Harry stood in the snow, the cold biting at his skin despite the warming charms he had cast. The wind howled across the frozen wasteland, whipping his cloak around him, but Harry barely noticed it. His mind was already turning, assessing the situation, calculating his next steps. The landscape that stretched out before him was bleak—white, barren, and seemingly devoid of life. Mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks capped with snow, and thick forests hugged the foothills, their blackened branches stark against the snow-covered ground. To the south, vast plains stretched toward the horizon, interrupted only by the occasional cluster of jagged rocks.
There was nothing here that looked remotely useful for his situation.
Harry took a deep breath, his breath misting in the frigid air, and looked down at the enchanted suitcase in his hand. It vibrated faintly with the comforting presence of his house-elves. He knew that keeping them cooped up in there would do them no good. They needed space to stretch and work, and he would need their help soon.
"Time to assess properly," Harry muttered to himself.
He knelt and opened the suitcase, revealing the entrance to the small but endless space within. One by one, his elves emerged. Kreacher was the first, followed by Tilly, Nobby, Elphie, Mippy, Riff, and Toff. They looked around, wide-eyed, taking in the desolate surroundings. Snowflakes clung to their oversized ears and tattered clothes.
"Master Harry," Kreacher croaked, his voice hoarse, "where are we?"
"I don't know yet," Harry replied honestly. "But it's not the world we came from. This is a new place. The spell worked. We're... somewhere else."
Tilly's eyes were wide with worry. "What will Master do now?"
"For now, we're going to stay here," Harry said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "But I need to get a lay of the land. I'm going to fly and scout the area. Stay close to the suitcase, all of you. Be vigilant. Don't wander too far. If something comes near, use the wards I taught you."
"Yes, Master," Kreacher nodded, while the others muttered their agreement.
Satisfied that they would be safe, Harry turned his gaze upward, toward the cold, overcast sky. He could feel his magic humming inside him, eager to be released. Harry had long ago stopped using a broom for flight. He had found a new, more fitting way, one that allowed him the freedom and power he needed to explore the world. It was his animagus, a form that suited him now—an immortal, an enigma.
With a deep breath, Harry allowed the transformation to begin. His body shimmered, shrinking, morphing, as flames licked at the edges of his cloak. His vision sharpened, his senses heightened, and the cold, biting wind became a distant memory as his body was consumed by the familiar, comforting heat of his animagus form. Where once he stood as a man, now there was a phoenix—a majestic bird of flame. But unlike the fiery reds and golds of a typical phoenix, Harry's feathers were black as midnight, tinged with streaks of blue, like the faintest hints of twilight at the edges of the night sky. His wings, vast and powerful, beat once, twice, and then he was airborne, soaring high above the snow-covered ground.
The world below him grew smaller as he rose into the sky. From up here, the vastness of the land became clearer. The island he was on was immense—much larger than he had initially realized. Jagged mountain ranges cut across the land like the spine of a great beast, their snowy peaks disappearing into the clouds. Dense forests sprawled across the foothills, thick with dark trees that looked as ancient as the mountains themselves. And between the mountains and forests lay vast valleys, some wide and open, others narrow and winding. Rivers cut through the landscape, frozen in places, their icy surfaces gleaming in the pale light of the sky.
As he flew, Harry could see signs of life, though they were few and far between. Small villages dotted the landscape, mostly huddled near the edges of the forests or at the base of mountains. The buildings were crude, made of wood and stone, with thatched roofs covered in snow. Smoke rose from a few of the chimneys, a thin, desperate lifeline in the cold wilderness.
Harry circled lower, his keen phoenix eyes spotting more details as he flew over the western part of the island. Here, nestled against the slopes of a mountain, was a castle. It was not grand or impressive by any means—in fact, it was downright ugly. The structure was squat and heavy, made of dark, weather-worn stone that looked as though it had been hastily thrown together centuries ago and left to decay in the elements. The walls were low, the towers short and misshapen. The whole place gave off an air of neglect and foreboding.
This, Harry surmised, must be the seat of some noble House that probably ruled this island. But noble was a generous term for what he saw. There was little grandeur here, only practicality and survival in the face of a harsh, unforgiving land.
He veered east, crossing more forests and valleys, and found another castle—this one belonging to another noble House. It was similar to the first, though slightly larger and in marginally better condition. The same dark, ugly stone, the same squat towers. Around the castle, there were a few more signs of life—villages and farmsteads clustered close to the stronghold, their inhabitants eking out a living from the frozen earth.
As Harry continued northward, the landscape became more rugged, the mountains steeper and more imposing. It was here that he found a third castle. This one was the smallest of the three, almost indistinguishable from the mountains that surrounded it. The walls were half-buried in snow, and the castle itself seemed to blend into the rocky terrain, as though it had been carved from the mountain itself. Like the other two, it was a place built for survival, not comfort or beauty.
The island was vast, as big as Ireland, with much of its land covered in thick forests and snow. And yet, for all its size, it was sparsely populated. The villages were small, the castles ugly and unimpressive. Harry could sense the isolation, the distance these people must feel from the rest of the world. There were no grand cities here, no bustling markets or crowded streets. This was a place on the edge of civilization, where the people lived hard, simple lives.
He flew over the valleys that stretched between the mountains, his wings carrying him swiftly over the frozen rivers and snow-covered plains. The land was beautiful in its own way, though it was a harsh beauty, cold and unyielding. It was a place that demanded strength and resilience from those who lived here—a place that had no time for the weak or the foolish.
After several hours of flying, Harry began to feel the pull of fatigue. Even in his phoenix form, flying over such a vast, frozen landscape was taxing espeaccely after such a taxing ritual as one to travel to another dimension. He had seen enough for now. He had a better understanding of the land he had come to, and while it was far from hospitable, it was not entirely without resources. He could make use of what he had found.
With a final sweep of the island, Harry turned and began his descent. His sharp eyes located the spot where he had left his elves, and he spiraled down gracefully, landing on the snowy ground without a sound. As soon as his feet touched the earth, his body shimmered and shifted, and within moments, he was standing once more as a man, his staff in hand, the black feathers of his phoenix form dissolving into the air.
Kreacher was the first to approach him, his wrinkled face creased with concern. "Master Harry, did you find anything?"
"Villages, castles," Harry replied, his breath still misting in the cold air. "They're not much to look at, but it has potential."
"And the people, Master?" Tilly asked, her eyes wide.
"Savages, by the look of it," Harry said. "But they survive here, and that's what matters."
The elves exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of this new information. Harry could see the worry in their eyes, but there was also a glimmer of hope. They had survived worse, and they would survive this.
"We'll make do," Harry said firmly. "We've dealt with more difficult situations before. This place... it's wild, but it's not beyond our abilities. We'll find a way."