HARRY POTTER AND THE PROPHECY TRUE

Chapter two

Dawn was fresh and new, the air crisp and clean as Harry flew his Firebolt high above the clouds. His invisibility cloak was securely tucked around him and his pack, his heavy cloak protecting him from the threat of rain as he continued on his path east. He remembered what Sharane had told him. The witch Gilda would ask him a question, the first of three tasks that would lead him to the Green Flame Torch. He thought again about what she had asked him. "When a man seeks his path upon four legs, how will he come?"

"It could mean anything," Harry told himself. He could arrive on a horse, but then that wouldn't be four legs, with his two it would be six. He could arrive on a hippogriff, but then again it had back legs like a horse and front legs like an eagle, so technically the man would still have six legs, including his own. Harry was growing frustrated and hungrier the farther he flew. He had been on his broomstick for the past three hours, flying east to where the sun is cast out and the moon shines bright for a year's half. To the best of his knowledge this meant Alaska, but what part? It was a very large country and a very cold, frozen country, neither of which Harry was all that anxious to be a part of.

The sun began to appear lower in the sky, casting the land below him in dim shadows, indicating the growing time of day - at least in this part of the world. He estimated that he had crossed at least four time zones by now and still he had yet to find an area where the moon shone for half a year. The growling of his stomach made him realize he had not eaten since dinner the night before, that was over twelve hours ago, by London time. He dipped his Firebolt down, searching for an area to stop and camp. He had to find somewhere quiet and secluded, away from prying eyes. He flew above the many snow-covered mountaintops, until he found one with no tracks in the snow, not animal or human. There was a small village about five kilometers away, but it was far enough to prove little interruption or danger. The snow was thick, but with a wave of his wand, Harry was able to clear an area large enough for him to stop.

He pulled the pack from his broom and began unrolling it. He had ordered a tent from Travelers Magical Tents in early June, which he now pulled from the roll and began setting it up. It was a very small canvas tent, nothing unusual or out of the ordinary - on the outside anyway. Inside however was a different story. There were two small rooms, a sitting room complete with a fireplace which Harry quickly built a comfortable fire in, a sofa which converted to a bed at the wave of a hand and large arm chair, coffee table and bookshelf with all the books he had packed that may help him discover the answers to the three tasks. Along the far end of the room was the kitchen area with its small stove, sink with running water - thanks to the tapping into the snow outside - and an icebox, complete with a variety of foods and drinks - all of course Harry had chosen which meant there was very little nutritional value to them. There were a number of frozen dinners, but mostly it was sweets, cakes, cookies, ice cream, puddings, crisps and soda.

There was a small closed door next to the sink, which hid the wash closet with a commode, sink and one-person shower. Clean towels lined the racks between the sink and shower and on the floor was a room blue fur rug. Harry smiled at the interior. It was such a simple looking exterior, that any Muggle seeing it would think it nothing more or less than a basic one-man tent. Nobody would consider there was a one room flat inside.

Harry sat his Firebolt in the corner near the entrance, which on the inside was a paneled door, holding out the cold, then removed his heavy cloak and tossed it on the back of the chair. He went to the kitchen, pulled out the bread, cheese and butter and quickly heated a frying pan on the stove. He actually found himself thankful for all the years he was forced to cook for the Dursleys. At least he wouldn't starve.

With three grilled cheese sandwiches, a box of crisps and a can of soda, Harry sat on the sofa and began reading through "Magical Mysteries of the Centuries". He knew there was an answer somewhere in all these books, there had to be. After all, Hermione always found her answers in books and he had a number of strange, old books of every design. Surely he could find a hint at least to what he was searching for and he spent the next several hours looking.

The clock on the mantle of the fireplace chimed seven and Harry wondered if it was seven in the morning or seven at night. He sat the book aside and gathered up his cloak, stepping out the door and into the cold darkness beyond. Looking into the sky, he saw the millions of stars in the skies, twinkling brilliantly. He smiled at the moon, remembering the promise he'd made Ginny. He would make a point of looking at the moon at midnight, regardless of what part of the world or what time zone he happened to be in. He knew it was silly, but he also knew it would make him feel closer to the girl he loved.

Harry pulled his cloak around his shoulders a little tighter. The wind had picked up and the snow packed mountain blew its white cover through the waves of the breeze. He had never imagined a place that could be so cold, especially in July. The crackle of the snow sounded through the stillness, the only sound to be heard. Harry turned to return to the tent when a shadow formed behind the mounds of snow piled up from where he had cleared a spot to camp. His heart too a quick leap, his hand automatically reaching for his wand. He watched with squinted eyes as the shadow moved closer, slowly approaching. He couldn't determine if it was human or animal, but the sensation of caution echoed in his soul as he slowly found protection by the edge of his tent. It wasn't much of a hiding place, but it would do if necessary.

"Oi there," came an elderly cackle. Harry's frown deepened. "You, boy, who are you?" Harry straightened, but refused to surrender his hiding spot.

"My name is Harry," he answered in a strong voice. "Who are you?"

"Doesn't matter much as I see it," the old woman said as she stopped about ten yards away. Harry saw her hunched frame, her dark brown garments. She appeared to have gray - white hair and small dark eyes. Her hand was wrapped around a crooked stick and she carried a bow and quiver of arrows across her hump.

"Why's that?" Harry asked after his quick inspection of her.

"A name doesn't mean much, if you're faced with death."

"Depends on who's the one facing it and who's the one doing the facing." The old woman cackled in a raspy laugh.

"Don't need to worry about me none," she exclaimed. "I'm here out of curiosity, that's all. An old woman's mind has a tendency to play tricks. I wasn't sure if I had seen this bare spot or not. How'd you do it? It wasn't here yesterday."

"I...I didn't do it," Harry lied, feeling like he'd been caught by Uncle Vernon, sneaking food from the icebox. "I just found it and took advantage."

"How did you get here? There's no tracks leading up here and I don't see any yak that would have brought you."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said, his hand holding tightly to his wand. He would hate to use an obliteration spell on the old woman, just to prevent her from telling the villagers he was there. By morning he'd be gone and the mountaintop repaired to reveal no sign of his visit.

"No, don't suppose it does," the old woman said with a weary smile. "Well, no point in standing around here. It's going to be colder tonight than last night. The sun has set and won't rise for another six months. Doesn't look like that little thing holds much as far as supplies," she said pointing to the tent. "Why don't you come with me? I don't have much either, but I have this," she held up the dead carcass of a fat white rabbit. "You can join me for supper. I haven't had company for sometime. I don't get to the village very often."

"Where do you live?" Harry asked, looking around the dark deserted snowy hills.

"Not far," the old woman answered, turning to walk away.

"Wait," Harry said, stopping the woman from leaving. He wasn't sure if he should go or stay, he was too tired to form more than a few thoughts together.

"What for? It's growing darker the longer we stay here." Harry looked at his tent, then turned and nodded. As the woman turned back to leave, Harry rose his wand, placing a protection spell on his tent. At least nobody from the village would be able to get in while he was gone.

"I'm sorry, but did you say the sun set and won't rise for six months?" Harry asked as he followed beside the woman.

"Yes. It will be a bit lighter during the day hours, but it won't be like it is in London. That is where you're from, isn't it?" Harry frowned again, wondering briefly if he was ever going to have a straight face again.

"How did you know where I'm from?" The old woman cackled in an aged, dry tone.

"You have an accent," she said, seeing the surprised look on Harry's face. "Don't take me wrong, it's not a bad accent, but it is a strong one."

"I wasn't aware I had an accent." The old woman cackled again.

"You never think of yourself as different, until you meet those not like yourself. That's why I came here. I didn't particularly care for people staring at me."

"Why would anyone stare?"

"Never mind," the woman said in a distant tone. Harry walked silently beside the woman; the only sound was her raspy breath and the crunch of their feet in the snow. He was tired and certain they had been walking forever, when he finally saw the glimmer of a light in the midst of a small patch of trees. They walked toward it silently. Harry watched the light grow larger, until he recognized the glow of a lantern in the window. The dark outline of a wooden cabin began to emerge in the darkness of night and as Harry walked toward it, he had a strange sensation of coming home.

"Here we are," the old woman said, pushing the door to the dark cabin open. Harry stepped in, looking around the warm interior.

Along the far end of the cabin stood a large stone fireplace, the ember remains of a fire burned dimly. Four large armchairs lined the space before the fireplace; a thick fur rug covered the floor. There was an old wooden table with four crooked chairs sitting around it. A rusty sink sat on four metal legs in the corner of the kitchen, next to a little oven and stove not much bigger than those Harry had seen Uncle Vernon pack when he went camping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley - he of course had to stay behind with Mrs. Figg. In the corner of the larger room was a small bed, which looked as if it had been stuffed with dry grass or hay. Laying on it was an animal that looked very much like a... "Wolf," Harry said in alarm, his tone soft but his heart pounding.

"Oh, don't worry none about her," the woman said. "That's just old Nugget. Saved her from a hunter's trap when she was just a pup, her leg was broken and she was near starved to death. Her mom was killed for her pelt and that left the cub alone to fend for herself. She was barely a few weeks old. I brought her back here and mended her back to health and she's been with me since. Not much of a wild animal, never had a mom around to show her the finer points of hunting, so I couldn't let her go free. She'd have been killed or die of hunger. She's a good friend though."

"She's actually quite lovely," Harry said, stepping closer to the animal, his eyes remaining locked with hers. "Will she let me pet her?"

"Sure. Not much of a watch dog any more than she is a wolf. She's like a big baby." Harry reached out a hand to touch the wolf's nose when he sensed something...odd. He felt as if he were standing there staring up at himself. He could see his hand outstretched and felt a sudden sense of comfort and security and...the need to find a tree!

"I think she needs out," Harry said with a frown, blinking his eyes repeatedly. Did he just see himself through a wolf's eyes? How was that possible? He shook his head. He must be more tired than he thought.

"Not surprising. She's an old gal, doesn't have a very strong bladder you know. Happens when you get old." The woman stepped to the door and opened it as Nugget jumped of the bed and quickly ran out into the snow. Harry watched her leave, and then shook his head again, forcing his mind back where it belonged. The last thing he wanted to watch was a wolf peeing in the snow.

"I'll make some coffee if you'll stoke that fire," the woman said turning back to her task of gutting the rabbit lying out in the sink. Harry nodded and bent down to pile more wood on the fire. He turned around and glanced across his shoulder at the old woman. There was very little wood left in the house and if she wasn't able to get more soon, she'd freeze. Harry felt a sudden pang of remorse and slipped his wand from his pocket, pointing it to the fire. Instantly the flames jumped about two feet high, the heat warming the room in a matter of minutes. He knew the perfect spell to keep the fire going for several hours without having to replenish it, so he quietly used it on the remaining wood. At least it would keep her warm for the next six months, until the sum rose again and she was able to gather more wood.

"Nicely done," the woman said as she stepped to Harry's side and peered into the fire. "So Harry, what brings you to this part of the world? A little too far for a vacation, don't you think?"

"I'm looking for someone," Harry told her, accepting the chipped mug of hot, strong coffee.

"Shouldn't be that hard," the woman chuckled as she sat at the table. "You found me didn't you?" Harry smiled, joining the woman and sipping at the coffee. He had to force himself not to spit it out. The smell was one thing, like rotting old socks, but the taste was nearly unbearable. He sat the cup on the table, hoping to use a vanishing spell on it before she noticed he didn't like it and felt offended.

"So, who is this person you seek? An old friend? A girlfriend perhaps?" Harry felt himself blush.

"No ma'am," he answered politely. "I'm trying to find something very important and was told that I could get some help from an old woman."

"Truly?" the woman chuckled again, standing and walking to the door to let the wolf in. Harry kept his eyes diverted. He wasn't all that anxious to see himself through her eyes again. It was too weird the first time, though strangely enough, not at all frightening. It was an odd feeling that he had somehow been expecting such a thing to happen.

"I was told to seek her in the land where the moon shone for six months, so I can only assume she's somewhere in the village."

"Nice to know we old gals have something worth while to offer to you younger kids. So, do you know what this woman's name is? Maybe I know her." Harry glanced up at the woman as he considered her question. It was possible she did know the woman Sharane had told him about, it was after all, a very small area and he hadn't seen any other sign of life around the village. He opened his mouth to speak when the woman's appearance suddenly caught his attention. He hadn't really taken a good look at her before, it was too dark outside and she'd been busy since they arrived back here at her house. But now he was able to really see her.

What he had assumed to be gray hair was in fact more white with a strong hint of green. Her old clothes were made of dark brown furs and her face was pale and pasty looking. Around her head she wore an old black scarf, covering her forehead and eyebrows. She had it tied behind her head, the ties hanging down her hunched back, her teeth crooked and yellow, her nose rather a pointed beak appearing object in the center of her face, her eyes pitch black marbles in her face. Harry lost himself in his inspection of her; unaware of how long he had been staring or how rude he had been in doing so. He blushed when he saw her tilt her head, staring back at him.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, picking his cup up and again forcing the grimace to remain from his face.

"Not used to seeing an old hermit, eh?" she asked with a warm tone. "No problem. It's one of the reasons I live alone."

"I didn't mean to stare," Harry said with a blush. "Where I come from, you would fit in quite nicely. I guess I'm just tired."

"So you've had a long journey?" the old woman asked.

"Yes, very."

"Was I right? Do you come from London?"

"Surrey actually."

"Live there long, did you?"

"Since I was a year old."

"Where'd you live before that?" Harry frowned at the direction her questioning had taken.

"My parents lived in Wales when I was a baby."

"Just you and your parents then? No siblings?

"No."

"Where's your parents now? Still in Surrey?"

"They're dead. They were killed when I was a year old. I grew up with my aunt and uncle and their son."

"How did your parents die?" the woman asked over the rim of her mug, her eyes focusing on the dark liquid, but Harry had a distinct feeling she was still watching him somehow.

"Auto accident," he said relaying the story he had been told most of his life, when Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were hoping to squash all magic from his soul.

"Must have been very hard on you, not having them around. Is that how you got your scar, from the accident?" Harry frowned as she lowered her mug to the table. "I noticed it earlier." Harry looked down at his mug, unwilling to answer the woman.

"Didn't get alone well with your relatives, did you?" she asked after a short pause in the conversation.

"Why do you ask?"

"Something in your tone." Harry smiled a half grin as he thought about the reactions his family would have to his letter, not to mention the last night there when Vernon had made dinner and Petunia had passed out drunk in the fettuccini.

Harry was about to respond when Nugget jumped up on him, her front paws on his shoulders as she sniffed and licked his neck and face. Harry was taken completely by surprise, jumping and spilling the coffee cup across the tabletop.

"Nugget, get down," snapped the old woman. "Harry Potter does not want an old mutt like you slobbering all over him."

"No it's all right," Harry said, pushing the wolf off him and brushing the wet paw prints from his clothes. "No harm done. She actually reminds me a lot of Snuffles."

"Who?"

"A...pet I had once."

"Is he dead too?"

"Yes. About a year now." Harry's tone became distant as he remembered the last time his godfather had taken on the form of the large black dog, running beside the train as it sped away.

"Nugget's a good old thing, dumber than a doornail, but she doesn't really mean harm. She just thinks she's an overgrown puppy."

"It's all right, really." Harry sat back down cautiously; watching while the old woman wiped the spilled coffee and poured more, much to Harry's disappointment.

"I'll have supper ready in a jiffy," the woman said returning to the sink. The rabbit had been gutted and skinned and cut into smaller pieces, placed in a pot of boiling water along with a variety of mixed vegetables. He had never had rabbit stew and was far from anxious to experience it even now. He couldn't stop thinking about the can of spaghetti he had hiding back in his tent.

"It's an interesting place you have here," Harry told the old woman, standing and pacing around the room. Above the fireplace was an old, dusty picture of a forest scene, large trees, boulders and a mountain stream all beckoning for a visitor. On the wall above the bed was an even older looking picture of a young woman, her black eyes twinkling from the canvas, her green hair long and soft, her pasty complexion soft with a pink tint. Harry smiled, thinking how much this younger version of the woman was still hiding beneath the older version currently standing over the stove. He was about to turn around when something in the picture caught his attention. He stared at it for several moments, making certain that the smiling; waving picture was actually smiling and waving at him. He narrowed his eyes, turning to inspect the woman behind him, and then remembered something she had said a few moments ago. He found his hand wrapping around the hilt of his wand tightly, preparing for the woman's answer.

"How did you know my name was Harry Potter?"

"You told me when we met, don't you remember?" the woman said, turning her head to look across her shoulder at him. "I know this land affects people in strange ways, but for the most part it usually takes much longer before their memories start to go."

"I'm not losing my mind," Harry told her. "I just don't remember telling you my last name." The woman sat the spoon she had been using to stir the stew on the stove and turned to face Harry fully.

"Really? Well you must have, otherwise how would I have known it?"

"What did you say your name was?" Harry asked, his hand held tightly to the hilt of his wand.

"Doesn't matter much, don't you think? A name is just something used on a gravestone to identify who's under it." Harry's frown deepened, his hand twitching inside his pocket.

"Whose going to be under the next one I wonder?" he asked. The old woman drew a deep breath, then leaned her hands on the back of the chair she had been sitting a short time before. Harry felt a slight degree of comfort; at least he could see her hands in case she decided to reach for a wand or a weapon.

"Answer me something Harry," she began in a soft tone. "You've traveled a great distance, haven't you? I didn't see any tracks of animals or vehicles that could have brought you up this high. So if you were to arrive here on four legs, how would you have come?" Harry's eyes widened as he stared at the woman across the room from him.

"Gilda?" he asked, more to himself than to her.

"Not as dumb as that Voldemort character tends to believe, are you? Yes Harry, I'm Gilda. Sharane came to me and told of your quest to find the Green Flame Torch. I just wasn't expecting you to land on my front stoop though."

"Why didn't you tell me who you were, when we first met?"

"Take away the suspense of the moment, don't you think? Besides, I haven't had visitors in quite some time. Now sit, I'll make you some real food. I don't think you really want the rabbit, do you?"

"Not really," Harry answered with a smile, his hand relaxing on his wand.

"Good, because I don't care much for it either. I hate cooking too. How about a spaghetti dinner? That is what you have back in your tent isn't it?"

"How did you know that?"

"A little used talent. You're not the only one with powers, you know?" Gilda reached into her pocket, retrieving a wand of her own and waved it across the table. Harry watched as a large bowl of spaghetti appeared, another bowl of sauce and meatballs, a platter of garlic bread, baked potatoes with butter and sour cream, a tossed green salad and a lovely chocolate cake. Harry's stomach growled loudly as he looked at the feast, causing him to blush and Gilda to chuckle.

"Sit Harry. I'll give this to Nugget." The old woman removed the pot of rabbit stew from the old stove, which Harry now saw was only a counter, magically glowing with a flame in the center of it, which the pot had been sitting. She leaned over and placed it on the floor as the old wolf came bounding toward her, eagerly lapping at the contents.

"So is Nugget a real wolf, or an Animagus?" Harry asked thinking back on Sirius.

"No she's a real wolf. Worthless as that may be, the old mutt."

"How did you get involved with the three witches?" Harry asked as they dished up their plates and began eating greedily.

"Long story Harry. Started many long years ago, when I was still a child. I fell in love with a man and the day before we were to be wed, he was killed in by a group of Centaurs who didn't care much for him being near their forest."

"Were they the ones near Hogwart's?"

"No, but they may as well have been," she said sadly. "Most Centaurs are the same as another. They hate humans and wizards and don't give them a chance to explain. Joseph was trying to hurry back to me before he missed our wedding and decided to cut through a thick forest. His body was found near the edge of the forest, or what was left of it. After that, I left my home in search of my destiny. That's when Sharane found me, half starved and near frozen to death not far from where you made your camp. She was looking for a new home. She and her two sisters felt sickened by the way the world was going and didn't want any more to do with it. They chose to find their own destinies and look for a mythical island called Morahana. She saved my life and set me above others of my kind."

"What exactly is your kind?" Harry asked, wiping his mouth on a napkin next to his plate. "I don't mean to be rude, but I have never seen anyone like you." Gilda chuckled, slowly removing the scarf from her head to reveal a fully functioning eye in the center of her forehead.

"My kind is called Lodricuntor. We're tree dwellers mostly, but there are many of my kind that live in swamps. The rest of my race live where it is hot, Africa mostly, but I'm from a remote area of Australia. That's where my family called home for a millennium until Muggles began moving into our land. Now most of them live in secluded areas of the world. During the day hours we resemble any other Muggle, but at night our true selves are revealed. That's why we could never blend in with humans."

"Who are those in the village? More of your kind?" Harry asked, placing another large helping of dinner on his plate.

"No, they are Muggles. I'm known as the Mountain Witch," Gilda chuckled. "If they only knew how close they really were to the truth. I've had to move every fifty years or so, just so rumors of my immortality never gets known. In the meantime, they come to me for spells to cause fertility, ask for potions to heal animal bites and the likes."

"You're immortal?" Harry asked surprised. Even Albus Dumbledore wasn't immortal. In fact, the only one he had ever known who even came close to being immortal was Nicholas Flamel. But that was by the use of the Philosopher's Stone, which was destroyed back in Harry's first year, when he saved it from Voldemort.

"My race is not immortal, if that's what you mean," Gilda answered. "But I am, at least until the dark forces have been driven out of the world."

"Why?"

"The three witches needed protectors of their secrets. I had nothing else to live for and destiny saw fit to keep me alive, so I saw no harm in it. Besides, I was happy to be left alone. It's what I wanted."

"How long have you been up here?"

"At last count seven hundred and ninety two years," she answered, pushing her empty plate aside and picking up the mug of coffee and drinking it. "Of course that was a hundred or so years ago. Lost count after so long. No point in keeping track, now is there?"

"I suppose not. But don't you get lonely up here?"

"I have Nugget until she dies. I don't care much for people. I had my life planned once, marriage, children and the likes, but destiny has a way of changing one's mind. The witches taught me that."

"Sharane didn't happen to mention where I could find the Green Flame Torch, did she?"

"No," Gilda answered with a smile. "What would you have learned if you knew the answer to all of life's questions, before the journey was at an end?"

"I'm not very good with riddles," Harry moaned, pushing his now empty plate aside and taking the glass of pumpkin juice and drinking it down quickly.

"Everything you need to know, you have already been taught," Gilda said seriously. "Search your mind. You survived the Triwizard Tournament, didn't you?"

"That was with Hermione's help and a lot of luck."

"Are you sure?"

"I shouldn't have been in that race. My name was placed in the Goblet of Fire dishonestly. Cedric was killed because of me. Lord Voldemort regained his human form because of me."

"Don't be so sure Harry. Everything happens for a reason. Our lives have been predicted long before our births. Our paths have already been mapped out."

"You mean my parents murders, Cedric's death, Sirius's death was all planned? How could that be?"

"Destiny is a difficult and confusing prophecy, Harry. You have to trust that our paths have been mapped out, but the journey is ours to take. What we make of ourselves and those with us on that journey is what makes us what our fate has predicted. Just because our destinies have been set before us, does not mean we always fulfill them. Perhaps this one you call Voldemort lives, not because of you, but for you. Perhaps his destruction is what your destiny has planned for you."

"You mean he's here because I wanted him to be?"

"Not exactly. Your lives are undoubtedly connected, but you have spent the past six years blaming yourself for your parents deaths, for your friend's and your godfather's deaths. You blame yourself for all the bad that happens at your school, for all the danger your friends and your Ginny get into, but you never consider that instead of you being their cause, perhaps they are yours. Perhaps in order for you to succeed in the greater plan of your life, that you must have these things to make you strong enough for the outcome of what life has fated for you."

"How do you know so much about my life?" Harry asked after a few moments of silence. Gilda chuckled again, her voice sounded tired and old.

"There are many things you discover over the course of one's life. I for instance, have heard of you even here. The winds whisper your name, all you have to do is learn to listen."

"It sounds like there's more to your knowledge then you care to tell me," Harry surmised.

"There is much you need to know and even more than you should never learn. Be patient Harry Potter. Your destiny is still new and you have a great journey ahead. Now, do you know the answer to the question?" Harry sighed, deeply and very much exhausted.

"I told you I'm not very good with riddles. That's Hermione's department."

"Look deep Harry. Consider all that you have learned, all that has happened to you over the course of your life. Clear your mind of confusion and doubt and look deep into yourself."

"I'm getting a headache," Harry complained softly, more for the need to complain than an actual excuse.

"Perhaps we should continue this tomorrow," Gilda suggested, waving her wand across the table, watching as the items disappeared.

"How do you have use of a wand?" Harry asked with a frown. "I thought only witches and wizards used wands."

"For the most part they do, but I have one as a gift. It belonged to my lost love. With Sharane's help, I learned to use it. It is the reason I am able to travel, to eat, to stay warm. It is the only thing I have to keep my memory of him alive."

"Don't you think after all these centuries, you should let him go?"

"Can you let go of those you have lost, Harry?" She asked in a quiet tone. "Even now, you doubt your mother's last moments on this earth. You are concerned with the way she was killed and refuse to let go of it. Last year you were nearly caught by Dementors when you thought you could save your godfather, unable to let him go."

"I guess it's harder than it sounds."

"When one loses a loved one due to disease or a long endured illness, it is sad but you get through it. When a loved one is lost due to torture, torment or accident, it takes much longer to wrap your mind around their loss. My beloved was killed in a way I could never fathom and have never been able to understand. For that reason, saying good-bye, even after so long, has never been possible for me."

"I'm sorry," Harry said sadly, standing and walking to where he had laid his coat. He looked back to the wolf laying on the woman's bed and smiled. So much like Snuffles, even the way she softly snored in her sleep. Harry walked to the door, the image of Gilda's loss and pain echoed in his mind. He could sympathize with the torture and fear associated with facing a Centaur. He remembered the fear he had experienced in the Forbidden Forest when he and his friends had tried to get rid of Umbridge so he could save Sirius from Voldemort. He was terrified and certain he would never escape. They weren't like Firenze, the other Centaurs; they were mean and untrusting and wanted their blood for entering the forest. Even Firenze, with all his wisdom and kindness was a risk of their torment.

"Well Harry," Gilda said as she stepped to the door behind him. "I'll bid you good-night until the morrow. Perhaps you would care to come for breakfast?"

"Thank you, I would," Harry told her with a smile, fastening his cloak around him tighter.

"Then I'll see you in the morning. You can find your camp by following the path in the snow. It will lead you right."

"Thank you again," Harry told her as he stepped outside her door and began walking back the way he had come. Thoughts of Hogwart's echoed in his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about the night he and his friends had confronted the Death Eaters in the Ministry, or the losses he had endured in his life. Then his thoughts shifted and he began thinking of the young woman who waited his return. He missed Ginny more each moment and he knew it. He had started when he watched Hedwig fly away with her letter and it had only grown worse with the passing of the day.

Harry followed the path, which seemed to be leading him back to his tent, recognizing the Home Charm that had been placed on the area. All he had to do was think of his tent and he was returned to it. That was probably how Gilda made certain the villagers never bothered her, that she always found her way when she moved and how Nugget knew her way home, having no instincts of a natural wolf. He found his campsite exactly as he had left it. He removed his wand from his pocket, issued the unlocking spell on the outside and slipped through. The interior was warm, the fire still glowing; the smell of burning embers filled the small room. He walked to the wash closet and quickly undressed, pulling his pajamas on and brushing his teeth. He returned to the larger room and fixed a quick cup of tea before stepping to the bookcase. He removed the Magical Creatures of Ancient Times and crawled beneath the thick comforter covering his bed.

He opened the book, flipping through the pages with little interest. He was tired and wanted nothing more at the moment then to fall into a dreamless sleep. If he dreamed at all, he wanted only to see Ginny, to envision her in his arms and to feel her warmth against him. With a heavy sigh, Harry tossed his book aside and pulled the covers up under his chin. Maybe tomorrow he would find the answers of what he needed to know.

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"Thank you for the extra firewood Harry," Gilda said with a wide grin as Harry tossed the logs he had just chopped on the growing pile next to the old woman's fireplace.

"It was nothing," Harry said smiling back and accepting the mug of hot chocolate the woman handed him. "I want to make certain you have enough to last once I'm gone. That is if I ever figure out that riddle." Gilda chuckled at the boy's disgusted expression. The young wizard had been here for six days so far. He had repaired the roof, managed to chop enough wood to last an entire year, re-hung the front door to fit snuggly, put new mortar around the many loose bricks in the fireplace, cleaned and scrubbed the small house and patched the many holes and cracks in the walls that allowed the cold to enter through. All of this was done by hand with Harry insisting he needed the time to concentrate on the task of figuring out the riddle. He was actually thankful that the Dursleys made him do so much work as a child. At least he knew what he was doing.

"Are you hungry?" Gilda asked Harry as he sat down at the recently repaired table, complete with four new legs and a refinished top.

"Yeah, I'm starving," Harry answered petting Nugget's head as she leaned her front paws on his lap to greet him.

"How about some vegetable soup and scones?" she asked him. Over the past few days, the two had developed a close friendship and Harry was thankful for it. It kept him from being alone, kept his mind off how desperately he missed Ginny (except at night, of course) and gave him something to concentrate on rather than Voldemort.

"Sounds great," he answered, looking down to Nugget. He could see the wolf's thoughts, more as pictures than words and had begun investigating this connection. He liked to just sit and stare into the animal's eyes, seeing her thoughts of what she had done throughout the day, what she felt and how she was glad for the added company. Gilda had always assumed she was a hopeless hunter, but Harry had discovered over the past few days, that this was not true. She hunted daily, making the many rabbits that lived about, her main prey. She also hunted birds, fish, seals and the occasional bear cub. She would travel some days more than twenty miles, before returning. She continued to come back to Gilda for friendship, companionship and warmth. She actually thought of the human as a mother figure.

"Harry? You all right there boy?" Harry looked up to see the old woman staring at him with a frown. He hadn't told Gilda he could communicate with the wolf and at Nugget's request, he never would.

"I'm sorry," he said briefly. "I was just thinking."

"About the riddle or about your Ginny?" Harry's face turned a deep red at the mention of Ginny. He knew Gilda knew about her, though he still didn't know how, but they had discussed her at length two nights after he arrived.

"I guess my mind just wonders," he told her honestly. "My Divinations teacher would complain about it, when she wasn't predicting my death and destruction."

"It's completely understandable. I know how hard it is to be away from your loved one. It's taken me many years to learn to think of other things than...well, you know." Harry nodded. He knew all about her would-be husband, about their lives together and about his horrible death.

"I'm running out of time, Gilda," Harry told her over their lunch some time later. "I have three tasks to complete and only three months to do it in. I'll never finish in time."

"You have to learn to have faith in yourself, Harry. Others do. Your Ginny does, so do your friends Ron and Hermione, the Headmaster, even that potions teacher you hate so much, what was his name? Snipes?"

"Snape," Harry clarified with a chuckle. "And I don't think he has faith in me, he just wants me to complete school and get out of his greasy hair. Thank God I don't have him this year. I passed all of his lessons last year. I just hope Dumbledore doesn't have anymore advanced lessons for me to do with the rotten git."

"I suspect by this time, you have learned all you need to."

"I hope so. Now if I could only figure this riddle out. You wouldn't be interested in giving me a hint, would you?"

"Perhaps I already have," Gilda said with a smile, waving her wand and clearing the table. "Now, how about a game of cards? You've about chopped down every tree within a mile - even though you didn't need to. The spell you put on the logs the first night you were here, was enough to last at least six months."

"That was before I knew who you were."

"So, how about that game?" Harry chuckled, accepted the refreshed hot chocolate and sat back to enjoy the next five hours in an intense game of canasta. He was never very good at cards, but discovered that he actually liked this one. It was very mind consuming and by the time they had finished their mini tournament, eaten dinner and talked, he had relaxed completely. He no longer thought of riddles, Ginny, Hogwart's, death or Voldemort. He was happier than he had been in weeks and actually found himself glad he had to spend so much time here.

It was nearly midnight when Harry bid the old woman goodnight and returned to his campsite. He completed his tasks for bed, fixed a cup of hot tea and crawled beneath the blankets he had placed a warming spell on. He again found the book he'd been reading the past week and began flipping through the pages. He read about Unicorns, spiders, hippogriffs, house elves, abraxons, bugbears and hippocampuses. But to date, nothing he had read had hit him as useful. He flipped through the pages every night, trying to determine what animal could possibly be the answer to the riddle. He wasn't sure why he was determined that the answer was an animal, but it kept playing on his mind until he'd given up all thoughts of anything else.

Out of exhaustion, Harry tossed the book he'd been mindlessly flipping through to the floor, drank the last of his tea and extinguished the candle he had sat next to him. The glow from the dying fire cast shadows across the walls, playing out the number of scenarios that had danced through his mind all night. He saw all that had happened to him over his life; from the first memories he had of the Dursleys to Hagrid's visit to get him for school. He saw pictures of Ron dance above his head along with Hermione, Malfoy, the twins, Percy, the Weasleys, Dumbledore, Hedwig, and finally Ginny. She smiled down at him as his eyes fluttered shut, heavy and tired. He smiled back, seeing her sweet smile as sleep began to filter over him. He imagined her as he had seen her a dozen times, long red hair cascading down her back, her creamy complexion and slender frame exposed to his explorations, eager to be pleased and to please. She waved at him as his last thought of her filtered into the distance. Next to her stood the four-legged creature he had heard so much of that first night, a Centaur. In his mind he could hear Ginny telling him quietly;

"A Centaur Harry. A man who arrives on four legs." Harry's eyes popped open immediately as he found himself sitting in the bed, the darkness of night encasing the room. The fire had died off, leaving only a few glowing, red bricks in the bottom.

"A Centaur," he repeated to the room. "A man with four legs. How could I have been so blind? Thank you Ginny."

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"Figured it out, did you Harry?" Gilda said the next day, when she opened the door to her little cabin. She saw the bright smile that played out on his face and knew he had the answer.

"Ginny told me," he said as he joined Gilda at the table, looking over the array of eggs, French toast, juice, bacon, sausage, pan fried potatoes and toast with marmalade.

"Did she?"

"I saw her in a dream last night. She told me the answer was a Centaur. That's it, isn't it?" Gilda sighed heavily, sitting in the chair she had occupied the night before.

"It is indeed," she answered, the look of pain and fatigue etching her aged features.

"That's why you told me about...him, isn't it?"

"Yes. I have spent so many years alone, hiding the truth even from myself until recently. I honestly haven't thought about that time in my life, until you arrived. I let go a long time ago Harry. And so must you. You have to remember that Sirius is gone, so are your parents and Cedric. You are not to blame for any of it, you have to believe that."

"Maybe in time, Gilda." They ate breakfast as Harry continued his tales about the wizarding world and all that was happening and had changed in it since she was last there. By mid-afternoon, the two were exhausted from laughing, listening and relaying stories. Harry stood and walked to the door, eager to continue his journey.

"I have enjoyed our time together Harry," she told him, a sad tone in her voice.

"So have I," he answered. "Why don't you come back to Hogwart's with me? Dumbledore would love to meet you, and I know the students would have a thousand questions, or at least Hermione would."

"There is no place for me there," she told him with a sad smile. "I left that life many, many years ago and I have no desire to return. Perhaps one day, you will return and bring your Ginny for me to meet. I'm sure she is a wonderful girl."

"She is," Harry said with a warm smile and a hug. He reached out to grasp the doorknob, but stopped and turned back to the woman. "Mutgeb said once I answered the first riddle, another task would be revealed to me. How will I find it?"

"Patience Harry. It will find you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Trust within yourself," Gilda chuckled again. "The quest is yet to be. You will know the direction you must go, when the time is right. You have set into action the events that will help you find your destiny. Trust in yourself Harry. You'll know which way to go next."

Harry left the little cabin and walked back to his tent, following the same path he had taken every night. He couldn't shake the feeling, but he was certain he had just bid the old woman good-bye for the last time.

Back in his tent, Harry began pacing, waiting for something to happen. He was anxious to get this over with and get back to school and to the girl he left behind. He was lonesome and even though he had spent the past week with Gilda, he missed Ginny terribly.

As the day wore on, the night grew colder. The threat of a storm filled the air, bringing with it a cold wind. Harry had eaten dinner earlier than usual and in the seclusion of his tent, then curled up in his bed, pulling the blankets up to his waist as he leaned against the headboard and flipped through the pages of the books he had brought with him. Right now he was determined to put into memory every word of every book. He wanted this task over with and he was growing irritable waiting.

Sleep began to overcome Harry, as the warmth of the room lulled him into an early slumber. He closed his eyes and lay down in the bed, drawing the comforter up to his chin. As he began to fall deeper into a state of unconsciousness, he felt the presence of someone with him. He could hear the voice of Mutgeb calling is name.

"Harry, you have done well," she said in a soft, cheerful tone. "But do not lose sight of your final objective. You have two tasks left."

"What are they?" he heard himself say.

"Find the man called Trong in the land where time begins. There you must answer him this riddle; what force and strength cannot get through, but many in the street would stand, were this not a friend in hand."

"I hate riddles," Harry moaned in his sleep.

"Find the source of the riddle Harry. It will lead you to your next task. Be quick. You will run out of time if you delay."

"I want to go home," Harry said again, his head swimming in the dream. "I want to be with Ginny."

"You will be with her soon, I promise. But you must do as you are asked. The second task awaits you."

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"The road ahead is one to be learned and embraced. I will speak with you again, Harry. Until then, God's speed be with you." Harry's eyes closed tighter as sleep enveloped him completely. He slept better than he had ever remembered, while confused visions danced in his head, visions that promised another long journey.