Harry Potter and the Gaia Spring

     The Burrow, devoid of Weasleys, was much like an amusement park with all the rides shut down. Or at least, Harry assumed it was. He had never actually been to an amusement park with the rides up and running, more or less with them shut down, so he wasn't entirely sure. The house was full of signs of the excitement that normally filled the small, but warm house. Mrs. Weasley's knitting supplies, along with a half finished jumper, lay draped over the back of one chair, and a bag of the twins' joke candy lay in a corner by the window. Upstairs, each bedroom held its occupant's particular brand of clutter, from Ron's quidditch paraphernalia to Ginny's music boxes and wizarding band posters. And of course, the garage was covered in muggle artifacts, including what appeared to be a car that Mr. Weasley was trying to build from scratch.

     But like the amusement park, it lacked the activity and friendly auras of the Weasleys themselves. Without Ginny's laughing, Ron's babbling, Mr. Weasley's enthusiasm, Mrs. Weasley's stern but caring orders, and random explosions from the twins' room, the air seemed unnaturally quiet.

     Nervously, Harry, Hermione, and Summer went about settling in, feeling as intrusive as grave robbers. Harry's first order of business was to find some food, while Hermione set about the task of trying to braid Summer's massive hair. Crookshanks followed Harry in hopes of being fed too.

     Food was scarce, as Mrs. Weasley had cleared out anything perishable and the non-perishable foods were in cans that Harry had no idea how to open. Digging in the pantry he found a blank box, which upon investigation, proved to hold cereal. There was very little left, so he poured it in a bowl and left it for Crookshanks, who sniffed it once and then started eating lazily. Harry fished out a couple remaining pieces, popped them into his mouth, and then went back to searching. Eventually he found a large metal box buried deep in the back of the cupboard. It was marked with an R and locked with a simple padlock. Remembering Fred's brief lessons in lock picking, he went back to the den.

     "Do you have an extra hair pin?" Harry asked, still eyeing the box.

     "This is impossible!" Hermione moaned, as she handed him a wire pin. Summer sat patiently, her hair in a tangled, loose braid.

     "You could just cut it," Harry suggested as he slid the pin into the lock. The deadly quiet made him look up to see Hermione glaring at him. "Or not," he added sheepishly, as he put hair onto the list of things never to talk to women about.

     "I'm going to have to put it into a ponytail for now, okay, Summer?" Hermione sighed as she combed the knots out of her hair.

     "It's okay," Summer said comfortingly. "Daddy had a hard time too after Mom died."

     "What did you need the hair pin for?" Hermione asked Harry.

     "Oh, I'm trying to get this lock-there!" With a click, the padlock fell off. It hit the hardwood floor with a quiet thud.

     "Harry!" Hermione hissed. "You can't go breaking into the Weasleys stuff! It's bad enough that we broke into their house."

     "It's an emergency, I'm sure Mr. and Mrs. Weasley will understand. Besides, this is Ron's box. I found it in the cupboard."

     "Really? What's in it?" Hermione asked, all trepidation about the act gone.

     Harry opened the box. Inside was an assortment of papers, some sugar quills, half a chocolate frog and a box of cereal called "Salvo's Rocket Rice Puffs." The box was mostly full, so Harry took it out and got some bowls. Unfortunately, there was no milk so they had to eat it dry, but after such an exciting night, they were happy to have any food.

     Suddenly, Hermione gasped, and Harry spun around to see what she was staring at. Then he realized she was staring at him. "What is it?"

     "Harry... your hair!" Hermione fished out a mirror and held it up to Harry. A lock of his hair had turned a dark blue.

     "How did- Fred and George!" Harry said, drawing the obvious conclusion. "I tried some unmarked cereal. It must have been one of their pranks."

     "Why would you eat anything unmarked in this house?" Hermione laughed.

     "Well, Crookshanks seemed alright."

     "Crookshanks?" Hermione called out turning to peer behind Harry. Suddenly she screamed, "HARRY JAMES POTTER! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY CAT!"

     Crookshanks, now a violent shade of purple with yellow spots, mewed curiously, wondering what the commotion was about.

     After much apologizing, yelling, and hissing from Crookshanks, Harry managed to steer the conversation onto the safer topic of last night's dream.

     "He was very upset to learn that Tanya had lost this," Harry explained, placing the vial of red liquid on the table. "Really upset. Mad enough to cast the Cruciatus curse on Vargos for not telling him. But he was even more upset when he realized that he had accidentally told me."

     "But what is it?" Hermione asked, picking up the vial. The liquid was thick and sluggish, as Hermione flipped it one way then the other. "I've never seen a potion like this. It looks like... like-"

     "-like blood," Harry finished, taking it back, "and she only needed to use one drop too. Even powerful potions like veritaserum require three or four."

     "I'm impressed, Harry," Hermione smiled. "You actually paid attention in class, Snape's no less. You saw her use it then?"

     Harry nodded. "Yeah, a single drop to the forehead."

     "Odd. What did it do?"

     Harry thought back. "I'm not entirely sure. She was pretty airy before she used it, but afterwards she was almost completely out of it. Francis was worried she was becoming addicted."

     "Then what?" Hermione pressed Harry, but he was having problems remembering.

     "Uh, she got scared. She said something about Francis being dead, then told him to finish off Smirl. That's when Smirl became a snake and bit him." Harry intentionally left out the part about him performing an unforgivable curse at the critical moment. He doubted Hermione would approve.

     "But what does it do?" Hermione asked, frustration tinting her voice.

     "I don't know. We'll have to wait and give it to Professor Dumbledore or Lupin when we get a chance. Until then we need to hide this..." Harry looked around for a good hiding place. He looked around and finally his eyes landed on the Weasleys' family clock. "Perfect." He stepped over to the clock and opened it up. Carefully, he cast a sticking charm on the vial and stuck it to the back of the pendulum.

     "Clever," Hermione said with a smile.

     "How does it work?" Summer asked, looking at the clock.

     "Each hand represents one of the Weasleys. And they point to wherever they are or whatever they're doing." Harry stepped back and looked at the face of the clock. Mr. Weasley's hand was pointing to "At Work," leaving Harry to conclude that Order business counted as part of his job. Ron and Charlie were "Visiting Relatives" which must mean Bill who was "At Work" as well. Fred and George were "Home" which was obviously referring to their apartment in Diagon Alley, as they were not in the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley's and Ginny's hands were both pointing to "Looking for Something Lost." There was one more hand, its picture empty, pointing directly and unwaveringly at "Away."

     Harry watched Fred and George's hands move lazily to "At Work" when Hermione cleared her throat.

     "Well, now that that's out of the way, we really ought to get to work."

     "Work?"

     "Ron and the others won't be back for two weeks. I, for one, intend to earn my keep until then."

     And so, Harry found himself dutifully dusting furniture, while Hermione washed the windows and Summer swept the floors. In truth, he didn't mind, as the task, as menial as it was, helped keep his mind off of more troublesome thoughts. Like what would happen when he slept again.

     "Hermione?" Harry called as he came thundering down the stairs. He had spent most of the day cleaning and felt much better for it. The events of last night now seemed too distant to worry about. "Is there any more of this 'Sandi's Surface Solvent' stuff? I'm still..." Harry trailed off. Hermione was standing in the middle of the room, notably distant from any windows. Furthermore, she was holding something behind her back and a flush had crept up her face.

     "Um, I think I saw some in the cupboard?" Hermione said with a plea in her voice, clearly asking Harry to overlook this scenario.

     "What have you got there?" Harry asked stepping closer.

     "Nothing!" Hermione said, a little too quickly, taking an involuntary step backwards, her face growing pinker.

     "Hermione..." Harry tried to corner her, but she kept the table between them, and the object squarely behind her back.

     "It's just some spare parchment I was picking up." Hermione grew even pinker. Harry darted to one side, and managed to glimpse the red leather of a book spine.

     "That excuse didn't work on Snape, and it won't work on me," Harry said taking out his wand.

     Hermione's face now rivaled Ron's in terms of pinkness. "Harry!" she said desperately. "We're not supposed to do-"

     "Accio book!" Hermione was spun around as the object in her hands sped towards Harry. Harry snatched the little red book out of the air and examined it. It had a gold "R" on the front and inside was...

     "This is Ron's diary!" Harry exclaimed in shock.

     "Please don't tell him," Hermione begged. Her face had far surpassed Ron's at his most embarrassed, and was now teaching his hair a thing or to about the color red.

     "You read Ron's diary?" Harry asked in disbelief.

     "No! Of course not! I just... um... sort of skimmed it and..."

     "You read Ron's diary!"

     "I just wanted to know how..."

     "Know how what?" Harry asked curiously, enjoying having the moral superiority over Hermione for a change.

     Hermione lowered her head, and her voice, as she went through the subtle shift from being embarrassed about being caught, to being embarrassed of the act itself. "I just wanted to know if- Harry, look!"

     "I'm not falling for that." But Harry doubted Hermione could fake the sudden pallor that washed all the red from her face. A dark, loud, menacing chime roared out behind him. Harry spun to face the clock. Ron's hand was pointing straight up towards where the twelve would have been on a normal clock, but where this clock read "Mortal Peril."

     Harry and Hermione both froze, staring intently at Ron's hand, willing it to move. Harry had no idea how much time passed as Ron's hand wavered on the point. Finally, Bill and Charlie's hands swung past Mortal Peril and they all slid rapidly back to "Visiting Relatives," except for Bill's which moved on to "At Home."

     Harry and Hermione sighed collectively and Hermione rest her head on his shoulder. Harry looked at the book and pocketed it.

     "He's okay, right?" Summer asked, causing Harry to jump. He hadn't heard her come down.

     "Looks like he's fine," Harry said sitting down before his legs gave out.

     "I wonder what happened? You don't think it was He-who- I mean Voldemort?"

     "I don't think they'd have gotten out of it that easily if it was. Look, we can't figure out what it was right now, so let's not worry about it. We'll find out when they get back in two weeks."

     "Alright," Hermione said, still chewing her lip. "I'll go work on dinner."

     Dinner turned out to be salad that Hermione got from Mrs. Weasley's overrun garden.

     "Tomorrow we'll have to take out those garden gnomes. They're all over the place. I'm looking forward to a good night's sleep first though..." Hermione trailed off. Nobody had talked about the danger of Harry going to sleep, but it was unavoidable. Harry decided he would try running on coffee, but Hermione stressed that not only was it dangerous to go without sleep, but that it would be impossible to run solely on coffee for two entire weeks.

     Finally, they came up with a solution. Hermione would watch over Harry while he slept and wake him if he looked like Voldemort was attacking. With that agreed on, Hermione went upstairs to catch a quick nap, so that she wouldn't fall asleep. Harry meanwhile, started doing his Occlumency lessons, trying to clear his mind. He was vaguely aware of Summer watching him, but pushed that from his mind along with the rest of his thoughts and emotions.

     He woke up to Hermione shaking him. He had vague memories of the chamber and the darkness, but very little.

     His hand scrapped the table as he reached for the cereal, and he realized he still had the bracer on. Despite its weight, he found it was easy to forget about. He yawned, and then fumbled at the straps, but the clasps would not open, no matter how hard he tried. The note had mentioned that he might not be able to put it on, but it never said anything about not being able to take it off.

     "Ready to get to work?" Hermione asked, and Harry pulled his shirt back over the bracer. He wasn't in the mood for Hermione to lecture him about putting on possibly cursed items.

     The next two days passed rather uneventfully, which was a good thing as the gnomes had run rampant. In fact, it appeared as if they had declared civil war on each other. As far as Harry could tell, the gnomes were split into two groups: those who looked to Crookshanks as a God, and those who looked to Crookshanks as a cat. The former was the larger group, and thus had the upper hand, until now. The return of Crookshanks, now purple with yellow stars (the spots had grown overnight), had shattered the once united zealots into three new factions: the ones that believed that this was Crookshanks returned, the ones who thought that it was another god, separate but equal to Crookshanks, and the ones who thought that this was not Crookshanks, but a demon who was trying - and failing - to assume Crookshanks visage to lure them into darkness. The three religious factions, despite sharing the same root, fought all the more violently with each other. The outright warring had caused massive damage to the gardens, but at least it made them easier to catch, and they had the whole garden relatively gnome-free by the end of the third day.

     It was on the fourth day, however, that Harry met with two rather shocking events.

     The first happened while Harry was outside hunting pawns. He and Hermione had earlier attempted to play a game of wizard's chess with Ron's chess set, but without any Weasleys present, the pieces had assumed the worst and scattered, forming pocket resistance forces around the house.

     Harry found three of the pawns, and one of the black knights, trying to hammer out a treaty with the Great Gazagle of the Church of the True Orange Hunter. He pocketed the pieces and flung the reassembling clergy back over the fence.

     Summer's laugh caught his attention. She was watching from the porch, jump rope in hand. Harry noted that she was acted quite young for her age, much younger than he could ever remember being, and that Hermione had been much more insistent that Harry earn his keep than she was of Summer. Since the chess pieces were a bit more dangerous than the gnomes, and since she hadn't been involved in their release, she was allowed to goof off. She waved at Harry, who waved back, and then she went back to jumping. Harry went back to hunting, until he heard her jump rope rhyme.

     "Emerald green letters on an old yellow note,

     Says come to Hogwarts, 'cuz that's what he wrote."

     Harry paused, letting a white pawn escape. Did she mention Hogwarts? But she had just learned about Hogwarts a few days ago. Could she have made a new jump rope rhyme in that time? He turned and listened as she continued.

     "Poor little child, he got a big scar,

     Got it from a wizard, but they said it was a car.

     It's sad his mom and dad had to give,

     Their lives so he could be the Boy Who Lived."

     Harry froze, the pawn completely forgotten. How could she know? He had never mentioned it in front of her. And nobody knew about his uncle claiming that he got his scar from a car crash except Hagrid.

     "Summer?" Harry called out. "Where did you learn that jump rope rhyme?"

     Summer stopped jumping, the rope clattering to the ground. She looked at Harry with piercing blue eyes. "Mother taught it to me, shortly before she died. She said it was very important that I remember it, but never to tell Dad. She said that I would know when to sing it."

     "Is there any more?" Harry asked, a lump forming in his throat.

     "There's a lot more, but I'm not supposed to sing it yet," Summer said darkly.

     "When will you sing it?"

     "When I find the right people," she said matter-of-factly. "But I can sing my verse!" She brightened up and started singing, bouncing on the balls of her feet to the beat:

     "Sweet little girl, you never quite fit,

     Your daddy didn't know it but your mommy was a witch.

     She had to leave; it's sad but true,

     To guard the secrets from You-Know-Who."

     Harry couldn't believe his ears. Here he was, stranded without outside information, and suddenly he was confronted with a secret in the most unexpected of places. A secret that was perhaps, unknown to anybody. Whatever it was, it had to have some importance for Summer's mother to have hidden it in Summer's jump rope rhyme.

     "Can you sing the rest of the song for me?" Harry asked enthusiastically.

     Summer shook her head.

     "Why not?"

     "It isn't time."

     "What's all the noise about?" Hermione asked as she stepped outside, a rook and a bishop struggling in each hand.

     "Summer's mother was a witch, and some kind of Auror or something," Harry said energetically. "She left some kind of message with Summer as a jump rope rhyme. A secret she was guarding from Voldemort."

     "Really?" Hermione looked eagerly at Summer, like she was a puzzle waiting to be solved. "What did it say?"

     "I don't know. I've only heard two verses. The first one was about me, and I think it was mostly just to get my attention. The second verse was about Summer and her mother, and seemed to be more an explanation than anything else. Summer says she won't sing anymore until it is time."

     "How do we know when it's time?" Hermione asked, not giving up.

     "When something reminds me of the right time," Summer said softly. "The people in the rhyme."

     Hermione looked disappointed so Harry added, "The song mentions Hogwarts, so maybe the other students are in the song."

     "Well, I'm a student," Hermione said impatiently, not liking having another mystery unsolved right in front of her. "Do you have any rhymes about me?"

     Summer studied Hermione for a long moment her sharp blue eyes taking in every detail. Her eyes went wide and she shook her head violently. Hermione was about to press the point when Harry held up his hand for silence. The radio had been playing the Weird Sisters but they had been cut off mid-song. Harry, Hermione, and Summer all listened as the announcer tried to make his voice heard over the three furious witches.

     "We interrupt these... very lovely musicians with an important news bulletin," the reporter said nervously. "The Ministry has rescinded its proximity warnings on Little Whinging. We now go live to the scene with Rita Skeeter."

     "Thank you, Tom," the acidic voice of Rita said, loaded with energy. "Yes this is my first radio broadcast. But don't worry loyal readers. I'm not abandoning the Daily Prophet. I have dedicated my life to delivering the truth, no matter how controversial, no matter how dangerous, no matter how upsetting it may be, wherever and whenever possible. And in this case, wherever happens to be the shattered remains of Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, where a devastating attack happened not four days ago. Over one hundred muggles have had their memories modified, and two dozen are dead, making this the most vicious and deadly attack in the past twenty-"

     "No, it isn't, ma'am," said a stern voice.

     "Who do you think - Oh, it's Corporal Jordan T. Bookit, Undersecretary of the Ministry's Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Rita's voice went from hate-filled to delighted the instant she recognized the man. "Are you suffering from any resistance from the Department of Muggle Control?"

     "No Ma'am, we often work together, so things run pretty smoothly between us," Corporal Bookit said stiffly. He reminded Harry very much of Percy.

     "Oh," Rita said, barely hiding the disappointment in her voice.

     "Furthermore, your earlier statistics were incorrect. Only three muggles died in the assault: two muggle law enforcers, also known as bobbies, and a man they were escorting. As far as we can tell, a wizard tricked them out of a car outside Number 16 Scullery Drive. As for the muggle memory modification, that is more or less true. The exact number is one hundred and fifteen, making this the messiest attack, but by no means the most deadly. Now if you'll follow me, I'll escort you to a secure location, so we may talk without risking upping the number of muggles."

     "It must have been Tanya venting," Harry said, but Hermione wasn't listening. She was kneeling and talking to Summer who was shaking.

     "It wasn't your father, Summer. He must have been out of there long before that happened," Hermione said, but her voice wavered.

     "Alright, we're secure now," Corporal Bookit said briskly. "Now, if there are any questions I can answer, please make it quick. I have a lot of work to do, and I don't have time to baby-sit reporters."

     "Oh, this will be quick," Rita said sharply. "Now, Jordan, I can call you Jordan correct? Why did the Death Eaters attack?"

     "Corporal Bookit, will suffice. We are currently unaware as to why this attack occurred, or even if it WAS Death Eaters, although they remain our most likely culprits. Most of our work so far has been to fortify this area, making sure it was safe to work in. Reporters weren't in mind when they flashed the all-clear for Little Whinging." It was very clear by Corporal Bookit's voice that he did not approve of Rita's presence. "The target appeared to be something, or someone in this house, a wizard's house, if we are correct, although unregistered. The attackers moved in groups of two, and set up a stati-ward, the most powerful one I've seen recorded. It not only prevented apparation to the point of stopping House Elves, but it also made creating portkey's impossible. We had to make them outside the field and bring them in until we got it down. They chased their target down towards Number 16 Scullery at which point we lost all signs of both the lone chaser and their victim. We did find a lone wizard, one Francis Bonaparte, killed by a snake bite wound. Whoever his partner was, killed the police officers and fled on foot."

     "So it was done by Death Eaters," Rita said triumphantly.

     "As I said, most likely. We do know that Francis was wanted for various... unsavory acts, and was suspected of being a Death Eater, but we have no confirmed evidence that he was indeed in league with Voldemort."

     Rita let out a gasp at the mention of Voldemort's name. She didn't let her shock get in the way of trying to butter him up though. "Very few are willing to say You-Know-Who's name. You must be very brave."

     "No ma'am, I simply say his name because that's what he is called. If I knew his real name, I'd call him that. All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense just makes for messy book-keeping. Now if you'll excuse me, Miss Skeeter. You're time is up. I will have a deputy escort you to your car, broom, or other means of tranportation."

     "One more question, Jordan. Is there any evidence that the target was not Harry Potter?"

     There was a moment of silence, before Corporal Bookit responded. "Technically, there is no evidence that it was not Harry Potter, but the odds of it being-"

     "This has been Rita Skeeter reporting. Let us all take a moment of silence to honor the memory of the beloved Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived."

     "Now, just a moment, I never said-" But Corporal Bookit was cut off as the radio switched back over to the station to a very startled announcer.

     "And now... um... back to... the Weird Sisters..."

     The days passed quietly, but with a dark mood. Bolstered by the lack of contradictions to her claim, and Harry's absence from the wizarding world, Rita Skeeter launched into a series of reports and interviews entitled "The Death of a Legend: The Story of Harry Potter." Of course, Rita made no mention of any faults of Harry, except to point out that he faced the adversity of being doubted by the world. She painted Harry to be a flawless man, loved by all. This did little to improve Harry's mood. It was all over the radio and, judging by the occasional newspaper Hedwig managed to turn up, all over the front page of the Prophet every day. Rita had even gone to the lengths of ambushing Harry's friends with live interviews. The first target was Parvati, who, not having heard the "news" before, burst into tears. Sure enough, the next Prophet Hedwig found had labeled Parvati "Harry's Grieving Lover." But after Hagrid and Neville's Gran both threatened her off their property and Oliver Wood unleashed a bludger on her, all on live radio, she left Harry's real friends to the Quick Quote's Quill and saved her live interviews for glory seekers pretending to know Harry.

     The rumors quickly became accepted fact and soon the radio was abuzz with arguments of where Harry's tomb should be and if and where a monument should be built. It was during one of these arguments that Harry slammed the radio off and kept it off, although he was pretty sure Hermione listened to it when he was asleep or outside.

     The only comforting thing was his continued triumph over Voldemort's legillemency. Whether it was due to his occlumency defenses or because Voldemort was growing tired from continually attacking, Harry didn't know. But the attacks grew weaker and weaker until, on the sixth day, they stopped completely. Harry's first full night of sleep was very much welcome, but he wasn't foolish enough to let his guard down.

     Slightly less comforting was his lack of other dreams. Despite being put off by his inability to give coherent answers, Harry wished he could pry another clue or two from the gray-haired knight, and learn more about the mysterious hallway.

     The days passed in a blur of alternating activity and rest, and despite himself, Harry started to relax. There was a magic in the Burrow, a coziness that lingered even with the occupants gone. Harry found himself unable to resist the feeling of hominess that permeated the air.

     Hermione was never one to waste time and so she spent her free time knitting elf clothes, by hand of course, but Harry noticed that she was almost constantly glancing up at the clock. Whether she was hoping for signs of any of the Weasleys returning, or if she was just making sure Ron's hand stayed clear of "Mortal Peril" Harry couldn't say. But regardless, the hands stayed where they were, save for Fred, George, and Bill, who would occasionally switch from "Work" to "Home" or back again.

     Harry, on the other hand, was having a harder time keeping busy. All his usual past-times were out. He couldn't go for a walk, or ride a broom, even if he had one, on the off-chance that some one might spot him. Ron wasn't there to talk to, and although Hermione was, Harry didn't feel much like talking lately anyway. His gobstones were lost at Privet Drive, along with his Wizarding Card collection. He couldn't even study.

     He was able to pass some time answering Summer's questions about Hogwarts and teaching her how to play Exploding Snap with a deck he found in Ron's room. But the naturally quiet girl asked very few questions. Furthermore, she was too passive to be a challenge at Exploding Snap. So Harry spent most of his free time pacing and going over what he would do for lessons, should the need for the D.A. return.

     Harry knew that he should be happy that Dumbledore had regained control of the school - and, in truth, he was - but part of him wished that the Ministry still opposed the idea that Voldemort had returned. He remembered the fun of teaching his classmates and the thrill of leading them in secret revolt against Umbridge's horrid regime. Even if it did lead to...

     Harry shook the thoughts from his head and returned to the Exploding Snap castle he was building. He had already finished the Keep and was working on the outer walls. He was balancing two cards to make the top of a tower when a shriek from the kitchen caused him to topple the whole thing. Wiping the soot from his eyes, Harry got up to find out what happened.

     The kitchen was a mess. A gooey yellow substance covered the walls, the counters, and the front half of Hermione. Hermione stared blankly at Harry for a moment before managing a weak grin.

     "I was trying to bake a cake." She gestured at the mess. "For your birthday tomorrow."

     Harry blinked. He had completely lost track of the days. But if tomorrow was his birthday, then the Weasleys would return in two more days. Then maybe he could start sorting out his life and get himself declared not dead.

     "I think I used too much magic yeast," Hermione went on, snapping Harry back to reality, "but I'm not sure. I thought it would be easy like potions, but there aren't all the signs telling you if you're doing something right or not."

     Harry debated if he should comfort her for trying, or chastise her for calling potions easy. But before he could do either a wave of fear washed over him. He started to focus, trying to banish the foreign emotions with occlumency, but then he recognized the source as...

     "Summer!" he cried as he raced out of the kitchen, Hermione right behind him.

     They found Summer in the front yard. She was barefooted and sweating, and there were grass stains on the hem of her borrowed robe. Fireflies of every color filled the air. Whatever she had been doing, she wasn't anymore. Now she was standing motionlessly, staring at a spot in the nearby forest. Harry followed her gaze, but saw nothing except two silver fireflies. At least, he thought they were fireflies, until he realized that they weren't moving. They were eyes.

     The creature moved forward, the shadows around it so dark, that it might as well been nothing but eyes, floating in the darkness.

     "Hermione. Get Summer inside," Harry ordered, as he slowly moved forward, placing himself between the girls and whatever it was in the forest. As he did, the gibbous moon appexed the Burrow, flooding the ground with silver light, causing the fireflies to flee. The creature's eyes glowed all the brighter for it, but its body remained as black as pitch, as if the moonlight itself couldn't touch it. The light did highlight its shape, however, and as it approached, Harry saw that it was a giant cat. As sleek and muscular as a cougar or panther, but larger still, about the size of a fully grown lion. As it moved, moonlight danced like fire across a copper object on the upper portion of the monstrous cat's right foreleg. It was cylindrical: two metal rings around its leg, and connected by twisting, crisscrossed, barbed metal wires. Harry could feel an evil emanating, but whether it was from the creature or the object, he couldn't say.

     In the corner of his eye, Harry could see Hermione coaxing and pulling the terrified Summer towards the house. The cat saw too, and bared its glistening white fangs. Harry reached for his wand, moving as slowly as possible. But as slow as his movements were, the creature saw it, and before he could reach his sleeve, the creature charged.

     His fingers touched the tip of his wand before he was tackled, the beast's sharp claws digging deep into his chest. Desperately, Harry tried to push back the creature, while still trying to pull his wand out of his sleeve. He managed to shove it back a bit with his left hand, but, again, before he could reach his wand, the black creature moved to stop him, this time clamping its razor sharp teeth down on Harry's arm with a loud crack. Fire lanced down Harry's arm as he let out a blood curdling scream.

     *Give in,* the dry voice said mournfully. *Why do you let yourself suffer, when it can all be over?* But this time, Harry didn't listen. Indeed, he could barely hear it over the pain. His brain had completely given over to survival instinct and that told him to kill that which was hurting him.

     With that thought solely filling Harry's mind, he lashed out with his remaining arm, catching it in the side of the head. There was a bright flash of light, and the creature was sent flying. The pain became even worse as the beast's teeth and claws ripped off even more of his flesh as it was flung from him. It took all of Harry's will not to pass out.

     Nearly blinded by pain and tears, Harry groped around for his wand. Seizing his precious weapon, he lurched to his feet, holding it out menacingly. He hoped that the creature would recognize what it meant. He hoped that it wouldn't decide to risk attacking an armed wizard. And he hoped that it didn't notice that the wand was cracked down the middle.

     Fortunately for Harry, his luck turned, and the creature acknowledged the wand as a threat. It let out a deep, menacing roar, and then limped into the woods.

     His adrenaline fading, Harry fell into a fiery nightmare. He was briefly aware of Voldemort trying to enter, but failing to withstand the chaotic fire. Mostly, he saw the white beetle watching him hungrily. He also heard the dry voice.

     *Why do you linger in this world Harry?* it said concernedly. *You are delaying your destiny and your happiness, and every time you do so, you suffer needless pain. When a limb is too severely damaged, it must be cut off so the rest of the body can survive. Thus, you must cut yourself free from your corporeal body, so you can be free to join those you love.*

     Harry awoke feverishly the next day. The smell of blood assaulted his nose. He was dimly aware, by the volume of the ghoul's clanking, that he was in Ron's room. Hermione must have carried or dragged him as high as she could go. His arm and chest were in agony, as if on fire, and his vision was blurred.

     "Hermione?" he croaked.

     "Shhh," Hermione whispered, stepping up beside him. He could vaguely make out Summer standing guard at the door. "You must be quiet."

     Harry was about to ask why, when he heard a creak from lower in the house, followed by a slamming door.

     "We're not alone, Harry. Somebody else is in the house!"