At What Price?

Chapter 3

It Never Rains, But It Pours

Life on Privet drive settled down after Petunia returned home. Harry started sleeping at home again instead of in the guest bedroom at Mrs. Figg's. He had stayed for two more nights after the fight with Vernon and Dudley. Professor Figg had used the three days he was there to inundate him with information, quiz him on the lessons, and generally stretch his thinking to the absolute limit. He had studied more potions, new charms, and permanent charms called enchantments that were used in the making of magical items and artefacts. She even taught him the basics of runic magic, an ancient magic used by the Celts and Nordic peoples in the time before the Hogwarts Founders. After being overworked by Figg like this, Harry actually found that returning to 4 Privet Drive was a welcome, and relaxing, change.

The evening Petunia came home, she had insisted that Harry be there for dinner. Dinner had been a tense affair. Vernon acted as though Harry wasn't there. Dudley stared daggers towards Harry and mimicked strangling him while making polite conversation with his mother. For her part Petunia tried to include Harry in the conversation, but she didn't exactly want to hear about his studies or his school.

After dinner Harry cleared the table, as usual. 'Aunt Petunia,' he said slowly as she walked past him, 'about my school...'

Petunia paused, and stood by Harry as he was getting his sleeves wet with soapy suds. "Harry, I am not comfortable with the fact that you are a wizard. I don't want to hear about magic, monsters, flying, or any of that other rub... stuff. Tell me about your school in general terms but don't tell me about ghosts and moving paintings. Tell me about your friends but don't tell me that Ron is learning to read palms or that Hermione knows how to brew a potion that makes you sprout wings. There are some things that I just don't want to know. It makes my life easier if I deny their existence." Harry shrugged and saw no reason to challenge her on it. After all she was the only thing stopping his uncle and cousin from strangling him. She was also the only one who could tell him about his mother's family, or at least the one who was even remotely willing.

Harry received owls from Hermione and Ron on a regular basis. A week after his letter to Sirius was sent he finally received a reply.

Harry,

One of these days I would like to get a letter from you that says, "Hi Sirius, just thought I'd let you know that all is well here. Got high marks on all my tests. My girlfriend is well. Ron and Hermione are doing well. Have a good day, Harry." Of course I want to remember Peter without having to think of what he did, life is tough all over. Seriously, it is good to hear from you. Write me whenever you need to. I'm just giving you a bad time about the nice letter. I wish I could say I was offended by the "miscreant youth" remarks, but sadly, it's all true.

Did Figg tell you that you're not supposed to use stasis enchantments on living flesh? It destroys it. Stasis is only supposed to be used on objects or dead bodies for preservation. Sounds like working with her will be good for you. Stuff like that is really helpful when you're an Auror, especially when you are out in the field and cut off from everything you need. That kind of training will save you months in the classroom.

I met Petunia a couple of times, along with her mum. Neither one much cared for me. From what Lily told me, Mrs. Evans had been raised in a strict Anglican household. As such had a very dim view of witches and magic, Devil's work and all that rubbish. She had a really hard time reconciling her favourite daughter and her long held prejudices. They had finally made peace just before your mum and dad married. When Lily was killed she took it really hard. Of course I lost track of her after that. Wish I could tell you more, but I don't know much else.

I could write about your mum for days, but I don't think Theseus wants to carry two reams of parchment. What we need to do is meet somewhere for a few beers and talk about this. Let's do it right around your birthday. I probably won't be able to settle down for another three or four months, but by Christmas I should be settled and we'll have a big party at my place.

Take care,
Study Hard,
Pull a few pranks on Dudley,

Sirius

Harry stared at the letter for a long time. It was like a puzzle, but he didn't have all the pieces, and he didn't even know what it should look like when it was done. Still, it was a puzzle. Harry spent the entire evening in his room with his letter from Sirius in his hand, his scrapbook from Hagrid open on the desk in front of him. All the magic he knew, all the magic in the world couldn't answer the one question he had. "What is the truth?" Harry asked it out loud and felt cheated when the emptiness of his room failed to answer.

That night Harry slept fitfully and dreamed of a snitch that flew faster than he could. In his dream he chased it hither and yon across a Quidditch pitch he didn't recognize. The score of the game was hidden from his view, though he was sure that someone was keeping track. The stands erupted in cheers every time he dove for the snitch. They cheered when he missed. They cheered when he got close. They cheered when outmanoeuvred his unknown opponent. They cheered because he was Harry Potter, yet he was quite sure that no one cared that he couldn't catch the snitch.

When he woke in the morning he was exhausted and felt like he hadn't slept in days. Seeing that it was 7:00 he decided he'd better get moving so he could get to Professor Figg's on time.

"I'm not going today," he decided as he talked to himself while dressing. Vernon and Dudley would be leaving for work in half-an-hour. He would wait until they left, then go down and talk to Aunt Petunia, really talk to her. He sent Hedwig over to Mrs. Figg with a message that he would not be over before lunch and possibly not at all. He was sure she would understand. He sat down and looked at Sirius's letter again, trying to puzzle out the meaning he was sure was there, just waiting for him to discover it.

"It's not there."

"It has to be."

"No, it doesn't actually. You know where it is, you just don't want to go get it."

"You're not very helpful, and you have really bad timing." Harry shook his finger at the letter, got up out of his chair and walked to the door. When he got to the door, however, he turned around and went back to the desk and grabbed the photo album before heading downstairs as he heard Vernon's car roar off down the street.

"Harry, you're going to be late getting to Mrs. Figg's." Aunt Petunia was her normal nosey self again, watching the neighbours through the kitchen window as she spoke to him without looking away.

"I told her I wouldn't be over until after lunch today." Harry responded as he set his photo album down on the table and grabbed an apple.

"Oh? Have you got some big plans today? Running off with your friends I suppose?" The remark lacked the stinging tone that it would have had just a week or two before. Instead it sounded almost like an instinctive reaction.

"Actually I wanted to sit and talk with you this morning Aunt Petunia. There are some things we've been avoiding." She turned and looked at Harry. Her expression flickered back and forth between mild annoyance and blind panic. Harry tried to deflect the tension with a simple question. "Can I get you something to drink?" He knew it was a lame question, but to cover it up he got himself a glass of juice.

"Thank you Harry. Could you get me a glass of juice, please." She went to the table and sat down gingerly, as though she expected the chair to bite her. Curiosity overcame trepidation though as she saw the photo album on the table. "What's this Harry, I've never seen it before."

"Oh, it's a photo album." He quickly added, "You might not..." It was too late. Petunia had opened the cover of the album, and peered inside. It took her a moment to react but when James and Lily waved at her... Petunia's eyes widened and she slammed the book shut and let out a mild shriek.

"Good God Harry! What have I told you about that stuff?" She sounded rather upset, but she wouldn't take her eyes off of the book.

"Sorry Aunt Petunia. It's got some blank pages in the back for writing on, that was why I brought it down." He walked to the table and sat down the two glasses of juice. He flipped the book over and sat down at the table. "Who was older, you or my mum?" Harry dove right in and Petunia looked at him with mild surprise, this was not the question she was expecting.

"I'm sorry?" Petunia seemed a little confused by the question and was slow to answer.

"Who was older, you or my mum?" Harry found that he was actually rather curious to find out anything at this point.

"I am... was, by a little over two years." She didn't sound particularly upset, Harry was thankful for that much at least. It would make it easier to move ahead. At the last moment he decided to take an indirect route to the questions he really wanted to ask.

"Did you go to the same primary school?" Petunia's eyes took on a far away look. Harry was a little concerned that maybe she was going into relapse, but she looked at him and smiled a little. The light of intelligence was still in her eyes.

"Yes, we both went to St. Pious Academy, a small private school. Mum and Dad had to work hard to send us there, but Mum wouldn't hear of us attending public school." She took a deep breath and sipped at her orange juice. Harry was about to ask another question when Petunia continued.

"Lily could have gotten better marks, but she got in a lot more trouble than I did. She was always bringing in books that the teachers said were blasphemous. They would of course send home notes and she would get in trouble at school. Then a week later it would happen again. I honestly don't understand how she never got in real trouble." Petunia's tone took on a slightly bitter inflection. "I never did anything like that. I did my homework, answered the teacher's questions. I made the Dean's list every semester. Lily only made Dean's list once, her first semester."

Harry found he was becoming intrigued by the story. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to know, but it was still interesting. Petunia went on, seemingly enthralled in her own story. "The teachers would always say to her, 'Lily, why can't you behave more like your sister?' Of course Mum never said any such thing. So Lily just kept on acting up because she never got in any real trouble. She would get extra sentences or lessons at school and she always got through those quickly so I figured that they weren't real punishments." Petunia came out of her reverie and looked at Harry pointedly.

"That was the one problem in our house. Lily didn't have to follow the same rules I did. If I stepped out of line they never hesitated to drop a ruler on my knuckles. But Lily was the younger child, so she got spoiled and pampered. I tried very hard to make sure that you didn't get special treatment just because you were younger. It's not fair to the older child." Petunia had a slight sour twist about her mouth as she said these words.

Harry could barely suppress his anger at this ironic twist. Dudley had been spoiled rotten while Harry had been treated like slave labour. Now Petunia justified it by saying she wanted to make sure the younger child wasn't given special treatment? Harry could scarcely believe what he was hearing.

She continued on as though what she had said justified everything and needed no more explanation. "Lily was always fun to be around at home though. She would play the funniest jokes. When she was little she would hide in the cupboards and then wait to scare whoever walked past. There was one time when Dad was walking through the kitchen reading his paper and smoking his pipe. She popped out of the cupboard and went 'boo!' Dad was so surprised he backed into the wall and one of Mum's plants fell on his head and the pot broke. So there's Dad standing there with his paper in his hands, his pipe smoking in his mouth, his reading glasses on the end of his nose, and a potted daisy on top of his head. Lily, thinking she's in trouble, puts her finger in her mouth and goes, 'Uh Oh.'" Harry couldn't help but laugh at this point because Petunia had put her index finger against her bottom lip and was feigning a little girl's look of wide-eyed worry. Then Petunia began to laugh as well, and this went on for several seconds before both stopped laughing, but the uneasy silence of a few minutes ago was broken.

They continued to visit Petunia's and Lily's past all throughout the morning, talking about the girls' experiences in primary school. Harry chose not to pursue the question he had originally intended to ask, deciding that discretion was the better part of valour. After lunch, Harry headed to Professor Figg's where he plunged straight into Decoding Enchantments and Deciphering Curses.

Harry sighed as he looked through the books. Figg was almost as bad as Petunia and Vernon last summer, he thought despondently, as his eyes glazed over, trying to remember the enchantments and curses. "Harry, pay attention," Professor Figg's voice was sharp and cracked like a whip. "The time is coming very soon when your knowledge will be put to the test, and not knowing what you need to know will you cost you dearly. You are a highly respected wizard Harry, people expect more from you, you need to be able to deliver."

Harry sat the book aside and looked at her challengingly. "No, I am not a highly respected wizard. I'm a famous wizard because somebody died so that I could live." Harry's voice was bitter. "If I wasn't The Famous Harry Potter I could live the life of a normal teenage wizard. I would probably be spending my time at Ron's playing Quidditch. Hell, I might even have a girlfriend instead of a bunch of sycophants following me around all the time." This was the first time he had ever articulated his frustrations to anyone other than Hermione or Ron; it was cleansing.

Mrs. Figg looked at Harry. She supposed she could be soft here and say she understood and felt bad for his loss; but the truth was he had incredible potential as a wizard and she would be damned if she was going to let him fritter it away. Her tone took on the same biting sarcasm that Harry's had. "Yes you could; and I suppose when you didn't get any N.E.W.T.S. you could go play Quidditch for the Cannons. Of course never mind the fact that your father was a damn fine Auror of immense talent. Never mind the fact that your mother was the only woman I know who could actually cast a charm on an object in the next room without seeing it. Never mind the fact that you seemed to have inherited all of their talent plus a little more. Never mind that Dumbledore trusts you enough to give you an Invisibility cloak and let you take extra studies that he doesn't even let Ms. Granger take." She levelled an icy stare on him. Her voice dropped the sarcastic tone and replaced it with one that was imperious and callous. "Stop wallowing in self-pity Mr. Potter. It doesn't become you very well; but if you're going to insist, then stop wasting my time." She turned and strode from the room as though she were totally indifferent to his choice.

Harry looked after her in shock. Very few people, with the exception of all the Dursley's, had ever spoken to him in that kind of tone. It was like a slap in the face. As he thought about what she said, he decided he that maybe he did have a lot to live up to. Mrs. Figg didn't just hand out compliments like 'damn fine Auror' and 'immense talent' just to say them; and Dumbledore had trusted Harry with a great deal. If nothing else he owed Dumbledore better than this. With a sigh he picked up his book and went back to studying a spell called "Revelios Incantatem."

A few days later, Ron contacted Harry through the fire at Mrs. Figg's and told Harry all about his diviner training. He was learning the basics of astrology, which was a lot more interesting now than it had been in his third year with Trelawney. He could also recite the meanings of all the Major Arcana in the Tarot deck, but had given up on tealeaves.

"It's rubbish Harry. Marix says that they can hold glimpses of the future. I don't think so. She said not to worry about it though, because tealeaves is only a sixth circle rite, and it isn't very accurate or important." Ron's voice was very excited as he babbled on about his Divination training and then went on about Hermione and what she was doing. Harry noted that Ron kept getting off track though and started talking about things like what she wore, the way she kissed, and the feel of her fingers. Harry was starting to agree with what Ginny was always saying, this was just sick. He was starting to get the same sinking feeling in his stomach he got every time he came back to the Dursleys, but now it was there every time Ron started talking about Hermione.

Harry's tone was pained as he interrupted Ron's latest foray into things Harry didn't want to know. "Ron, I really don't care to know what it feels like when Hermione runs her hands up the inside of your shirt. And I really don't want to know about when you reciprocate." Maybe he did need to find a girlfriend. At least then he could find out what all the fuss was about.

"Sorry Harry, it just gets away from me sometimes. I can't help myself. She's everything I could ever need or want." Ron sounded wistful.

"That's fine, just spare me all the gory details OK. So tell me, what's this Madam Marix like? She's not like Trelawney is she?"

"No, she's younger, maybe in her early thirties. She dresses like a normal witch, not the cheap gypsy costumes that Trelawney wears. She has the costume and she wears it for carnivals and stuff like that, but she says it gives a gypsy a bad name to dress like that all the time."

Ron's voice lowered a little bit, like he was trying to be mysterious. "She gets really cryptic sometimes. She refers to Hermione as the Bearer of Stars, but won't tell me what it means. She wants to meet you too, keeps going on about the Lion in Darkness." Ron's voice reverted to normal. "She's not like that all the time though. Usually she goes through my lessons and gives me straight answers when she can. She says there is a time for being cryptic, and a time for being direct." Ron shrugged as he said this, it was obvious that he had no idea what Marix meant.

"Sounds cool." Harry paused, "Ron, we should really get together sometime." The last popped out rather quickly. Harry did want to see Ron and Hermione; he was tired of looking at Privet Drive.

"That reminds me Harry, Dumbledore said it would be fine for you to come out to the Burrow for the weekend before your birthday, but he said you should return home by the morning of your birthday. He was kind of vague but said it had something to do with some kind of training. I assumed he meant your studies with Professor Figg."

"OK," Harry was disappointed, his birthday was still two weeks away and he was kind of hoping for this weekend. "My birthday falls on a Tuesday this year. Do you think I could come out on Friday night? Then on Monday we could all go down to Diagon Alley and get our books and stuff. With a little luck we might even miss Malfoy this year."

"That sounds great. I'll run it by Mum." Ron and Harry closed the fireside chat and Harry headed for home. About halfway between his house and Figg's, Harry stopped and slapped his forehead.

"Dammit, I'm supposed to get together with Sirius for my birthday." Harry walked on home trying to figure out how he was going to juggle this. When he walked in Aunt Petunia was just hanging up the phone.

"Harry," she turned and looked as he came through the door, "that was a Dr. Granger. She was ringing to see if you would be available for dinner the night of your birthday. I told her that would be fine, so she is going to pick you up at 6:00 on Tuesday the thirty-first. She said to dress nicely, jacket and tie." Petunia's voice was matter of fact but not unpleasant. She turned back to the sink where she was peeling apples. "Aren't you a little young to be going to dinner with a female Doctor, Harry?" Her voice was slightly worried, much like a mother's would be in this situation.

"I'm sorry?" Harry was caught completely off guard by her question.

"If she is a Doctor, Harry, that means she is at least several years older than you are. What business do you have stepping out with a woman that much older than you?" Petunia was peering at Harry, as if trying to gauge a reaction.

"We're not stepping out. Dr. Granger is Dr. Emily Granger, Hermione's mother." Harry sounded a little indignant about the whole idea.

"Aren't Ron and Hermione dating? Why is she taking you to dinner then? Doesn't that girl have any proprieties?"

Harry threw up his hands in exasperation at that statement. "Hermione and I are friends." Harry spoke slowly and clearly, emphasizing important words. "Her parents are nice people and want to take me out for dinner on my birthday. Why do people automatically assume that Hermione and I are stepping out, just because we're friends?"

Petunia turned around and wiped her hands on her apron. "First of all, the way you're always talking about her, Hermione sounds like an attractive and wonderful young girl. I don't understand why you don't pursue her. Second of all," she walked up to him and attempted to straighten his hair, "you are a very handsome young man Harry. You should be dating. If you don't start dating soon, people are going to think awful things about you. Why don't I set you up a date with that nice girl up the street, Amber? She just broke up with her boyfriend yesterday." She peered into Harry's eyes, "You'd like her, really!'

"Why don't we just drop this whole ridiculous conversation?" Harry was mildly annoyed and ran his fingers through his hair now that his aunt was done playing with it.

"Harry, you aren't..." Petunia's look was at once concerned and mildly disgusted. Her hands moved like she was trying to draw an answer out of him without asking the question. "What I mean is, you don't like..." Harry was enjoying watching her squirm with this one, but he decided to let her off the hook, namely so that she wouldn't get the wrong impression.

"No, I am not gay." Petunia looked profoundly relieved. "Right now I am just far more concerned with not dying a horrible death at the hands of an evil wizard than I am with finding a girlfriend." Harry watched as his aunt's expression went from relief to worry to consternation. "Besides, I'll know when she comes along."

"When who comes along?"

"Her." He said it as if it answered the whole question. Petunia looked at him expectantly. Harry was annoyed by her lack of comprehension so he spoke slowly. "Her, the one, the girl for me."

"How will you know who she is if you don't ever date anyone Harry?" She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him like one looks at a small child.

"When she walks by birds will sing, flowers will bloom, I won't be able to think straight, the sky will open up and a single sunray will alight the ground where she stands. When that happens then I'll know she's the one." Harry said all this with a perfectly straight face. Petunia looked at him carefully. She decided he was dead serious.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Petunia's voice seemed a little shocked by this revelation.

"Well, yeah." Harry was surprised by the notion that he wasn't serious.

"Then you are going to be sorely mistaken Harry. If you wait for the sun to shine on her alone as a sign from God, you will be waiting an awfully long time."

"That's the way it was for Mum and Dad. I don't see why it can't be that way for me." Harry was starting to get perturbed. Petunia shook her head in disappointment; she was going to have to set him straight.

"Harry, sit down." Petunia took off her apron and sat down at the table with him. Her face was very serious as she folded her hands on top of the table. Her voice was grave, like she was delivering news about the death of a loved one. "Harry, love doesn't work that way. Love is about hard work. Love is about sacrifice and forgiveness. Don't think that when you find her everything is going to come up roses. Your mum made that mistake at first. She thought that when she found her husband, he was going to come riding in on a white horse and take her away to a magical kingdom." Petunia took a deep breath. "She hated James when they first met. James was a tramp, he dated lots of girls." Harry began to get angry that she would insult his parents like this. "Him and that friend of his, tall guy, dark hair, thoroughly disreputable sort."

"Sirius," Harry interrupted.

"Not serious about anyone." Petunia continued on without noticing the look on Harry's face. "She came home at Christmas her fifth year and she was going on about this guy, James, that she had met. He was so cute and this and that. Two weeks after she went back to school I get a letter and she's crying her eyes out because James is seeing some blonde floozy. It went on like that for almost two years. She and James would be happy, then they would break up, then get back together again. When they announced their engagement after graduation, I honestly thought Dad was going to kill James. Dad, of course, knew all about their rocky past. Dad took James aside at the engagement dinner and promised him that if he jilted Lily, his life would be forfeit. Apparently James got the idea because he never left her again." She looked at Harry meaningfully. "Both of them were stubborn and selfish to begin with. Things got better for them once they got more mature and learned that love is more than kissing and laughter, it's real work Harry. Being in a meaningful relationship is hard work. Remember that, and get over these fantasies of sunshine and singing birds. You'll be better off in the long run." She stood up and put her apron back on. "Now help me with dinner, Vernon and Dudley will be home soon."

Petunia began pulling pans out of the cupboards and Harry set to peeling apples. Petunia spoke again after a couple of minutes. "So Mr. Socialite, since you already have plans for the night of your birthday, can we book the night before for dinner?" Harry sliced his thumb open with the peeler he was using as he jumped in shock, Petunia didn't notice. "I think we'll invite Mrs. Figg along as well. You two seem to get on quite well. It's too bad she doesn't have any grand-daughters about your age."

"Sure." Harry wasn't sure he could manage more than one syllable answer at that point. It never rains unless it pours, Harry thought to himself, unsure of his feeling about this turn of events.

With a week to go until his birthday Harry had finally gotten it all straightened out. On the Friday before his birthday he and Professor Figg were going shopping in Muggle London during the morning. He didn't know why and Mrs. Figg was being deliberately vague about the whole event, as she called it, mysteriously. That afternoon he would travel to Ron's by Floo Powder from Mrs. Figg's. On Monday he would go to Diagon Alley to get his schoolbooks and stuff with the Weasley's and the Grangers. He had to be home by six that evening so that he could go to dinner with the Dursley's and Professor Figg. Then on Tuesday, his birthday, he was going to dinner with the Grangers and possibly Ron. Finally, Wednesday he was going out with Sirius.

Aunt Petunia had objected strenuously to Harry's going out with Sirius. Not because of his recently expunged criminal background, but because she remembered him from his younger days and was sure he was going to get Harry arrested and in trouble. In the end Harry had won out by threatening to bring Sirius to the house, motorcycle and all. The next afternoon a letter arrived at Mrs. Figg's from Dumbledore.

Mr. Harry James Potter

For some time now we have been watching you. Since you were born if the truth be known. In the course of your life you have fought evil whenever it has confronted you. There have been occasions when you have even gone in search of evil when it has struck close to you. Your loyalty and courage have been tested, and have not faltered. You are intelligent and thoughtful; you show concern for your fellows and mercy to your enemies. On three separate occasions Fawkes the Phoenix has shed his tears for you, and once he has sought you out. These are all commendations of the highest order. These commendations are why this letter has been sent to you.

The Order of the Phoenix, as you already know, is an organization of wizards that combat the forces of evil. Our proud history stretches back to the days of the Hogwarts founders and our patron, Godric Gryffindor. After deliberation by the whole of our membership, it is my proud duty to extend to you an invitation to join our organization. Arabella Figg, a member of our organization with whom you are acquainted, will relay your decision to me. She will also be your point of contact and source of information should you have any questions regarding the Order or the Rites of Initiation.

The advice of our most respected seer and omen reader is that your initiation should take place on Tuesday July 31^st, the night of your seventeenth birthday. I look forward to your response.

Sincerely and with Great Respect,

Albus Dumbledore

Albus Dumbledore
Lord of the Phoenix

Harry's legs went weak and he sat down abruptly on the floor of Professor Figg's living room in stunned shock as he finished the letter. Slowly the wheels in his mind began to turn and things began to become clearer. Dumbledore had known this was coming, that was why he wanted Harry home on his birthday. This was why Professor Figg had been working him so hard this summer. She knew of his nomination and knew he would need to learn many things not normally taught at Hogwarts. That was why Sirius had mentioned accelerated Auror training. Then he remembered his appointment with the Grangers. The decision was obvious, but he felt bad having to change plans with the Grangers. He stared at the letter for many long moments. Finally, Professor Figg's voice penetrated his mental fog.

"Harry, are you in there?" She looked at him with a bemused smile and handed him a cup of tea. He sipped at it as he considered the letter again. He looked up at her.

"Dumbledore has invited me to join The Order of the Phoenix." His voice was simple as he said it, for he was still rather shocked by the whole idea. The Order had been there in his fifth year when Voldemort had struck. Harry, along with Hermione and Ron, had gone to rescue Hagrid from Voldemort. Instead Harry had to be rescued himself by Professor Snape, also an Order member. He thought of the sacrifice Snape had made to save him, and his chest got tight. He was now being asked to take up the same type of mantle. Be willing to lay his life on the line in the fight against evil, the evil that had killed Professor Snape and Cedric Diggory; the evil that threatened his friends; the evil that had scarred him and killed his parents.

Harry got up and looked at Professor Figg very seriously. She thought he had aged five years just in that one look, he somehow seemed older and more mature. His voice was strong and sure, though deeply humbled, as he handed her the letter. "Please tell Dumbledore I accept his invitation, and that I am honoured by it." She took the letter from him and went to the kitchen. Harry simply stood there not knowing what else to do. Finally, he realized he needed to contact some people, so he asked Professor Figg to use her Floo powder and prepared to call Ron through the fire.

"Harry, do not tell anyone." Mrs. Figg's voice left him no room to argue. "I know you need to contact Hermione and change your dinner plans, but do not tell her why."

"Yes Professor." He cast the powder into the fireplace, "Comunus Infierno, Hermione Granger." After some few seconds her head appeared in the fire, her hair appeared to be mussed.

"Hi Harry. Ron says hi." She looked a little guilty about something, but didn't mention it to Harry.

"Hermione, we need to change dinner plans for my birthday. Is your mum there?"

"No, she and Dad went to dinner and a show." Harry decided she did sound guilty. "Why do you need to change the plans Harry? Everything OK?"

"Something has come up that night, I can't make it Tuesday. Would the following Thursday be OK?" Harry was trying to end the conversation quickly; apparently he had interrupted something.

"I think so. I'll have to check with Mum to be," Hermione seemed distracted as her voice rose a full octave, "sure." Her head turned in the fire indicating she was talking to someone at her location. Her tone was commanding, though not displeased. "Ronald Weasley, stop that, Harry's watching."

Harry responded very quickly, "Callmebackafteryoutalktoyourmum, bye." With a slashing motion of his arm and a hurried "Finite Incantatem ," the fire returned to its normal appearance. He was blushing and could feel it. He walked into the kitchen where Professor Figg was drafting a letter, he assumed to Dumbledore.

"That was quick, I figured I had half an hour." She looked at Harry quizzically.

"She was um...busy." Harry was sure he was blushing again.

"Ahh," was all the Professor said. Her tone conveyed that she understood completely. Harry suddenly felt like he was missing out on a great many things. He sat down at the table across from her. Before he could stop himself he asked the question.

"What am I missing out on?" Harry's face flamed as he said this, the tomato colour rising until his entire face seemed like a red cherry.

Professor Figg set her quill down and looked at him. "What do you mean Harry?"

Harry considered his words before moving forward cautiously. "Well, this whole girl/guy thing. I mean everybody seems to be concerned about my dating, or not dating as the case may be. Every time I turn around Ron and Hermione are trying to set me up with some girl or another, Stan on the Knight Bus thinks I should be with Hermione, Petunia's afraid I may be queer, even you give me a hard time about it, calling me Casanova. What is it I'm missing out on, and why?"

She looked at him very seriously, as though weighing the gravity of her words before she said them. "Harry, love is a wonderful thing. With it you will experience highs like you have never felt before, because of that it also can bring you lower than anything else in the world. In time love finds all of us. Sometimes though, we have to wait a long time. Sometimes it leaves us far too soon." Harry noticed a far away sadness on her face. "You have something else to do right now Harry, you have something that occupies your mind and your soul. The time will come when this will pass away. When it does you too will find love, because you will be able to look for it."

Harry breathed a deep sigh. "I was talking to Aunt Petunia a few days ago. I always thought that when I found love that there would be singing birds and sunshine and signs of fate and I would just know. She says it's not that way. She says that love is hard work, that it involves sacrifice. I always thought love made everything easier."

"Some very few people find love that is all sunshine and roses. Those people are rare, even more rare is when a love like that can last the storms of winter. Most people don't though. Young love is like that, all sunshine and roses. Not many young loves last into adulthood though; it's hard for them to stay intact. Your aunt is right; love is hard work. There is sacrifice, but if it's a good love, that sacrifice is easy and you are filled in return." She got up and walked around the table, she placed her hand on his shoulder as she looked out her front window.

"Good things come to those who wait, because those who wait know what they want. Be patient Harry. You're asking the right questions, you're just about ready." She sighed heavily. "Soon you'll be all grown up and won't need the advice of an old woman, so I'm going to give it to you now. Be patient Harry. Know what you want. When you find it, grab it. When you have it, love it for all its worth."

Her hand slid from his shoulder and she walked towards the back of the house. He watched her go. He watched as she brushed her fingers lightly over the large picture that hung in the living room of a young woman in a fancy yellow dress and a young man in a World War 2 era military uniform. "Lock up on your way out, Harry. Good night."

The next few days passed quickly. Harry finally got hold of Dr. Emily Granger and they were able to reschedule for the following Thursday. A full week of birthday celebrating, when it rains, it pours, Harry mused to himself as he filled in his calendar with his plans. Friday morning arrived and Harry found himself stepping into Professor Figg's fireplace as they headed to The Leaky Cauldron.

"I thought you said we were going to Muggle London," Harry queried Professor Figg as they stepped out of Tom's fireplace.

"And so we are. Tom does have a door that leads to the rest of the world. Oh, Harry call me Mrs. Figg today please. Some people might find it strange if you keep referring to me as Professor." She brushed the soot off of her cape and found a booth.

"Harry, Arabella, how are you this fine morning?" Harry thought Tom seemed to be more in his element early in the morning.

"Morning Tom," Harry responded. He noticed that Mrs. Figg seemed a little distracted so he ordered for her. "Can we get some tea, Earl Grey, and an orange juice; and some muffins with marmalade please?" Harry had learned two things about Mrs. Figg's morning routine; it featured muffins with marmalade and Earl Grey tea.

"Sure thing Harry." Tom was off to the kitchen. Mrs. Figg looked at him with a questioning glance.

"Did I do something wrong?" Harry asked her; unsure of what her look meant.

"Well Harry, I am not so provincial that I need a man to order for me. I was actually considering the eggs benedict." Her voice was fairly quiet, Harry was thankful because that meant it wouldn't carry to the next booth. "However, I'll drop it now because you were only trying to be polite. Don't be so Neanderthal; in the future ask a woman what she wants first. In the long run it will save you a lot of arguments."

"My apologies, I just thought that you were waiting for me to order for you. That's how Aunt Petunia always does it. Do you want me to get Tom and change it?" Harry was genuinely confused; he wasn't quite sure how to act here.

"No Harry. I won't embarrass you like that. However, if I were your girlfriend, you would pay for this later. Just something to think about. Don't assume a woman is stupid, and don't embarrass her by embarrassing yourself. You are a direct reflection of her taste in men, she wants you to look good. Don't underestimate the power of the female population." She looked at him archly. "You can thank me, you now know more about women than half the male population." She smiled at him. "Here endeth the lesson."

Harry considered what she was saying as he thought of Ron and Hermione. "If that's true, I hope I can remember it. Ron and Hermione spent the first half of our sixth year fighting because Ron would blunder from one dumb mistake to another. I didn't know from one day to the next if they were going to break up or stay together." Harry shuddered mentally at the difficulty of trying to buffer those two during a really bad row. "I really don't want to go through that."

Their breakfast arrived and they ate companionably. Tom again tried to give Harry breakfast for free. Harry again told him no, and then had to insist. Harry and Mrs. Figg then set out into Muggle London. Their first stop was a bookstore where Mrs. Figg picked up several books on a variety of subjects. Harry was looking at a couple of magazines that he thought he might pick up for Mr. Weasley when he realized he didn't have any Muggle money. Disappointed he replaced the magazines.

Their next stop was a shop called Carmichael's. Harry read in the window 'Fine men's clothiers, Est. 1895.' Harry caught Mrs. Figg before they entered. "Prof...er, Mrs. Figg. I didn't bring any Muggle money with me. I can't go in here."

"Nonsense Harry. Come on in. My husband used to shop here, some of the finest tailors in London." Harry didn't argue, but followed her in. Several well dressed men were moving about the inside of the store. A well-dressed young woman with honey blonde hair and a light tan approached him. Her look was sceptical as she looked at the clothes he was wearing, which didn't fit him very well and were particularly out of style. Mrs. Figg spoke first, noting the look on the young woman's face.

"My nephew is visiting from up country." Her tone was clipped and imperious. "I need to get him some decent clothes. I should think a pair of slacks, two shirts, a jacket, and a new tie should suffice. Oh, and some good shoes." Harry noticed the young woman jumped to do her bidding. Harry was half tempted to do the same, her tone was very commanding.

"Yes ma'am. Would you care for some tea while we set to work on this?" Mrs. Figg indicated that she did not. The blonde woman extended her hand to Harry, who took it and shook it carefully. "I am Liselle, and you are?"

"Harry." Harry was having a difficult time concentrating. Her hand was warm and soft and her eyes were very blue. She smiled at him and Harry was quite sure his knees were going to buckle. So this is what Ron is always going on about, Harry thought to himself. She took several quick measurements, a couple of which made Harry slightly uncomfortable.

Liselle then led him over to rack of slacks and selected a pair of Khaki ones. Next came a slightly darker tone jacket that was then swapped out for a blue one. Next came the shirts. Liselle finally settled on an ivory, and an olive. Both were linen and, she assured him, would look good on him. Finally she went over and began laying ties on the shirts. Some she held up to his face, others were simply compared to the shirts and set aside. All through the process she made small talk with him about where he attended school, his friends, what he enjoyed doing. Her voice was warm and companionable.

Harry had to concentrate very carefully not to let slip anything that would lead to awkward questions. This was made even more difficult by the warmth of her hand against his face or chest. Finally, seemingly satisfied she handed him the slacks, the jacket, a shirt and a tie. "Go in here and try these on. While you do that, I'll go find you a pair of nice shoes."

Harry stepped into the comfortable private room and changed clothes. He was glad he had learned to tie a tie at Hogwarts, though the one in his hand now was somewhat thinner, and a much finer material. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and decided that this might not be a bad idea after all. Just as he was about to slip on the jacket there was a light knock on the door.

"Harry, I have some shoes for you." Liselle's voice was sweet and Harry liked the sound of it. He opened the door slightly and Liselle dropped the shoes she was holding. "Oh my." She exclaimed.

Harry suddenly became very self-conscious and began checking to make sure he hadn't forgotten to zip his slacks. Liselle laughed lightly as she bent to pick up the shoes. "No Harry, everything is fine. You just clean up very nicely." She beamed a smile at him, then turned and closed the door so that Harry could put on the shoes and socks she had brought. He could hear her outside the door talking with Mrs. Figg saying something about him being a perfect fit right off the rack. As Harry tied the black leather shoes he also heard her recommending a second pair of slacks and perhaps another shirt. Mrs. Figg was sceptical, but agreed to have a look for herself.

Harry opened the door and walked out. Liselle had chosen the olive shirt with a tasteful beige and blue silk tie. Liselle breathed a deep sigh, and Mrs. Figg smiled. "You're right Liselle, a pair of olive slacks and a dark blue shirt." Liselle handed Harry a black leather belt and turned to walk to the slacks again. Mrs. Figg turned to Harry, "She was right, you do clean up nicely. And a near perfect fit. I don't see any need to have it altered at this point, do you?"

Harry turned and looked at himself in the mirror. He had never owned clothes this nice, and he guessed they fit OK, he was more than willing to take the advice of these two women who were very sure about it. "I guess not. If you think it looks okay."

"It looks fine Harry. Why don't you wear that, I'll have them package the rest." Harry suddenly became very self-conscious.

"Mrs. Figg, I can't pay for this. Not unless they take Gringotts gold." He said this in a very quiet voice.

"They would, but don't worry about it Harry." Mrs. Figg smiled at his stunned expression. "Happy birthday." Impulsively, Harry hugged her. Mrs. Figg was a little surprised by this reaction and hugged him stiffly. She then paid for the purchases with a MasterCard similar to Uncle Vernon's. Liselle made sure Harry had her business card and invited him to come back soon. The same thing happened again with a girl named Amber at a hair salon. Amber had suggested just a light trim, allowing the hair to keep its natural unruliness without being untidy. Mrs. Figg had allowed him to purchase small gifts for each of the Weasley's under the condition he pay her back. Soon it was 4:00 and they made their way back to The Leaky Cauldron.

Mrs. Figg turned Harry to face her. She fussed slightly at his appearance, straightening his tie and smoothing his collar. "Harry, enjoy your weekend. Be home on time, it means a great deal to your aunt." Harry promised he would be. He then hefted his backpack, which had been magically altered so that Harry could carry his many packages. Finally, Mrs. Figg cast a charm on him that would repel the soot that was associated with travelling by Floo powder. Using Tom's fireplace Harry travelled to The Burrow.

-----------------

Ginny and Hermione were sitting on the couch talking. Ron had gotten up and walked away when the talk turned to boys and Ginny had begun telling Hermione about Jared and Nigel, two boys she had met at the carnival a month before. Hermione was pleased to hear Ginny so happy, and was equally pleased that she hadn't mentioned Harry the entire day. Hermione thought this turn of events was a good sign. Just a month ago, Harry seemed to occupy Ginny's every waking thought, it was a crush that bordered on obsession, and Hermione was sure it was unhealthy. Then, like someone had switched off a light, it had stopped.

"So, Jared came calling last week, he took me to a movie in town. It was very odd, I've never seen anything like it." Hermione grinned inwardly at Ginny's fascination with the Muggle invention. She was vaguely aware of the sound of the fire jumping to life in the fireplace. An indication that somebody was about to arrive by Floo powder. Hermione glanced at her watch and saw that it was about five after four; Harry was due to arrive at any moment. Ginny continued to relay details of her date with Jared.

"Afterwards we went for ice cream. He was... Oh my!" Ginny's voice was suddenly very dreamy. Her hand came to rest at the base of her throat. "Hermione, tell him that's not fair. Tell him he can't do that."

"Can't do," Hermione turned to see what Ginny was so distracted by, "Oh stars." Hermione's voice had also taken on a dreamy, breathy quality. "You're right Ginny, that's not fair." She felt heat rising in her cheeks as she stared at the young man that looked like Harry. He seemed more mature and sure of himself as he stood there dusting soot from the arm of a very nice dark blue jacket that looked as though it had been cut solely to hang on his body. Hermione was used to seeing men dressed nicely, her father dressed well all the time. That in no way prepared her for the sight before her now. Harry reached down to dust the soot from his pant legs as he called out.

"Hello everybody." Harry's voice rang out through the house summoning Mr. and Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen and Ron from upstairs. Hermione was the first to shake off the effect of Well-Dressed-Harry. She rose from the couch and went to him, embracing him warmly.

"You look really nice Harry." She whispered in his ear as she hugged him.

"You really think so?" Harry questioned her. "I don't know. It doesn't feel quite right." His face had turned a pale red colour and he was shifting in his new clothes uncomfortably.

"Trust me Harry, the clothes make the man. Those clothes did a number for you. You just set Ginny back six months." Hermione grinned mischievously but still she had a worried look in her eyes.

Harry groaned. "Don't tell me that." Harry knew what Hermione was talking about. They had been in pretty regular contact about it. Harry was relieved that Ginny had finally decided to move on. They broke their embrace and he turned to shake Ron's hand.

"Bloody brilliant Harry. Did you find a woman to make you over and then not tell me about it?" Harry laughed.

"Just the girl at the clothing shop who picked all this out for me, Liselle."

"You need to take that girl out to dinner."

"You know Ron, I may just do that, she gave me her number." Harry grinned like a cat with a bowl of cream.

"Harry, you sly dog you. Next thing you're going to tell me is that you've been collecting girls' numbers all day long." Harry looked sheepish as he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out three business cards and a scrap of paper. All had hand written phone numbers on them. Hermione gave Harry a questioning look as she appraised him in a new light. Ron thumbed through them, then handed them back with a low whistle. "It never rains except when it pours, does it?" Hermione looked at Ron and rolled her eyes.

"Ron, stop being so crass." It was Mrs. Weasley's voice that interrupted them. Ron stepped aside to allow his mother room, she too seemed to fall under the spell of Well-Dressed-Harry. "Oh Harry, this is very nice. Is this tailor made?" She smoothed the jacket shoulders and fussed with his tie. "They're going to start calling you 'lady killer' if you dress like this all the time. Very nice." She hugged him warmly, then straightened his tie again. Harry shook hands with Mr. Weasley who commented that the shirt looked like fine material. Finally, Harry turned to Ginny.

"Hey Gin, how's it going?" Ginny stared at him like he had sprouted a third eye in the middle of his forehead. He walked over to her as he reached into his bag. He pulled out a package about the size of a magazine and about three inches thick. He extended it to her. Ginny stared at the package for a long second. Then, like a frightened gazelle, she jumped off the couch and bolted out of the living room.

"Oh dear," Hermione ran up the stairs after her.

"Virginia Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley turned and shouted up the stairs after her. She turned to Harry. "I'm sorry Harry. I don't know what's gotten into that girl recently." Harry didn't hear a word she said. Someone else had his undivided attention. Following the path of Harry's eyes, Ron saw that Madam Marix, his Divination Mentor, had come in from the kitchen. Ron motioned for her to join them.

Harry was awe-struck. Never in his life had he seen a woman so beautiful. Her raven black hair was pulled back in a thick ponytail that hung over her left shoulder. Her shoulder was slender and her skin was a rich cinnamon colour. The lines of her neck were graceful and long, though not overly so. She wore simple gold stud earrings in each ear. Her cheekbones were finely chiselled and drew the viewer's eyes towards the centre of her face. Her lips were the colour of rosebuds in early spring and were full and luscious. The smile that played at them was enigmatic, as though she were sharing in a private joke that rest of the world would never understand. Her nose was thin and sharply defined in relief to her face. Her eyes were deep and had a slightly almond shape to them. Her eyes reminded Harry of pools of liquid ink so deep was the black of their colour.

His eyes travelled down the rest of her body. The swell of her chest was mostly, though not completely, concealed by a loose fitting blouse of dark forest green. Her waist gathered in and then flared slightly again in finely shaped hips that were covered by a peasant skirt of dark blue fabric that fell to just below her knees. When she walked, Harry noticed that her hips didn't have the clockwork movement that many women did. Rather her hips seemed to roll through an endless figure eight that made Harry think of boats on a lake. Her legs were shapely, and a single gold chain glittered from one of her ankles. She was barefoot, and Harry thought that this was even sexy in its own way. His eyes snapped back to her face as Ron introduced her.

"Harry, this is Madam Marix Rasputin. Marix, this is Harry." She extended her hand to shake Harry's own. As he reached for her hand he suddenly remembered he was supposed to breathe. He took her hand in his own, and turned it slightly, raising it to his lips like he had seen done in plays and some movies. He kissed the backs of her fingers and he felt as though his lips were aflame.

"The Lion in Darkness." Her voice was mysterious. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last." She blushed ever so slightly, though her dark colouring covered it well. Her voice reminded Harry of choirs of angels. He began listening for birds and symphonies. Harry cast about desperately for something to say, and then it was there.

"The Rose in Winter." He smiled at her. "Ron somehow failed to mention that there were angels in his house." Harry was amazed that he was able to speak at all, let alone speak eloquently. Ron rolled his eyes then looked at Harry darkly, this had not been anticipated. Molly quickly turned to go towards the kitchen. Arthur gave Harry an appraising look. Harry slowly released her hand and felt fire trail along the skin of his fingers where they had touched.

"And Ron never mentioned that you were such a charming young man." She curtsied slightly to him, a knowing smile played about her glistening lips. "If you will excuse me." She turned and went upstairs. It was Ron that snapped Harry back to reality by clapping him on the back.

"You get new clothes and suddenly you're the next Casanova?" Ron was torn, Harry was his best friend in the world but he was eyeing Marix with something like hunger. Ron thought of wolves watching sheep as he looked at Harry. Harry grinned sheepishly, though he never took his eyes from Marix' retreating form.

"You never mentioned that she was an unearthly beauty." Harry's voice was distracted, as though he was talking out loud to himself. "You cheated me Ron. I could have been spending weekends here, watching her. Instead I've been at Professor Figg's house learning about the nature of potions." Harry was watching her climb the stairs and didn't see the knowing look between father and son.

"Harry, she's much too old for you. She's got you by thirteen or fourteen years probably." Arthur's voice was understanding, as though trying to give him direction. "I've got some new toys I want to ask you about, let's go out to the garage."

In a voice that showed Harry was back inside his own head again, he replied. "Hold on a second." Harry turned to the forgotten backpack on the floor. "I brought presents for everyone." He reached in and pulled out a package that was wrapped in plain brown paper. It was the size and shape of a book, a very heavy book. He handed it to Mr. Weasley. "Go on, open it." Arthur carefully split the wrapping, then opened it to reveal a book entitled Fundamentals of Electricity.

"Harry, this is great. Does this explain how it all works?" His eyes were wide with surprise and anticipation.

"Yeah, I thought you might like something like that. I know how you are about plugs and batteries. This is all the stuff behind it. I hope you like it." Harry reached in and pulled out a box for Ron. Arthur sat down at the table and opened his book with a distracted thank you.

Harry pulled a another plainly wrapped package from his pack and handed it to Ron. "You'll have to use these at Hermione's house, but I thought you'd get a kick out of them." Ron stared at the odd rectangular package, which wasn't particularly heavy. He looked at Harry expectantly. "Open it," Harry directed him. Ron tore the package open, and then began to laugh as he read on the side of the box Monty Python's Flying Circus, The Worst Of Times.

"Video tapes, right?" Ron was laughing uproariously now.

"Yeah, thought you might like those." Ron blushed a little, but knew that Harry would be insulted if he refused. It didn't change the fact that he felt guilty about his friend spending so much on him, but that was Harry's way.

"Thanks Harry, these are great."

"Glad you like 'em. Let's go out and see your mum." Harry headed for the kitchen. Harry had gotten her a small pendant on a gold chain. The pendant was heart shaped and set with two small sapphires. Molly had cried and given Harry a huge hug. Then she jumped back, looking horrified as she realized she had probably wrinkled his new clothes. She set about straightening them again. Harry laughed and enveloped her in a big hug and thanked her for being so nice to him all the time.

"I should probably take these things up to the girls." Harry indicated his bag.

"Then you are a far braver man than I." Ron looked at Harry speculatively. "Did you get anything for Marix? If not, you might want to wait till later. She's probably in Ginny's room. They seem to spend an awful lot of time together."

"Actually, I did. I had no idea what to get her, so I got her this." Harry pulled out a small item, wrapped in tissue paper. He unwrapped it carefully. Lying there was a small crystal rose with red petals and green leaves. Lying among the white tissue paper, Ron thought it looked suspiciously like a rose lying in the snow.

"I thought I was the one with the gift of divination here." Ron was impressed by the piece, as he touched it though he got a vague sense of impending trouble.

"Actually, I thought of what I had bought her, and there it was. Was it too sappy you think?"

"I think she's waaay out of your league, Harry. That's what I think." Ron's tone was matter of fact and seemed to carry some type of warning that Harry ignored. Harry's look was crestfallen.

"Let's go up and see the girls." Harry, all smiles, retrieved the package he had picked up for Ginny and headed upstairs with it and the other two. As he knocked on the door, Ron just opened it and walked in. The three girls jumped as the door opened. They all looked a bit guilty and shame faced and none of them would look directly at Harry. Harry was rather sure they had been giggling about something.

"I brought some stuff for everybody." Harry entered the room and handed Ginny her package. He handed Hermione a smaller package, about the size of two CD's. Finally he handed the tissue paper wrapped item to Marix. As he did so he blushed furiously. Hermione was very pleased as she opened the latest Lorenna McKennit and Enya CD's Harry had bought her. She was rather glad that he hadn't gotten her a book, his taste in books was atrocious.

Ginny was at first apathetic about it all, but opened the package Harry handed her after Ron gave her a dirty look. She wasn't as excited as Harry had hoped, but he hadn't really any clue what to get her. He had gotten her several Muggle fashion magazines that the shop girl, Angelique according to the register tape with her hand written name and number on it, had recommended.

Finally, everybody watched as Marix opened her gift. Harry held his breath; Ron watched both Harry and Marix closely. Hermione looked expectant, and Ginny looked fearful. Slowly she opened the package, the stem becoming visible first, and then the leaves. She stopped and looked at Harry, "I cannot accept this." Harry's face, and hope, collapsed.

"Keep it, I don't want it back." Harry hung his head slightly. Ginny's heart went out to him, despite all her efforts to stop it. She had to admit to herself after seeing Harry tonight that her little crush on him wasn't over yet.

"Lion, I don't even know you. How can I accept a gift this precious?" Ron shot her a warning look. Ginny looked back at Marix as well. Harry smiled as his he saw light through the darkness of her rejection.

"Think of it as an omen, as a gift brought from me to you, by fate. I could never have known as I picked that out, how this would play out. Obviously fate was guiding my hand." Harry smiled at her radiantly. He didn't see the dark look on Ron's face, but he did see hers.

"You joke about fate and omens, you use them as convenient phrases." Her voice was stern and carried with it dire warnings. Ron did not recognize it as one of her stage voices. "You have no idea just how right you may be. I know this much about you Lion in Darkness, fate has a strong hand on you. You are brought to places and see things for purposes that only the Greater Powers can understand. That fate brought me this gift is what worries me." She gave Harry a penetrating look that made him feel weak. Her voice had softened, as though she were thanking him without actually saying it. "I will accept your gift because you meant nothing by it, you were only trying to be considerate." Then her voice hardened again. It was not the voice that Trelawney used for delivering omens of death, rather it was a more like the voice that Dumbledore used when warning students about the forbidden forest. "However Lion, do not trifle with fate. She watches you like a mother bear watching her cubs." She slipped the item into a pocket on her skirt and swept from the room. The silence left in her wake was oppressive, like London fog along the Thames.

Ginny tried first to break the silence, "Thank you Harry, the magazines are really nice." Her words hung in the air for just a fraction of a second too long.

"You're welcome Ginny. I know you like to read Teen Witch Weekly and the girl at the shop said these were the most popular magazines for fashion and stuff." Harry felt awkward and out of place. "Ron, I'm gonna go drop my stuff in your room." Harry left Ginny's room like an escapee from Azkaban.

------------------

Marix sat down on the bed in the room the Weasley's had offered her. She opened the tissue paper wrapped flower and looked deeply into it. "How could he have known," she asked the silent flower. She turned it over in her hand and felt the cool crystal against her skin. The workmanship was excellent. The petals of the flower were many layered, like a rose in full bloom. They were formed in a spiral pattern that drew her eyes to the centre. She followed the path of the petals several times, until she lost count, and lost track of where she was.

"Marix, Marix, it's time to come in." Her mother was calling her. She liked playing in the snow and didn't want to go in. She stayed out and played a little longer. "Marix Rasputin, if you don't come in right this minute I will lock you out and leave you to the strigoi!" Like all children who grew up in the shadow of Hunnedora castle in the mountains of Romania, she had a fear of the strigoi. She reached out and grabbed the rose bush next to her. On the end of the branch a single red rose burst into bloom. She plucked it from the branch and brought it to her mother.

"Its for you mommy, a rose in winter." Her mother looked at her in horror. Marix turned around and saw the Priest.

"Ms. Rasputin, I think you should pray for guidance on this matter." His voice was neither concerned nor fatherly, rather it was like a sword being drawn from its scabbard. "I know your bloodline cannot be helped, but you have a responsibility to protect your child from false masters." The priest rose and swept his robes about him as he left. Her mother turned on her, her face full of anger, her eyes full of sadness.

"Marix, what has mommy told you? Do not summon the spirits to do your bidding. Others fear your powers, and they will hurt you if they catch you. Hide your powers away child, use them only in darkness, and only when there is no other choice." Her mother held her tight. "You are my Rose in Winter, Marix. You are the sunshine when the sky is dark. You are what makes me happy." Her mother took the rose and brushed her nose with it. "I knew you were special when you were born, know how I know?" Little Marix screwed up her face in concentration, and then she smiled.

"Because the rosebush bloomed in winter when I was born!" Her mother had told her the story long ago, but it was one of her favourites. It was not long after that when her mother was arrested for criminal activity. The charges were false; she had really been arrested for being a witch. Marix had gone to the orphanage then, and the priest from years before remembered her. He had offered to redeem her soul, she could not have known then that his redemption would plummet her into the darkest of hells.

The vision broke as it always did, with the Priest closing the heavy door of his private chamber. When it did, her eyes would open and her shirt would be tear stained. That was how it always went, this was no exception. She looked down at the crystal rose in her hand. "Were you delivered to me by fate? What are you trying to tell me?" She reached for the Vistani Tarot deck she kept in a wooden box. She opened the lid. After looking at it for a moment she thought better of it, then closed the lid back down over the purple cloth that covered the ivory tiles.

Dinner that night was a lively affair, dinner at the Weasley's usually was. There were jokes and laughter, and Fred and George were there in spirit as Harry fell prey to a can of Pumpkin Head juice, and then sat on a cushion that then proceeded to alternately insult his great weight and complement his cute bum, both in an equally lewd voice. Harry positioned himself at the table so that he could watch Madam Marix without being obvious. The down side was that it left him in Ginny's direct line of vision. He tried not to think about the looks that Ginny was giving him. It made him profoundly uncomfortable, like he had done something wrong.

Marix noticed that Harry watched her a great deal. She was actually rather flattered by it. She had never had a young man as attractive as Harry pay any attention to her. She had always assumed that it was the scars she carried. Only carnies gossiped more than gypsies did, and the stories of her past always got around. Men usually avoided her then; not wanting to get involved with a woman with that much baggage. She had become accustomed to being alone, and the road held its own charm. Her Magi duties didn't tax her much, and the council treated her delicately. It was said that she had been marked for a great purpose, and that it would come upon her in time. So they, like all the others, avoided her. Then there was Harry.

She looked again at him, and noticed that even as he rested, the Lion was with him. It was not so much in him, as it surrounded him. It made him appear, and seem, to be much older than he was. She tried to remind herself that he was only seventeen as she looked at his face. His eyes however, were much, much older. He glanced over at her again and caught her staring at him. He smiled at her. She smiled back at him, and then struck up a conversation with Ginny. The subject wasn't important to Marix, only that she was thinking about something other than Harry and The Lion in Darkness.

Feeling eyes on him, Harry turned and saw Marix watching him. He smiled. He was smiling not so much at her, though he was certainly doing that, but rather at the fact that she apparently liked him as well as he liked her. She smiled back at him and his heart beat faster. I knew it was supposed to be like this. Petunia be damned, Harry thought to himself. He thought back again to the warm feeling in his fingers when he had kissed her hand. An involuntary shudder ran up his spine. He saw that she was involved in a conversation with Ginny now, but he also noticed the way she kept glancing in his direction. Harry wondered about the dark looks that Ginny was giving Marix every time she glanced his way.

Harry considered that for a moment and looked at Ginny. In a way he thought it was kind of a shame. Ginny was certainly an attractive girl. He wondered why he had never noticed that before. He examined that thought for a moment and decided it was probably for the same reason he never liked any other girl at school. They all saw him as The Boy Who Lived, Ginny included.

Still, she had always been a good friend to him, and had never asked him for any favours because of who he was. He decided he had examined that thought close enough for now and put it away for later. He saw Ginny whisper something to Marix, who suddenly laughed and smiled in his general direction. Harry decided that whatever Ginny had said couldn't be all that bad if it made Marix smile at him. Reluctantly he turned back to his conversation with Ron about summer studies without noticing the dark look in Ron's eyes.

The weekend passed quickly, much too quickly in Harry's opinion. He noticed that Marix spent a great deal of time talking with the Weasleys, it was almost like she was one of them now. This frustrated Harry, he really wanted to get some time with Marix, time when he could talk to her. It was easier when Marix was with Ginny. Harry could find an excuse to gather Ron and Hermione in with Ginny and Marix. She would listen to their stories and laugh. Harry liked the sound of her laughter; it reminded him of small silver bells. However he couldn't help but notice that her eyes always looked a little haunted as they told the stories.

He, Ron, and Hermione sat up talking late into the night every night. Saturday night he and Hermione had stayed up until almost four in the morning. They discussed Ginny, Marix, and a great many things that Harry had discovered in recent days; most of them involving the fairer sex. There had been some disagreement about Marix. Hermione tried to convince him it was boyhood crush that would pass, Harry felt she was just being unreasonable and didn't want to see him happy. When it was all over, Harry was no less confused, but didn't feel quite as guilty about Ginny as he had. He felt even better when Ginny stepped out with Jared on Sunday evening and the two of them went for dinner and a movie.

After she left, Ron commented to Harry. "She's trying to convince dad she needs something called a cell phone so that it will be easier for her to talk to Jared. She's telling dad that Jared suspects something odd about the family. I think its working. She and dad went into town and looked at a place that carries them."

"I've heard scary things about teenage girls and telephones." Harry replied with a sigh. "If it keeps her occupied though, it can't be all bad." He and Ron had come to an understanding late in their fifth year about Ginny. Ron wouldn't say anything about more Harry dating Ginny; in return, Harry would stop trying to pound Ron's face in for bringing it up. All in all, it had worked well up until now.

"Yeah, but you didn't do her any favours when you walked in the house on Friday. Hermione told me that Ginny lost track of what she was saying when you walked in." Ron stared after the retreating tail lamps of Jared's car. "She is dealing with it better though. At least she's not all mopey about it now."

After a moment Harry spoke again. "Promise you won't hit me for this Ron." Harry looked at Ron, waiting for a response. Ron looked at him quizzically, then narrowed his eyes.

"Harry, when somebody wants a promise they're not going to get hit, it usually means that somebody is going to want to hit them. Am I going to want to hit you for what you're about to say?" Ron's voice even carried the implied threat.

"Probably." Harry turned and looked back down the road again.

Ron turned and looked down the road also, not wanting to look at Harry. "I promise I won't hit you." His voice was flat.

"Ginny looked really nice tonight. I had never really noticed just how pretty she was before. I guess it was because I just never cared enough to notice." Harry's eyes never stopped staring down the road as he said it.

"Harry, I am so going to kick your arse." Ron's voice was flat and unemotional. "Not right now, because I promised I wouldn't. Later on though, I am going to make sure I forget that promise. When I do, I am going to beat the hell out of you." Ron's voice lightened, taking on a slightly frustrated tone. "Why couldn't you have figured that out two years ago, it would have made my life so much easier." Ron turned and looked at Harry, a smile split his face. "You may be my best friend, but she's still my little sister. You break her heart, I'll beat your arse." Harry was pretty sure Ron was only half serious.

"You'll try." Harry looked at his friend and smiled. "Shall we go inside now that you're done threatening me?"

"Yeah, let's do before I re-think that promise." Ron reached over and opened the door for Harry. As Harry stepped through Ron commented in a quiet voice. "And stop staring at my teacher, she's too old for you."

"Sorry Ron, no can do," Harry smiled mischievously at Ron, "besides, you'll have her all to yourself after tomorrow."

Ron was holding the door so that Harry couldn't get past him. "Harry, I'm serious. There is something there, something dangerous. I've seen the way you look at her, like some kind of predator. Lighten up, OK?" Ron's look lightened and he grinned mischievously. "Why don't you ask Ginny out when she gets home?" Ron made doe eyes at Harry and imitated his sister's voice "Oo Harry, I'd love to go out with you." Harry gave Ron a funny look, and then punched him lightly in the shoulder. Ron opened the door and the two young men went in. Hermione came up and wrapped her arms around Ron, who enveloped her in a deep hug that ended with his lips on her neck.

"Hey you two, there's company here." Harry sounded a little indignant as he edged towards the door.

"Sorry Harry. When she comes up to me like that I can't help myself." Ron grinned wickedly. Hermione burrowed a little deeper into the crook of Ron's arm. Harry noticed that they seemed to be much closer these days.

"Something changed with you two. You're a lot closer now than you were at the end of the school year. Why is that?" Ron and Hermione both flushed deep red and neither would meet his eyes. Harry looked at them carefully, then remembered his embarrassing call to Hermione. "You... you two?" Harry felt himself blushing furiously. "Never mind, I think I understand." In a deadpan voice and with a long-suffering look Harry finished. "I am scarred for life now, thank you very much."

At Harry's last remark Ron collapsed onto the sofa in gales of laughter, holding his sides. Hermione had to sit down before she fell down. Tears of laughter rolled down her face as she tried not to laugh out loud, she failed. Arthur, Molly, and Marix all came into the room with looks of dismay on their faces. "What is so funny in here?" Molly asked the question simply.

"I think it was something I said." Harry had no idea what was so funny, but he was mightily embarrassed and wanted to talk to someone that was not a Weasley parent. The closest was Marix. He walked towards her. "I need to go outside for some air, would you please join me Marix?" Harry caught her wrist and pulled her along outside before she had a chance to object. Once they were outside he took a deep breath and sighed.

"Why the long face Lion?" Marix sounded like she was deeply concerned.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" He wasn't quite annoyed, but he was close.

"Answering a question with a question will never get you an answer." Her contralto voice was rich and mysterious, and Harry still couldn't shake the desire to look for birds when she spoke.

"I'll tell you if you go walking with me." Harry extended his hand to her as though it were the most natural thing in the world. She glanced hesitantly at his hand, but took it anyway. She was rather curious to find out what was bothering him so much. The fact that he was charming, good-looking, and carried himself with an air of confidence and authority didn't hurt his case any.

Harry exulted in the touch as her fingers intertwined with his. Quite suddenly there was only the sun, the trees, himself and of course her. "So why the long face?"

"I just discovered something that I wasn't prepared for." She listened, but responded only with a little 'oh?' "Ron and Hermione are my two best friends in the world. Maybe my only real friends." Harry looked to make sure he was far enough away from the house that he wouldn't be over heard. "I just discovered that they share in something I can never be a part of. The love they have for each other, I share in that because we are so close. I know when they're communicating with a glance, and I usually know what they're saying. But this, this is something that I can never be part of. It would be way too weird, not to mention a little disgusting."

Marix stopped and turned Harry towards her so that she could look at him. "Harry, that's what awakened Ron's power. I'm guessing it changed something in Hermione too, it usually does. It doesn't change your friendship though. I know more about you than almost anyone else on earth, because I talk to the two of them. They both love you very much. They fretted a great deal about how you would react. Once the laughter stops in there, they will sit down for a long talk and try to figure out what you're thinking. Don't isolate them Harry. It changed the nature of their relationship, but not the relationship between the three of you. Do you understand that?"

"Yeah, it just kind of bothers me that they couldn't tell me. Not that I really wanted to know, mind you." Harry's face took on a pained, squeamish look. "It's bad enough when Ron starts talking about kissing Hermione. I don't think I could handle him telling me about that." Harry shivered as though he had just grabbed something disgusting. He took a deep breath, "So why do you call me the Lion in Darkness?" They began to walk again.

"There is a very obscure prophecy among the Magi, and it refers to the Dragon. We figured out a long time ago that the Dragon is simply a term to refer to the rising of a Dark Lord. Grindewald, You-Know-Who, The Lords of the Inquisition, whoever. They all fit the prophecy of the Dragon of Night. The Dragon casts a long shadow and the darkness can be very deep." She blew out a long breath, and then continued.

"During this darkness a brave wizard rises up to fight the Dragon. We refer to this warrior as The Lion in Darkness. We call him that because without the Darkness there would be no need for his great bravery, thus he would be unnoticed without the Darkness. The birth of a boy named Harry Potter might have been unimportant in the scope of the world were it not for evil of The Dragon." She squeezed his hand unconsciously. "You might well have lived a quiet life of relative obscurity but for what happened between you and The Dragon. That is why I call you The Lion in Darkness, because that is what you are. Dumbledore was once called the Lion as well." She added this last bit to reassure him, she knew he admired Dumbledore above all other wizards.

"So, am I the Lion because I defeated him once, or because I have to do it again?" Harry stopped, Marix turned and looked deep into his eyes. Harry could feel her penetrating gaze in the depths of his soul. She was looking for something. Harry was caught up in her eyes. The sunlight filtering through his hair speckled in her dark eyes and they looked like the night sky. The sun played off her hair, casting highlights and shadows. The feeling of her hands in his was too much to bear as he drank her in. He had never felt even a sprinkling of attraction to any of the girls he had known, but now desire for Marix coursed through him like great torrents of rain. He pulled her to him, and kissed her deeply.