At What Price?

Chapter 6

The Vision

It was Friday afternoon before Harry finally got around to opening his gifts from the Weasleys. Even then he hadn't been all that excited about them, but something Hermione had said at dinner the night before had got him thinking that maybe he really didn't owe the Weasleys all the animosity he was bearing them. It surely wasn't Ginny, Arthur or Molly's fault that Ron was being an ass. She hadn't put it quite that way, she'd been more diplomatic, but a guilty conscience is never easy to bear. One of Molly's well-loved chocolate cakes did wonders to ease his guilty conscience, not to mention his growling stomach, as he sat at his desk reading Ginny's four-day-old letter.

Harry sat back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk. He reached into the envelope and pulled out Ginny's gift. He held up a silver chain with a single dragon fang pendant and watched it spin. He slipped it on comfortably and distinctly felt the cold silver against his skin. He read through her letter again and was only mildly surprised to find himself thinking about the smell of Ginny's hair and the softness of its curls. "Stop that Harry," he chided himself. He picked up a pen off the desk and began chewing on the cap as he considered his response. After several long minutes he sat upright and pulled out some parchment and a quill. He scribbled a quick response, pulled out another sheet of parchment and addressed a thank you note to Mrs. Weasley for the marvelous cake and the thoughtful gifts from her and Mr. Weasley. He picked up Ron's unopened gift and dropped it in the drawer. "Hedwig, you awake in there?"

Hedwig's eyes popped open and gave a Harry a withering look. "Yeah, yeah, I know. It's four o'clock and you shouldn't even be awake for another four hours, but I need you to deliver this for me." Harry held out the first letter scroll, "Mrs. Weasley," he held out the second, "Ginny Weasley, make sure you don't confuse them. And give Ron a sharp peck on the head if he's there." Hedwig cocked her head sideways and blinked several times as if trying to be sure she had heard him correctly. "Yes Hedwig, peck Ron on the head if he's available." With a non-committal hoot, Hedwig hopped to the window and flew off into the warm afternoon air. Harry rose and headed out of his room, going down into the kitchen to see if Petunia wanted to have a go at some of Molly's mouth-watering cake.

"Aunt Petunia," Harry mumbled around a mouthful of cake. Strangely enough, Petunia had already demolished a substantial portion of a good-sized piece of the chocolate cake.

"Don't talk with your mouth full Harry, it's uncouth and disgusting."

Harry swallowed and took a drink of his milk. "Why didn't you tell me you had dated Sirius?" Harry watched with amusement as his aunt's mouth dropped open, still full of the bite she had just taken. Her mouth snapped shut and she chewed and swallowed with a look of grim determination. Harry also noted that the veins in her neck were straining and her eyes were bulging out of her head.

"I did no such thing." Petunia was stressing each word and her voice was very sharp.

"That's not what Sirius said." Harry was doing all he could to make himself sound innocent. Sirius hadn't really told him much of anything, but he was dying to get the whole story and he figured a little creative construction couldn't hurt.

"And you take the word of that unscrupulous vagabond over mine?" Petunia snapped, folding her thin fingers together.

"Well, considering what he said about kissing you, yes." Petunia let out an inarticulate strangled scream. She was turning several shades of red, and her mouth flopped open and shut like a fish gasping for breath. Finally after a couple of minutes, Petunia was able to breathe again.

She looked at Harry with very suspicious eyes; voice incredibly guarded. "What, exactly, did he say?"

Harry thought very quickly, he tried to hide it by looking as if he was trying to avoid embarrassing Petunia with it. "Well," he finally answered slyly, "he said it would have been much more interesting in your sister hadn't caught the two of you behind the cigarette machines in the King's Cross Tavern." This was the truth, but Harry was quite sure Sirius hadn't included all the innuendo that he was adding to it now.

Petunia looked positively scandalized. "That tramp, just because I blew in his ear and let him nibble," she stopped suddenly. Harry was looking at her with rapt attention.

"Yes," Harry asked, his voice almost begging her to continue.

"Go pick me six large carrots out of the garden, Harry." She got up out of her chair and stalked to the kitchen sink where she began to scrub the gleaming surface rather thoroughly. It took about five minutes for Harry to come back in with the carrots. He handed them to Petunia. As she was turning away from him a glint of silver caught her eye. "New necklace, Harry?"

Harry flushed slightly, "Yeah, my friend Ginny got it for me. Real dragon fang, her brother has an earring just like it."

Petunia turned abruptly back to the sink, "There's no such thing as dragons Harry. Why don't you go out and get some vegetables for a proper salad." Harry headed back out to the garden; mentally slapping his forehead as he went because he knew Petunia wouldn't answer any more questions today.

After dinner Harry sat at his desk reading Professor Binns' book on the founders. He wondered why it was that Professor Binns couldn't be this interesting in class. The text was full of interesting information and suppositions and there were very few dates to remember. A full chapter had been devoted to examining each of the founders individually, and Harry poured through the chapter on Godric Gryffindor.

According to the chapter, Godric, whose given name was Gaethric, was the son and heir apparent of a Welsh Baron named Gwynllyw Marthyr. The Marthyrs ruled an area of Breckon Shire named for their family and had magical blood in their lines dating back to the mid-seventh century. They were never considered a pureblood family as many marriages were done to cement political alliances and wizards and witches only cropped up ever two or three generations. Godric himself was raised to take over the lands and title from his father and was considered by many to be man of great potential, a true leader among men. In addition to learning the crafts of war and ruling, Godric also studied the magical arts with which he was very adept. His mentor was quoted as saying, "Were Godric able to devote himself to his studies more, he could well be the heir to the Staff of Merlin."

In 1026 tragedy befell the Marthyr family when King Canute, at the behest of the Roman Church, declared the Marthyrs, "practitioners of Witchcraft and traffickers with Satan." The family was deposed and several members were hanged or burned at the stake. Their lands were divided between the king and the church. Godric escaped the trials and hid himself among the wizards of Europe for many years.

In 1043 Godric returned to the shores of Britain. Knowing full well he would never be able to reclaim his lands or his title; Godric fell in with several advisors to Edward the Confessor, the newest king on the throne but a year following the deposal of the Canute heirs. Among them was another wizard named Salazar Slytherin and the two soon became fast friends. In time, the Roman Church again began to exert influence over the crown and Godric stole away with Salazar, Salazar's distant cousin Rowena Ravenclaw, and a witch named Helga Huflepf, who was serving as council to a German ambassador.

Following the persecutions of wizards that took place over the next few weeks, the four decided that the time had come to separate themselves from the ruling aristocracy. They sought out a safe place to teach the lessons of mage-craft to young wizards and witches, as reliable masters were becoming increasingly difficult to find. Even fewer were willing to take on new apprentices. As in all things, Godric assumed the leading role and became the spokesman of the group. He was relentless and drove the other members to push the bounds of magic as they sought to create a safe place away from the "mugging ways of the domineering church and torch-bearing populace."

It was Godric who took the idea to the wizarding community, using his personal charisma to gather eager students to himself like bees to honey. Many parents were at first reluctant, but again Godric's domineering personality and personal magnetism won them over. Where he could not convince, he cajoled. When he could not cajole, he manipulated. Those who he could not manipulate, he threatened. When his threats would fail, he would simply dominate. In the end Godric usually got his own way, though he was never able to dominate the other three like he dominated the average witch or wizard.

Though he was quick to anger and quick to judge, he was also raised under what was, even then, called 'the Old Code;' a code under which one swore themselves to the values of valor, truth, chivalry, and justice. This code was ever the guiding principle to Godric and he instilled its value in his own house, requiring many of his earliest students to actually swear to the code.

Harry was disappointed to find that the code did not actually appear in the text, though he was fairly sure that he could recite the code if he concentrated hard enough on it. Harry began to understand why the book had not been popular. It painted a rather harsh picture of Godric Gryffindor as a man with obsessive tendencies and inflexible codes. Harry was surprised to learn that it was not actually Godric's idea to bring in students born to non-wizarding families, but rather the joint efforts of Helga and Rowena. However, in the end Godric had seen the wisdom of their thought and soon became its most ardent defender, and therein were the seeds of the destruction of the four.

About two in the morning, Harry finally closed the book and crawled into bed, his brain awash with visions of Godric Gryffindor: a dominating leader, a wizard of great power, and a warrior of unequalled bravery. A letter from Ron, delivered by Pig about nine o'clock, lay ignored on Harry's desk.

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"Mum, it's Hedwig," Ginny said a little too excitedly as she looked out the dining room window. Arthur reached back and opened the window allowing the bird to fly in, not even bothered by the interruption of his dinner. The snowy owl swooped over and alighted on Ron's shoulder. Ron grimaced, as Hedwig dug in her talons a little more than was absolutely necessary to maintain her balance. She extended a single leg to Ginny, so that she could remove the letter scroll attached there. "Mum, for you." Ginny handed the letter to Molly. Hedwig extended the other letter and Ginny removed that one. The second letter she stuck in a pocket without saying a word.

"Who was that one for?" Ron was asking the question through clenched teeth, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the shooting pains in his arm and shoulder. Seeing that her brother was in excruciating pain, Ginny extended her arm hoping that Hedwig wouldn't do the same to her.

"Come on Hedwig, want a bite of roast?" Hedwig stepped gingerly on to Ginny's arm, but managed to leave a deep scratch on Ron's shoulder in the process. Daintily she took the bite of roast that Ginny offered and swallowed it. She tottered up to stand on the back of Ginny's chair and hooted softly.

"Well?" Ron posed the question to Ginny again.

"Not for you," was all Ginny would say in response.

"Well, that was sweet." Molly handed the letter to her husband, who read it quickly and handed it back to her. Molly tucked the note away and picked up her fork. Seeing that no one was making a move to reply to either note, Hedwig hopped off the back of Ginny's chair, flapped her wings a few times to buffet Ron about the head and face, then flew out the window.

Ron slammed his chair back away from the table, "Sodding bastard," he mumbled, "probably told her to do that. Ruddy bird." He turned and began to walk toward the stairs.

"Where do you think you're going young man?" Molly asked Ron sharply, "Sit down and eat the rest of your dinner." Ron, ignoring her, stormed out of the room and headed up the steps two at a time.

Marix cleared her throat as she watched the unknown snowy owl fly away. "Dumb question time, whose owl was that?"

"Harry's," Ginny replied perfunctorily.

"Ahh," Marix replied sagely, as though Ginny's response was the secret of life itself. Upstairs, Ron's door slammed shut.

Ron sat down at his desk and yanked out a piece of parchment then slammed a quill and ink down on battered surface as well. Ron picked up the quill and dipped it in the ink which splashed on the parchment. "Son of a bitch," he growled. He slammed the quill down, he was simply too angry to write. He opened his trunk and dug out his Dictaquill, a Christmas gift from Hermione. He dipped it in the ink, and then set it on the parchment, "Harry," he stated. He was rewarded with the sound of scratching on the parchment. He got up out of the chair and began to pace the room.

"Listen here you sodding bastard. Scratch that," the pen drew lines through what it had just written. "Fuck you Harry, you acknowledge that everyone else in the house sent you a birthday present and all I get is the shit clawed out of me by the good for nothing owl of yours. Fuck off. It's too bad this letter won't get there before my apology does, because Pig left with it about half an hour ago. I take it all back Harry, all of it, every fucking word." Ron paused for a moment to stick his fist through a wall. "New Paragraph," the quill jumped down to the next line.

"Another thing, stay the bloody hell away from my sister. I have no idea what's in that letter you sent her tonight, but it better damn well be the last one she gets from you. Stay the hell away from Hermione too. Go be The Boy Who Lived somewhere else, I'm sick of your shit. One last thing, every reading I've done for the last week tells me that a crisis is coming. Another chance for you to be Harry Potter, boy hero. New paragraph, Fuck Off, new paragraph, Ronald Weasley."

Ron stalked back over to the desk, grabbed the quill and scrawled his name across the bottom in large angry letters. He rolled it up and opened his door. "Marix, what the hell are you doing?"

Marix crossed her arms and leveled her best icy stare on Ron. "You don't want to send that letter."

"What do you know? And who asked you anyway?" Ron's eyes smoldered with anger as he slipped past her into the hallway. Marix realized that her look was having no effect on him this time.

"Fine," her voice dripped contempt, "throw away the best friend you've ever had. What do you need him for, you're going to be a great seer someday."

Ron turned and stuck his finger in Marix's face spoke very clearly and rather quietly, "I didn't ask for any of this, but I'll be damned if I am going to stand here and suffer your tongue after everything I have already suffered for trying to protect you." Ron turned and ran down the stairs. At the bottom he headed straight to the garage where the owls slept, he opened a cage and pulled out a groggy horned owl. Walking toward the outside door he attached the letter to its leg, "Try and get this to Harry before noon tomorrow." He flung the bird into the air without much faith that the bird would follow orders then stalked back into the house.

"Ron, sit down." Ron looked at his father, ready to challenge him. "Ronald Arthur Weasley, I said sit down." Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly, it was a look Ron had never seen on his father's face. Without a word Ron complied. "What was that all about?"

"I was sending a letter to Harry." Ron shot a challenging look at Marix, as though daring her to reveal the contents of the letter. "Matemutap should be back say, late Monday."

"Ron," Mrs. Weasley scolded him, "how many times do I have to tell you that her name is Kiri; not Matemutap, which I think is insulting."

"It's supposed to be, it's what she is, More Alive Than Errol, More Useless ThAn Pig."

"Ron," Arthur raised his voice, "I have had about all of you I am going to put up with today. Quite frankly, your attitude stinks. I am sick of it. Go up to your room, I don't want to see you again until you can behave like a decent human being." Ron stood up sharply and knocked his chair over. Without saying anything he stalked from the room and up the stairs.

"May I be excused?"

"Yes Ginny," her father replied. "Leave your brother alone though."

"Not a problem at all." Ginny cleared her dishes away to the sink and then ran up to her room clutching her letter. After closing her door she stretched out on her bed, lying on her stomach. The light of the sinking sun in the western sky streamed through her open drapes as she opened Harry's letter.

Ginny,

Sorry I didn't write back sooner, I was a little leery of opening your letter, hope you understand. Thanks ever so much for the necklace, it's beautiful and fits really well. When I told Aunt Petunia what it was, she told me there was no such thing as dragons, I almost laughed.

Things are going really well around here, I have spent my summer studying with Professor Figg and have learned all kinds of new stuff. She thinks that I might actually get a N.E.W.T. in potions. Petunia and I are actually getting along really well, for my birthday she gave me an old photo album of her and my mum as kids. I'd give you my number but Petunia would probably get really upset, plus I'm hardly ever home anyway. Tell you what though, I still need to go to Diagon Alley and get my school stuff, would you like to join me? I was thinking about going down on Monday or Tuesday, owl me back and let me know. It was good to hear from you.

Your friend,

Harry

"It was good to hear from me, and he wants me to join him in Diagon Alley!" Ginny jumped up off her bed and danced around her room. She walked over to her dresser, kissed his letter, and dropped it in her jewelry box. Suppressing the urge to shout she ran down the stairs to the kitchen. Molly was standing at the sink washing dishes and whistling along with the WWN.

"Hey mum, want some help?"

"Sure dear, how's Harry doing?"

"Oh, he's OK." Ginny picked up a towel and began to dry. "He's getting along well with that Muggle Aunt of his and he's been studying with Professor Figg all summer."

"Summer tutorials, how dreadful. You kids should be outside playing during the summer."

"Mum, I have a question for you."

"Yes," Molly responded, her voice wary.

"Harry is planning on going down to Diagon Alley to do his shopping next week and asked me if I would join him. Would it be okay if I went?" Molly turned this over in her mind several times. Harry was a target for the dark forces; no question about that. Would he be safe going to Diagon Alley? Molly remembered that Arabella Figg was watching out for Harry, and decided that she probably wouldn't let Harry go there alone.

"When and where are you supposed to meet dear?" She still hadn't made up her mind Ginny decided. That meant she was actually considering it.

"We haven't decided yet. I need to owl him and let him know."

"Very well, if there is going to be an adult with you, you can go."

"So if an adult can't go, Harry should go by himself. Is that what you're saying?"

"Ginny, don't start putting words in my mouth. There needs to be somebody there in case something happens."

"Mum, we'll be fine. We're going to be right in the middle of Diagon Alley. Besides, if I go we'll know someone will be with him and we won't worry as much."

"That's true dear." Molly gave out a resigned little sigh. "Very well, but I need to know when you're going."

"Thanks Mum," Ginny dried the last couple of dishes then hugged her Mother and skipped back upstairs. Flopping down on her bed she quickly scrawled a response telling Harry she could go, would rather go on Monday if possible, and thanking him for his invitation. She went on to say she understood completely about why Harry hadn't responded sooner. She also told him about Hedwig's strange behavior that evening and Ron's odd response.

About midnight, Pigwidgeon flew into garage where the owl cages were kept. Ginny immediately rushed out, her letter to Harry in one hand, a bag of owl treats and a dish of water in the other. "Hi Pig, you're such a good little owl." Pig hooted and fluttered his wings. "You up for another run tonight?" Pig fluttered his wings again, though he was eyeing the bag of owl treats with predatory hunger. "Here you go dear," Ginny put three of the mouse shaped treats in her palm. Pig jumped into her hand and promptly demolished all three. "You're such a good boy," Ginny kissed and nuzzled the little owl. She attached the small letter to his leg, and after some water and a few more owl treats Pig took off like a rocket.

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Harry woke to the rapid tapping of Pigwidgeon at his window. He opened the window and held out his hand. "Back again? It better be worth my while." Harry extracted the letter that was addressed to him in Ginny's looping script. "Now that's a good owl." Harry opened his desk drawer and pulled out a couple of owl treats for Pig. Pig started to hoot excitedly and Harry looked up from Ginny's letter just in time to see Matemutap, the Weasleys other owl, come barreling through the open window. The large owl landed on Harry's desk and began to hoot at Hedwig, who turned her back. Harry reached over and disconnected the letter from the owl's leg. He saw his name was written in a large messy scrawl. The ink was blotted and the parchment deeply scratched. "Worthless bird." Harry tossed the letter from Ron on top of the other one on his desk.

Harry gave Matemutap a handful of standard feed pellets then sent her on her way, though he encouraged Pig to hang around while he replied to Ginny's letter.

Ginny,

Travel by Floo and come to Mrs. Figg's house on Monday at 10:00. I'll let her know you're coming so as to avoid any problems. Thanks for coming; I really wasn't looking forward to going down there alone. Tell your mum I'll have you home by 4:00.

Your friend

Harry

Harry had considered telling her about setting Hedwig on Ron, but had decided that Weasley blood was still thicker than water. He was about to attach the letter to Pig and send him off, when he noticed that Pig was sound asleep. Re-reading Ginny's letter he became mildly curious about Ron's second letter, curious enough to read it.

After reading Ron's second letter, Harry slammed it down on the desk, waking up Pig. "Sodding bastard!" Harry got up out of his chair and paced around the room muttering and throwing up his hands at odd intervals. "I'll bloody well talk to whom I wish; and you, Ronald Weasley, can't say anything about it." Harry's eyes fell on the other letter from Ron, apparently an apology based on what his second letter said. Harry flopped back down into his chair and grabbed another sheet of parchment. He began to scrawl a quick and angry letter. When he was done he jabbed his quill onto the desk so hard it stuck in a crack.

Seeing that Pig was awake, Harry attached the two letters to his leg band and tied Ron's birthday present to his other leg. Harry watched until Pig was less than a speck in the sky. His anger shrank much the same way. When Pig was gone Harry was left with an emptiness in his heart, an emptiness that used to be Ron. His partner in crime, his first real friend, his most ardent defender; Harry hung his head and sat down at his desk. "Hedwig, what have I done?" A sympathetic hoot was his only answer.

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Ron was sitting at his desk, star charts spread out in front of him, a book on celestial phenomenon lying on the bed. A light knock on his door roused him from his work. "What do you want?"

"Package for you Ron," came Ginny's voice through the door. Ron got up and walked to the door and yanked it open. Ginny stood in his doorway; in her hand she held a small brown package and a letter. "I'm sorry Ron."

Ron snatched the package and letter from her hand, "Whatever," he closed the door in Ginny's face. He tossed the package onto his bed and opened the letter, curious to see what Harry had to say for himself.

Ron

Don't worry, I am not going to waste the time it would take to read your hollow apology. You probably never meant it anyway. Here's your fucking birthday present back, why don't you put it to good use and shove it up your arse. I told Hedwig to give you a sharp peck on the head, its nice to know who my faithful friends are. I'll talk to whomever I bloody well please, Ginny and Hermione included. I'd like to see you try and stop me. Since you know there is a crisis coming why don't you try and stop it, oh that's right- you're not a powerful enough wizard to stop anything like that.

Formerly your friend,

Harry Potter

Ron winced several times as he read the letter. Now that he'd had a chance to calm down since the event the night before, Harry's words sliced him like swords. The signature was like being dipped in salt water, Formerly your friend. Ron dropped his head onto the desk, and the world faded to a liquid black.

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Draco Malfoy looked appreciatively at the Firebolt Mark 2 as the woman behind the counter handed it to him. "That'll be one hundred and fifty Galleons, Mr. Malfoy." Draco noted with satisfaction that she was appropriately differential as spoke to him. Draco reached into his cloak and pulled out a heavy bag of coins.

"Its all there," he drawled, the bag made a heavy clinking sound as he dropped it on the counter. "Where's the rest of it?" He hefted the broom and shook it once. He was pleased to see that the woman was not so rude as to count his coins while he was still there, the name Malfoy was still well respected in some areas at least.

"Right here sir," a young man just a little older than Draco came out of the back. He began flopping items on the counter; "Dragon hide carrying case, hard sided with compartments." He opened the case and began indicating several small compartments, "broom repair kit, ocular enhancement goggles, textured grip leather gloves, and practice snitch." Draco laid the broom down into the case and snapped it shut.

"I wish I could say it's been a pleasure." Draco lifted the broom case from the counter. Damn, should have brought Crabbe with me for this, oh well. Draco paused expectantly, waiting until the young man opened the door for him, then swept out of the store. The street was crowded with shoppers. Professor McGonagall passed him. She was visiting with an older man with gray hair and beard and wearing a leather jacket. They were accompanied by a short heavy set woman with gray streaked hair and leading a rough looking boy with long black hair and a jacket that said Harley Davidson Motorcycles on it. "Even the Mudbloods are finding new levels of low, disgusting." Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at the boy's feet. "Locomotor Mortis." Draco slipped away into the crowd before McGonagall could react, chuckling to himself.

He had one more stop to make before meeting with Crabbe and Goyle. He strode through the door of Madam Malkin's Robes and suddenly pulled up short. "Harry, I can't let you buy that for me." Draco was sure he knew that voice. He listened closer.

"Ginny, I am buying it, if you don't wear it then I have to, and I don't think it'll fit me." He heard Ginny laugh. He looked around suspiciously, the Weasel and his Mudblood whore had to be around somewhere, but he didn't see them.

"Fine Harry, you buy it, I'll wear it; but only for special occasions."

Draco poked his head around the corner. Ginny was wearing a fabulous emerald green gown that fit her like she had been born in it. She spun around three or four times, her hair flowing out around her like a flag. I'd do that for a Galleon, Draco thought to himself lewdly. She leaned in and gave Harry a kiss on the cheek and a rather fond hug. Potter seemed to have his nose buried in her hair. Draco smiled to himself and slipped back out of the shop before they could see him. "Well, well, well," Draco said as he smiled to himself. "This day just keeps getting better and better. Thank you Potter." He strode on up the street to Florean Fortescue's to collect Crabbe and Goyle, the seeds of a plan forming in his mind.

That evening Draco sat in the living room watching the door to his father's study very carefully while pretending to read Standard Book of Spells Grade 7. He had just watched Walden MacNair close the door, and he had every intention of finding out what was going on in there. It wasn't that he cared whom his father spoke to, but he liked to make sure he was aware of what was going on around him. He pointed his wand at the door and muttered, "Incipio Exaudio." A small stone Draco had embedded in the keyhole began to glow with a faint blue light. Another stone resting in the hollow of his collarbone began to glow as well.

"It's right here MacNair, the Keys of Ali are each designed to break a particular type of enchantment. I have copied a list of the keys and their known effects for you."

"No you didn't, you made me do it," Draco muttered to himself. He realized he shouldn't grouse so much, the work had been very informative.

"Any idea what he wants these for?"

"I'm sure he'll tell you when its time for you to know. Do you have the keys on you?"

"No, he told me to come to him tonight and he would give me what I needed."

"Are you sure he doesn't need to give you something unpleasant?"

"No Lucius, just because I'm not as close to him as you are doesn't mean he questions my loyalty. You know what he says, keep your enemies closer."

"You are dismissed MacNair."

Draco quickly pointed his wand at the door, "Finite Incantatem." The door opened and a surly looking MacNair walked out. Draco stood up and approached the study as MacNair was shown to the Apparation chamber. "Father, may I have a word with you?"

"Yes Draco, come in and sit down." Draco sat down opposite his father in a large leather upholstered chair. "What do you want, son?"

"I need an extra hundred Galleons, Father." Draco said it as though he was asking for no more than permission to go and play in the yard.

"The two hundred I gave you this morning failed to cover your expenses for school supplies?" Lucius's voice was sarcastic and biting. "The Malfoy fortune does not continue to grow because we spend frivolously, Draco." The elder Malfoy sat his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers below his chin. His eyes swept coldly over his son.

"More than sufficient father. This is for," Draco paused, he wasn't ready to spill the beans on his plan yet, "something else." He leaned back comfortably in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk.

"I know that you don't have a serious commitment to a girl yet, so what is it Draco? You know how the master feels about recreational activities that become more than recreational."

"Yes father, I know. No this is something else entirely. If it works, I get take something else away from Potter and publicly humiliate the Weasleys at the same time. If it works very well, I cut Potter off from the Weasleys and leave him," Draco made a mockingly sad face, "all alone."

Lucius looked appraisingly at his son and smiled ever so slightly, it was an evil sort of grin. "I can't see why you would need one hundred galleons to humiliate the Weasleys, they do that on their own without any money. However, anything that leaves Potter vulnerable is worth more than it's weight in gold." Lucius stood and walked to wedding portrait entitled Chute de la Chambre de Medici. He swung the picture aside and opened a safe set into the wall after bypassing the safeguards, which included one very poisonous green snake. Lifting out a bag he tossed it to his son. "Poor us a drink, Draco." Draco did as he was told and soon the two men were toasting their future success with a fine brandy.

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As had become the custom of late, Harry stood in the kitchen helping Peutnia prepare dinner. He was in a good mood as he had spent the better part of the day shopping with Ginny in Diagon Alley. They'd had lunch at a restaurant called Maggiano's and afterward had gone to Madam Malkin's and spent a considerable amount of time looking at dress robes for Ginny, which had been Harry's idea. Harry hoped desperately that the end of term ball was held again this year as it had been the last two years.

"What are thinking about Harry?" Aunt Petunia's voice cut into his wandering thoughts.

"What, oh nothing." Petunia looked at him speculatively, but said nothing. "Something I was wondering though," Harry had to be very careful proceeding here. The last time he had brought this subject up, Petunia had ended up in the hospital. However, a conversation he had with Ginny about family brought into sharp focus his desire to know. "A while back something had been mentioned about your mother," Harry paused as he noticed that Petunia's jaw was suddenly very tense. "I get the feeling that there is something going on there. I know she's not dead, but why don't you ever talk about her?" Petunia was chopping onions very carefully and deliberately, and didn't speak for a long moment. Finally she set the knife down and washed her hands.

"Harry, there's no easy way to talk about this." She walked over and sat down at the table, Harry joined her. "My mother is one of the many reasons I bear you and my sister so much ill will." She took a deep breath, as though saying that much had required tremendous physical effort. Harry sat silently, not quite sure of how he felt about this.

"When your mother and I were children, Lily was always her favorite. Lily could do no wrong." Bitterness was creeping into Petunia's voice. "Nothing I ever did garnered from my mother the praise she heaped on Lily. Then Lily got that letter. Father was extraordinarily proud, but then Lily could do no wrong in his eyes, she was always his favorite. On the other hand, Mother was horrified. My mother was raised in a very strict religious family and she believed that witchcraft was the devil's work." She looked at Harry with a somewhat bemused expression. "I'm not so sure that it isn't, but that's not the question here. After the letter my mother wanted very little to do with Lily, and as a consequence I became my mother's favorite." Harry was beginning to think his grandmother was a very fickle woman.

"I stayed at home and attended parochial school while Lily went off to boarding school. I made a great many inroads with my mother and she and I became very close." Petunia took a tissue from the box on the windowsill and dabbed her eyes. "The summer before her sixth year, I had graduated by then and was working as a receptionist at Grunnings, Lily had Mum pretty much to herself, and they became close again. Over the years their relationship got better and once again Lily was her favorite." Harry noted that Petunia sounded very bitter now. "Mum was so proud of her little witch. Things just got better and better for them over the years. Mum was happy when Vernon and I announced our engagement, but I still wasn't Lily." Petunia seemed to suddenly become aware of what she was saying and whom she was talking to. She took several deep breaths.

"When Lily got killed, it was an emotional trauma for Mum. She lost touch with reality, she forgot about her family and friends. I was deprived of my mother's love, even though she was still alive." Petunia dabbed her eyes again and blew her nose. Harry suddenly felt profoundly uncomfortable, almost guilty.

"Where is she now?" Harry asked hesitatingly.

"She lives at an institution for people with Alzheimer's disease north of Birmingham; has for about six years now. I go and see her every spring and fall, but she doesn't even know who I am." Harry felt the emotion rising up in him. He felt great pity and sadness for Petunia. He knew what it was like to live without a mother's love; he couldn't imagine how much worse it would be to have it taken away. Harry took hold of Petunia's cold shivering hands and began to mumble platitudes as she cried softly. He felt an overwhelming anger building inside of him. This was two more lives that Voldemort had destroyed, two more that he would have to pay for.

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

Ron hadn't slept well for three days; his dreams were haunted by memories of sneaking around Hogwarts, of hunting through tomes in the library, and playing Quidditch in the backyard. There were times when the dreams became nightmares of memory, and Ron wasn't sure which was worse. Tonight though, the dreams were different. They were filled with strange images and things he didn't recognize though he knew they were significant. About 5:30 in the morning he couldn't take it anymore and went to wake Marix.

"What is it Ron?" She rubbed her eyes and looked at him blearily around the barely opened door.

"Marix, get dressed, I need to talk to you. Something's going on, I need your advice."

"Now's a bloody fine time to ask for it, you sure didn't want it last Friday."

"This is something else entirely, but I can't figure it out. My dreams are filled with dragons." Marix's eyes snapped open and suddenly she wasn't tired anymore. Marix dressed quickly and met Ron in the living room where a fire blazed in the hearth.

"In the last one," Ron explained, "there was a great black dragon. He stood before the rising sun and his shadow extended far across the lands. He extended his claw and a host of five spirits fled before him. They stopped before a great fortress of crystal and became one shadow. The shadow stole into the castle but was stopped by a wall of light. The shadow again became the five spirits, each bearing a laurel wreath and a scroll. Each drew forth a sword of blackest night and plunged them into the wall of light, which was extinguished and all was darkness."

"Ron, was there a lion in any of your visions?"

"In one. There was a raven engulfed in flames, when the flames died a lion leapt from the ashes and ran towards the dragon."

"Ron, get Hermione in the fire, something is terribly wrong."

"What is it, and why should I get Hermione in the fire."

"I don't know, but I have a feeling that she does. She is the Bearer of Stars Ron. Without her you cannot see, without her the Lion is in darkness." She looked gravely into his blue eyes, "Ron, this is the moment of truth. The moment when you must decide which is of the greater importance. I cannot tell you." Marix stood and walked to the kitchen, leaving Ron sitting on the couch and staring into the fire.

Ron stood before the fire and cast a pinch of Floo powder into the fire. "Communus Infierno Hermione Granger." As soon as the light flared Ron shouted, "Hermione!"

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

Harry's eyes snapped open, "Wher- wha- how?" His eyes darted around in the darkness and came to rest on the on the old battered clock, which sat on the barely functional desk next to his bed, it read 4:13 A.M. Harry groaned and turned back over, he was on Privet Drive, number four. Harry lie there for a moment and contemplated going back to sleep, but something felt wrong. Harry focused on the feeling, was it here, was there something wrong here? Harry concentrated for a long moment, it was subtle, a slight variation in the feel of the house. Harry crawled out of bed and went to his trunk. The calendar hanging on the wall above it indicated that it was now Tuesday, August seventh. Harry opened the trunk and took his wand out. He also grabbed the copy of Decoding Enchantments and Deciphering Curses that Professor Figg had loaned him for his summer tutorials.

"Lumos," Harry whispered in the darkness, his wand gave off a soft glow. He flipped open Decoding Enchantments to the chapter on protective charms. "Revelios Incantatem," Harry muttered, his vision altered and he could see the screens of protective magic that lay over the Dursley's house. When he had learned that spell a month before it had suddenly become quite clear why Dumbledore made him return here every summer. This house had almost as many protective spells on it as Hogwarts did. He was as safe here as he could be anywhere other than Hogwarts. Harry studied the enchantments; one in particular seemed to be in an extremely chaotic flux. Harry consulted the text again, "Averti Perilos," Harry read, "an enchantment that will warn the caster of mortal danger in the enchanted location. Developed by Merlin in 866 A.D. so that he could monitor the safety of young Arthur Pendragon while he (Merlin) traveled."

Interesting, Harry thought to himself, but why would it be in such fluctuation? Harry read on through the description, but nothing seemed to give an explanation. Harry's head suddenly exploded with pain and he dropped to the floor, his head cradled in his hands.

All was green around him, the light was intense, even though his eyes were closed and he knew at some level the light he was seeing was not here in this place. A high-pitched cackle sounded in his ears. "Excellent MacNair, with that doddering old fool slain, his alliance will collapse. I will kill Harry Potter before the new moon now that his protector is gone. Hogwarts will be closed with no headmaster. MacNair, you have done us all a great service, I will reward you magnificently." The high-pitched cackling erupted again and faded as did the green light.

Harry was left lying on the floor staring at the multi-colored screen of enchantments that blanketed the house. He rolled over and looked up at the ceiling, the screen that had been in chaotic flux just a moment ago was now collapsing.

Grief threatened to overwhelm Harry as he lay there on the floor. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, advisor, master of knowledge and magic, leader of the Order of the Phoenix, and protector of Harry Potter was dead. Harry felt the tears burn his eyes and track down his cheeks. His throat was dry and sore, filled with a lump he could not swallow. His body racked with spasms as he wept there on the floor. After several minutes something else began to replace the grief; cold, unreasoning fear grabbed Harry by the spine and began to spread through his body. He could feel it robbing his legs of movement, his arms of strength, his lungs of air, and growing in the pit of his stomach like an engorging stone.

Memories of Dumbledore came flooding back to Harry. Memories of him standing over Harry in the hospital wing, sitting at the staff table, giving beginning of term announcements, sharing his thoughts with Harry in his private office. "You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time." Dumbledore's words echoed in Harry's mind as the fear threatened to overwhelm him. He fought back; the same thing that allowed him to resist the Imperius Curse was serving him now to fight off blind unreasoning panic. After several more minutes he was finally able to move again, thought returned slowly. Harry grabbed his wand and an address book that Hermione had given him for Christmas, then stumbled downstairs.

You could stay here, Voldemort would have great difficulty finding you here, a voice within Harry tempted him as he made his way through the darkness to the kitchen. Life here is bad, but you're protected and alive, Harry instantly killed the voice. Dumbledore had invested a great deal of faith in Harry, Harry could not back out on him now. If he didn't step up, who would? I have to do it, Harry thought, I am the target, if I don't lead others will die as the path of destruction finds me. He looked at the phone on the wall and the clock above it reading 5:27. "It can't be helped now, Dr. Granger will forgive me." Harry picked up the phone and began punching in the numbers to Hermione's house. Once, twice, three times the phone rang before a sleepy voice answered on the other end.

"Hello..." the groggy voice replied.

"Dr. Granger?"

"Yes..."

"Dr. Granger, this is Harry," his voice was quick, despite barely being able to talk, "I need to speak to Hermione, right away please."

The voice on the other end was suddenly alert, "Harry, are you OK? Have you been crying?" Hermione's mum was always very kind to Harry, and seemed to understand in a way that even Mrs. Weasley didn't always catch when something was bothering Harry.

"I just need to talk to Hermione, it's really important." Harry hoped he didn't sound as panicked as he felt. A couple of minutes passed, Harry could hear the sounds of snoring from the other end of the line.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice was groggy and thick when she picked up the phone.

"Hermione, something, something terrible has happened."

"Are you okay, Harry?" Suddenly Hermione's voice wasn't so groggy, and she sounded very worried.

"I'm fine, but I, I need you to meet me at the Leaky Cauldron by 8:00." He thought about asking her to bring Ron, but decided against it. He needed her cool head, not Ron flying off the handle and trying to kill him.

"What's happened, Harry, what's going on?"

"I can't tell you right now, just meet me at the Leaky Cauldron and I'll explain then." Harry's voice was very clear and strong, there was no wavering and no question about what he wanted. Hermione thought about asking Harry if she should bring Ron. Then she thought about Harry's last letter to Ron, and decided it might not be the best idea.

"I'll be there." Harry thought she sounded scared, he hoped he didn't.

"Thank you, I'll see you there at eight, bring your wand." Harry's voice was solid and authoritative, like he expected her to do exactly as asked. Harry took a deep breath as he hung up the phone. He turned and headed back up the stairs, accidentally stepping on the creaky stair at the bottom of the steps. Uncle Vernon stirred at the noise though Harry took no notice.

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

Hermione hung up the phone with a shaky hand. "Button, is everything OK?" Hermione looked at her mother with a blank expression, "I... I don't know."

"I'll make some tea and you can tell me about it."

"No mum, go back to sleep. Harry needs me meet him at the Leaky Cauldron." Hermione's brow creased in concentration, "Do you think you could give me a ride, I need to be there by 8:00, Harry said it was important."

"Why don't you," Dr Granger's voice broke off as she considered the look on her daughter's face, "sure honey, we'll need to leave here by 7:00. Go get ready and I'll start some tea."

"Thanks Mum," Hermione hugged her mother then shuffled back out into the hall and, acting on impulse, went down to the living room after retrieving her brush. Hermione flipped the switch on the living room wall that ignited the gas flame fireplace. The flames were warm and soothing, she sat down in front of the fire and stared into the flames. After a minute or so she began to brush out her hair wishing she could cast a de-tangling charm on it. Suddenly Ron's head popped up in the fire.

"Hermione!" Ron's voice was urgent.

"I'm here Ron. Why are you calling so early?"

"What are you doing up so early? It doesn't matter. By the way, nice hair, like the look." Her hair was half done, brushed on one side but sticking out all over on the other. Ron's head was smiling at her through the fire; his grin mischievous but his eyes were not so mirthful.

"What's going on Ron?" It took a concentrated effort for her to not interrupt him, it was something she was working on after she had found out how much it upset him. It wasn't easy, she really wanted to tell him about the strange call she had gotten from Harry.

"Hermione, something is terribly wrong. I've been having really strange visions and dreams tonight and Marix said I should call you, though she didn't say why." A cold chill ran up Hermione's spine, she was suddenly very afraid and very wary.

"I know why." Ron could feel the dread in her voice like a palpable force. "Ron, Harry rang me not ten minutes ago."

Ron interrupted her, "You talked to Harry this morning?" Hermione was surprised, he didn't sound bitter. For the first time in a week he said Harry's name with a genuine curiosity or concern that wasn't tinged animosity.

"Yes, he told me to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron at 8:00. It wasn't a request, it was..." Finally it clicked in her mind what she had heard, "It was an order Ron. Like when McGonagall tells you do something. Ron, I'm worried. I want you to come with me." A note of pleading entered her voice.

"I'm not so sure that is a good idea. It's pretty clear how Harry feels about me. Not that I didn't give him good reason." Ron's voice was tinged with something that sounded like regret.

"Ron, this can be worked out. This is important, maybe more important than anything else we've done. Please say you'll come with me Ron, please." Hermione shook her head, mad at herself for sounding like a girl pleading with her boyfriend.

"For your sake," Ron's voice now had a note of concern in it, "I'll be there, 8:00 at the Leaky Cauldron. Do you want to Floo over?"

"No, I'd rather not, but why don't you come over here and we can ride down together? Mum said she would drive me over, but I need to leave by 7:00."

"See you in about an hour then, just make sure Crookshanks isn't sleeping in front of the fire this time." Ron's head disappeared from the fire as she heard the clinking of her mother's tea service on the table behind her.

"Ron's coming over before we leave, he's going to ride down with us," Hermione half questioned her mom as she stood up and turned around.

"Then you better do something with that hair of yours." Her mother smiled at her smoothing down the dark blonde locks of her own hair. "We need to leave in an hour." Hermione picked up a cup of tea, puzzling over the meaning of this morning's events, she returned upstairs sipping her tea as she walked. There were a great many questions to be answered; though she shivered at what some of those questions might be.

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

Lost in thought, Harry wandered into his bedroom just as Uncle Vernon poked his piggish face out of his own. "Boy," Vernon's voice was derisive, carrying with it a level of implied insult as he spoke to Harry. "If you insist on waking the entire house with your stumbling around, I'll be forced to move you back under the stairs so that the rest of us can sleep peacefully."

"Sorry, Vernon." Harry's voice was distracted and he said it more out of habit than out of any genuine remorse for waking the old windbag.

"Boy, don't you use that cheek with me. Since you're up, why don't you take care of those leaves before you go over to Mrs. Figg's this morning to do something useful." Harry stopped abruptly and looked at Vernon. He desperately wanted to tell Vernon the only reason he was going over to Mrs. Figg's was to study spell-craft. It would certainly undermine his uncle's view of the old widow woman; but she had told Harry that if he did, she would curse Aunt Petunia's flower beds and recommend that Harry weed them twice a day to fix the problem.

"Sorry, I can't, I need to be somewhere this morning, something has come up." Harry stared his uncle in the eye secretly hoping Vernon would challenge him, he got his wish.

"You ungrateful prat, what do you mean you can't? I said you need to get out there and take care of those leaves this morning, that lawn looks like it hasn't been touched in a week, probably hasn't. The only reason I haven't come down on you sooner is because I know Mrs. Figg is putting you through your paces." Harry couldn't help but smile at this as he saw Vernon struggling to keep himself under control to avoid waking the whole house. "Think this is funny do you?" Vernon was starting to sound like a bad comedy on BBC making fun of old line army officers.

"Vernon," Harry wasn't smiling anymore, "something horrible has happened this morning, I have to leave very soon, I will be back in a couple of days to get my stuff. You will leave it where it is. If you don't, it will erupt causing hot pink pansies to grow out of the walls faster than you can cut them. Everybody in this house will be afflicted with a curse causing their hair to turn a shocking color of green, and all of your suits will sparkle with fairy lights. If you don't believe me, I can demonstrate right now." Harry brandished his wand, the tip of it mere inches from the end of Vernon's nose. The look on Vernon's face was a mixture of terror and deep loathing, but he did not step forward nor even challenge Harry. "Good, now that we understand each other, why don't you get ready for work, because it is already a quarter of six and you have to get up in fifteen minutes anyway. Think of it as my doing you a favor, early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise."

Harry was shocked at himself as he walked on in to his room; normally the only time he spoke that way to Vernon was when he was very angry and yelling. However, in this case he had been totally in control of the situation. It also struck him as odd that he no longer thought of Vernon as either Uncle or Mr., just Vernon, like an equal, or even a subordinate. Harry marveled at the thought as he pulled on a clean shirt. Tossing his wand, a handful of gold and silver coins, and Decoding Enchantments and Deciphering Curses into his back pack along with the pens and paper that were already there, Harry turned to Hedwig's cage setting on his desk. "Hedwig, meet me at Professor Figg's house." Harry opened the cage and slid the window open. "No note, just tell Theseus to let the professor know I will be there shortly." Hedwig spread her speckled white wings and leapt out the window. Harry turned and headed down the stairs again. He could hear Vernon talking to himself in the bathroom as he headed out the front door.

Harry took a deep breath of the sweet morning air. "How dare the sun rise this morning," Harry muttered to himself as he headed down the walk and up the street. The door popped open as Harry reached for the doorbell at Mrs. Figg's.

"Come inside, Harry." Mrs. Figg seemed relaxed and unworried as Harry stepped through the door. "Given the look on your face and how early in the morning it is, I would say something is troubling you." Mrs. Figg wasn't asking a question. She indicated a chair at her breakfast table and then moved to the far end as Harry sat down and reached into his backpack and pulled out a quill and parchment, shoving the pens and paper back into the pack.

"Professor Figg, what could be the cause of an enchantment collapsing," Harry asked innocently enough. He began to scrawl out a short note:

Sirius,

I am not sure what the state of the world will be when you get this letter. I am meeting with Hermione this morning so we can discuss what to do. I don't want to write about why because it is difficult for me to admit it to myself, but it has to do with my scar so I am fairly sure that it happened. Please find me, this is important. I should be in London, probably staying at the Leaky Cauldron, or at Mrs. Figg's. By the way, you didn't tell me that Petunia was blowing in your ear behind the cigarette machine, you sly dog.

Harry

Harry rolled up the note and attached it to Hedwig's leg as Professor Figg continued her explanation. "Counter curse is the most common reason, some enchantments simply expire, conditions for the casting may have changed causing the reason for the enchantment to become invalid, or the caster could have dismissed it. The answer should be right there in Decoding Enchantments, why do you ask?"

"Would death of the caster cause an enchantment to fail?" Harry tried to sound nonchalant about it, he didn't think it worked though.

"In some cases, yes." Professor Figg's voice took on the tone that she normally used when she was waiting for an explanation of an answer. "Why do you ask?"

Harry opened the large book he had brought to the page he had been looking at just two hours ago. He had to say it quickly, anything else would cost him too much effort. "The 'Averti Perilos' over the Dursley's collapsed this morning, about two hours ago." As soon as he thought about it, the lump in his throat returned, and fear gripped his spine. "I, I heard Voldemort congratulating somebody named MacNair on a job well done, then he said he was coming after me now that my protector was gone. Then he said that classes would be cancelled with no Headmaster."

Professor Figg's face had gone very pale and she looked stricken. "Harry, was it a dream?"

"No, a vision," his voice was thick, it was difficult to talk. "I was monitoring the enchantments when suddenly my scar exploded with pain and all I could hear was Voldemort's voice."

Professor Figg suddenly looked much older, like Dumbledore had following the Tri-Wizard tournament two years ago. She looked at Harry, and he could see in her eyes that she was scared. She, like so many others, had believed that as long as Dumbledore was alive everything would be all right, but now that security was gone. The look in her eyes told Harry exactly what he had to do, the question was, could he do it- was he strong enough?

Harry had always known he would face Voldemort, that didn't even scare him anymore, at least not much. Dumbledore had always been there to help clean up the messes after Voldemort struck at Harry and his friends. Harry thought of the Diggorys and the time Hermione had been petrified during his second year and how Dumbledore had simply stepped in and reassured everyone. Harry realized now, looking at Mrs. Figg, that he had to do what Dumbledore no longer could; reassure her that all was going to be okay, and that plans were in place for dealing with this.

Harry suppressed the panic building inside him, then he felt something else. It had been there ever since taking the Sword of Gryffindor from the ghost of Godric. It was an expectation and a comforting knowledge; the knowledge that he could take on this task, that he could lead the Order and the expectation that they would follow. It was a comforting thought and he let it wash over him.

Plans are in place, he told himself. He and Hermione were meeting at 8:00 to discuss them, Sirius would find him soon enough. He realized that Hedwig was still standing there looking at him. "It goes to Sirius, fast as possible," he whispered to her as he smoothed the feathers on her back. She nipped his hand and was gone that quick.

"Professor Figg, I can take care of this, but I need the Order's help. I am meeting with Hermione at 8:00 so we can plan how to proceed, can you bring Professor McGonagall to the Leaky Cauldron by then?" Mrs. Figg seemed to snap back to reality at the sound of Harry's voice. She was startled by how in command of the situation he was.

"How many people have you told about this?" She asked him suspiciously.

"Only you, I told Hermione to meet me at the Leaky Cauldron, but I didn't tell her why."

"Very well, but don't you suppose you should check your facts before you go jumping out of windows." Harry felt better now, her voice was getting that snap back in it, and she was making him think his answers through. "How foolish would you look if you started spreading this rumor that Dumbledore was dead and he showed up the first day of classes to report that news of his death was greatly exaggerated?"

Harry blanched he couldn't prove it, at least not before 8:00. He knew he couldn't scry on Dumbledore, Hermione had reminded him of all the things you couldn't do at Hogwarts countless times. "What about calling him through the fire?"

"What if he's not there? Not dead, just not there?" Her eyes glittered as she watched the wheels of Harry's mind turn.

"I, I," Harry faltered, "I have to believe what my vision showed me, it has never steered me wrong before."

"You're starting to sound like Sybill Trelawney, be concrete Harry, think." Her voice was strong, pushing Harry to expand the possibilities. Harry struggled for a moment, he screwed up his eyes in concentration. Harry jumped to his feet, his hands pressed flat on the table. He leaned over the table towards Mrs. Figg, a fire burning in his eyes.

"I believe that he is, I can't prove it at this moment, but I know it's right. I cannot wait around for Voldemort to strike again while I wait for proof of what I already know. If I am wrong then I will deal with the consequences then, but I know I am right. I must prepare based on what I know." Harry's body was tense. He realized with horror that he had raised his voice to Professor Figg, a woman he had a great deal of respect for. He noticed with some confusion that she was leaning back in her seat, smiling at him.

"Albus was right, you do have the fire, and the gift." She looked pleased, and relieved. "Very well Harry, I have the means to prove it, but it will take a few minutes. If you are going to lead the fight, you are going to have to learn to rely on the abilities of those around you. You have already taken that first step, by calling on your friends, and coming to me. Now give me your left arm."

Numbly, Harry extended his arm, revealing the phoenix tattoo on the inside of his left arm. Mrs. Figg did the same, though her tattoo was considerably older than his own. She laid the tattoos face to face and spoke, "Albus." The tattoo on Harry's arm began to tingle, again Mrs. Figg spoke the Headmasters name, the tingle became stronger. "Responda Sommati Albus Dumbledore," the pain that shot through Harry's arm at Professor Figg's spell was incredible, almost as bad as the pain in his scar that morning. Mrs. Figg yanked away her arm and Harry felt a stabbing pain in his head that seemed to go all the way through him. "Harry, I'm afraid you are right. That pain in your head is the last thing that Dumbledore felt." Mrs. Figg was rubbing her temples, her eyes closed.

"Similar to my scar?" Harry questioned her.

"Exactly, this tattoo, this scar, gives each member of the Order a link to the others. Any two members working together as you and I have done can contact any third member. The first tingling was the activation of your own signal; the increase was the feedback from mine. Had Dumbledore been alive, even if he was unable to respond, the feedback would have only been a small increase and he could have responded by touching the phoenix. My guess would be that he grabbed his own mark at the moment of his death."

Professor Figg's look was grave and her eyes probing, "Harry, are you sure you want this? Leading the fight against Voldemort will make you the de facto Lord Phoenix. Leading the Phoenix is more dangerous than being Auror. As an Auror, you would be a hunter, as the Phoenix, you would be the hunted."

Harry felt weak to his very bones. Within him there raged a war in his thoughts, his doubts versus his conviction. I am still a student, only a boy. Like no other in at least fifty years. I have no experience in coordinating the efforts of a group like the Order of the Phoenix. Mrs. Figg has already shown me that I have help. I am nowhere near as strong or powerful or wise as Dumbledore. I am the Heir of Gryffindor. I'm not even a full Auror yet, just a seventh year student. None of the professors were Aurors, yet some of them are Order members. At the Dursley's I can be safe, in the care of my family I am untouchable. Is Ron, is Hermione, was Severus, was Cedric, were my parents? What's to stop him from killing the Dursley's? It was then that Harry knew there was only one way. He had to return from his summer isolation and take up the fight.

"If I was the Phoenix, Professor Dumbledore would be alive," the words escaped his lips as soon as the decision was made, before he was consciously aware of it.

"That may not be the case Harry, Voldemort has hated Dumbledore since he was a student, and you know that." Mrs. Figg's voice was quiet and reassuring. She smiled at him, though her eyes were as unreadable as those of the two cats laying on the table looking at him. "You have made your decision then?"

"I don't know if I can lead the Order. I'm not even a full wizard yet, still a student. All of the other members are much older and experienced, they probably won't even want to listen to me. Would you take direction and orders from a kid who hasn't even taken his N.E.W.T.S yet?" Harry asked the last question very directly, but he did not flinch away in anticipation of her answer.

"Harry, you have conviction. Your acceptance of your responsibilities coupled with the power of your belief in what is right will lift you above the minor concerns of age or tests. Not since I have started working with you this summer have I ever doubted your abilities. And yes, I would direction from you Harry, this morning you showed not only good sense, but strength of conviction as well. You have learned much from Albus Dumbledore, more than you probably realize, and the spirit of Godric Gryffindor lies over you like a cloak. I will contact the rest of the Order Harry. Meet your friends, but say very little, bring them back here."

She glanced at the grandfather clock standing in the corner, "time has passed quickly since you got here, it is after 7:30. I am sure she is on her way already, she's very dependable." Harry looked at her quizzically, he had not followed the change in conversation. Mrs. Figg answered his look by saying only, "Miss Granger?"

Harry's face lit up in sudden understanding, he rose from his chair and stepped to the fireplace. Harry put some Floo powder in a pouch in his backpack. He turned to where she sat at the table, "Thank you Professor Figg, for everything." Harry tossed a handful of Floo powder into the lit fire, he stepped into it saying "The Leaky Cauldron," and fell away into darkness. Harry fell through the darkness for some few seconds, and then stepped through the fireplace into the Leaky Cauldron. He coughed, and cleared his throat; looking around the room he could see no sign of his friends.

"Morning Harry, how you doing?" Harry looked over and saw Tom reading a copy of the Daily Prophet at the bar.

"Quiet morning, eh, Tom," Harry commented, surprised by the fact that there was only one other patron in the normally busy tavern as he walked over and sat down at the bar.

"Yeah, suspect everybody's catching up on the news, been a busy couple of days. Fudge, the Death-Eaters, Dumbledore." Harry coughed and choked on his own breath as he sat down.

"What about Dumbledore?" Harry really hoped that his news wasn't already out, he wanted to meet with Hermione quietly first.

"Well, after the vote of no confidence in Fudge last night, the Board of Governors were quoted anonymously saying 'we feel strongly that Dumbledore would be able to step in and affect a positive change throughout the ministry.' So there you have it Harry, Hogwarts could be looking for new Professor and a new Headmaster with only three weeks to the start of term."

"That'd be something," Harry did his best to disguise the doubt he felt about his response. "Hey Tom, Hermione hasn't been in yet has she?"

"Not unless that's her coming through the door." Harry turned and looked as Hermione stepped through the door that led to London. Behind her came another figure. Harry stared; it was the tall lanky frame of Ron Weasley.

"Oh Hell," Harry swore, his green eyes shooting daggers at the red haired Ron.

"Those Weasley boys seem to have an inordinate amount of good luck, don't they?" Harry nodded in response to Tom's question, not quite sure how to respond. Harry stood up, his eyes locking on Ron's. The air between them seemed to be alive with tension and unspoken words. Apparently Hermione felt it as well, because she stepped to the side so that nothing was between the two men.

What's he doing here? Harry wondered why Hermione had brought him along, he hadn't asked her to and he was fairly certain he didn't want Ron here. This is going to be hard enough without having to fight with Ron every step of the way, Harry thought angrily. Now what the hell do I do?

I knew this was a bad idea, Ron thought miserably as he observed the angry look in Harry's eyes. He doesn't want anything to do with me. Ron sighed inwardly, remembering Hermione's encouraging words and repeating them to himself. I need to be here, I need to be here, I need to be here. Ron hoped if he thought it hard enough, it would become true. Now what the hell do I do?