At What Price?

Chapter 5

Initiation

"HARRYYYY!!" Petunia knocked loudly on Harry's door. Harry blinked several times, bringing his hands up to rub his eyes. Slowly he became aware of the incessant pounding on his door.

Bugger me, Harry thought to himself. Well, I'm not dead, so what happened last night? Harry thought back through the fog to the previous night. He remembered a wand erupting in light before his eyes. Before that he had been fighting with something, he remembered a face that was green and reptilian - the face of Voldemort. He remembered magic pulsing through his fingers and shaping that face. The original face had been Vernon's. Harry let out a sigh of relief; it had only been a dream. Suddenly, the door burst open, not being able to withstand the constant assault and Petunia stormed in.

"Young man, just because it's your birthday does not mean you are going to slough about here all day." Harry almost bit his tongue in shock, for the first time in seven years Aunt Petunia acknowledged his birthday. He rather hoped that this one went better than the last, for his tenth birthday she had given him a wire hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's socks. Then he remembered that last night's commotion had erupted at his birthday dinner, it hadn't been a dream. Harry groaned.

Seeing that Harry was awake enough to stir and open his eyes, Petunia pointed her talon-like finger at the window. "Kindly do something about that." Harry craned his head around to see Theseus and Pigwidgeon wrestling for access to his window.

"Yes Aunt Petunia." Harry swung his legs out of bed and walked to the window as Petunia closed the door and exited the room. How much does she know or remember, Harry wondered to himself. Apparently not too much, he decided as he thought about it more. Harry stretched then, and stood contemplating the owls at the window.

He gave very serious consideration to ignoring both of the owls, especially Pig. After a couple of minutes of ignoring them Hedwig began to hoot. "Morning to you too, Hedwig. What are you complaining for, you don't want to see Pig any more than I do." Harry rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. He watched the two owls outside clinically. Theseus definitely had the upper hand; he was stronger and wiser, not to mention considerably larger. What Pig lacked in strength though, he more than made up for in enthusiasm and speed. Harry opened the window and admitted the two fighting avians.

Theseus flew in and landed on the back of Harry's chair, extending his leg so that Harry could retrieve the letter attached there. "Thank you Theseus." Theseus stood up and inclined his head towards Harry. Theseus was very proper in his behavior, a reflection of his owner, Professor Figg. Hedwig seemed to approve of his dignified behavior.

Pigwidgeon was an entirely different case. The hyperactive Weasley owl flew erratic circles around the room until finally Harry stuck out his hand and stopped the bird. As Pig came over to get a drink of water from Hedwig's dish, the snowy owl gave Harry a long-suffering look of profound disgust. Harry looked back at his own owl, "Don't give me that look, you were the one hooting to let them in." Harry was fairly certain that if Hedwig had hands, she would be making several obscene gestures in his general direction.

Harry unrolled the small scroll Theseus had delivered:

"At least it wasn't a Howler," Harry said to Theseus pointedly. Theseus blinked at him once, as though agreeing with him then turned and flew out the window. Harry then looked over at the letter on his bed that Pigwidgeon had dropped. Harry really didn't want to open it. Truth be known, he actually considered addressing it 'Return to Sender' and sending Pig home with it. However, he could not repay the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that way. He turned the letter over and saw that it was addressed in a woman's hand. Harry now handled the letter with extreme trepidation; he actually gave serious consideration to burning it. He left it on the desk and went down stairs to let Aunt Petunia know that Dumbledore would be over that evening.

"I had rather hoped never to see that man." Petunia had not been happy about this bit of news. As she considered Harry her face was drawn as though she had been sucking on green lemons. "You will wait in the living room and when he knocks you will not invite him in. Have your things ready that you will need. Now tell me, when will you be returning from this little jaunt of yours?"

"By morning, I would imagine. I don't know, I've never been inducted into a secret society of wizards before." Harry decided to discuss it openly because he was feeling cantankerous and was actually spoiling for a fight that Petunia might just give him if he pressed it enough.

"Not funny young man." Petunia's look was very displeased. "Very well, do not wake us up when you get home. The back door key will be under the mat." She turned and walked out into her garden, leaving Harry standing in the kitchen doorway. Harry shrugged his shoulders, then walked over and opened the refrigerator. There were a fair number of leftovers from the night before, including a half of a chocolate mud cake. With a forlorn sigh, Harry closed the door and grabbed a pear off the counter. The opening strains of Andrew Lloyd Weber's Phantom of the Opera began to waft into the house from Petunia's outdoor radio.

He flopped down into a kitchen chair and stretched out his feet as he considered what to do. Professor Figg had given him the day off from his studies, and going outside to help Petunia weed the garden held little to no appeal for him. His eyes scanned the top of the table and landed on a letter that lay there, addressed to him. Gingerly he picked up the letter and looked at the return address. He exhaled with relief as he saw that it was from the Grangers. Sliding it open, he read the card. It was a simple card wishing him a happy birthday; a hand written note inside reminded him of their dinner engagement for Thursday, two days hence. It was then that he noticed the large package that had been underneath it.

He looked at the package for a long moment. It was about the size of a large book, maybe twelve inches wide and fifteen inches tall and three inches thick. He hefted it; it was fairly heavy, though not as heavy as he expected for a book that size. He noticed there was a note attached to the garish blue paper. It read, "For Harry from Aunt Petunia." He considered tearing it open, but then thought better of it. He set the package back down on the table and contemplated the moment. He hadn't seen the package anywhere last night, and it was the only one here now.

His thought was broken by a shriek from the back garden. He jumped up and looked out the back door to see that a large screech owl was flying toward him and had apparently dive-bombed his aunt. It was obviously a post owl, as it was carrying a large package in its talons that it released and dropped at Harry's feet. He reached down and picked up the package, which easily weighed between ten and fifteen pounds. The package was fairly soft, and Harry detected the scent of leather. Opening it he saw that it was indeed leather, he took hold of it and shook it out. It was a black leather biker jacket with an Official Harley Davidson Accessory tag in the collar. A birthday card fell out the jacket as he shook it. He slipped the jacket on despite the heat. It fit comfortably, and he was surprised to find he was very comfortable wearing it, as though the temperature was adjusting to his personal comfort. He picked up the card, which featured a woman in very skimpy bikini holding a birthday cake in a very suggestive way, and opened it. Inside he read:

Harry,

Happy Birthday. I know I will see you tomorrow night, but I wanted to make sure you had something there for your birthday. Bring the jacket tomorrow night, you'll need it. I took the liberty of putting a comfort charm on the jacket so that it will keep you warm when its cold, and keep you cool when it's warm. Hope everything went OK in Diagon Alley this year for you; say hi to Hermione and Ron for me. I'll see you tomorrow night about 6, pick you up at your place.

Sirius

"Harry, that jacket makes you look like a hooligan, who sent it to you?" Her tone was almost insulted so thick was the disapproval.

"Sirius, my godfather," he replied a little defensively.

"Figures," was all she said. Harry could almost see her eyes rolling up into her head. She turned and faced him, drying her hands as she did so. "He was a hooligan too, probably why he sent it to you, that way you can go out be hooligans together and cause mischief." She breathed deeply and let it out slowly. Harry was about to retort when she spoke again. "Did you find the package on the table for you?"

"I saw it, but I wasn't sure about opening it. Why didn't you give it to me last night?" Harry was hoping her answer would give him some insight as to what she remembered from last night.

"Well, being as I am the only one who got you a gift, I thought it might be rude to have you open it in front of everyone. It's also kind of personal, not something I wanted to share with a perfect stranger, or Dudders either for that matter." Harry wasn't quite sure what to say, and the awkward silence was filled with the voice of Sarah Brightman singing as Christine.

Harry looked at his aunt and realized she had been singing along quietly. She turned and dashed tears from her eyes then walked to the table. She picked up the package and handed it to Harry as she sat down across from him. Self-consciously, he opened it.

The paper peeled away easily and beneath it was an old leather bound photo album. Gingerly he opened it. The first picture was of a man and woman he did not recognize, though certain features of both he recognized in both his aunt and his mother. His grandmother had been a beautiful bride. He turned pages seeing school pictures of both his aunt and his mother, pictures of them in cribs and as young girls at birthday parties. Harry found one picture he thought was particularly poignant. His mother looked to be about ten or eleven, his aunt a couple of years older. They were dressed up for Halloween, and both were dressed as witches. Harry chuckled as he looked at it. "That's auspicious," he muttered, grinning slightly.

Petunia leaned across the table to see what picture he was looking at. "You have no idea Harry, no idea at all." Her voice seemed melancholy, though disdain tinged the edges of it.

"Why is that?"

"That was our last Halloween together. Two months later she got that infernal letter." Her voice had taken a decidedly nasty turn. He turned the page and he could see that things had changed between the two girls. The next page was Christmas. His mother looked exceedingly happy, while his aunt looked like someone had shoved rotten eggs under her nose. There were fewer pictures of his mother now, except for Christmas pictures or summer holidays. Near the back were snapshots taken at his parents' wedding and pictures from Petunia and Vernon's wedding. The final picture in the album had been taken at his parent's wedding, and was a family portrait showing his maternal grandparents, his own parents, and his aunt and uncle. It was a very formal picture and no one, save his father and grandfather, looked very happy in it.

"Petunia, I..." Harry looked up at the woman sitting across from him. It struck him for the first time that she was the only family he had. He swallowed, "Aunt Petunia, thank you." For the first time in sixteen years he meant it. "If you don't mind my asking, what changed this summer?"

Petunia looked at Harry with a very grave look, like one who was about to bare their soul for judgement. "I was cleaning the attic this last spring and I found that. It hadn't been opened since the last picture was put in it in December 1977. I dusted it off and opened it. When Vernon came home I was sitting on the stairs running fingers over the pictures of Lily and I as girls opening Christmas gifts." Petunia took a deep breath and sighed long and deep. "He made a scathing remark about Lily being a... witch. I knew then that there was no reason for me to keep it any more. Dudley could care less about an aunt he's never met, and I still have a few pictures of Lily and I as girls." She reached across the table and took Harry's hands in her own. He noted that they were cold, but the skin was quite soft despite the amount of work she did around the house. "Harry, I wanted you to have it. You are the only..." she paused, unable to continue.

"Family I have," Harry finished the thought for her. They looked at each other across the table, the painful years stretched out between them. Unable to bear the guilt Petunia stood and turned toward the back door.

"In a month you will leave here and go back to that school of yours, I imagine it will be the last time I see you. God knows, you won't want to come back here." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she finished.

Harry was torn as he sat looking at his aunt. Behind him was sixteen years of derision, belittlement, and emotional bankruptcy suffered at her whim. In front of him stood the only blood family he was ever going to have. "That 'arry Potter, 'e's a great man. Probably treats 'is family real good." Harry started as Stan's words came unbidden to his mind. "A 'ero jus' like in the old tales," Stan had called Harry. Harry remembered painfully how low he had felt after Stan had said those things. The answer shone in his soul like a candle on a dark night, if only he had the strength and the will act on it.

"Petunia, I," the words stuck in his throat and failed him as he thought about the emotional trauma she had inflicted on him over the years. "I don't know." The candle went out, and Harry cursed the darkness.

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Later that evening Harry sat in the living room, his bottle-green dress robes in his backpack along with his wand. Gifts from the Weasleys sat unopened on his desk, along with the letter he had received that morning. A card had arrived from Remus Lupin as well. Harry sat reading his gift from Remus, a text on animagism. It was the same text the Marauders had used to discover the process twenty some years earlier. Harry found he couldn't get any real reading done, he was far too anxious but he was enjoying the rather clever notes that were scrawled in the margins. His nerves were wound like a coiled spring. Mrs. Figg had steadfastly refused to give him any information about the rites of initiation, but she had been more than willing to make plenty of snide remarks about dinner the night before. Harry had been only too happy to come back home after only a few minutes with her.

Harry jumped as the doorbell rang. He reached for the door and opened it. On the porch stood a man in rich red robes with a flame motif. His long silver beard and hair were actually braided and clipped with golden phoenixes. His merry blue eyes twinkled behind his half moon spectacles. "Evening Harry, mind if I come in?" Harry grinned and stepped aside as Dumbledore walked in.

"What is the meaning of this, who are you?" Vernon's face was bright red and he seemed to shake with rage as he stood and faced the stranger. Harry chuckled to himself. Dumbledore extended his hand to the large red faced man, unperturbed by his display of anger.

"Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster..." He didn't get a chance to finish as a woman's voice interrupted him.

"What's going on in he...?" Harry looked over just in time to see his aunt enter the room and then promptly faint. Harry was glad that Dudley was there to catch her.

"Well Professor, shall we be going?" Harry spoke very quickly, hoping to get out the door before Vernon completely blew his stack, but he failed.

Vernon's eyes went wide as he looked at the old man. "You...YOU..." Vernon seemed to be so enraged he was even unable to speak. Spittle flew from his lips as his body trembled. He raised a pointing finger at Dumbledore. "This...is...all...your...fault!" Harry reached out and took hold of Professor Dumbledore's sleeve and pulled him out of the house. Dumbledore seemed to be reluctant but Harry pulled rather insistently until they were both outside in cool breeze of a late July evening.

"Well," Harry clapped his hands as though brushing something from them, "that went smashingly well. You know Professor, I rather think Uncle Vernon liked you." Dumbledore looked at Harry with a patronizing look and then noticed that Harry was grinning impishly. Dumbledore smiled back at him and then both men began to laugh heartily as they walked down the street.

"So," Harry said as he caught his breath, "where are we going for this, and how are we getting there?"

Dumbledore took a strange looking silver contraption out of his robe. He clicked it once and a ball of light sped down the street and re-ignited a burned out street lamp. He clicked it again, and another light came on. Harry watched as he did this ten more times. "You know Harry, last time I used this I was dropping you off. It's almost as though we are picking up where we left off sixteen years ago. Are you ready?" Harry paused and considered the question seriously.

"No."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yes Harry, you are about to take a step that very few are willing to take. Severus Snape took that step, in the end it cost him his life. He's by no means the only one, but you knew him and that makes him the most relevant."

"I thought of Professor Snape when I got your letter." Harry's voice was quiet and deadly serious. Albus took note of this and matched his tone.

"I rather thought you might have." Albus drew a deep breath, "Harry, I know you're brave and loyal. I know that you would do anything to protect those who are close to you, including severing the bonds of friendship and love." He looked meaningfully at Harry, who hung his head in shame as he thought about the spring term of his fifth year. "The Order is about resisting evil Harry. That means you have to fight evil because it's the right thing to do, not to protect your friends or take revenge. Can you commit to that Harry?"

"How can I not?"

"Very easily, you just say 'I'm not going to fight this evil because it doesn't affect me."

"My parent's died because too many people said 'this isn't my fight.' I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Somebody has to stand up to evil because it's the right thing to do. How can I ask anybody else to do that if I am not willing to do it myself?"

"So you're ready then?"

The silence stretched out before them as they turned the corner and passed Magnolia Crescent. After a couple of minutes Harry's voice filled the silence. "Yes, I am ready."

"Good Harry, very good."

"Aren't you contradicting yourself there?"

"Not at all. The first time I was asking you if you were ready to take on Voldemort, put your life on the line in a deadly battle. The second time I was asking you if you were willing to fight evil that was not directly your fight, two very different questions." Dumbledore smiled calmly at the befuddled look on Harry's face.

"Professor, I'm just worried about what I'll have to do. I have no idea what's going to happen. What will I encounter?" The string of questions erupted out of Harry's mouth.

"You will find only what you expect to find Harry. We're here," Dumbledore stated simply. Harry looked down as his foot struck something heavy.

"Travelling by Portkey, Professor?" Harry slipped on his dress robes and inserted his wand in his belt sash as he asked the question.

"Yes Harry, getting there is quite difficult otherwise," his voice was flat and deadpan causing Harry to wonder just how serious he was. "I get tired of walking through tar pits and mud bogs in my good robes, simply a frightful pain to get them clean afterwards." Dumbledore looked over at Harry, his bright eyes shining mischievously, he and Harry both laughed. Harry leaned over and picked up the Portkey, a brick that appeared to have fallen out of the retaining wall they stood next to. Dumbledore reached and placed his own wrinkled hand on the brick, "Initiation."

Harry felt the jerk just behind his navel. This was the only form of transportation he liked less than Floo powder. The land dropped away under him in a blur and after several seconds it all came to a stop. Harry looked around and took in the surrounding area. They were standing in front of an old church, though the grounds and building appeared to be in impeccable condition. Harry raised his eyebrows and gave the Professor a questioning look.

"Hallowed ground," Dumbledore said as though it explained everything. He reached over and opened the right hand of the double-doors set with stained glass panels. "After you."

Harry stepped through the open door, the room beyond was lit by dozens of floating candles and a circle of four other wizards and witches waited within. Harry felt his foot pass through what he assumed was a solid floor, and suddenly he was falling away through darkness. "Bugger," was all Harry could think as he snapped his wand out of his belt, wind rushing past his ears and pulling at his robes.

Dumbledore stepped around to the left door and opened it. He looked at the spot where Harry had fallen through the illusionary floor. "Watch that last step Harry, it's a doozy." He grinned to himself and went to join the circle of Order members.

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"Holy Grail or Meaning of Life?" Hermione looked under her shoulder at Ron as he brought in a tray of crackers and cheese and two bottles of cold apple juice. Ron smiled at her or at least his view of her as she stood, bent over at the waist, looking at him.

"Holy Grail," he responded. Hermione suppressed a shudder; she hated Monty Python. However, Ron was much more agreeable and easier to talk to when he was laughing, so she put up with it. Having put the tape in the VCR, she leaned all the way over letting her hair drag on the floor. Done stretching her back, and having noticed that it was having the desired effect on Ron, she stood up.

"Stop staring Ron, you're going to spill the juices." She knew he couldn't help himself, she had chosen these shorts for that very reason; so that he couldn't help himself. She turned to face him, stretching her arms over her head, then leaned back in a long stretch causing her top to pull taut across her chest. She stood upright again and straightened her top, which had ridden more than halfway up her stomach. She noticed Ron was still standing in the doorway, the bottles of apple juice dangerously close to falling out of his hand his eyes glazed and staring. She walked over to him and took the bottles, "Thanks love." She stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek. Ron turned his head into her kiss and kissed her lips gently. She kissed him with a little more enthusiasm, but not so much as to give him the wrong idea. She walked over to the long couch and set the bottles of juice down on two coasters she had set out on the coffee table.

Ron sat the tray on the coffee table and sat down on the overstuffed dark green couch. Hermione stretched out on the couch next to him, resting her head on his lap. Using the remote, she turned on the TV and adjusted the volume to be loud enough for Ron to hear, not that he didn't know all the dialogue by heart, but not so loud as to keep her from reading. She snuggled down resting her head on the top of Ron's thigh near the hip, and picked up her book.

"Hermione," Ron's voice was soft, bordering on apologetic, she looked up into his blue eyes. "You're too good for me by half." He had a soft dreamy smile on his face.

Isn't that God's own truth, Hermione thought to herself as she replied, "I love you too, Ron." She turned over on her side, her back facing the back of the couch. She brought her bare feet up to rest behind her legs as she felt Ron's hand come to rest on her hip. Soon, she thought, he'll be content enough, then I'll ask. Her mind changed gears then and began to wander. I wonder what Harry is doing, why did he have to change tonight's plans? She thought about asking Ron, then quickly dismissed the idea. Just thirty-six hours earlier Harry and Ron had been throwing each other around the living quarters of the Burrow. She needed Ron calm when she started trying to get answers; she hunkered back down into her book.

Hermione was half listening to the movie waiting for just the right scene. "How do you know she's a witch?" Terry Jones was speaking as Sir Bedevere, she felt Ron cringe. It was the only scene in the movie he didn't like, no self-respecting witch or wizard did.

"Ron," she asked quietly. She stretched herself across his lap and looked up into his crystal blue eyes, puckering her lips. Obediently he leaned over and kissed her, then sat back up and relaxed as he leaned into the soft material of the couch. "Ron, what did you mean yesterday morning when you said 'he's already seduced you away from me?" She felt Ron's leg muscles stiffen beneath her, but he couldn't go anywhere without throwing her on the floor. She had him right where she wanted him.

"Is that what this is all about?" Ron's voice did nothing to hide his anger. He couldn't believe he had been duped so easily. All the clues were there. She had invited him over for dinner after a nasty fight, she hadn't mentioned the weekend at all, she was wearing his favorite shorts with a form-hugging top, and she was letting him watch his favorite movie. He started to stand up, then realized if he did that Hermione would fall to the floor. He looked down into her eyes, which were not nearly so soft as they had been when he kissed her a few seconds before.

"Yes Ron, it is." Her voice was no longer meek, but it was the voice of Hermione-on-the-war-path. Ron squinted just a bit, as he looked at her. He had a choice to make, he could fight this out; try to defend the indefensible and salve his wounded pride; or he could give in and hope the woman he loved more than any other would help him straighten it out. The answer was obvious, he had spent half the weekend fighting with Harry and he was wrung-out emotionally. His shoulders slumped and his gaze dropped from her eyes. Hermione rolled off the couch and straddled his knees. She looked at him with flint in her eyes, as though bracing for a legendary Ron-Hermione fight; but she could see the fight had gone out of him.

"Ron, what happened this weekend?" Her voice was again quiet. Ron was pleased to hear the voice of Hermione-The-Woman-Who-Loved-Him, the woman who kept his secrets and fears, who caused the sun to rise and the water to flow, who brought calm to the storm and light to the darkness. He wondered what could have ever possessed him to accuse her of anything so vile. His hand strayed of its own accord and gently he tried to cradle her face in it. She took hold of his hand, kissed his palm, then put it back down in his lap. "Not until you talk to me, Ron." The few seconds of silence were like an eternity; Ron turned off the TV using the remote.

Ron sat staring at his hands in his lap for a long moment. He felt Hermione's leg muscles tense like she was going to get up. "Wait," he implored, squeezing her hands in his own. He looked up to see her giving him a questioning look.

"Ron, I will wait all night if you'll talk. However, you haven't said anything yet."

"Hermione, I," he paused again, "I don't know how to say this without it sounding stupid and petty."

"You're not jealous of Harry still are you? Ron, how many times can you go down this road?" Hermione threw her hands up in the air and ranted to the ceiling. "Gods I'm getting tired of this fight between you and Harry." Frustration was overtaking her voice and Ron flinched. "You want Harry's fame and recognition and Harry wants your childhood, yes we've had this fight before and I'm tired of it Ron. Why can't you just be friends without coveting everything the other one has and doesn't want?" Ron stiffened; it was as if somebody ran a steel rod up his spine. Although Hermione's reaction had been predictable, Ron still wished that just once she would let him speak without interrupting.

Ron's voice was no longer meek and timid; he was about to jump headlong into a blazing row. "For your information Miss-Know-It-All," he saw that his comment had hit home. As he looked into Hermione's eyes he saw that they were smoldering. "This has nothing to do with Harry's fame, his money, his scar, or his power." He knew that he was in a bad position for this fight, so he placed his hands on her hips and wrenched himself hard to the right as he lifted. The effect was that Hermione was now sitting on the couch and Ron was standing in front of her. "This is actually about you," Ron pointed an accusing finger at her.

Hermione looked hard into Ron's eyes but couldn't discern anything other than indignation in them. To her horror, the blue eyes hardened and then narrowed. Hermione opened her mouth but realized she had nothing to say to that. Ron raged on, "I saw the way you and Ginny were both so taken with him. I saw the way you smiled and how fondly you hugged him. The way you whispered in his ear and the way he smiled when you did. Dammit Hermione, I am not giving you up to him. He may have the world at his beck and call, but I am not giving you up for anything. I love you too much to roll over and die for this." The words he was saying were not matching his tone of voice or his actions. Normally, when Ron expressed his undying love for her it was with quiet words and loving tones. This time he was doing it in a loud and angry voice that filled the den and she was sure her parents were hearing every word he said, even if they had gone upstairs to the bedrooms.

He doesn't actually think I'd leave him for Harry does he? It was the fact that he thought so little of her faithfulness that made her mad and gave her the steel to fight back when she should have been melting into his expression of love. Hermione raised her voice, "Then why did you say something so hateful to me?" Her lips were pressed tightly together, her arms folded across her chest as she looked up at him angrily. In her fury, Hermione's hair seemed to be statically charged, sticking out of her head in a wild fashion.

"Why," he asked incredulously. His voice suddenly rose louder. "Why? I'll tell you why. Not once did you come to my side. Sunday afternoon, you stood there between us watching him as much as you watched me. Then Monday morning you went running after him rather than seeing to me. He was no more injured than I was, yet you went running to him rather than checking on me. I thought you loved me. Is my love not worth anything more than that to you?" Ron looked at Hermione, his heart torn in two at speaking the words that had been laying in his heart like a cancer; however, he was unable to stop. He had to find out the truth.

Out in the living room, Dr. Ed Granger sat his book down on the table between him and his wife. He started to stand up. "Don't Ed, let them be." Emily's voice was quiet but very firm.

"Emily, I will not have him speaking to my daughter in that tone."

"Ed, he is speaking to her in that tone because he loves her. Aren't you listening to what he's saying?"

"He's accusing her of being in love with some other guy."

"Not exactly. He's afraid she doesn't love him like he loves her."

"Then why is he shouting so much." Ed's eyebrows furrowed and crinkled his forehead..

"It's a male response. Men tend to think their point has more weight if they make it louder, you do same thing dear." Ed looked at his wife who had a playful smirk dancing about her lips.

"Do I?"

"Yes dear, you do. Now be quiet so I can hear what they're saying." Emily had to listen closely; Ron's voice had dropped a few decibels and didn't carry quite as far.

Hermione's words struck Ron like a blow, driving him to sit down on the edge of the coffee table in front of her with a heavy thud. "What do you mean you can't divide those loyalties?" Ron was stunned by her revelation. Harry was his best friend and he would do almost anything for him, but he knew who his first loyalty was to. "Do I not mean anything more than that to you?" Ron's voice dropped in volume again. The balloon that filled his heart had popped, Hermione didn't feel for him like he felt for her. He was little more than a close friend, even though she had given him all of herself he would never be her everything. "If it came down to a question between you and Harry I always know where I would fall Hermione, " his voice dropped to a whisper, "always."

"Ron, I," Hermione took Ron's hands in her own. She looked into his eyes and saw the pedestal he put her on. His soul was laid bare before her. She saw that he would always be hers. That he would always worship her, come Hell or high water. She was his first, last, and only love; everything he would ever want or need was her. "Oh my God," she whispered breathlessly as she realized what she was seeing. Suddenly a heavy weight fell on her heart, was she worthy of so undying a devotion? Not trusting herself to speak she threw her arms around him and kissed him deeply. She couldn't be close enough to him. She stood up without breaking the kiss and pulled him to her. Her arms sought to make the two of them one body as they squeezed him tighter and tighter.

Ron pulled her closer, his fingers naturally seeking out the hair on the back of her head as they always did when they were kissing like this. Ron kissed her fiercely, his kisses begging her forgiveness as the rest of his body expressed his undying love in every cell.

Back in the living room, Ed turned to his wife. "Emily, its entirely too quiet back there."

"Yes Ed, you're right. Just don't go rushing in there and embarrass them."

"They are not snogging in my house. That is my daughter in there, I don't care how much you like him."

"Ed, don't make me start telling them stories about you and I at your grandmother's house." She smiled deviously and raised her eyebrows innocently.

Ed groaned, "I should keep that boy around here just so I have some kind of defense against you two. I am going to break this up, she's still my little girl." Ed turned and walked through the formal dining room, through the kitchen and stopped in the doorway of the den. Ron and Hermione were holding each other in a strong embrace, their lips pressed hard together. Ed cleared his throat, though neither seemed to notice. He did it again, louder this time, with the same results. "Ah well," Ed muttered to himself as strode into the room and stopped some foot and half behind Hermione. He reached out and flicked Ron's hand that was wandering dangerously far down Hermione's back.

Ron half opened his eyes and saw a glimpse of blue and gray tie over a gray shirt. Suddenly his mind made the connection and Ron snapped out of the kiss, put hands in his pockets, and stood upright; all as he stammered, "D-D-D-Dr. Granger." His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, his mind trying desperately to come up with an innocent explanation.

Hermione was at first confused by the abrupt way in which Ron broke the kiss until she heard him speak. She spun around and turned ten shades of deep red in embarrassment as she squeaked, "Dad!" in a voice so unlike her normal tone that it almost made her Father laugh.

"Your mother wants to see you." Hermione ran from the room, grateful for the opportunity to get away from her father's disapproving gaze. Dr. Edward Granger turned his attention fully to Ron. Dr. Granger was in no way a small man. At six feet five inches he dwarfed even Ron. The fact that he was a solid man who lifted weights three times a week to keep in shape added tremendously to the effect. He rolled his shoulders back and leveled his most intimidating glare on Ron; he was pleased to see that it worked better now than it had when he was in the army.

"Ronald Weasley," his voice was deep and menacing, "I don't need to remind you that she is my only little girl, do I."

"No sir," Ron replied in a quavering voice.

"Nor do I need to impress upon you how important it is that the men in her life treat her with the utmost respect, do I."

"No sir."

"And we both agree that any man who ever breaks her heart forfeits his own life," Dr. Granger leaned in, "don't we."

Ron swallowed, "Yes sir, absolutely."

"I'm glad we could have this talk Ronald." He extended his hand and Ron took it. Both men squeezed the other's hand as they shook hands, both trying to assure the other of their purpose and intention. Ed spoke very quietly as he did so, "When you are in my house, you keep your hands where I can see them and daylight between the two of you." Ed released Ron's hand as Hermione came back into the room. He turned to Hermione, who had a questioning look on her face. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "Enjoy your movie," he said to her in a deceptively pleasant tone. He strode quickly out of the room before Hermione could ask him any questions.

"Well, where's that remote?" Ron posed the question quickly before Hermione could ask what had just happened, then he turned on the TV.

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

Harry could feel the wind whipping past him, he knew he must be falling fairly fast. "Lumos," he muttered and saw with horror that the ground was only a few feet below him. He pointed his wand at himself, "Penne Labo." Harry landed lightly on the stones at his feet, not realizing that he had in fact fallen only seven or eight meters. Harry held his wand aloft and looked around, noting that he appeared to be in a round room approximately five meters in diameter. The ceiling was concealed in shadows and Harry assumed it was too far up for his spells to cast any light on it. In the wall to his left there was a single door. Harry leveled his wand at it, "Alohamora." The door swung open and revealed a dark area beyond.

With trepidation and curiosity warring in his mind, Harry walked towards the darkened room. As he approached it he could feel the temperature dropping, the smell of death permeated the air. Harry stopped just outside the room and concentrated, he felt the darkness in the very pores of his skin. He also noticed the meager light of his Lumos spell would not penetrate the darkness beyond the threshold. Raising his wand above his head once more he spoke, "Solare Luminos." Harry looked around in the now daylight like brilliance. Light filled the cavern from wall to wall, but still did not reach to the ceiling.

Harry looked again at the doorway before him, the darkness was still there, but seemed to be shrinking back some in the face of his light. Harry felt disorientation fighting to bring him down, so he retreated within the depths of his soul to a place that was his own. Breathing deeply he pictured the grounds of Hogwarts, in his vision he entered the castle and strode to the Gryffindor common room. Vision-Harry sat down in a large overstuffed chair before the fire and felt its warmth permeate him. He felt the presence of his friends and heard laughter as Gred and Forge ran rampant in the background. The smile on his vision self spread to his physical self, he was composed and ready.

His wand held over his head like a torch; Harry entered the room. As soon as he stepped through the door he felt them, waves of emotion washed over him with palpable force: malevolence, hatred, anger, and fear. The emotions crashed against him like waves against the cliffs of Dover, but Harry knew they had no power over him, for they were not his own emotions. He continued to walk deeper into the room, his light casting only a faint glow around him, barely enough to light the floor in front of him. He thought he could see a door ahead of him, he pushed on toward it.

Then a new emotion struck him, betrayal. He knew it was not his own, but the veneer of his emotional armor cracked, and images of Mrs. Weasley releasing his hand and hugging Marix rose unbidden in his mind. Marix rose from her sitting position and Harry could hear her saying "I am no different from the others." An image of Ron quickly replaced it. He could see the anger and jealousy in Ron's eyes as he remembered being lifted up and thrown bodily onto a table. His own anger at Ron's later remarks joined with the outside influences and became like a drug coursing through his system. Harry leveled his wand at the offending door in front of him and made an inarticulate growl, the door burst apart. Beyond the door was a figure that stepped into the room.

Harry didn't even speak, but raised his wand instead. Harry barked out a curse at the shadowed figure and watched as the curse was blocked almost as soon as he cast it. Again he flung a curse and again it was instantly blocked. Three more times this happened. Harry backed away a step, not frightened because after all it was only Ron; there was no reason to be scared of Ron. The epiphany struck Harry like blow. There was no reason to be scared of Ron, and there was no reason to be dueling Ron other than anger, and the anger hadn't even been his initially. Harry closed his eyes and fell again into the sanctuary of his soul. Ron was there, this time it was the Ron who was his friend. He clung to that image and opened his eyes again.

Ron still stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest not saying a word. Harry stepped forward and again felt the waves of betrayal of wash over him. This time he was ready for them and the armor of serenity held strong. He extended his hand to Ron, "Sorry about that, got a little carried away. Nice blocks though, really good. What say we get the hell out of here?"

Ron looked down at Harry's hand, then looked deep into his eyes. Harry could feel something sweep over his soul, like fingers brushing over silk. Ron reached out and shook Harry's hand, "What do we do about him?" His other hand pointed across a second room to where a young blonde boy stood tied to a stake surrounded by a ring of people. As Harry watched the people standing in a circle, they joined hands and began to chant in ancient tongue Harry did not recognize.

"What are they saying?"

"I have no idea. Although I did hear the word Incendio at least twice." Ron's voice was calm and detached.

"We've got to do something about this."

"Ever the hero, eh Harry Potter?" Harry wasn't sure if he heard bitterness there or not, but there was a shift in the voice. Harry didn't bother to look though, he was quickly forming a plan.

"Ron, is there a door on the other side of the room?"

"Yes, it leads out of here."

"Okay, I'm going to go in and split his ropes open, I need you to banish me across the room when I grab the kid. Then you follow me, I'll clear the path for you."

"Let's do it then," the voice drawled casually. Harry felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, he turned and looked in shock as Ron's face melted away to be replaced by the sneering visage of Draco Malfoy. "What's the matter Potter, you look like you've seen a ghost." Harry knew he had no time to waste on fighting with Malfoy. He quickly sublimated his normal distrust and dislike of his antagonist to the greater good.

"Malfoy, this isn't the place. They're about to torch that kid. Will you do what I asked?" Harry had his doubts but the cadence of the chants were quickening and becoming louder.

"You realize that's Voldemort's heir." Harry goggled at Draco for only a second.

"Are they Death Eaters?"

"No, Order of the Phoenix." Draco seemed almost pleased to be saying it, a smirk playing about his lips.

"I can't believe that. Even if they are, I can't let them sacrifice that kid. What if they're wrong?"

"Willing to stake your life on that?"

"I'm not willing to stake his."

"Alright then Potter, I'll banish you." A nasty grin split Draco's face. Harry tried to ignore the happy gleam in Malfoy's eyes.

Harry pointed his wand at the group ahead of him, "Expello," and he began to run towards the circle as the nearest member was suddenly thrown forward to fall at the feet of the boy. Harry leapt the fallen figure and landed at the boy's side. Placing his wand on the ropes he muttered "Discerpo," as he slashed his wand down across the ropes binding the boy's hands and feet. He grabbed the boy and heard Draco shout "Expello Potter." The force slammed into Harry and threw him out of the circle. He slammed into a door that gave way under his weight and the force of his impact.

Harry jumped to his feet and pointed his wand back into the room. "Adstringo Aranea," Harry shouted and spider silk began to issue from the end of his wand and spread over the room. The glue stuck instantly and the threads were nearly unbreakable. The gathered coven was unable to pursue Harry as they struggled to free themselves. Sorry Malfoy, but if you're right I can't let you follow me. Harry pointed his wand at the now pursuing Draco Malfoy and muttered a banishing charm that flung Draco back against the far wall. Harry pointed his wand at the door on the floor with a simple repairing charm it stood back in the doorway. "Infragilis Claudo," Harry watched as several bands of energy suddenly fell across the door like locking bars. Harry turned and saw a flight of stairs leading up to candlelit room. He bolted across the room and ran up the steps two at a time despite the weight of the boy in his arms.

He saw that in the room were four figures standing robed and cowled around a circle, which had been inscribed with the image of a phoenix. He set the boy down and admonished him to stand still until Harry came back to him. The boy's dark eyes looked at Harry with something like deep admiration and pride. Harry turned away and strode to the circle of wizards. His rage rising like a bonfire burning out of control. "Professor Dumbledore, I demand an explanation!"

One of the cloaked figures drew back his hood. Harry could see the bright shining eyes of Professor Dumbledore behind his half moon spectacles. "Well done, Harry." Harry's mouth fell open, then snapped shut in anger. Albus Dumbledore continued, "All new inductees must meet the approval of the members of the initiating coven, no more than two of them may be known to you personally. You have performed admirably Harry, I am quite proud of you."

"Then what the hell went on down there?" Harry's voice was becoming dangerously loud; he did not like being duped.

"The hour is nigh, the time for induction is upon us." The voice was hollow and deep and came from the wizard standing to Dumbledore's left. He lowered his hood to reveal a tall man of Mediterranean descent with long black hair. His eyes were a milky white that clearly said he was blind though he looked directly at Harry. A robed witch stepped up to the circle opposite the blind man. She lowered her cowl and Harry saw that it was Professor Figg. She winked at him though her face remained passive and expressionless. The other two coven members lowered their hoods as well to reveal a woman of middle years with graying blonde hair and a man in his late twenties with curly brown hair.

Dumbledore spoke again, his voice deep and formal, resonating from the walls. "Harry James Potter has been nominated for membership in the Order of the Phoenix. Since the time of the founders in the waning days of the golden age we have existed. We seek ever to be true to the cause of light and oppose the darkness. Who presents now this man to be inducted into our ranks?"

"I, Sirius Ian Black, member of the Order of the Phoenix, Godfather of Harry James Potter, do present him to the Phoenix for induction to the Order." Sirius' voice was also rich and deep. Harry looked over his shoulder to see Sirius looking down at him with pride in his dark eyes. Harry glanced over to see that the boy was no longer there, Sirius smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"I Albus Dumbledore, Lord of the Phoenix, recognize your presentation and ask now, are there any among us who will deny the induction of this man, Harry James Potter, to the Order of the Phoenix?" The silence was deafening, Harry strained to hear the one voice that would undo him, but it never came. "Step forward into the circle Harry, there is but one more test you must pass." Harry stepped forward into the circle and felt himself enveloped in magical energy. "Ever has the phoenix known the true measure of man's soul. A man of evil intent cannot call him. He cannot be coerced to find favor in that which is evil. Call out to the Phoenix, and see if he answers your call."

Harry pictured in his mind the last time he had called Fawkes, he had been cold and injured, dying from wounds suffered at the fang of a basilisk. He thought again of how magnificent Fawkes had looked then, remembered the power of Fawkes' presence. He leaned his head back and raised his arm before him. "Come to me Fawkes, come to me." Harry stood for what he felt was an eternity, but was in fact only seconds before Fawkes lighted on Harry's shoulder. The magnificent Phoenix leaned back his head and let forth a single cry that echoed from everywhere in the stone chamber. Suddenly the circle around Harry burst into magical flame and a single shaft of white light coming down from the ceiling pierced Harry. A ghostly figure appeared before him and the light and fire fell away.

The ghostly figure seemed to be taking the measure of Harry. Harry watched him warily. His dress indicated that was a very old ghost. He carried himself like a man with purpose. He extended his ghostly silver hand and placed it on Harry's head briefly. Cold sensations poured throughout Harry's body, but he struggled to keep himself upright. The ghost seemed to smile at Harry as it withdrew its arm.

"Harry Potter," the ghost spoke in a loud clear tone. "Son of the sons of Gryffindor, much has been given thee. In return for these blessings much has been asked of thee, and much more shall be asked of thee in the future. Thou art mine heir and in thee I have great faith. Know now that thy way shall be hard, death shall surround thee, and heartache shall trouble thee; but if thou hast faith and a strong heart, thou shalt overcome. Take up this sword and swear on these hallowed grounds that thou shalt fight evil unto the end of thy days, and my strength shall also be thine to command and call upon." Harry noticed that the ghostly figure held a similarly ghostly sword lying across his two hands. Harry reached out for the sword though he expected his hand to pass through it. However, at his touch the sword became solid and fell through the hands of the ghost.

Harry gawked in amazement. He knew this sword. He had wielded this sword. The rubies set in the pommel were warm to his touch and flashed in the candlelight. Harry turned the sword point down and bowed before the ghostly figure. He had not thought to do that, but the movements came easily and without question. He searched his memory and soul and found the words to speak which would seal this most solemn of occasions. "By the blood of Gryffindor I swear that so long as I shall draw breath I shall be sworn to valor; my heart shall know only virtue; my power shall defend the helpless; my wroth shall battle the wicked; and I shall be as a beacon in the night dispelling the darkness and showing the path." Harry bent his head. The ghostly form again extended his hand and rested it just above Harry's head as though in benediction.

"Harry Potter, son of Gryffindor, take up thy birthright and know that my strength is thy strength and my power is thy power." Harry felt a wave a magical energy wash over him. "By the Lords of Wyrd and Light, it is done." Outside there was a great peal of thunder, as though some great god had struck a gong, then a second, and a third. Harry looked up and to his astonishment he saw the ghost of Godric Gryffindor fade away to nothingness. Dumbledore let out a long low whistle.

"Well Harry, I must say that was very interesting indeed. I always knew you were of the house of Gryffindor, but I am most surprised by this turn of events." Harry looked at Dumbledore and raised his eyebrows. Sensing Harry's question, Dumbledore laughed. "No Harry, this ceased to be a standard initiation when the flames rose up around the circle, very nearly singed my beard off." Dumbledore laughed lightly and then smiled mirthfully at Harry. "Now Harry, there is one more thing we must do. Roll up your right sleeve."

Harry slipped the Sword of Gryffindor through the sash at his waist and rolled up his sleeve as each of the five members around the circle did the same. Harry looked and saw that each bore a small mark just below the crook of the elbow. The mark appeared to be a flaming phoenix, its wings spread up and away from its body, the head leaned back and calling. This was overlaid by a blue triangle, its base under the phoenix's feet and coming to a point just above its head.

The five members joined hands around Harry and began to chant in Latin. After about thirty seconds Dumbledore reached out and placed his hand on Harry's right forearm just below the elbow. "Lex," he said in a clear voice, Harry felt a tingling in his arm. The blind seer placed his hand over Dumbledore's, "Integer." The tingling intensified as a the middle aged blonde woman placed her hand over the others, "Honore." The tingling became a warm flush as the man with brown hair placed his hand next, "Justitia." Finally, Mrs. Figg placed her own hand over all the others; the burning sensation in Harry's arm was sharp but not unbearable. "Righteousness," she said in a clear voice, the pain in Harry's arm was like being branded, but it lasted only a second or two. Harry panted as the pain passed. The hands were removed and Harry could see the tattoo now on his own arm, the markings clear and fresh though there was no swelling, blood, or redness.

"Loyalty, integrity, honour, justice, righteousness," the five members intoned together. "By the fires of this bonding we are made stronger." All the fires in the room, candles and torches alike flared and then fell back to their normal states. The circle broke and Dumbledore extended his hand to Harry, "Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix Harry, congratulations."

"Thank you oof!" Harry felt himself in a crushing embrace and being lifted from the floor. "Sirius," Harry gasped, "can't breathe." Harry's feet again touched the floor and he drew a deep breath. "Thank you Sirius." Harry turned and hugged his godfather, who again gathered him into a crushing embrace then released him.

"Your father would be proud beyond measure Harry. You have no idea how much this means to me." Harry could see tears in Sirius's dark eyes as he smiled broadly. "Your father and I were to be sworn in as members on the winter solstice of '81." Harry nodded as the implications of that sunk in. He turned to Dumbledore then, placing his hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist, asked, "What does this mean?"

Dumbledore looked speculatively at Harry for a moment; "It's a sword, pointy end goes in the other man." Dumbledore smiled and everyone had a good laugh. His tone more serious now, he replied, "I would imagine it gives you some greater measure of power. As you know, Tom Riddle was the heir of Slytherin, and he was a wizard of nearly unequaled power in his own day. I should think that with study and introspection you too will find that you have access to powers far greater than the normal wizard does. However, you must remember that with great power comes great responsibility."

"It's also no excuse to slack off in your studies young man," Mrs. Figg interrupted.

"No ma'am," Harry responded. They all laughed lightly, then the others pressed in to congratulate Harry and Dumbledore introduced each in turn. After the introductions were complete Harry began to ask questions of the other members and came to learn that the church where they were was built on top of a convergence of evil energies and events. The church had been built to contain it and prevent its spread; the church and the hallowed grounds around it acted as a cage. He also learned that over great many years the Order had learned to manipulate those energies in testing new candidates.

"So what you're telling me, Mrs. Figg, is that when I walked into that second room after falling through the floor-- by the way thanks for telling me about that Professor Dumbledore-- a wave of evil magic and energy rose up assaulted me, and you guys use that as a testing method?" Harry's voice sounded not only incredulous but a little insulted as well.

"Yes Harry, that is indeed the truth of the matter. Although I must say your reaction to Mr. Weasley's presence rather startled me." Harry looked at Dumbledore and grimaced.

"That's true, you wouldn't know." Harry took a deep breath and shook his head to clear it. "Ron and I had a falling out this weekend."

"You'll want to fix that Harry." Professor Dumbledore spoke quietly but with iron in his voice. "You and Ron will need to come to some kind of understanding, and very soon I would imagine. You will need his assistance and support if you are to survive the coming trials."

"Probably," he replied in a defeated voice. He shook it off, "but I'll burn that bridge when I get there." He closed his eyes and shook his head as though that would dispel the memories of the past weekend. "What I don't get is the whole purpose of the exercise."

"To test your commitment to justice." It was the middle-aged woman that spoke. "You were presented with a situation that at first you would not have a vested interest in. Then, the situation changes to present you with a seemingly easy answer to a complex problem. You chose what was right over what was easy. I must say Harry, I was very pleased by the way you handled it." Harry actually blushed at the praise from this woman he did not even know. They visited for a couple of more hours, telling Harry about the history of the Order, the roles they fulfilled and responsibilities they each had. Twice Harry deflected questions regarding being the Heir of Gryffindor since he himself knew little if anything about it. Finally the party broke up, and Sirius gave Harry a ride on the infamous flying Black Knight.

"Harry," Sirius called over his shoulder, "last time you were on this bike, you were travelling with Hagrid from Godric's Hollow to Privet Drive." Harry grimaced at the thought, then another occurred to him.

"Sirius," Harry shouted into the wind, "what say we make the return trip?" Suddenly the bike plunged out of the sky, diving at an angle that reminded Harry of World War 2 films from his history classes. About ten feet above the ground Sirius leveled out the bike and brought it to a screeching halt on a deserted country lane. Harry slid off the back of the bike and Sirius dismounted as well. Sirius looked at Harry across the bike, a very serious expression on his face.

"Are you sure you want to do that Harry?" Concern tinged the edges of Sirius's voice as he struggled to maintain his composure. Harry returned the look with a long steady gaze.

"Yes Sirius. I've never been there; I don't even know where it is. Nobody has ever talked to me about it or told me what it was like there. I want to see it." Harry struggled with himself for a moment, his desire to keep his emotions private warring with the desire to have company at what could admittedly be a difficult time. "I want you to take me there." He emphasized his point by sticking his finger in Sirius's chest.

Sirius looked down at the finger in his chest. When he looked back up, his eyes were wet as tears of gratitude stood there. "Harry, you never cease to amaze me. I, er well I, uh-" Sirius and Harry looked at each other, both were fidgeting and had their hands in their pockets. "Let's go then." Sirius jumped back on the bike and kicked it to life with a mighty roar. Harry climbed back on and soon they were airborne again, flying through the night at breakneck speed.

Sirius touched the bike down on the slope of a low hill. Harry slid off the back and Sirius dismounted as well. "Harry," Sirius began, "you're house was on the other side of this hill. The house isn't there anymore. The Order turned it into a memorial park. Do you want to go by yourself, or do you want some company?"

"Come with me Sirius, you know more about the grounds than I do. Maybe you can point some things out to me." Harry's curiosity had gotten the better of him and he began trooping up to the crest of the hill. Sirius pointed his wand at the bike and spoke softly. He turned to follow Harry, the bike following about five feet behind him.

Harry crested the hill and stopped. He stared out over the sight below him, quite taken with it all. The property had stood at the end of the road. Around it there was a low wall of red brick topped by a white wrought iron picket fence. The height of the wrought iron fence rose and fell like waves on the ocean, at each peak there was another brick column surmounted by a globe of soft white light. The grounds were green and luscious in the summer air. Beds of wild flowers formed concentric rings around a center gazebo of white wood with walkways leading off in the four directions of the compass. There were benches along the walkways and under the gazebo. Harry felt rather than saw Sirius join him.

"It's beautiful Sirius, looks very peaceful. I must say, I'm kind of relieved. Normally memorial parks are full of lifeless bronze statues and look like graveyards."

Sirius breathed out a long sigh, "Yes, I much prefer the statue the Order put here."

"Padfoot, you're barking. There's no statue down there, unless you count the gazebo as a statue." Harry looked questioningly at his godfather.

"It's a question of faith Harry, I could tell you where it is, what it is, and how to find it. However, if you believe in the rightness of what your doing, the love of your parents, and that justice will prevail, you'll see it."

"Padfoot, when did you go all high and mi..." Harry's voice trailed off as he looked again out over the park. Just beyond the gazebo, in what had originally looked like a fountain, Harry saw what Sirius had been talking about. Atop a marble column in the middle of the fountain there was a great fire. As Harry looked closer he could see that the flame was not random, but was a great phoenix, its wings stretching toward the sky, wrought in living flame. "Whoa..." Harry breathed. Sirius smiled, though Harry didn't notice, he was too entranced by the flames of the phoenix statue. Harry began to walk down the hill in a kind of blind stupor. Sirius followed at a respectful distance.

As Harry passed through the gateway of the park he was overcome by a feeling that he couldn't quite put a name too. It was the same feeling he got when he walked through the front doors of Hogwarts every September since his second year. He felt relaxed, comfortable, even protected. "It's like..." Harry couldn't find the words express his feelings.

"Coming home," Sirius said from behind him.

"Yes, exactly." Harry turned to face Sirius. "Do you feel the same thing?"

"Yes, Harry, I do. Your dad was a brother to me; we swore oaths of blood on that. Your mum was the little sister I never had. There were a couple of times I almost killed your dad because of things he did to her. They were the family I never had as a kid, coming here was always better than being anywhere else. This was home." Sirius looked at Harry, then turned to his bike that was standing next to the fence, "Stay." He extended an arm and patted the bike.

Harry chuckled, "Padfoot, it's a motorcycle, not a dog."

"Harry, I think like a dog, and that bike is far better behaved than I am, so leave it alone." He chuckled as well. He extended an arm indicating the path, then he and Harry walked to the statue joking about teaching the bike to sit up and beg or roll over and play dead.

At the edge of the fountain, Harry stepped over the low wall and waded through the shallow water after kicking off his shoes and socks. There was gold writing set into the white marble; he ran his fingers over it feeling the words, "Oriundus cinis orbitas increbesco repeto." He repeated the words and they seemed to resonate deep in his soul. His hand still on the writing he turned to look at Sirius. "Padfoot, what does this mean?"

"Rising from the ashes of lost loved ones, we are made strong again." There was fierceness in his voice that Harry had not heard before. Harry wondered what Sirius was thinking. Harry's hand slid farther down the face of the marble and encountered another engraving. He turned to look at it, he read aloud "In Memoria." Damn, he thought to himself as he perused the list of names: McKinnon, Potter, Longbottom, Diggory, Snape. The list was long and most of them were names that Harry did not recognize, but he was fairly sure that they were all victims of Voldemort. Harry felt the presence of Sirius next to him again.

"Gods I hate that list. What's even worse is that it continues to grow." Sirius ran his own fingers over the list, tracing out the individual letters of Elaine Smythe.

"Old flame?" Harry asked carefully.

"Yeah, kind of. The only girl who ever got me to give up philandering, even if it was for only a month. Makes me wonder if I would have given it up longer if..." Sirius turned around and walked back out of the fountain. After a moment Harry did the same. The two men sat on the edge of the fountain pulling their shoes back on in silence. Finally Harry spoke.

"Is there anything else here other than this statue?"

Sirius took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. He hated going there, it made everything so permanent. "The final resting place of James and Lily Potter."

"Where?" Harry asked it in a desperate but not urgent way, as though he had to know, but dreaded it all the same. Sirius stood up and began walking farther from the gazebo.

"This way." Harry fell into step beside him, neither man spoke as they walked. At a curve in the path Sirius took out his wand and spoke, the hedges opened and he beckoned Harry through. In a grove of cherry trees, the ground covered by lilies growing wild stood two gravestones of the purest white marble. Harry knelt between them, extending his hands and placing one on each stone. Both stones were engraved with a border of lions chasing lions twining round a vine of lilies.

Harry moved first to look more carefully at his father's stone. Below an engraving of a large Scottish stag he read, "James Potter, October 17, 1958 - October 31, 1981. From the ashes of this loss we are born strong again." Harry sat for a long time considering the stone and all that it meant. After a long time spent in the damp grass he stood and moved over to sit in front of his mother's gravestone.

He ran his fingers over the smooth stone, tracing out the lines of the silver and gold Anglican Cross that had been set into the stone. He remembered that his grandmother had been raised in a strict Anglican home and he assumed it was there by her request. He continued down, his fingers feeling the lines of the cuts, too smooth to have been done by hand. "Lily Potter, December 23, 1958 - October 31, 1981. Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends."

"Mum," Harry croaked out in a quiet voice. He brought his knees up and crossed his arms on top of them. He rested his forehead on his arms as silent sobs racked his body. Sirius came and sat silently next to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. The men sat silently for some time; each absorbed in his own grief and memories. Finally, Harry spoke, "Sirius."

"Yes Harry."

"Are you ready to go?"

"Whenever you are Harry."

"Good, I'm tired of being racked with pain and guilt and anger and frustration. I want to be doing something. Let's go." Harry sprung to his feet and pulled Sirius up, "Come on old man."

"Young punk," Sirius responded, punching Harry lightly in the arm.

"Geezer."

"Whipper snapper."

"Old fart." Harry took off running across the park, headed for the gate.

"Come back here you little shit." Sirius took off after Harry, though he was no match for Harry's speed despite being in good shape for a man of almost forty years.

Harry got to the bike first and leapt on grabbing the clutch handle. His right leg kicked out and the engine roared to life. Harry turned the forks of the heavily modified bike and ran the engine up as he released the clutch. The bike lurched forward, the front wheel coming up. Instinctively Harry leaned forward and the front wheel touched the ground, Harry was off down the road. "God, don't let him crash," Sirius beseeched the heavens above. Harry leaned forward on the bike, the windscreen had been removed and the wind ripped through his hair and fluttered his cloak out behind him. The engine screamed and Harry was sure it had never sounded like this when Sirius rode it.

The bike suddenly leaned to the left and whipped around hard, tires squealing and leaving black marks on the pavement. The bike roared back up the street. Harry could see Sirius standing in the middle of the street, his wand pointed at the bike. Oh well, he thought, it was fun while it lasted. The bike stopped in front of Sirius and idled down to normal level.

"If I didn't know better Harry, I'd say the old girl likes you." Sirius was grinning broadly as he patted the chrome handlebars affectionately. "You want to learn ride it?"

Harry looked up at Sirius, hardly believing he wasn't going to get scolded for this. "You're serious?"

"Yes Harry, you've known I'm Sirius for years now." He grinned and waited to see how long Harry would take to get the joke. After a couple of seconds he was rewarded with a groan from Harry.

"Not what I meant. I meant that-"

"Yes Harry, I know what you meant. I will teach you how to ride it if you want to learn."

"Wasn't I already doing that."

"No, what you were doing was burning up the engine. You have to shift Harry, gear shifter is here." Sirius pointed with his boot to indicate a lever under Harry's left foot. Sirius then proceeded to point out other important items such as brakes, foot rests, the importance of avoiding hot mufflers and tailpipes, and the necessity of using the rear brake before the front. After about ten minutes, Harry again kicked the bike to life and was soon cruising up and down the roads of Godric's Hollow. After about another hour, Sirius agreed to let Harry fly the bike home.

"Hey Sirius," Harry said while sitting at a traffic light on the outskirts of Little Whinging, "I won't complain if you want to get me one of these for Christmas." Sirius choked and sputtered.

"Why don't I just knock over Gringott's while I'm at it. You have any idea how hard it is to find somebody willing to part with a Vincent Black Knight?"

"I didn't say it had to be just like yours."

"We'll see Harry." With some direction from Sirius, Harry navigated the streets of Little Winging and ended up on Privet Drive. Harry noticed that a light was still on at Mrs. Figg's house. Harry wished Sirius a good night after thanking him for an evening well spent. Sirius gathered Harry into a crushing embrace. "Happy Birthday Harry, you've no idea how proud of you I am." He released an embarrassed Harry and put his sunglasses on. "Don't forget your leather coat tomorrow night, well tonight, and no wizarding clothes, strictly muggle. See you in about fourteen hours Harry." Sirius kicked the bike to life and headed off down the street in a cloud of smoke and squealing tires. Harry smiled as he saw the light go out at Mrs. Figg's, then went round the back of the house to and let himself in.

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

Sirius sat on Arabella Figg's couch; his booted feet propped up on the coffee table. He had just sent Harry home to get changed and told him he would follow shortly. "So, Arabella, how are his studies coming?"

"Quite well actually. His charms are very good and his potions are getting very good, I think he may well pull a full N.E.W.T. in potions. Today though he started digging into my personal library, he's looking for information about Godric Gryffindor. Perfectly understandable, so I let it go. How's it going out in the field, anything new?"

"Nothing good, I'm afraid. Death Eaters have somebody on the inside at the ministry. Two nights ago several powerful artifacts were stolen from the Aurors evidence chambers."

"What items?" Arabella sounded a little concerned, though not overly so.

"I don't know all of them, but I do know that the Keys of Ali, the Eye of Tal-y-Rhys, and the Bane of Ceasar were among them."

"The Bane of Ceasar?"

"Also known as the Blade of Betrayal, responsible for killing no less than five roman emperors and nine pretenders to the crown. It resurfaced about thirty years ago, was confiscated by the Aurors, disappeared, turned up in Voldemort's possession after his first defeat, and was again confiscated and sealed away by the Aurors. That blade has a long sordid history, I really wish they would just destroy the bloody thing."

"Probably easier said than done Sirius." Their conversation turned to Order business and a discussion of the world at large. After about thirty minutes or so, Sirius excused himself and went to collect Harry.

"Got it," Harry shouted as the doorbell rang. "Hey Sirius," Harry said grabbing his new leather jacket off the coat hook.

"What Harry, not going to invite me in?" Harry gave Sirius a dubious look. "Come on, invite me in, introduce me to Petunia. If she remembers me she'll get all wound up, it'll be fun." Sirius's dark eyes glinted with mischief; Harry realized why Sirius had been the leader of the Marauders.

"All right, come on in." Harry led a grinning Sirius down the hall and into the kitchen where his aunt was chopping vegetables for potato salad. "Aunt Petunia, I'd like you to meet my godfather, Sirius Black, Sirius, my Aunt Petunia."

Sirius stepped quickly forward and took hold of Petunia's hand as though he was going to kiss it. "Petunia, you look as lovely now as you did at Lily's wedding. Truly a sight for blind eyes." Harry watched as Petunia's eyes widened with recognition, and then indignant fury.

"You, you, you." Petunia snatched her hand back before he could kiss it and pointed at him with the butcher's knife she had been using. Her hand shook, causing the blade to wiggle about wildly. "You misanthropic, ill-mannered, philandering," her voice was rising in timbre and volume, "low-life, immoral, dishonest, disreputable, shabby, villainous, unscrupulous, fraudulent, contemptible, scurvy," she pursed her lips as though looking for some other descriptor, her head was beginning to shake now, "knave." Harry noted with alarm that she was coming around the counter, the knife still shaking in her hand. Sirius began to back towards the hallway, grinning broadly, "You disgusting hoodlum, how dare you try to kiss my hand? You, you, you hooligan. Get out of my house!" She pointed the knife at Harry now, "And don't you call me when you get arrested for hanging out with this," the knife pointed back at Sirius, "this, troublemaking, toad-kissing, swaggering, mischief-making," Harry didn't hear the rest as he and Sirius ran out the door slamming it behind them.

Sirius fell to the ground holding his sides he was laughing so hard. Harry was laughing too, but not nearly so much. "What was that all about?" Harry managed between fits of laughter. The door opened again and Petunia came storming out, a broom in her hand. She swung at Harry, who ducked and started moving toward the street.

She began poking Sirius with it next, "Go on you juvenile delinquents, get out of my yard." Sirius managed to get to his feet and jump on the bike; Harry slid on behind him. Sirius kicked the bike to life and they roared off down the street, but not before Petunia got one last good whack in on each of them.

"What do you think Harry, think she still likes me," Sirius asked at a stop sign two blocks away.

"Wha..." Harry's words were lost to the wind as the bike took off around the corner and shot down the street weaving in and out of traffic. They barreled down a side street and Harry heard Sirius say "Conspicio Abscondo." Another moment later the bike rose into the air and banked north towards London.

An hour later Sirius put the bike back on the ground in an abandoned industrial complex. They sped across parking lots and over railroad tracks, finally coming to a stop in front of a shabby looking bar. Out front were several motorcycles covered with gleaming chrome and bedecked with leather fringe and colorful paint jobs. Several rough-looking men stood outside laughing and passing something Harry could not see around a circle. Loud music blared inside; it featured prominent guitar work that Harry thought sounded quite a bit like calling birds. Harry looked down at his leather coat and the black T-shirt Sirius had given him and was glad he hadn't decided to wear his good clothes after all.

"Sirius!" One of the men shouted and waved Sirius over to the group of men. Sirius headed over and Harry followed him.

"Jack," Sirius acknowledged the man. Harry noted that Jack looked to be in his mid forties, a little older than Petunia and Vernon. He had long gray hair and a scruffy beard. His muscular hands and arms were covered with small burn scars. He wore a shirt that read 'Welders Do It By Torchlight.' "What we got here," Sirius asked, extending his hand. One of the other men handed him an open wallet with several pictures in it. "Pictures of the new grandbaby Jack?"

"Yep, first pictures we've seen of her, isn't she right precious?" Harry noted that he beamed with pride.

"Bought her a bike yet Jack?"

"Nah, just a couple of shirts so far. So, who's the young man Sirius?"

"Boys, I'd like you to meet my godson, Harry Potter."

Jack grabbed Harry's hand and thumped his back a couple of times. "Good to meet ya' son, to hear old Sirius talk about ya', we'd all thunk you were about ten feet tall. Jack's my name, and this is Rick," he began indicating the men standing around the circle. They all looked to be at least in their mid-thirties and most had the appearance of men who worked with their hands and bodies. He also noticed a preponderance of tattoos among them. Jack went on to introduce Nathan, Roger, Max, and Tiny, a man that stood about six and a half feet tall and probably tipped the scales at a little over four hundred pounds.

"Hey Sirius, I need to talk to ya' private-like if ya' got a minute." Jack spoke quietly to Sirius. The tow of them stepped away and Harry followed, slightly uncomfortable in this strange crowd. Once the three of them were apart, Jack looked meaningfully at Harry and then back to Sirius. "I'm not so sure I should be discussing this," he nodded in Harry's direction.

"It's OK Jack, Harry knows how to keep his mouth shut."

"Well Sirius, ya' always seem to be around when strange stuff is happenin' and it never seems to bother ya' all that much. That and you seem to know lots about lots o' stuff that ain't quite ordinary." Harry noticed that Jack looked uncomfortable and Sirius looked blank. "Well anyways, I was wonderin' if ya' ever heard of a place called Hogwarts?" Harry's head snapped up and Sirius looked carefully at Jack.

"Yeah, I know it," said Harry. Not seeing the dark look Sirius was giving him. "How'd you find out about it?" Jack looked at Sirius and then back at Harry, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter. At once Harry recognized the yellowed parchment envelope and broken wax seal.

"My youngest boy got this here letter in the mail about a week ago. Hadn't rightly had a chance to ask you about it yet." Jack was talking to Sirius who seemed to relax now. "I'm supposed to meet with some woman named McGonagall tomorrow about it. I don't know, seems kind of dodgy to me."

"It's legitimate," Sirius replied. Harry scanned down through the letter Jack had handed to him. It was quite a bit different than the one he received.

Dear Mr. And Mrs. James Whitmore,

We are pleased to inform you that, given the abilities demonstrated by your son Robert; he has been accepted to Hogwarts Secondary School. Hogwarts is a school in Scotland with a long and distinguished history dating back to the eleventh century. The school is very exclusive and acceptance is by invitation only. I would like to meet with you to discuss his possible admission and the necessary arrangements. Please ring my office at 0845 7 02 02 12 before August 1, 1997 to arrange an appointment. I look forward to speaking with you.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

"So, Jack, why did you think of me when you got this. It doesn't say anything about weird happenings or strange phenomenon."

"So it doesn't, but the only abilities Robert has ever shown other than playin' the guitar is all strange and unexplained. Claims he can see ghosts, just last week he was playing with the dog in it turned all green and orange on him. Weird stuff like that happenin' all the time when he's around."

Harry handed the letter back to Jack. "Congratulations Jack, you have a wizard in the family." Jack looked at Harry like he had just sprouted another head.

"Don't tell me you're one too."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. Going into my seventh year at Hogwarts this year."

Sirius patted Jack on the back in a congratulatory way. "Welcome to the wizarding world Jack, let me buy you a drink." Jack nodded dumbly and muttered something that sounded like 'several.' The three men went inside and Sirius ordered a round of Guinness for them. They took up camp around a billiards table in the back. Sirius and Harry spent the evening answering questions while Jack taught Harry the finer points of 9-ball. Harry decided the dark was just a little too thick for his taste, but the cider seemed to go down just fine. A little after one in the morning the three men stumbled out of the bar singing grotesquely out of tune songs about bawdy adventures in wenching.

Harry wasn't quite sure how or when he got home, but his aunt went out of her way to wake him up with the sun by yelling through his door. The light was unnaturally bright and extremely painful as he rolled out of bed. Petunia seemed to be taking a great delight in making as much noise as possible as he stumbled into the kitchen. Mrs. Figg was no kinder, taking an almost sadistic pleasure in suddenly shifting things around the room, which would cause his head to spin. Finally, about noon the worst of it was past and Mrs. Figg taught him how to brew a sobriety potion and a hangover potion. Harry swore up and down that he was never drinking that much again.

"That, Mr. Potter, is the best idea I have heard in a good many days. Now that your initiations are over, it's time to get back to the business at hand." Harry nodded his agreement; he was scanning her living room bookshelf when he found a thick book that looked like it might contain something interesting about Godric Gryffindor. He pulled it out, opened it, and read the title page, Foundations of Modern Magic, the Hogwarts Founders and their Contribution to Modern Wizarding Society by Abor Binns, Copyright 1939.

"Mrs. Figg, is this the same Binns that teaches History of Magic?"

"Yes Harry, it is."

"Why doesn't he ever teach us about stuff like this at school. I mean this looks interesting enough that I might stay awake in his class for it." Harry noted the look of stern disapproval on Mrs. Figg's face. "Not that I've ever slept through his class or any others," Harry added hastily.

"That would make you one student in a million Harry, and while you may be one-in-a-million, you aren't that one." Mrs. Figg gave Harry a knowing smile. "He doesn't teach out of it because it was ridiculed by other academics when it was published, it destroyed him. The popular view of the founders has always been that Salazar and Godric were competing for the affections of Rowena Ravenclaw, and that was what drove Salazar to seek the dark powers. Binns spent years researching his book and had a very different spin on it. It was summarily dismissed as being third rate research and the ramblings of an axe grinder. It ruined his reputation and shattered his self-confidence. He hasn't mentioned it in forty years that I know of, he doesn't even keep a copy in his office."

"Is it accurate?"

"I don't know, but his bibliography is extensive and well noted. I've never taken the time to cross-check it. I bought it because it was written by a good friend of mine." Mrs. Figg turned around went back out to the kitchen leaving Harry standing alone in the living room. He sat down with the book and went back to reading.

After about thirty minutes Mrs. Figg called out from the kitchen, "Don't forget about your dinner date Harry, its going on 4:00."

"Right, thanks." Harry gathered up his books and headed for four Privet Drive hoping against hope that this evening would be better than the previous weekend.