Harry Potter and the Order of Ashrien

"Just how long have you been sitting on that windowsill star-gazing, Albus? It's rather late to still be up, isn't it?"

Albus turned to face his addresser, a tired smile managing to work its way through his wizened features as he recognized the voice of Professor McGonagall, who quietly closed the door to his office. With a simple flick of his wrist, a comfortable chair materialized out of thin air and he motioned for her to take a seat.

"What a pleasant surprise seeing you here tonight. Would you care for a lemon drop, Minerva? I daresay these are quite good."

Minerva McGonagall looked rather carefully at the Headmaster of Hogwarts. In all the years since her graduation, in all the years she had known Albus, Minerva had never seen the problems brought about by the dark side so plainly evident on his face and in the posture of his body. The usual twinkle that was present in his eyes was missing this night and he seemed to have aged ten years or more since the end of the term feast. Minerva didn't like what she saw in his eyes and her concern was evident in her voice as she replied, "Thank you, Albus. I think I shall try one these lemon drops of yours. Forgive me for saying this, but I don't think I've ever seen you quite so troubled about anything before. You look exhausted and the twinkle that is usually present in your eyes is missing. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Albus Dumbledore smiled genuinely, the twinkle returning for just a moment before disappearing once again, and looked across his desk at his one time student and unwrapped yet another lemon drop, pausing to savor the taste of the treat for a moment before replying, "I wish it were just that simple, Minerva, but unfortunately it is far from it. I doubt I would admit this to anyone but you, but I am frightened, Minerva, much more than I've ever been before, and that includes Grindelwald and Voldemort's first rising. Believe me, that should tell you something about what's bothering me this evening. Have you perchance seen the latest Daily Prophet?"

"No, I haven't had the time to look at it all day. As you might be aware, I've been a bit busy preparing for classes to start. The start of the new term is only six weeks away and I still have a lot to do to be ready in time. What is it, Albus? What could be so bad to have got you this troubled and at this time of night?"

"You'll understand once you read this, Minerva," Albus replied, handing her the copy of the Daily Prophet.

Minerva took the copy of the Daily Prophet from Albus warily, almost as if she were expecting what had frightened Dumbledore to leap right out of the pages and attack them.

Daily Prophet Extra Edition

Authorized for Immediate Release by Ministry of Magic Rita Skeeter -Chief Reporter

ALL Witches and Wizards are hereby urged to take EVERY PRECAUTION possible to protect their families and themselves from harm. All under aged wizards and witches are hereby given permission to use magic to defend themselves if they feel their lives are being threatened in any way. In addition, all parents are urged to pick up as many books on the use of defensive magic and protection spells as soon as possible and they are to teach their children these spells and charms immediately. This restriction has been lifted due to the increase in attacks on under aged wizards/witches and their families in the past several days.

When asked about the most unusual move, the newly elected Minister of Magic Amos Diggory stated that the blatant violence involved with these attacks warranted such an unprecedented move.

Continuing, the Minister stated, "No one knows how or why the attacks took place. The families that have been attacked have been of all types in our community, including several of our pure-blood families. We have been fortunate in the fact there have been no deaths yet, but we have reason to believe that it is only a matter of time."

When asked about You-Know-Who, Minister Diggory replied, "I fear that what's been happening to our community is beyond He who Must Not Be Named's capabilities and those of his Death Eaters. We are trying to obtain proof of this right now, but have been unavailable to do so as of yet. I fear for the entire wizarding community with this new threat. Please excuse me, I must go now, I will keep you informed if anything new develops."

When interviewed by this reporter, former Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge stated that he doubts the validity of these statements made by Minister Diggory, citing no real proof having been found to support these allegations and that he continues to doubt the current administration.

Minerva pushed the paper back across the desk wearily, looking carefully at Albus. She could easily see the toll this new, unnamed threat was taking on the Headmaster and she did not like it at all. This new problem did not bode well for the coming school year and she realized that Albus knew this as well.

"There's something else that you're not telling me, isn't there Albus? Have you forgotten just exactly how long I've known you? What is it Albus, what do you know that the Ministry doesn't?"

"My sources, as you know by now Minerva, are often a bit better and a bit faster than the Ministry's. One of my sources happened to be a short distance away when the last attack took place. Not knowing the exact nature of the attack, my source managed to remain hidden and waited until the attack was over. My source told me there were at least fifteen Death Eaters and one other who was wearing a dark green robe on that raid. Fortunately my source decided to wait and report everything he had witnessed directly to me. After making sure the 'coast was clear', my source managed to make his way to the site of the attack and found a few survivors in the wreckage of the house. Upon finding them, my source sent the injured family to St. Mungo's and called in an Auror team."

Albus paused for a moment to allow his words to sink in before continuing,

"Knowing that it would take a few minutes for the auror team to assemble and apparate there once the Ministry detected the magical outburst, my source took the initiative and with a little luck, he found the Dark Mark burning in the sky above the home and... this symbol burned into the only wall of the house still left standing. He managed to take some pictures to preserve the evidence before the Mark disappeared and the Aurors from the Ministry finally showed up."

Minerva leaned over the cluttered desk and closer to Albus, who resignedly held out a picture to her. Taking the picture into her hands, she studied the moving pictures carefully as she sat back in the chair. She could easily make out the Dark Mark hovering about thirty to forty feet above the house, which upon seeing it sent a cold chill down her spine and she could also make out something else, something that was burned into the wall.

Burned deeply into what remained of the wall was a roughly book-sized hexagon shaped symbol, a deep blood red as the background color, with a black mist swirling around the edges of the shape. In the middle of the hexagon there were three runic symbols in black of some kind with fire coming off the edges of them.

Pushing the pictures back across the desk to Dumbledore, Minerva said,

"Albus, I've never seen that particular symbol or the runes before. Do you know what is it?"

Albus looked at his former student and said sadly, "I am not surprised that you don't know of this symbol. I don't think there are many of us left that study the ancient legends. Minerva, if this symbol represents who and what I believe it does, then Voldemort is now the least of our worries. And Harry is in far more danger than we can protect him from."

"What do you mean by that, Albus? How can Voldemort be the least of our worries?" Minerva asked, confused.

"Take a look at this particular passage carefully, Minerva. I've read it so many times since I received this report, I've memorized it word for word. Let me finish this tale and then I shall explain it all to you a little bit better. After I received the report about the attack and these pictures, and after studying them closely for a bit, I saw something in them that triggered something in my memory, something that I hadn't thought about in many years. I then took it upon myself to journey down to the old library located in the cellar of the east tower. I don't know if you have ever been there or not, but in this particular library is where we still have some books that the founders of Hogwarts left for the future generations of students. This particular library hasn't been visited in many, many years, the last time being when I was a student here, I do believe. I don't think any of the current staff knows of its existence. Anyhow, I've just spent the last several hours pouring over those books and in the last one on the shelf, and by far the oldest of them, judging by its appearance, I found this symbol and reference."

Albus handed the dusty, leather-bound book over to Minerva and watched the expression on her face change as she read the marked passage.

Ashrien

In a time long ago, in a time and place beyond legend to us, even now, there were just the "Practitioners". The Practitioners were those uniquely gifted individuals who wielded the greatest of all the magics. Of all the practitioners on this world, two siblings were known to be the most powerful - Magerian and Ashrien.

As the millennia passed by, slowly, inexorably and inevitably, a rift began to develop between the practitioners, most importantly between the two siblings. One sibling started using the magics for personal gain and power while the other sibling fought against him for doing so.

As more time passed, the rift became wider between Magerian and Ashrien as Ashrien began enticing others to this particular way of thinking, the using of the magics, the gifts of power and trust, for personal gain. Ashrien called his way of thinking and his followers; The Order of Ashrien. Magerian looked upon this turn of events with great sadness, knowing deep inside that there would be great conflict between them someday.

Magerian began to train her fellow practitioners, those practitioners who followed the long held traditions of honor and respect for the magics, those who used the gifts for the betterment of all, for the Great War that loomed darkly upon the horizon. She saw that the Practitioners who believed as she did, that they were trained in the arts of healing magic, combat magic and everything else that could be thought of to try and stop her dark sibling, her own brother and those who had chosen to follow him, from completing their chosen path. It was not something which Magerian took lightly, knowing that neither side would really win and foreseeing the unnecessary loss of life on both sides.

And finally, one day, without fanfare and without warning, the war began. The magics that were unleashed upon their world in this war were like no other and the fighting very nearly tore the planet itself apart. Thousands of practitioners on both sides perished, many in ways too horrible to comprehend even to this day. This battle or 'magic war' as it came to be known lasted for a very, very long time. And, in the end, when the battle,was finally over, Magerian, the older of the two siblings stood victorious, but deeply saddened over the loss of her brother. But, Magerian also knew, while this battle had been won, that the war was far from over.

The ruling lord of the land officially recognized Magerian and her followers for their unwavering efforts and sacrifices in saving their world. As a sign of complete and total respect, Magerian and her followers were given official recognition and sanction. The Mage's Guild or the Guild as it came to be known in later millennia had been born.

Minerva looked up at Albus, her features paling considerably as she paused before reading the last of the passage

"Continue reading the passage, Minerva. There is just a wee bit more to go."

Some time later, Magerian disappeared, but her followers continued the long honored traditions of training and vigilance. Through time and space, the Mage's Guild grew as it traveled from star system to star system, planet to planet.

But as the Guild traveled, so did the Order of Ashrien. Never in large numbers, but they traveled as well, following the Guild and all too willing to find others to turn to their service. As time passed the name slowly changed and now anyone who come across this symbol will know them simply as the Ashrin.

Minerva closed the book with shaking hands and handed it back to Dumbledore. Taking a deep breath, she looked at him and said, "Just how old is this book Albus? And you mean to tell me that there is one of these...Ashrin here? But how is that possible?"

"It's a very old text, Minerva. I'd guess it to be several thousand years old, perhaps even more, I just don't know for certain. This in and of itself lends credence to my theory. And before you ask, yes, Minerva, unfortunately, that is exactly what I am telling you. I have absolutely no idea how one of them came to be here, which also troubles me as well. If they are as old as this book purports them to be, they possess far more power than all the wizards in the world combined, which is a frightening prospect. And now, after seeing both the Dark Mark and this symbol at the same time and place can mean only one thing."

"He-who-must-not-be-named is working with..."

"Yes, Minerva, one of these Ashrin is working with Voldemort. I have an idea Minerva, an idea which may save us all. But it is dangerous, highly illegal and may not even work, but I can only hope that it does. I need you to gather Professors Sprout, Snape, Flitwick, and Sinistra. Tell Professor Sprout to bring these particular ingredients and the same goes for Professor Snape."

Minerva looked over the lists of ingredients and gasped.

"Albus, you do know that every one of these ingredients is on the Ministry's proscribed list. You know what would happen to us if the Ministry found out that we had these items? Just what are you planning on doing with them?"

Albus looked at Minerva through his half-moon glasses and said, "There is only thing we can do now Minerva, given this new information. There is a description of a summoning ritual in this book, which is why I need these ingredients. We need to attempt a summoning, Minerva. A powerful summoning, far beyond out power levels and far beyond anything we've ever attempted to do in the past. In order to combat an Ashrin, we need... a Mage."

*****************************************************

Little Whinging, Surrey was a nice, normal neighborhood which is why the residents liked there it so much. All of the houses were arranged in nice, neat rows with carefully maintained lawns and meticulously planted flower beds. All in all, a perfectly normal neighborhood in which to grow up. All of the residents liked it this way, except for one. At Number Four Privet Drive however, lived someone who was not normal, someone who did not fit in with the neighborhood. At the home of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, there lived a wizard. He was an abnormality or freak as his aunt and uncle called him frequently. A wizard lived there, a certain wizard by the name of Harry Potter, also known as the Boy who Lived...

Completely oblivious to the recent events in the wizarding world, Harry Potter sat on a chair much too small for him, staring out his small bedroom window, watching the thunderstorm raging outside, his homework having long since been forgotten on the desk beside him. He didn't subscribe to the Daily Prophet anymore, having found the paper to be somewhat unreliable in the past, even though Rita Skeeter worked for them once again. Most of Harry's summer holiday since his return from Hogwarts had been spent doing chores during the day and completing his homework at night. Unlike the previous summer, which Harry spent in a combination of grief and depression over the events at the Department of Mysteries, this summer had been somewhat different. Harry had spent the majority of his recently ended sixth year slowly rebuilding his friendships with his friends and cementing ties with his guardian, Remus Lupin. Harry had looked forward to the mail his friends had sent him and had faithfully replied to each letter.

He had spent the last hour before dinner, sitting in his rickety chair just staring idly at the storm raging outside, after finishing the numerous chores his aunt had given him to do inside the house. The chores Harry had been given today had ranged from dusting everything in sight to hand-scrubbing the kitchen floor and polishing the silverware.

Harry was grateful to be busy and for the distraction from his cousin Dudley, who had been unusually quiet since his return from Smeltings four days ago. There was one exception to this: a small scuffle which had occurred on Harry's first full day home from Hogwarts. Judging the look on Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's faces after they received Dudley's grades for the past semester and a terse phone call, which Harry assumed to be from the Headmaster at Smeltings, Dudley had not done well there the past semester. For the first time that Harry could remember, Dudley had been punished for his poor academic performance. Harry had taken great care to stay out of his uncle's way when Dudley's problems were discussed. Harry took one last glance at the raging storm and then he finally turned his attention back to the half filled parchment in front of him, which happened to be last of his homework for the summer.

Picking up his eagle-feather quill, Harry dipped into the inkwell and with a few well-researched words, finished the last of his summer's homework, an essay on Animagus transformation for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class. 'At least I won't have Hermione on my case this time.' Harry thought, This is the last of my homework.' He was so engrossed in his essay, he almost didn't hear his aunt's call to dinner.

"If you want anything to eat tonight, you had better get down here right now. Or else, it's no supper for you boy," Aunt Petunia bellowed in her horse-like voice.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia. I'll be right down, thank you for calling," Harry replied, keeping his voice neutral.

Rolling up the parchment, Harry carefully tucked it away in the small closet in his room, after writing his name and class on it.

Running his fingers through his rather unruly hair, Harry tucked his wand safely in a special dueling wand holder given to him by his former professor Remus Lupin, strapped to the inside of his right arm. Harry didn't go anywhere without his wand anymore, especially after the events just prior to beginning his fifth year at Hogwarts. Pulling down the sleeve of the shirt he was wearing, which easily hid his wand holder, Harry ran down the stairs for dinner. By the time he had sat down at the table, Dudley was already half way through his mountainous plate of food.

Dudley's diet had been abandoned upon his return from Smeltings at the beginning of the summer, at Aunt Petunia's belief that Dudley's boarding school had starved her little Dudders into a shadow of his former bulky self. Although he had taken up the 'gentlemanly' sport of boxing, which had trimmed Dudley's physique down a bit, he was still grossly overweight, a fact that his mother consistently overlooked. A rustle of the evening's newspaper indicated that Harry's Uncle Vernon was not in the best of moods. Grunnings Drills had been seeing some hard times as of late and it was showing in his uncle's attitude towards him. Plus, what ever trouble Dudley had gotten himself into during his last term at Smeltings hadn't helped matters either.

"Mind what you take, boy. Dudders here needs his food too. Just take a good look at our Dudley; he's nothing but skin and bones now. That blasted school starved our boy," Vernon growled menacingly

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied, taking a small spoonful of vegetables and putting them on his plate.

After the events of his fifth and sixth years, Harry had seen some serious changes in the way the Dursleys had treated him, especially after his aunt and uncle had been threatened by members of the Order at the end of Harry's fifth year. Even the Dursleys could not ignore the dangers to Harry any longer after having been shown the extensive evidence and a few well placed words from Mad-Eye Moody. Even though the Dursleys hated magic, they had grudgingly allowed Harry to carry his wand on him as all times as long as they never saw it. Granted, the Dursleys weren't much better than before, perhaps even a bit worse at least on Vernon's part, but now he was allowed to keep his school stuff with him in his room and he was given a bit more to eat at the table. Vernon even allowed Harry to let Hedwig out of her cage on a daily basis, provided it was at night and the neighbors didn't see her. Harry was still treated as a house slave for the most part; just a slightly better fed one.

"Did you finish the chores your aunt gave you to do today, boy?"

Harry looked over at his uncle, his face barely visible behind the paper. Harry replied calmly, "Yes, Uncle Vernon, I finished them. All the inside chores on Aunt Petunia's list for today are done and approved by her."

Vernon looked over the edge of his paper to Petunia and she nodded to him that Harry had completed those chores to her satisfaction.

"And what about the outside chores? Why aren't they completed yet?"

"I told him to do the inside ones, Vernon. I couldn't have him tracking mud through the house, those carpet runners we purchased are brand new. As you can see, it's been storming since just after you left this morning," Petunia replied, placing a dish of mashed potatoes and gravy on the dining room table.

"Uncle Vernon, I told Aunt Petunia that I will do them as soon as the ground is dry enough. "

"See that you do so, boy. When will you be leaving us again?"

Harry couldn't help but notice the bit of excitement in his uncle's voice. Dudley had turned seventeen shortly after Harry had returned from Hogwarts and despite his 'poor academic performance' he had been given a brand new car as a birthday gift. Harry was a few hours shy of turning 17 himself and he was sure that the Dursleys had forgotten that particular fact. In both the Muggle and wizarding worlds, you were considered an adult at that age. And for Harry, there came an extra bonus upon turning seventeen years old. Something he had been waiting for since he first found out he was a wizard. He would be allowed to do magic without worrying about the decree against under aged wizardry. That particular bit of knowledge alone made up for the most recent set of fading bruises on his back from his brutish cousin Dudley.

Just at that moment, a particularly loud crack of thunder startled not only Harry, but the Dursleys as well. As Harry glanced out the back window of the dining room, he saw a great many figures standing at the far end of the yard. Harry's heart started racing as the figures became recognizable in the lightning flash that followed the thunder.

Death Eaters were in the Dursley's back yard and that could mean only one thing. Voldemort had finally found a way to break through the charms and wards that Dumbledore placed on the Dursley residence to protect him over sixteen years ago.

Easing his wand out of the holster under his sleeve, Harry slowly pushed his chair back from the table, moving closer to the door. Vernon noticed this immediately and bellowed, "Just what do you think you are doing with that wand thing, boy? You do remember what we said at the beginning of the summer."

Knowing that there was very little time until the Death-Eaters struck, Harry turned around to face Vernon and replied, "I know the terms of our agreement. However, I am trying to save your sorry, fat, pathetic ass, Uncle Vernon, from getting blown up."

Vernon's face swelled indignantly and he made a move to strike Harry again. Just as he was about to connect with Harry's face, his hand was stopped on its downward movement, having been caught in a slender, yet firm hand.

Harry looked up and saw two people now standing behind him, one being smaller in height than the other, both of them were dressed in simple, yet elegant black robes, trimmed in silver, with their features well hidden beneath their hoods. Harry had not heard their arrival in his home, a fact that only now was beginning to worry him. Apparating anywhere made a distinctive popping sound, and was supposed to be impossible at Harry's residence, unless the wards protecting the house had been removed, and as far as he knew they had not.

As if sensing Harry's mood, the taller of the two cloaked figures spoke quickly and with a definite feminine voice. "Relax, Harry. We are not here to hurt you in any way. In fact, we are actually here to protect you. It seems as if your nemesis, Voldemort has managed to enlist the aid of a new ally in this war and we are here tonight in order to deal with it for you."

Harry looked up at the two figures, bewilderment plainly evident on his face. He was about to speak when his uncle bellowed.

"Just who in the ruddy hell do you think you are, barging into my home uninvited like this? I don't allow 'freaks' in my home."

Harry noticed both figures stiffen visibly at Vernon's use of the word 'freaks', but watched as the taller of the two walked towards the back door.

"Who are you? How did you get through the wards on the house?" Harry asked, rather unsettled at this turn of events.

The taller of the two figures paused at the back door, the hooded head turning around and looking at him. For just a brief instant, Harry caught a glimpse of his mysterious savior's eyes and was mesmerized by the intense crystalline blue peeking out from underneath the hood.

"You'll find that out soon enough, Harry. Rest assured, you'll find out very soon."

With that, Harry's rescuer calmly opened the door and walked outside to face the Death Eaters who had begun to converge on the back door of the house at Number Four Privet Drive.

Too stunned to say or do anything, Harry's guardians watched in silence as a magic battle began outside their home.

"Come Harry, you ought to see this. It's going to be a corking good show."

Harry took the hand of the smaller of the two and allowed himself to be lead over to the window and watched as the showdown commenced.

***************************************************************

The leader of the group of Death Eaters that had been sent to attack Harry Potter at his home this particular evening watched with great interest as his fellow Death Eaters took up attack positions around the back yard of the Dursley residence. Just before they had left to go on this 'special' raid, the Death Eaters were told by Lord Voldemort, that the wards that had been protecting Harry Potter would not be a problem. Voldemort had seemed rather pleased when he had planned this particular mission and had entrusted it to his favorite lieutenant, with the usual warning of severe punishments if they failed.

Lucius Malfoy watched the events unfold with great interest, his features hidden behind his Death Eater's mask, as a lone figure finally emerged from the back door of the house at Number Four Privet Drive, closing the door behind them. All of the Death Eaters in attendance this evening were new to the Dark Lord's ranks and had been given this opportunity to prove themselves worthy of their Dark Mark. Lucius' curiosity was piqued when he realized that it was not the Potter boy, who had exited the house as he had expected, but someone else, with their features concealed beneath the heavy hood of the robes they wore. With a small gesture, the twelve Death-Eaters who had come along with him on this raid strode forward, preparing to engage this solitary defender.

"Give us the Potter boy. You don't want trouble this evening, witch," growled one of the younger Death Eaters, clutching his wand tightly.

The reply that was given was not what he expected at all. Had the Death Eaters known what was about to happen to them, they would have been frightened at the sound which came from the figure in front of them. A short burst of laughter came first, then was followed by a most unusual reply. "A witch? Hmm, now I haven't been called that in ages. Actually, for your information I am not a witch. I'm something far more frightening than just a simple witch. Normally, given any other circumstances, I'd be inclined to turn you into something for a comment like that. But, I need you alive and whole Lucius Malfoy, for one reason and one reason only. I need you to take a message back to your master's new associate," stated the cloaked figure, casually leaning against the side of the house.

"And what is that? What makes you think I'd do that?" Malfoy replied, surprised at this 'witch's' boldness at recognizing him and calling him by name out loud.

"Simply put Malfoy, I know what truly scares you. You want to keep your pureblooded, aristocratic features just the way they are, your steely gray eyes and your platinum blonde hair and oh yes, that pale, flawless skin. I'm quite sure that you don't want a permanent... disfigurement."

"There are twelve of us and only one of you, plus you are surrounded. Honestly witch, just what makes you think you will survive your insolence?" Lucius replied, a hard edge having crept into his voice, rather unaccustomed to being talked to like that.

"Number one, my apprentice, who is inside the house chatting with Harry, is more than a match for all you put together, especially if you get her upset. It's not a pretty sight when she's upset, really. She can be quite...messy, actually. And two, you have absolutely no idea who you have just pissed off. Harry Potter is under our protection now, Malfoy."

Lucius snapped his fingers discreetly and the twelve Death-Eaters outside quickly converged on the figure clothed entirely in black. Stepping back, Lucius watched the scene unfold, confident at first of his fellow Death-Eaters dueling skills, having trained a few of the more promising of them himself. But as the seconds ticked by agonizingly slowly, much too slowly for him, his confidence turned to sheer terror as twelve Death-Eaters were killed before one Unforgivable Curse could be uttered.

And when he was the last one left, standing frozen in place, the figure walked up to him, their stride purposeful, yet graceful, absently tossing a small, black marble in one hand. Pinning him against the brick wall separating the yards, the figure finally lowered the hood, revealing raven black hair, crystalline blue eyes set into an unbelievably beautiful feminine face.

Taking one of Lucius's hands, she placed the black marble in it and tightly closed his fingers around it. Her voice dropped to a low whisper, which chilled him to his very bones, as she said simply, "Tell your master's associate this when you hand him this marble: it is not wise to anger a Mage."

***********************************************************

Harry watched the events that transpired outside in stunned silence, while his companion for this strange night watched the events as if they were a common, everyday occurrence. One person had willingly taken on twelve of Voldemort's infamous Death-Eaters and had dispatched them with a speed and precision that he had never seen before. And the magic that had been used outside to deal with them was nothing like he'd ever witnessed and even more importantly: it had all been done without a wand.

Harry watched through the rear kitchen window as the hooded figure walked over to where the last Death-Eater stood frozen against a tree. Harry watched as something was whispered into the Death Eater's ears, then something was placed in the Death-Eater's hand and the Death-Eater disapparated from the backyard.

Incredulous, Harry turned to his hooded companion and asked, "Just what happened out there? How is it possible to survive an attack by twelve Death-Eaters?"

"My Guildmaster has been studying the Mage arts for a very, very long time. To be completely honest with you, quite a bit longer than your Professor Dumbledore and longer than the Hogwarts founders combined. Before you ask yes, my master is that old, although I'll never say that to her face. Unfortunately Harry, our time here tonight is over and I'm afraid that we must be going now. You're safe from the Death Eaters now and they won't dare try that little bit of stupidity again, we've seen to that. It's rather late in the evening now and we still have things to do yet before we rest. Don't worry though; we will most certainly meet again. I expect that you'll be getting a visit from your Ministry people shortly. We're not ready to talk to them yet, but we will talk to them soon, I promise. Before we go Harry, I have something for you, just wait here a moment, please."

Harry watched as the cloaked figure strode over to where the Dursleys were currently cowering in one corner of the kitchen. He watched as the figure knelt down, extended a delicate hand and roughly grasped Vernon by the collar, effortlessly lifting him into the air, and holding him against the kitchen cabinets. When his mysterious benefactor spoke, the voice was in a low tone, each word carefully enunciated and emphasized.

"VERNON DURSLEY! You will heed these words and heed them well. You are never to touch Harry Potter again in any way, shape or form. If you, your wife or son touches him with any kind of harmful intent between now and the time he leaves these premises for good, we WILL know and then you will face me. There is no place on this earth that you can hide from me. If you try anything, and I mean anything, I guarantee that I WILL find you. Have absolutely no doubt in your mind that WE WILL KNOW if any harm comes to him in any way. Harry Potter is now under the protection of the Mage's Guild."

Vernon Dursley nodded his beefy face in agreement as he stared into the eyes of the hooded stranger with fear, his feet dangling at least two feet off the kitchen floor.

"In addition, for the remainder of his time here, you will give him full portions at mealtimes and he is to do ONLY the chores he chooses other than keeping his 'bedroom' tidy. You will transport him to King's Cross Station on September 1^st without argument and have him there no later than 10:30am. Vernon Dursley, is that UNDERSTOOD? Because, I guarantee you won't like what happens if I have to come back here for any reason."

With that, the stranger abruptly dropped Vernon to the floor, after Vernon nodded his acquiescence, where he landed with an audible thud, and the stranger now turned back to where Harry stood. Reaching inside a hidden pocket, the stranger withdrew a small black velvet box and handed it to him.

"Here, Harry this is for you. Take this; consider it a gift from us. Oh Harry, you can relax, it won't harm you; in fact it will help you."

Harry took the box carefully and opened it. Inside the box was a very simple, yet beautifully wrought silvery gold chain with a small charm attached to it and it seemed to be designed specifically for him.

"What is it? It seems like it was designed just for me. I've never seen anything like it before."

"It will protect you, Harry and yes, it was designed specifically for you. I crafted it myself actually. It's a protection ward, and not just from Voldemort mind you, it will protect you from other things. It will help you to deal with your nightmares and give you a sense of safety and comfort. And, if your uncle does do something stupid, which I expect he will do, given his charming personality this evening, the charm will also let me know so I can come and get you. Go ahead Harry, and put it on."

Harry pulled the chain out of the box and carefully fastened it around his neck. He felt the power that emanated from the chain for a moment as it seemed to bond to him, and then it was cool against his skin again. It felt right being there around his neck. And for the first time since he found out about Voldemort and his role in the prophesy, Harry wasn't consumed by some mind-numbing fear regarding it.

"Thank you. Will I be seeing you again?" Harry asked, his voice showing his hope at the thought.

The stranger turned back around to face Harry, having just been joined by the other stranger.

"Don't worry about that, Harry. You will see us again and sooner than you think. That, I promise to you."

With that, both hooded strangers turned and disappeared in a soft flash of light.