Disclaimer: just a little one-shot of sorts that I felt like writing. I don't even know if I'll continue this or not, but it was an interesting idea I got. I'm not entirely sure if it's ORIGINAL or not, but I've yet to find something like this, so I thought: Why not?! Plus, I wanted to get my first "Doctor Who" out there. Just to get a feel for it, even if there's not much of it in here.

Attention: I would like to apologize if I get some Harry Potter stuff wrong, because to me, Harry Potter is a bit unfamiliar, and I'm going on what I know from reading books 1-3, watching movies 1-3, and a helluva lot of fanfics that I've read.

I don't own "Doctor Who" or Harry Potter.


P.S. - In case you didn't know, this is focused around Ten. Love Eleven and all, but Ten is my favorite, followed closely by and Eleven and Nine (who tie…*gasp* Tying is cool!)

From the Ashes

A "Doctor Who"/Harry Potter one-shot

Typically, he was very calm. Hiding it all away. Laughing at the darkness. He would slap on a mask and show that face to his companions or his enemies, putting on his brave face so nobody knew how he truly felt about the situation.

Except he didn't have any companions with him now.

No companions.

No sonic screwdriver.


He would say he was in a pickle, but he liked bananas so much more, and "I'm in a banana" doesn't sound quite right; so he opted to say nothing at all.

Not that he could, anyway, which brought him back to his current predicament, and the annoyance that came with it.

Because right at this very moment, as he sat hunched up in his prison, he was not calm. Nothing made any sense, and communication for him was impossible.

And he still wasn't a bloody ginger, so that was a minus in the situation, especially since two of his current captors - he had changed hands many times since his capture - were gingers; father and son, actually. And completely unfair.

So he did what he could to express his frustration. He beat against the close bars of his cage, screeching away in fury, flailing and screaming even as his captors beat at the side of the cage and demanded he be quiet. But he would not be quiet, and he would not let his frustration be hidden beneath the surface any longer.

He burst into flames.

He had heard rumors over the past nine decades or so that there was a creature, an inhuman creature unlike any other that had appeared out of virtual nowhere in a flash of light. A creature of un-tamable power and wisdom, one sought after by hundreds of individuals throughout the century. Poachers tried to catch it, but to no avail. Dark wizards tried to tame it, and failed. Nobody had ever succeeded in capturing the creature.

Until now.

He didn't want to act like an animal, he really didn't. He was a being of higher intellect, and that was something he had to remind himself more and more each day to escape from the instincts that drifted around his mind. He was not an animal, and he did everything in his power to remember that.

'Remember. Remember everything. Everything that ever was, ever will be. Every day I saved a life. Every day I helped end one.'

It had started as just sightings, whispers of the creature that moved with such grace, that looked at everything with calm brown eyes. With just one blink, everything could change; that was the power that this creature held. Dark wizards had started to hunt it, tried to tame it, and all know that they failed. Only one dark wizard, the Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald, was even close to capturing the creature. But just like the other times, it escaped. The rumors that the creature was vengeful in nature started around that time when, years later, it was said that the creature was seen in Grindelwald's final battle, where, just for a second, it distracted the Dark Lord, leaving an opening for Albus Dumbledore to tip the tides in his favor.

He wasn't an animal. He reminded himself of that more than once a day, stubbornly throwing himself at the walls of his cage, much to the displeasure of his masters - no, not his masters, he doesn't have masters because he is not an animal; animals have masters, and he has nobody but himself.

The thought would always send a pang through two spots in his chest, one on the upper right, and one on the upper left.

'Remember. You just need to remember.' He reminded himself in his head which, really, was the only way he could even talk to himself anymore. 'Remember it all. Martha Jones, Donna Noble, Captain Jack Harkness, Mickey Smith, Sarah Jane Smith, K9, Jackie Tyler…Rose…Rose Tyler! Yes! Remember her! Her blonde hair, her London accent. Remember it all!'

Nobody could ever catch it, couldn't even come close. No matter what they did, what they tried. It was just too elusive, too positively brilliant. Even if it was just a creature, it was brilliant all the same.

'Remember…Martha Jones…Donna…Donna Noble…uh…Captain, no, Major Jeff…Barkness…dog, then? No, no, that can't be right, the dog was K9. Or was that a cat? Um…Rickey Smith…hah, Ricky the Idiot! No, Mickey. Micky smith, also known as Rickey the Idiot. And his mother, Jackie Smith! No, not mother. Aunt? Yes, that has to be it. And Rose, Rose Tyler, with her…her what? She was ginger, yes, that was it. Her ginger hair. And Donna, she was the blonde one. And Major Jeff Barkness was from the…past. The past, yes, the past.'

There were rumors of something that could bring the creature to its knees, something that could help it be captured, something it couldn't resist. That creature couldn't be found, either, couldn't even be imagined. Nobody knew what it looked like, but that certainly didn't stop people from searching. And so they searched, and searched, and searched.

And then they found it, hidden among the eggs of dragons.

'Um…remember…something. Delilah Soluble, Major Pain-In-The-Arse-ness, Megan Bones, Clicky Smittie, Kara Sane Smittie - they must be related - then there was…Cranky Joyler. No, that makes no sense - oh, why won't anybody speak to me, LET ME OUT! - but it has to make sense. It has to.'

There was a face just beyond his grasp, but he no longer tried to reach it. It was just a story, after all, just a story that he had been told long ago. It didn't matter.

So then why did his chest feel so tight when he ignored the blonde hair and toothy smile?

Albus Dumbledore was lucky that it had been his friends that had found the thing with the dragon eggs. If it had been a Death Eater to find it…well, then Dumbledore's Chosen One might have had a bit of a problem, when it was finally time to face off against the Dark Lord when he returned.

But they didn't have to worry; they had found the object first, and Harry Potter was still at home with the Dursleys, his acceptance letter to be sent out within the next few days. Everything would be fine, so long as Dumbledore's allies could get the creature and bring it to him.

He was not an animal, and he knew that. But his memories were becoming harder and harder to access, buried further and further beneath the veil of animal instincts. His throat had long-since gone hoarse from all the screaming, and he hurt everywhere from trying to force himself through the bars of the cage. His captors had done something to him - he had heard them call them "spells" and "curses," but he didn't like those words. His instincts hated them. - to keep him from thrashing, but that didn't stop him from being tossed around his cage by whatever movement his captors made.

'TAR…tartar sauce? Tartar on your teeth?' His tongue darted out to sweep over his mouth with that particular thought. 'TARD…TARDI…' He gave up, probably faster than he ever had before, and abandoned the thought to hiss at the hand of the captor that strayed a bit too close to his cage's bars.

He tried - as he always did, every day, at this exact time - to speak to his captors, to plead for mercy, to be released so he could deal with…whatever…he had been dealing with when they had first managed to snare him all those days ago. But the sounds that escaped his sore throat weren't recognizable, especially not to his captors.

The humans, the damn humans, the stupid apes. Why did he feel sorry for them when he tried to bite them, to claw them? Why did he wish to stop, to explain to his captors? They had captured him, had thrown him in a cage. He had done no wrong, had done nothing to warrant this type of treatment. But those were humans, he supposed. So full of themselves, but ever-so helpless in the end. And if something came back to bite them, he would do nothing to help.

Why did that thought hurt him so much.

Why did it feel so wrong?

Dumbledore's comrades - his Order, as he liked to call them - had finally arrived. There had been…complications…on their journey back from practically the other side of the world. They had been given no small amount of trouble, and had paid for it; they had also, of course, had to dodge Death Eaters, who had gotten word of their achievement in the field of the Mysterious Creature.

But they were here now, here in Hogwarts. They would be safe, and so would his eventual prize.

He hated them so much. He wanted them gone, to just leave him be. But they wouldn't. And they wouldn't speak to him, not like he was an equal, anyway. And that made him mad. Made him so mad, that he wanted to just get in their faces and scream. He wasn't calm, wasn't anywhere near it. He hated them, and wanted them to leave him alone.

He wanted them to speak to him, to ask him his name even though he could not give it for it didn't exist. He wanted to be recognized.

Oh, God, why did they not talk to him?

Remus Lupin stumbled into Dumbledore's office, dragging a large box along behind him with the help of Arthur Weasley and Severus Snape; apparently Charles Weasley had left the three, Dumbledore noted offhandedly. A tarp of off-white covered the box, but it rippled from the thrashing from within, the thing inside screaming and hissing with all its might, the sound seeming almost hoarse and forced, as if the occupant of the box had torn its throat to shreds and just wouldn't give up. Dumbledore rose his left eyebrow at the racket that no flooded his office, containing his excitement behind a cheerful demeanor. He pretended to ignore the box, instead turning twinkling eyes on the three that now stood huffing from the exertion.

He stroked the feathers on the back of his phoenix, Fawkes - who was staring at the thrashing box with interest, cocking his head left and right to peer at the box first with one eye and then the other - to further appear indifferent.

"Ah, Remus, Severus, Arthur." Dumbledore said with a smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"We brought it to you, Professor." Lupin replied, gesturing to the covered box.

"Yes, indeed you have!" Dumbledore cried jovially, acting as if he hadn't even noticed the box before attention was called to it. With the unspoken request, Arthur tore away the tarp that was shielding the box. Inside was one of the most magnificent but strangest creatures Dumbledore had ever seen, and that was definitely saying something.

It was like a phoenix, but also so different that for a moment, Dumbledore doubted that was what it was. The bird was massive, even bigger than Fawkes, and was incredibly slim for such a large bird that appeared so powerful. Unlike other phoenixes, this bird had dark brown feathers with a lighter brown underside, streaks of lighter brown and what almost looked like blonde going through the darker feathers on its back. It had dark black flecks on its face, near its beak and eyes, almost like freckles. The phoenix's beak and legs were a dark gray, its feet fading to a cream color before its black claws, and, instead of the black eyes that all phoenixes sported, this one owned a pair of dark brown irises. The phoenix's tail feathers were long and were split into two "clumps," like the tails of a long-coat or something similar. Its tail feathers faded to a gold that shimmered in the light, as did the primary and secondary feathers on its massive wings. The plumage that al phoenixes had was still present, but instead of being just on the back of its head, this phoenix's brown plumage continued onto the top of its head, going around in a mess of dark brown feathers; this continued down the back of its neck, shortening down to blend in with the rest of its feathers between its wings.

The massive bird was thrashing in its cage, screeched hoarse and still doing so, even now. Dumbledore recognized the bird almost instantly - he had caught a glimpse of a similar creature during his duel with Grindelwald, right before his old friend had been distracted, which had given him an opening to use - but he was so enthralled with watching the creature struggle against its invisible bonds, so entranced by the way the light reflected off the parts of its feathers that looked made of pure gold, that he couldn't speak the stray thought.

The massive bird continued to scream, even as blood dripped from its beak where it originated from its raw throat; it paid no mind to Dumbledore or the other occupants of the room, nor Fawkes, who had attempted to sing a soothing song that went unheard by the other phoenix.

And then the phoenix's screams began to die down, turning into a rough gurgle that, at first, Dumbledore feared was the bird drowning itself with its own blood; the bird would be fine even if that was the case, but it would still be a painful way to die. But then a golden energy began to float around the phoenix's wings and feet, swirling in misty curls around the bird that was slowly starting to still in its struggles.

Dumbledore, for the first time in a while - and, as he would later find out, the first of many times when it came to the strange phoenix - was confused. He had never seen this golden mist before with Fawkes, and he had known the phoenix for decades. And then, seconds later, what was happening made sense.

Lupin, Arthur, and Severus stepped away from the cage, having seen this before. The bird's wingtips began to spark, small flames springing to life and then dying down.

In a great burst of sparks, flame, and small wisps of golden energy, the phoenix combusted, burning down to ashes that settled at the bottom of the cage. For a moment, all was silent, and then another thing happened that confused Dumbledore.

Instead of a little head poking out of the ashes, an adolescent version of the brown phoenix sprang from the ashes, no longer bound by the spell that it had had placed on it before. It wasn't a fist-sized chick, but a still-massive bird, just a bit smaller. This, honestly, came as a complete surprise to Dumbledore - and Fawkes, if the bird's quiet squawk was anything to go by - though by the lack of reaction from the other three in the room, he assumed this wasn't a new occurrence.

And the bird continued to surprise Dumbledore.

'Stupid humans, despicable apes!' A young male voice roared in Dumbledore's head, almost making him leap out of his chair in surprise; he blinked, instead. 'Filthy pests, annoying captors! I am not an animal! Not even speaking to me! Because of you horrid apes, I can't remember! Arrgh, why can't I remember?!' The young man's voice tore through his mind, and not even Dumbledore's skilled Occlumency saved him from the rage-filled screaming that seemed to be originating from the caged bird. 'Not speaking to me, treating me like nothing more than a dog! I can speak, I can think and now because of you, I can't remember! I can't remember any of them, anything! Horrid instinct-bringers, who make me forget all that I am! Not asking my name, not speaking to me! I AM NOT A BLOODY ANIMAL!'

Dumbledore blinked as the thoughts of the bird melted into a language that even he couldn't recognize; he thought that the words would sound melodious, had they not been screamed with the accompaniment of the outwards screaming of the bird, and the thump and groan of the bars as the slightly-smaller phoenix threw itself at the sides of the cage.

"Open the cage." Dumbledore heard himself speak, slightly horrified looks arising on the faces of those that brought him the bird.

"Professor, are you feeling ill?" Lupin demanded. "That bird is mad! It'll attack you!"

"I know what I'm doing." Was Dumbledore's response, and he was a bit surprised that no, he didn't completely know what he was doing. Severus, however, pulled out his wand and waved it through the air. The top of the cage slid away, and the massive bird sprang from the confines, wings flaring as it hissed, its long talons curling around the top lip of the cage as it landed. It glared at Dumbledore, hissing, and Fawkes shifted a bit to place himself a few centimeters in front of his master and friend, staring at the enraged ird that was now just a bit smaller than he himself. "Hello." Dumbledore said simply with a beaming smile. The bird froze.

It was funny, he had to admit. Not in a way that would bring laughter - though it would later, he figured - but one that made him give pause. Just one simple word, just one little greeting had made everything come flying back.

Before that word, he had sank into his animal instincts that came with his current predicament - namely his predicament of being a giant bloody bird that, apparently, enjoyed spontaneous combustion - and he had forgotten everything else; his life before, his centuries of life before. No, wait; it had been over ninety years since he had somehow come to this form of a bird (which he still didn't understand, a fact that appalled him and made him so excited simultaneously). His age qualified to be placed in the "millennia" spectrum, now; 1,002, to be exact. The only upside, it seemed, to be thins bird, was that he didn't regenerate. Well, he did, but it didn't change his personality or his appearance, it was more like he was just reborn into a slightly younger version of himself that was back to his original "age" within a few days. He was still the Tenth regeneration, which made him strangely happy.

He had forgotten it all, even his true age, through his treatment as an animal; "Be treated for an animal long enough, and that was what you would become." Wasn't that the saying? Either way, with that one word by that old man, his true self came rushing back to him, and he paused, staring forward blankly as he remembered.

His true self, his companions, and Rose; Rassilon, how could he forget about Rose? Or any of the others, for that matter? Though, he still thought about keeping the name of Major Pain-In-The-Arse-ness for Jack, because it sort of fit. But he had forgotten his true self, and therefore how he was supposed to act. Well, he could fix that.

It looked like recognition and a new level of intelligence flooded into the eyes of the phoenix, and it settled down, straightening on its impromptu perch and folding its large wings at its sides. Its eyes armed, and it almost looked like the bird was giving Dumbledore - and the other occupants of the room, as it swiveled its head to look to the others - a cheeky smile.

"Hello," Dumbledore repeated, pleased with the effect it had had on the strange bird. "I am Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and I am the Headmaster of the school you are currently in, known as Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry." The bird cocked its head as Dumbledore spoke to it, and for a moment, the phoenix was silent.

And then, it wasn't.

'Hullo.' A voice replied, and from the jumps that came from Severus, Arthur, and Lupin, Dumbledore knew that the bird was projecting its thoughts to them now, as well. The bird's "smile" grew. 'Pleasure to meet you, Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.'

"Just Professor Dumbledore, or Albus, if you prefer." Dumbledore replied with his own warm smile.

'Of course. Pleasure to meet you, Albus.' The bird said with a nod, its eyes flickering to the others.

"These are associates of mine." Dumbledore continued. "Professor Severus Snape - he teaches potions - Arthur Weasley, and Remus Lupin."

'A bit of an animal inside of you, Mr. Lupin?' The bird inquired, and flashed the shocked werewolf what looked like a dumb grin.

"And this here is my friend, Fawkes." Dumbledore finished as he indicated the phoenix next to him, who gave a short trill of greeting to the brown phoenix, who returned the trill in kind.

'Not that I'm not thrilled to meet new people,' The phoenix began. 'because I usually am - even the ones that want to kill me, though I usually like knowing why they're trying to kill me in the first place, unless I offended them in my future and their past, because then that just gets tricky and becomes something of a Fixed Point, and those tend to annoy me. I offend a lot of people, apparently. - but…why am I here?' It glanced back at the interior of the cage, glaring at the floor briefly as it did so in distaste. 'And why was I brought here in a cage? Asking would have brought better results.' The phoenix almost seemed to sigh. 'Nobody seems to ask, anymore. Well, they didn't before "anymore," either, but now that it's after "anymore," it's especially annoying.'

"We didn't know you were…uh…" Arthur trailed off awkwardly.

'Intelligent?' The bird finished for the flustered man. 'But you have another like me here, unless I'm mistaken.' Fawkes trilled again, singing a very short song as the other bird watched him, interest on its face. 'Oh, you can't? Only I can, then? That's a shame. But it figures.' The bird huffed.

"As for why you're here," Dumbledore continued for the others. "there are other wizards who have been looking for you, and most of these wizards are ones that shouldn't be associated with. It was for your own protection."

'I can protect myself.' The phoenix sniffed. 'And if that failed, there's always running. Er, flying.' The bird corrected itself, and then did something strange; it lifted a wing and rubbed at the plumage on top of its head, the already-wild feathers becoming even more so.

"I don't doubt it." Dumbledore replied with a smile. "But we could also use your help." Originally, Dumbledore had thought of just turning the creature into something like Hagrid's three-headed dog, Fluffy; a guard for a special part of the school. But phoenixes were intelligent, a majestic species. Much too intelligent to be just a guard-dog. "There's a dark wizard that I fear may be returning very soon, and while we have someone chosen to fight him, all the help we could have against him would be appreciated."

'And what would this dark wizard do, should he win?' The bird questioned, cocking its head.

"Slaughter those who oppose him, or those who are not pure-blooded wizards. He would make the perfect world, or at least his definition of it."

'So, either he loses and the world is safe, or he wins, and most of the world is killed.' Dumbledore didn't know if the phoenix needed the nod or not - it seemed like a rhetorical question - but he did so anyway. The bird almost seemed to chuckle, shaking its head. 'Humans. I'll never be done saving you, will I?' Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the words, but didn't comment. The bird straightened. 'Of course I'll help!' It said, that strange "grin" returning to its beak.

"Wonderful." Dumbledore smiled in victory; another ally, and this one was a phoenix from myth and rumors. It was a nice addition, if he did say so himself.

'On one condition, though.' The phoenix added, to which Dumbledore waved his hand for the bird to continue. 'I've…lost…something of mine. Something precious. Usually I'd be able to find her with a bit of telepathy,' the bird gestured to its head with a wing. 'but that hasn't worked for the past century or so. I'll help you lot with your dark lord, if you help me locate my…blue box.' The bird paused at the end, seemed to frown as it chose its words carefully.

"Of course." Dumbledore said with a smile. He faltered, remembering one of the screams of the bird before it had taken a one-eighty in its mood. "Oh, I've completely forgotten!" the old wizard said, his smile returning as he turned it to the phoenix. "We haven't done the introductions properly! Let us try that again, shall we?" He cleared his throat, making a big show of it by raising a fist to cover his lips as he did so. "My name is Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." It - no, he - grinned, the smile slightly manic in nature.

'Hullo.' The phoenix said. 'I'm the Doctor.'

Aaaaaand that's it!

I hope you all liked it, because I just randomly got the idea today. The ending was probably predictable, but hey, I have it a shot. Sorry if the characters seem a bit OOC, but this is my first "Doctor Who" and Harry Potter fanfic(s), so you'll have to pardon me if they do.

ATTENTION: Please, if you like this, tell me. I'm CONSIDERING turning this into a FULL ON STORY, but I won't unless enough people tell me to. The full version will go into more depth - how the Doctor came to be a phoenix, what he does in Hogwarts (wouldn't that be interesting?), how he helps the others, why he became a phoenix, and how he goes back to being the lovable ol' humanoid Time Lord we all know and love. I might even include Eleven and Nine(in human form, of course…maybe.) if I feel like it, or if people wanna see them for a chapter or so. That'd be funny. (Amy: "Doctor…you were a bird." Eleven: "Shut up. Birds are cool.") (Rose: "Doctor, you're gonna grow feathers?" Nine: "Oh kill me now…")



Main Idea of this one-shot: Phoenixes. Rebirth. Time Lords. Regeneration. 'Nuff said.

~ Kitsune-242

(Reviews are appreciated, but are not required.)

(ANOTHER P.S. - I'll probably have a poll up for if you guys liked this enough to continue. If not, please tell me in a PM or a review. TELL ME even if you THINK THIS SHOULD STAY A ONE-SHOT. Thanks.)

(For people from the U.K. region: Sorry if everything sounds American-fied. I'm from America, and as we are stereo-typically ignorant, everything I write in a "British/English way" seems to come off as...well...Amercanish.)