protection had manifested as such. Why it'd been so... violent.
Surely a protection wrought of love should be more... gentle?
He flexed his hands, feeling restless, recalling what he'd found. Fire was, apparently, the purifying element. Across numerous cultures. Across different belief systems. Fire burned, and in burning, cleansed. Toxins broke down in fire. Curses broke, as the items they were cast on were immolated. And in natural ecosystems, what burned left behind an ash rich in nutrients, to nourish what would later grow.
No wonder phoenixes were beings of flame.
His mum must have loved so fiercely. He'd bet she would have kicked ass.
He wished he'd had a chance to know.
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