Beaten and Blown By the Wind

Chapter One: A Face from the Past

"So, Potter...give us a shout if you need us. If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along...."

Aunt Petunia whimpered piteously. It could not have been plainer that she was thinking of what the neighbors would say if they caught sight of these people marching up the garden path.

"'Bye, then, Potter," said Moody, grasping Harry's shoulder for a moment with a gnarled hand.

"Take care, Harry," said Lupin quietly. "Keep in touch."

"Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can," Mrs. Weasley whispered, hugging him again.

"We'll see you soon, mate," said Ron anxiously, shaking Harry's hand.

"Really soon, Harry," said Hermione earnestly. "We promise."

Harry nodded. He somehow could not find the words to tell them what it meant to him, to see them all ranged there, on his side. Instead he smiled, raised a hand in farewell, turned around, and led the way out of the station toward the sunlit street, with Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley hurrying along in his wake.

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Unfortunately, Harry's smile only lasted until he was seated in the backseat of Uncle Vernon's company car, buckled up and preparing for the long few weeks he'd have to spend at Privet Drive. That's when his firm decision to not let his mind wander to not so pleasant things such as Sirius or how efficient the hold was that Voldemort had exercised over his mind over the past year started to waver with the grating sound of his relative's voices. They were talking abut Dudley's less than stellar report from the past term, Aunt Petunia making wilder and wilder excuses the further they drove. Harry had just about steered his mind clear of the memory of Sirius when Uncle Vernon decided to do something almost unprecedented: talk to Harry while driving. (He usually preferred to wait until they had reached the house to "talk" to Harry so that he could shove his great red face right up to Harry's in order to intimidate him better...in Uncle Vernon's not so humble opinion.)

"We got another ruddy owl from that...that school of yours a few days ago," Uncle Vernon started. Harry decided just staring back in an expression that he thought was something between innocence and curiosity would be the best option for all of their safety. The expression wasn't entirely fabricated - Harry had not been aware that anyone had owled the Dursley's about anything. His choice seemed correct as Uncle Vernon chose to explain the meaning of his accusation more acutely after checking Harry's expression in the rearview mirror.

"It was from your headmaster, some man with a funny name...?"

"Albus Dumbledore. And don't even start to say anything about him, he's the greatest wizard alive and has saved my life more than once..." Harry threatened, becoming angry, yet trying to control it. He was actually curious to see what Uncle Vernon had to say for maybe the fourth time in his entire life.

"Watch your tone with me, boy, you're still under my rule as long as I have to keep you in my house," Uncle Vernon threatened back maliciously. It took all of Harry's willpower not to retort, 'which hopefully won't be long!' Yet thinking that, Harry somehow was overly aware that he really would not be at Privet Drive very much longer. He became slightly perturbed by the certainty in his mind that his time at Privet Drive was limited and that his departure would not be of his own accordance. He had no idea where that thought had come from and no idea whether his departure would be under good circumstances or not. Luckily, Uncle Vernon took his silence as an apology of sorts for his rudeness, perhaps only to get on with his story without any more interruptions. Unfortunately, his story would be interrupted once more.

"Aw, come on," Dudley whined. "Who really wants to hear what some crackpot fool who actually likes Harry has to say?" The glass next to Dudley's piggy face cracked as Harry's knuckles just about split with the ferocity with which he was clenching his fists. Vernon's face grew purpler than after Harry's threat.

"This does not involve you, and that's all we will hear from you on this subject," Vernon growled at Dudley with an anger he usually saved for Harry. Harry knew he wouldn't be able to interrupt if he tried at this point because he had no clue what Dumbledore could have said to make Uncle Vernon growl at Dudley and turn to him with a smile so sickeningly fake that Harry was immediately reminded of Dolores Umbridge.

"It seems your days of threatening me are over, boy," Vernon continued, seeming ready to burst with happiness. "That old fool said that convict godfather of yours got himself zapped like your good for nothing father did. Tell me, was it that same Lord Voldy-thingie that zapped him?" Harry could feel the anger boiling in his veins, but decided that exploding at Uncle Vernon in the car while he was driving would not be the best choice for any of them. Reminding himself that his time was limited at Privet Drive for whatever reason, he made a steadfast decision that he would not let himself rise to Uncle Vernon's bait.

"No, he was not zapped by Voldemort, "Harry hissed through clenched teeth, almost laughing with glee at Aunt Petunia's familiar shudder at the name - that a muggle so proud to be a muggle as herself had such a wizard habit. "He was cursed by another escaped convict from Azkaban, Bellatrix Lestrange...his cousin," Harry added, his voice dropping in unspeakable anger that seemed to unnerve Dudley beside him.

"Oh ho ho, so the whole family's evil, I see," Vernon gasped in what he found as gleeful realization. "A whole family of bloodlusting convicts - quite the company I'd expect that bum father of yours to associate with!"

"The whole family is not evil," Harry hissed back, barely keeping check of his anger. "The majority of it was, is, I suppose. I'm not quite sure how many relatives Sirius still has living. Most of his family was part of the Slytherin house at my school...that's the house the majority of students who later decide to become evil, if you will, are usually in," Harry had to stop himself from saying all the evil students were in Slytherin by the unpleasant memory of the former friend of his father, Sirius, and Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, who was responsible for his parents' death and the revival of Voldemort, therefore responsible for Sirius' death as well as his twelve year high security imprisonment in Azkaban and tarnished reputation. It was because of Peter Pettigrew, known as Wormtail that very few people would even care that Sirius had died aside from feeling that the wizarding streets were now a little safer. Wormtail had been in Gryffindor, a house noted for its bravery. He had been in the same house as the passed James Potter and Sirius Black, the same house as Harry's former werewolf DADA professor Remus Lupin and Harry's brilliant muggle born friend Hermione Granger, the house of his favorite wizarding family in the world (every last one of them), the Weasleys. Peter Pettigrew had been in his house.

"And your godfather? He was too good for this Slither-y house now, was he?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes he was. He was a Gryffindor like my father, and" Harry paused to look at the back of Aunt Petunia's bowed head, "and my mother. He was a Gryffindor...like I am." Harry suddenly didn't have control of his voice, which broke under the memory of such great people now passed that loved him and that he either did, or would very much would have liked to have loved.

"Hm, yes. I would have suspected as much that your father be in the same category as some convict like your godfather," Vernon mused as no one else in the car dared to speak, or could manage as much, in Harry's case. "Anyway, this Dumble guy said that we should be sensitive to your need for a period of mourning and should try not to provoke you. What have you been telling these wizarding freaks about us that they are assuming we provoke you?" he demanded, the familiar tone of anger returning to his voice. Harry was trying to find his voice enough to retort when he was saved by the last person he expected pity from.

"You're provoking him now," Dudley whispered, as if both scared and amazed at his audacity to defend Harry against his father. "His godfather's dead and all you're doing is repeating it over and over."

Harry just sat there staring at Dudley with his mouth dropped wide open in his amazement at Dudley's defense. Vernon sputtered for a few moments in disbelief and anger before giving up the idea of speech at all. Aunt Petunia just sat there with her head bowed as if she hadn't heard a single thing. Harry might have puzzled about this, but he was having trouble grasping the idea that Dudley had just stood up for him. He wondered what had happened that had caused Dudley to stick up for him like that, his mind involuntarily reaching back to last summer and Dudley's strange horror after the dementor attack. The rest of the ride was short, but silent, for which Harry was grateful for, his head was throbbing.

When the car pulled up in front of number seven Privet Drive, Uncle Vernon got out, slammed his door, and stomped into the house. Dudley followed suit as if nothing strange had happened in the car at all, leaving Harry to try to lug his trunk and Hedwig's cage (complete with bird) up to his room alone. He thought wistfully of the handy locomotor charm Tonks had used the previous summer to get this same trunk from his room to the back yard and his tiny charms professor Flitwick had used to carry the drunken divination professor's spilled luggage back to the divination tower. Resisting the urge to open his trunk, pull out his wand, and simplify his life with a "locomotor trunk" and a swish of his wand, Harry finally pulled it from the trunk of the car and stood Hedwig's cage on top of it, noticing for the first time that Aunt Petunia still had not gotten out of the car.

"Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked, having walked over to her door and opening it, now looking at her with concern. "Is everything quite alright?"

"Hmm?" she asked, looking at him without recognition for a moment before she realized who they were and where they were.

"Are you alright, Aunt Petunia? Do you need me to help you out of the car?" Harry normally wouldn't be so concerned with her welfare, but she had saved his skin last summer when Uncle Vernon had tried to kick him out of the house and she was acting...well, odd.

"No, no, it's alright. I'm quite fine, thank you," Petunia said amiably, perhaps forgetting who Harry was, perhaps thankful for his concern. Then reality seemed to slap her across the face as she stood next to the car, ready to shut the door, and she saw Harry's trunk with Hedwig on top. "You're certainly taking a long time getting your things in the house," she snapped. "You had best hurry before a neighbor sees you with an owl," she said with the expression of having tasting something very sour at the thought of the neighbors seeing an owl caged outside her house. She hurried inside as Harry walked back to his trunk, his mind whirring into a massive headache.

"What are you fussing about? You're not going to take offence to anything she says, are you?" Harry demanded of Hedwig, who was now flapping and hooting in her cage as if agitated. "You want to get out, do you? Well, your cage would be lighter if you weren't in it...I suppose I can let you out for the night if you promise to return by dawn. Uncle Vernon wouldn't want any neighbors to see you and I can't have you gone too often - the Order wants me to owl them at least every three days." Hedwig hooted assent and Harry opened the cage, watching her fly farther and farther away until she was just a dot in the sky and Uncle Vernon's angry voice yelled at him to stop milling around in the driveway and to move his blasted things into the house.

Harry was unable to sleep that night, his mind wandering to things he had not wanted to see. He wanted to pull out a book or maybe even his summer assignments in order to keep his mind on something safe, but he knew any attempt to get the images of his parents, Cedric, and Sirius' bodies out of his mind were futile and just sat there, watching them flicker past. He fell asleep once, for a fleeting moment, to see a memory he was not entirely sure was a memory. It was more like the experiences he had had the previous two summers seeing into Voldemort's mind, but hardly as disturbing. The part that disturbed Harry was that he wasn't at all disturbed by the vision or memories or whatever they were, but that it seemed almost natural or something to him.

A girl stood in the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. She was a small girl, on the short side with narrow, bony shoulders and delicate hands with fingers that seemed too long for a normal human being. What struck Harry the most about this girl was her hair. Her hair was just barely under control as if she had used some harsh charms and gels on it in a hurry, but under that fierce and hurried control, Harry could tell that her hair was the same untamable mane he normally associated with his friend Hermione, except that it was several shades lighter and closer to blonde than brown. He had hardly had the time to get over the shock of her familiar hair before another shock awaited him. He had been looking at her back as she watched the fire restlessly, wringing her hands and tugging at her hair in what were probably perpetual nervous habits. From that view he had guessed that the girl was around his age: no younger than Ginny Weasley, but certainly not older than her twin brothers Fred and George, who were a year younger and older than him respectively. But when she turned and dropped to a seat by the table laying her chin upon her hands folded on the wooden tabletop, Harry realized something was wrong about his assumption towards her age. Even her face looked as young as or younger than him, reminding him of a cross between pixies of fairies you'd find in muggle story books and, quite astonishingly, his friend Hermione yet again. The pouty little mouth and tiny upturned nose spoke pixie as clearly as day, making her seem quite younger than Harry, but her eyes puzzled him. They were the same shape as Hermione's and at first Harry had thought the same color before he realized they were not the warm brown of his friend's, but an overly deep blue that seemed almost black, but somehow softer. Her eyes were glazed over as if she were daydreaming, distorting the color further, which brightened a little as she seemed to hear a noise and snapped back into attention. She ran up the stairs towards the front door of the Black house, leaving Harry to puzzle over what was so off about her eyes, why they seemed oddly haunted past what any normal teenager's eyes should ever be while following her.

His head began to ache again as he pondered why it seemed he was viewing someone else's memory as if in a pensieve while sleeping as the door opened. He couldn't see who it was because he had fallen behind her far enough that the doorway was shadowy. He was just making out the figure in the doorway when she identified him by gasping out his name.

"Remus!" the girl gasped, and sure enough, there stood Remus Lupin in the doorway to number twelve Grimmauld Place. There were people behind Remus, fidgeting on the porch as if impatient to come in, but I realized that no one seemed to care to enter the place once they had seen the girl standing in the doorway - not even Remus. His eyes held a strange light, or maybe lack thereof, that scared Harry a bit and seemed to unnerve the girl as well. She was whispering in a higher tone now, like a little child begs their mum to please tell them that they were lying, that Santa Claus is real. What was she saying? She was asking for someone...someone behind Remus, was he there? She begged Remus to stop hiding him, he wouldn't answer her but looked as if his strength were failing him and every time she asked him where this person was, Remus seemed closer to tears. Harry had half a mind to grab the crazy girl by the elbow and tell her to stop being silly, can't she see how much she's upsetting Remus? Molly Weasley pushed around Remus and tried to talk some sense into her with the same soft, soothing voice she had used with Harry at the end of his fourth year in the hospital wing after he had seen Voldemort come back to life and kill Cedric Diggory. That's when the girl had lost it. She yelled at Mrs. Weasley, telling her not to patronize her and decided to take matters into her own hands, screaming for the person directly, pushing past people and standing on her tiptoes to see over them looking for a man...what was that name she called? Try as he might to hear something different, Harry suddenly realized that this girl was yelling for a man named Sirius...in number twelve Grimmauld Place...asking Remus Lupin where he was. There was no mistaking which Sirius she meant.

Harry puzzled over this as she seemed to give up for a moment, losing her will to yell for Sirius as the people started filing into the house around her small frame lodged in the doorway with the name of Sirius on her lips as they passed by giving her their condolences. Suddenly it hit Harry from when this memory was, even if he wasn't sure whose it was. This was the night Sirius was killed. These were the members of the Order of the Phoenix who had fought the Death Eaters in the department of mysteries and survived to tell the tale. And this girl knew Sirius. Even more, she was searching for him without any anger directed towards him, meaning she knew he was innocent of his convicted crimes. Was she in the Order? Why hadn't Harry seen her before? He had met so many people in the Order, but he found the idea that he would forget her face impossible for the simple facts that she seemed no older than him and resembled a close friend. Even if he hadn't remembered her name, surely he'd remember her as the girl who looked like Hermione...right?

Harry's reverie was broken when Tonks had moved to speak words of comfort to the Hermione-look-alike and she flipped out. Harry had never seen anything like it - one minute Tonks was ready to embrace her in a hug, the next the girl screamed "get off me" and Tonks was flying - the girl hadn't raised a finger, not to mention her wand! Harry might've pondered this as well, but at that moment his headache was intensified by the great screeching that was the portrait of Mrs. Black. She screamed as usual, but this girl seemed even further infuriated by the sound of her voice. She marched right up in front of that picture and then the screeching stopped for a moment. Mrs. Black took a moment before speaking again and this time wasn't yelling. She recognized the girl, but the brief pause in her rant was broken after she mentioned her recognition. Again Mrs. Black was screaming like the devil, but this time was yelling at the girl. She called her things she had called Sirius, a traitor to her blood and such, yelling about how she had ruined her perfectly decent son, how she had taken him away from her. The girl just screamed back about how horrible Mrs. Black was and how she had driven Sirius away; there was no need in her taking him with her. Harry's mind reeled at this revelation. He was starting to believe that this girl was perhaps a young cousin or some other such relation to Sirius, maybe even his daughter whom had perhaps not known about her father until recently like Harry had, she looked the same age, after all. But no, this girl wasn't Harry's age at all. She was Sirius's age. She had been Sirius'...well, Harry didn't quite know what, but none the less, the girl remembered Sirius leaving his home, and he had done that in school. That explained why her eyes were...off...for someone so young. This raised a million questions in Harry's mind, who had, at this point, decided he truly was seeing someone's memory, but he had no time to acknowledge them for a greater shock stood in front of him.

The girl had now progressed to a screaming match with Mrs. Black, the two creating the most racket Harry has ever heard, mixed with yelps and screams of surprise and anger as the girl summoned things to herself and then chucked them at Mrs. Black's head. Remus had disappeared, but now Harry saw his Apparate into the entryway with the last person Harry would have ever wanted to see when angry: Professor Snape. Snape got an odd look on his face that Harry couldn't distinguish as anything as he took a gander at the scene in front of him and then seemed slightly annoyed, as usual. Snape muttered a few words to Remus and then moved behind the girl in his aggravatingly silent manner as Remus took a tentative step towards Mrs. Black's portrait. Harry watched Snape grab the girl in one swift movement as Remus started struggling with the portrait's hangings. The girl kicked and screamed, her screams muffled and incoherent behind Snape's hand that had clamped over her mouth, but she seemed to lose all will to do anything without the sight of her painted adversary and crumpled to the ground in defeat, crying silently. Harry watched Snape as he did the most amazing thing: get the same grieved expression as everyone else and sink down with her, behind her on the floor, still holding her arms down. Harry was sure that his head would split in two between all the shocks and questions whirling around his mind.

"Severus?" the girl asked, her voice enough to break Harry's heart. Just the mere presence of his potions master seemed to completely destroy her. But with a look at his face, Harry was struck with the inconceivable thought that his potions master might actually have feelings. Snape was kneeling behind the girl, comforting her over the loss if Sirius. It seemed almost like an oxymoron to Harry, who was well aware of the two men's hatred for each other, but no one else seemed too surprised. Snape then stood up, dragging the girl to her feet in the process and suggested that everyone who was not immediately leaving have a cup of tea. This seemed odd to Harry because Snape said it with the same tone he used to suggest that a student pay attention in class before they explode his potions room with their idiocy before deducting house points. Even odder, the entire Order obeyed without question. Many left, but Harry struggled to follow Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill Weasley, Remus, Tonks, Snape, and this girl into the kitchen for tea.

This was the point in which Harry considered maybe he wasn't seeing a memory so much as dreaming along with someone, most likely this girl, because the scene was shifty and incomplete as if the person dreaming this were drifting in and out of sleep at the moment, or was possibly interrupted by something in their reminisce. He saw the scene shift and Dumbledore appear. Then he saw the girl arguing with Dumbledore and struggled to pay closer attention. Whoever was thinking or dreaming this decided that the fight was important as well and the scene finally cemented crystal clear like it had been before.

"...and I daresay she's a bit more familiar with him than you," Dumbledore was saying, Harry had missed most of the argument, but not Dumbledore's last comment and a meaningful look towards Remus.

"Alright. I'll agree to that," the girl said in defeat. "As long as you promise I'll see him, that I can speak with him, this summer, I'll be quiet for now."

"Good. I'm glad we've come to an understanding Aislynn," Dumbledore said with an inkling of his usual grin, but it was marred by the sadness of that night's events and a look that clearly expressed that he did not believe she'd remain quiet to whomever she was talking to until he allowed her to. They exchanged a few words in which Harry studied the remaining people at the table. Tonks was beginning to lose interest and was cleaning the table of their tea as if preparing to head off to bed, Snape was looking up to his normal negativity with a sour look plastered onto his face once again, and Remus, who had been standing and trying to get Tonks to bed, had sunk back into his seat looking at his hands on the table in front of him with another look Harry couldn't decipher. He turned back to the conversation, hoping for a more elaborate exchange of information.

"Goodbye professor, until the summer, then?" the girl Harry now knew as Aislynn said.

"Goodbye Aislynn...though I had rather hoped upon seeing you again before summer, we have much to catch up on that we haven't had time for before now."

She laughed. "All I have is time, professor."

"Hm, indeed you do." Dumbledore chuckled along with her as if they had some sort of strange inside joke that just increased the scowl on Snape's face when Harry glanced to see if he understood as well. That scowl could mean understanding and not approving or anger at his lack of understanding. Harry found another reason to hate that scowl.

"Good night, then?"

"Ah yes, good night, Aislynn. Please try to sleep..." the voices disappeared as the memory turned into what Harry decidedly believed was a vision. Aislynn was in the study he had cleaned with the Weasleys and Hermione over the summer, but it was the dead of night. The room was lit only by a few candles, including one on the desk she was sitting by. In front of her was a parchment with an almost finished note on it, the quill twirled between her fingers as she stared off into space, as if remembering something, her left hand idly stroking an owl whose whiteness practically screamed out in the darkness. So that's where Hedwig went. Harry was a little upset with his owl begging to fly off to some girl he never met before that seemed close with his most hated professor. She seemed to snap out of her reverie and look at the parchment. She quickly scanned the lines written and Harry was once again forced to think of Hermione studying for one test or another. She took a moment to consider what she was writing and then finished the letter up. Harry watched as she signed the parchment, folded it, addressed it, and attached it to Hedwig's outstretched leg. Aislynn then stopped Hedwig and rummaged around the drawer for something. Not finding it, she lifted her hand and muttered a charm Harry couldn't make out, but decided it was a summoning charm as a box of owl treats zipped into her hand from Merlin knows where in that forsaken house. She held a few out to Hedwig who ate them right then and there from Aislynn's hand. She then stroked the bird once more before muttering something that sounded like "hurry or you'll be in trouble" before getting up to open a window for Hedwig to escape from.

Harry pondered this as he yawned from lack of sleep. He had been pondering this for the past hour, but he still had no answers to anything. He was considering writing to Hermione and asking how much she knew about modern witches and wizards. Surely a witch able to do magic without a wand, old enough to be his mother, but looking young enough to be his sister named Aislynn would appear in one of Hermione's trusted books. Maybe even Hogwarts: A History, seeing how Aislynn knew Sirius, Remus, and Snape so well in his visions. This idea was thwarted by Harry suddenly realizing Hedwig was out fraternizing with this mysterious witch. Harry started to write the letter anyway to pass the time, having immense problems trying to word it. He knew Hermione would immediately think the ageless thing and the magic without a wand thing heralded dark magic, but despite her temper, Harry seriously doubted that Aislynn was any threat.

While contemplating word choice, Hedwig finally returned, landing right on top of his parchment on his desk, looking extremely proud of herself. Harry detached the letter he had seen Aislynn put onto his owl's leg and griped at her while searching out his own owl treats, not to be outdone by some freaky witch.

"Oh, so you're proud of yourself for fraternizing with strange witches without telling me where you're going and then returning to act like the queen of Persia or something, are you?" Harry joked as he fed her a treat and ruffled her feathers lightly. She nipped him affectionately and headed off to her cage. Harry was glad to have Hedwig back and a note with perhaps a little insight into whom this Aislynn character was, but was none the less unnerved that this witch had managed to summon his owl without any issue and then he was able to watch her write his note and relive a recent memory of hers. His fingers trembled as he opened the note.

Dear Harry,

I know that you probably have no clue who I am, but none the less, I find it necessary to introduce myself. My name is Aislynn McGarret and I am the one person in the world who has felt what you felt for Sirius' death tenfold. I know you probably won't believe me, but I can only assure you that I speak the truth because for me to explain everything I need to tell you, everything you should have already been told, in a note would make it meaningless. There are certain things I cannot stress enough and questions you'll have as I go along that you'll need to have answered before your understanding can be increased and the story can proceed. To try and do all of this in a letter is futile. I can only introduce myself best I can and hope for a meeting sooner than I anticipated.

It is not in your best interest to stay with the Dursleys this summer. I cannot stress that enough. Follow your aunt's rules for now, but if anything strange comes up within a five mile radius of your home or Mrs. Figg seems more skittish than usual, please just run. If it's Mrs. Figg acting strangely, it could mean any number of things and I beg you to owl me immediately. If there are strange deaths or occurrences growing closer and closer to your home, I beg you to sneak out the back door, through the back yard to the street on the other side of the house to the back of yours. Keep walking (preferably through yards if you can without causing a scene) until you reach Oleander Avenue. Take your wand with you so that you can summon the Knight Bus there. Nothing else will matter, I can replace anything and everything of yours if necessary, but you MUST have your wand. It is a powerful weapon against Voldemort, especially in your hands, but you know that. Tell them to take you anywhere far away; it won't matter where as long as it's very very far from Privet Drive. I will meet you on the Knight Bus in such a case or make arrangements to meet you otherwise in any other occurrence that it is necessary.

Keep one thing in mind this summer: THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX IS NO LONGER TAILING YOU. By my own suggestion because of the confusion you would face if Voldemort were to send someone to tail you, we are no longer going to keep watch on you like we did last summer. (You wouldn't think twice about a strange witch or wizard following you about without attacking for a while if you didn't know this.) If ANYONE is following you, TELL ME IMMEDIATELY. If they seem to be ready to strike or their numbers increase, send Hedwig to Dumbledore with a message I will send to you some other way so that it could not fall into the wrong hands. After owling Dumbledore, take your wand and follow the Knight Bus plan. I will meet you on the bus and I daresay you'll be able to recognize me.

THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX IS NOT TAILING YOU. YOU MUST REMEMBER THAT.

Sadly, it seems I've used all my spare parchment in warnings and none in introduction. I know that because of that you will question the validity of my words, but I must assure you that if he were still here, Sirius would be writing you a very similar letter at this very moment with me at his side so he could question me about tactics and the vision I had about this. From what you've seen, you know that I would never lie when it comes to Sirius and I wish more than anything in the world that he could be the one writing this to you.

Please just do as I say and if you see or know trouble is on the way, just owl me or Dumbledore and run. Just run, Harry, please. I am sacrificing a promise to Dumbledore to not speak to you until he gives me the heads up for reasons I cannot fully explain to you in a letter. Just know that I don't seek to protect you just because Sirius is no longer here to do so, but that it's my destiny to protect you Harry, and I've sworn to do just that at all costs. But perhaps my greatest and most honest reason yet for protecting you above anything else is because of a promise I made to my best friend Lily Evans the day her son was born to keep him safe and love him as my own should anything ever happen to her. That was the same promise Sirius made to James, Harry. I have my reasons for not contacting you before now, but this is hardly the place to explain. I beg for your forgiveness and that you'll listen to what I've told you. Just remember: the devil was left handed.

Faithfully yours,

Aislynn McGarret

Harry was dumbstruck by the letter. He had been eager to find out who this Aislynn was despite his nervousness, but he had never believed that he'd discover that she was someone so closely linked to him, to Harry. He had assumed she was only one of Sirius' acquaintances from school or something. (Sirius had been known to befriend interesting people such as his mischievous father and their werewolf friend Remus Lupin and Harry seriously doubted that Sirius would let someone who could not age and could do rather efficient magic without a wand pass his attention.) Harry thought about the letter, rereading it over and over, until he decided a few things. (1): He would listen to Aislynn's advice. He couldn't explain his reasoning, but somehow he was able to believe and trust her. (2): He would owl her back, demanding her to explain all of the things she was afraid to write about. He wasn't too sure what they were, but he knew that he wanted to hear them. (3): He would owl Ron, not Hermione, asking what he knew about her. He had seen Mrs. Weasley trying to comfort her as if she were one of Mrs. Weasley's many children or Harry himself in his dream last night and thought that maybe if this Aislynn was so close with Mrs. Weasley, that Ron may be able to tell Harry something about her, even if he had not have known that she was such a close tie to Harry's parents.

Harry, strength and sanity renewed, set to writing his letters. It took a while to write Ron's, he wasn't quite sure how to word things without letting on that he had been subject to new visions. Harry feared that Ron would tell him much the same as Hermione, to not trust this person and to tell Dumbledore about it, and that was the last thing Harry wanted to do. For some reason he trusted Aislynn, and she had sacrificed a promise she had made to Dumbledore in writing to him. He doubted his mum or Sirius would have turned her in without giving her a chance and didn't dare disgrace their memory by doing the same. After writing to Ron, he decided it would be best to write to the Order of the Phoenix because he wasn't sure how long Hedwig would take and didn't want to bring them out to Privet Drive for nothing. After finishing his first two letters, Harry stifled a yawn and started on his letter to Aislynn. Once finished, he woke Hedwig and attached all three letters to her leg, receiving a strange look before explaining.

"I'm sorry to send you with such a load, Hedwig, but I'm afraid it is necessary. You need to deliver this one to Aislynn first; she'll ask fewer questions about multiple letters on your leg. Don't wait for a reply, jut deliver it and leave. The other two are for Ron and the Order. I'm sure at least Aislynn and the Order are near each other...Ron may be as well, but I can't be sure. You can wait for either of their responses if you'd like, but you don't have to. Please just be careful and try not to return in the daytime...I don't think the Dursleys will approve," Harry warned her as Hedwig hooted her agreement and understanding. He watched the owl fly out his window and lay down upon his bed once more, taking off his glasses, and falling right asleep.