At What Price?

Harry looked unpleasantly at the form of Ron standing with his hand on Hermione's shoulder. I should have known he'd be here standing over her, damn. Why does he have to be so bloody contrary all the time? "Hermione," Harry called as he approached her. She raised her hand slightly and waved timidly.

"Harry, I," Hermione said weakly. Ron squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, and then stepped forward.

"Look, Harry," Ron began hesitantly, but Harry interrupted him immediately.

"As I said Ron, I will talk to whomever I want. You may be Hermione's boyfriend, but you're not her keeper. If she wants to talk to me, I don't think you can stop her."

Ron just stood there, hands hanging loosely by his sides, his breath coming quicker and quicker. He had merely meant to apologize, but it was obvious Harry wasn't going to listen. Ron's fists repeatedly clenched and relaxed. Hermione could sense Ron's rising anger, she could see it in the coloring on the back of his neck, feel it in the tightening muscles of his arm, and could almost hear the blood pounding in his veins. Ron was just about to open his mouth and say something when Hermione stepped between them. "Harry, I asked him to come." Ron turned and stalked to the bar, ignoring the two of them.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for?" Harry's voice was a harsh whisper. "I really don't need him here right now, something big has happened and I need you to help me work through it." Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye that Ron was drinking something out of a brown bottle and watching them closely. "I'm sure you've heard Ron's side of the story, but you haven't heard mine, have you? Have you?" Harry's voice contained a note of challenge.

"Yes, Harry, I've heard the whole sordid tale. I made Ron tell me every nasty, childish, petty little detail. I can't say which of you I'm more ashamed of. Tell me, did you ever bother to read his apology?" She gave Harry an accusing look. "Do you have any idea what it cost him to write that? You know as well as I do that he doesn't swallow his pride easily, and he swallowed all of it, twice, to write that apology. You at least owe him enough to read it."

"Why? He took it all back anyway." Stubbornness was also one of Harry's faults, as Hermione had learned long ago.

"Because he thought about that letter and what to put into it. He spent six hours writing that letter, Harry. He asked me to read it three times to make sure it conveyed what he wanted it to say. The second letter was an angry reaction that he wrote in two minutes with a Dictaquill. He was ranting, Harry. He was hacked off because you," Hermione stuck an accusing finger in Harry's chest, "couldn't be bothered to open his birthday gift but you sent everyone else thank you notes." Her voice softened, "He felt betrayed, Harry. You're his best friend in the whole world and you cast him off like an old shirt. How do you think that makes him feel?"

"So this is all my fault now?" Harry's eyes were narrowed.

"No, but he was trying to apologize to you before you jumped down his throat." Her eyes softened as she looked at Harry. "Please, Harry, give him a chance." For my sake if no other, she left unsaid. Hermione hated playing on Harry's heartstrings, it made her feel manipulative but sometimes there was no choice. "He knows something is going on Harry, he's been having all kinds of weird visions and dreams but I can't figure out what they mean. I hope you have the key, Harry, because I don't."

Harry took a deep breath, made up his mind and turned to face the bar. Ron was looking in their direction, his blue eyes like chips of cobalt. Harry creased his brow, trying to figure out how to approach Ron when their eyes met. A moment of struggle and then Ron wrenched his gaze away and turned back to the bar to nurse his butterbeer.

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

"Communus Infierno Minerva McGonagall." Arabella Figg stood before her fireplace where Harry had disappeared about ten minutes earlier. A very proper image of Professor McGonagall, her hair in a tightly rolled bun and her features stern, appeared in Mrs. Figg's fireplace.

"Yes Arabella?" McGonagall's voice was stiff as always, though considerably more friendly than most students ever heard it.

"Minerva, have you spoken to Albus yet this morning?"

"No, but I should see him in a few minutes when I go down to eat. Why do you ask?"

Arabella struggled to keep her voice even and betray nothing. "I expect Albus won't be at breakfast this morning. I need you to go up to his private quarters, call me through the fire from there."

"What's going on?"

"I don't have the facts to back it up yet, but I have every reason to believe that something has happened to Albus."

"When did you take up crystal ball reading?" Minerva's voice had a light teasing tone.

"Not hardly." Arabella took a deep breath and her face became very serious. "Minerva, be prepared for the worst. Call me back as soon as you see Albus, it's imperative."

Minerva narrowed her eyes, "Arabella, what's going on?"

"I won't tell you until I know for sure. That's what I need you to do, find out for sure. I need to know right away. Sorry to be so cryptic."

"Very well, Albus and I will call you in a few minutes." Minerva's face disappeared from the fire.

"Not likely, Minerva, not likely," Arabella Figg said to the now normal fireplace. She picked up her wand and set about straightening the room before Harry came back with Hermione.

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

Brilliant, Ron, just brilliant. Ron knew this was serious, he usually only talked to himself in the third person when he was trying to screw up courage to apologize to Hermione for causing a major row. Taking another sip of his butterbeer; he felt the presence of Hermione, who sat down at his right. "I told you I shouldn't have come."

"Maybe." Ron sat bolt upright at the sound of Harry's voice right behind him. Harry sat down on a stool at Ron's left. "Tom, can I get one of those?" Harry indicated Ron's butterbeer. The three sat quietly in the tense silence; even Tom didn't loiter near them. After a few minutes Harry and Ron both spoke at the same time, "Look, I," both laughed sheepishly but didn't look at each other.

"Harry, I," Ron swallowed, "I want to apologize." Harry started to interrupt him but Ron held up his hand. "Wait, Harry. I shouldn't have sent that second letter. I was hacked off at Hedwig, she's got bloody sharp claws by the way." He turned to face Harry and extended his hand. "I'm sorry Harry, truly sorry. I never should have thought that you would do anything as horrible as that. I was a prat, and I'm genuinely sorry."

Harry looked pointedly at Ron's hand, and then looked up into Ron's eyes. Harry's own eyes glittered, unreadable, in the lamp light of The Leaky Cauldron. Harry noted that Ron's eyes looked pleading, a look he hadn't seen in them since the near break up the previous winter. Harry felt guilty pangs of conscience as he slipped off the stool and felt his feet strike the floor. Slowly, deliberately, he took Ron's hand and gripped it fiercely.

When Harry took hold of his hand, Ron felt a wave of relief pass through him. He immediately slid down off his own stool and embraced Harry powerfully with his free left hand, their right hands still gripped between them. He felt Harry's arm tentatively reach around his back and thump him a couple of times. They separated and looked at each other uncomfortably, both toeing the ground and stuffing their hands in their pockets. Hermione broke the moment by throwing her arms around both of them as she smiled through her tears. Ron slipped his arm around her waist and nuzzled her neck, mumbling something Harry couldn't hear but seemed to give Hermione immense satisfaction.

Ron turned back to Harry, a serious look on his face. "Hermione filled me in on your mysterious call this morning, what's going on Harry?"

"This may not be the best place to talk about it, it being so public and all." A few more patrons were beginning to fill the out booths. Harry's voice dropped to a dramatic whisper, "we're going to travel through the fire to Professor Figg's house."

"Figg's house," Ron and Hermione gasped in unison, shock evident on their faces and in their voices. Ron continued on, "Harry, why would we want to go there? She's even more strict than McGonagall, and not nearly so attractive." Hermione couldn't even avoid smiling at the irony of this remark. Ron and Hermione both knew he had been studying with Mrs. Figg, though he hadn't given them any details about it.

"Ron, lighten up, I have known Mrs. Figg all my life, at least what I remember of it. Other than all the cats, she's not bad. And her place is a lot more private." This last bit was barely whispered. Draping his arms over each of their shoulders he said, "Arabella Figg's House," and swept them into the green fire.

All three emerged in the living room of Mrs. Figg's suburban cracker-box house. The Antique French Baroque furniture looked like something out of a painting. Silver tea service was set out and all looked very precise save for the seven cats lying around the living room sprawled on the arms and backs of chairs. Mrs. Figg looked up from her tea, "morning students."

"Morning Professor Figg," Hermione coughed out.

"Miss Granger, in this place I would prefer if you refer to me as Mrs. Figg, not only is it easier to say, but today I am not here as your Professor, nor you as my students. Relax Mr. Weasley, have a seat; all of you take a seat. We have much to discuss. I have some tea and crumpets and feel free to move the cats if they bother you." Mrs. Figg gave Harry an appraising look, he responded with a shake of his head. After they were all settled in, the questions came rapidly to Harry from his two friends, though he didn't answer any of them straight away.

"Hermione, Ron, there's a few things I need to tell you." Harry began, feeling like he was sitting in front of a ministry inquiry. "The night of my seventeenth birthday I was sworn into the Order of the Phoenix." Ron opened his mouth, then closed it, and then opened it again, looking like he wanted to say something. Hermione was simply shocked and sat stock-still. "It was something I was told not to reveal until the time was right, that time is now."

Suddenly the flames in the fireplace roared to life and Professor McGonagall's head appeared within the flames. "Arabella! Arabella!" The voice was urgent, as if belonging to someone wavering on the edge of a blade between panic and outright hysteria.

"I'm here Minerva. Harry, Hermione, and Ron are here with me." Arabella Figg's voice held a slight tone of warning that Harry caught immediately.

"I need to talk to you in private. It's about what you said earlier."

"Harry already knows. That's how I found out about it. He was about to tell the others."

"I am not sure this is information that should be shared with students, even if it is the Troublesome Trio." Harry was rather shocked at the way Professor McGonagall referred to him and his friends. He noticed that Figg at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Minerva, five minutes after you and I conclude this call Harry will know it's entire content, so save me the trouble and tell us all now."

"Very well." McGonagall sounded as though she was agreeing under duress, as though someone was holding a gun to her head. "You were right, Albus Dumbledore is dead. It looks like it happened while he slept." Harry felt his heart sink at having his worse fear confirmed. He noted that Hermione was stunned beyond words. Ron seemed to be struggling to overcome an all-consuming fear. Mrs. Figg simply hung her head. The room was silent for several long seconds. Harry knew he had to start things moving again.

"Professor McGonagall," Harry spoke, "are plans in place for changeover at the school to ensure that term will start on time?" Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrow as she considered Harry.

"Mr. Potter, I hardly think that Hogwarts administration is a concern of yours." Her tone was dismissive but Harry stood and walked to the fire, stepping between Mrs. Figg and the fireplace. His green eyes stared into the fire.

"Mr. Potter," Minerva McGonagall was rather taken aback. Never had a student been so presumptuous in speaking to her. "I think that you are rising a bit above yourself."

Hermione's voice suddenly interrupted. "Professor, as Head Girl, I believe I may have some right to that information. According to Hogwarts: A History," Harry held up his hand for silence as McGonagall began to speak again.

"Very well, Miss Granger. To answer your question, yes the plans are in place. I will become the Interim Headmistress until such time as the Board of Governors can select a new Head of School. Although I am not sure how keen people will be to return their sons and daughters here in light of this," she paused, "murder."

"Be strong, Professor, present a strong front and people will believe that everything will be fine."

"You know, Mr. Potter, Dumbledore was right about you." Her tone sounded like she was saying this reluctantly, as though surprised by the fact. "I look forward to seeing you on September first."

"You also Professor, see you on the first." Harry wondered what it was that Dumbledore had said about him.

Arabella jumped in, "Minerva, wait."

"Yes?"

"Have you told anyone else yet?"

"No, I called you straight-away."

"I'm going to travel to Hogsmeade, then I will meet you at the school. See you in thirty minutes. Don't notify anybody outside the school yet."

"I'll meet you at the base of the stairs to Dumbledore's office." Professor McGonagall's head disappeared from the fire. Harry saw that Hermione looking about anxiously. Ron sat with his head back, looking deep in thought. Arabella rose and went to the kitchen to grab her wand and a few items that she threw into a purse. She looked at Harry expectantly. He felt the expectant stares of Ron and Hermione as well.

"What?" Harry asked irritably.

"What do we do now, Harry?" It was Ron's voice from behind Harry. Ron was feeling the effects of the loss; it had begun to sink in. Dumbledore, the man who everyone placed their faith in, was gone. No longer would his wizened eyes penetrate their feeble excuses and guilty expressions. No longer would his quiet voice impart wisdom to foolish young wizards. No more would his quiet, powerful presence calm the storms of emotions run rampant.

"We go to Hogwarts with Mrs. Figg. I need to run home and get a couple of things, I'll be right back." Harry grabbed his backpack and dumped it out on the coffee table.

"Make it snappy, Harry," Mrs. Figg said in a sharp tone.

As Harry headed out the front door and jogged down the sidewalk, Hermione turned to ask a question. "Profe...er, Mrs. Figg, is it my imagination or has Harry changed a great deal in the last week? I didn't notice it Thursday night when we went out, but I can definitely see it today. He's not the same person he was at The Burrow."

"How much has he told you?"

"Only that we were coming here because he had something to tell us. I think he intended to tell us more than just the fact that he had joined the Order of the Phoenix." Hermione was struggling to keep her grip on reality. She had never really spoken the undying faithfulness in Dumbledore that many others had. She had done something far more dangerous; she had simply assumed he would be there. Logically she knew that he wouldn't live forever, but at an emotional level she had assumed that Dumbledore was the pillar, the undying strength that supported all other things. Now that the pillar was gone she felt a great abyss of despair and fears forming in heart. She had to keep talking, had to force her mind to remain active lest she fall into that chasm of dark emotions.

"A great deal has happened to him. He has learned some things about himself and about who he is. I won't tell you what, that is for him to tell you. Tell me Miss Granger, what do you know about the Founders?"

Hermione snapped back from the edge of her dark pit as she began to pull facts out of her spinning mind. It seemed to calm as she forced it to divulge the information she needed. "I know that they established the school in 1045. It was the first wizarding institution established after the end of the golden age, which we now mark as ending in 1016 with the ascension of King Canute to the throne as the first King over all of England including Wales. They oversaw the school until 1053, when Salazar Slytherin went to war against the other founders. Following the war, Helga Hufflepuff continued to run the school until she died in 1078."

"Do you remember what it says about the heirs of the Founders?"

Hermione thought for a moment, and then frowned slightly as she recalled the passage. "According to Hogwarts: A History the founders cast a spell using blood magic that would insure that there would always be at least one heir to watch over the school at all times."

Harry came through the door before Mrs. Figg could ask her next question. Ron looked up to see Harry come in carrying his backpack. Ron's eyes were transfixed by what he saw in Harry's right hand though. "Is that," he pointed at the item in Harry's hand. "I mean, how did you get that? That is what I think it is, isn't it?"

Hermione looked to see what Ron was on about. Her eyes fell to the gleaming sword in Harry's right hand. Its hilt was set with several egg-sized rubies, and its silver crosspiece was ornately carved. Harry answered both their questions simply; "This is the Sword of Gryffindor. The sword of my family." There was a pregnant pause as his words hung in the air.

"You're the Heir of Gryffindor," Hermione whispered, it was not a question. Harry nodded gravely. "How? When?"

"I'll tell you between Hogsmeade and the school. Let's go." Mrs. Figg cast a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace. The flames roared green and large. She stepped through naming her destination as the Three Broomsticks; the Troublesome Trio followed behind her.

They arrived at the front steps of Hogwarts having heard Harry's story about his initiation and encounter with the ghost of Godric Gryffindor. It was Ron who asked the obvious question, "So, what kind of powers do you have?"

"To tell you the truth Ron, I have no idea. I've been reading up on Godric Gryffindor, trying to learn about him to see if that will give me some insight. I've learned some interesting things but I am not sure how accurate the source material is."

"Hogwarts: A History has a couple of chapters on the founders. It says that Godric was a dynamic leader that frequently spurred the others to action. He was the one who set about convincing the magical community at large to accept a centralized institution for educating the children as opposed to the family tradition or apprenticeship methods that had been in use for centuries."

A light went on in Hermione's eyes and she looked at Harry shrewdly. "Harry, that's the change in you. When you called me this morning, you didn't ask me to meet you, you told me to. When you talked to McGonagall this morning, it was with an air of authority that you told her what to do. You wouldn't have done that two weeks ago. The Heir of Gryffindor is a leader of men, Harry."

Harry stopped with his hand on the handle of the entrance hall. He looked at Hermione and considered her words carefully. It was Ron who spoke though, "Harry, that explains a lot. You know how I told you I keep having visions of some crisis coming. In every one, the tower crumbles and there is a king left standing. The tower is a symbol of crisis, Harry. That king is you."

"Hold on a minute here, I am no king."

"It's metaphorical Harry, I still can't figure out the significance of the ravens though. That and the dragon with the Roman Emperors." Harry opened the doors signifying that the conversation was over, and entered the hall. His companions flanked him as he strode through the massive hallways, their footsteps echoing loudly in the empty stone corridors. Harry had a difficult time concentrating as flashes of memories that were not his own whirled about in his mind like a tornado.

Harry saw Professor McGonagall leaning against the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's study. He noted that she was pale and gaunt, as though she had aged a hundred years in the six weeks since he'd last seen her. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy. When she turned to look at the four of them, she was listless and slow to respond. Hermione ran past Harry and took her favorite professor by the shoulders, giving her a slight shake. "Professor McGonagall, are you all right?"

McGonagall stared at her with unblinking eyes, then slowly recognition dawned, "Miss Granger, what are you doing here?" Her voice lacked its normal crack. "Classes don't start for another three weeks, there shouldn't be any students here."

"I brought them Minerva. They are going to help us. Now pull yourself together." Professor Figg clapped her hands twice, "Pebbly." A small house elf suddenly appeared at her side; a black dress and maid's apron hung loosely on her slight frame. She was one of the few house elves who had accepted clothes and wages after "Hermione's Boxing Day Revolution" in the Trio's fifth year. The next year it had been even more popular with the elves, now half of them received wages and compensation. There had been a slight reduction in staff though and some of the older students complained about their beds not always being warmed or laundry services taking longer. Pebbly had been heard on more than one occasion telling a student to warm their own beds and magic their own clothes clean. Hermione rather liked her.

"Yes, Professor Figg, how may I help you?" She spoke like an English Governess rather than the typical high, squeaky voices Harry had always associated with House-elves.

"Pebbly, would you please bring me two cups of strong tea?"

"Of course Professor," she turned her small head and looked at Ron, "Would you care for anything Master Ron?"

"A spot of toast with jam if it's handy."

"Right away, sir." Pebbly disappeared with a pop. Mrs. Figg turned and looked at Ron with a raised eyebrow. Ron shrugged and looked about to say something when Pebbly popped back in bearing a tray with tea and toast for all and sat it down on a small table that she had brought as well.

Palming a small pinch of some yellow powder, Professor Figg picked up and handed a cup to Professor McGonagall. "Here Minerva, drink this. You'll feel better afterward." Minerva took the cup and sipped slowly at it, the steam fogging her glasses. Suddenly her eyes popped open.

"Ack! Arabella, I hardly think that was necessary. It's not like I was comatose." Minerva's voice was sharp and cracked like a whip. She gave Arabella a look that would have frozen water as it boiled; Arabella just smiled pleasantly. A feeling of great relief passed over Hermione; she had never seen Professor McGonagall so shaken. She had always thought her professor was unflappable, and it had disturbed her more than she would like to admit. She took a piece of toast with jam from Ron and listened as Professor Figg endured a tongue lashing of severe proportions, grateful that she wasn't on the receiving end of that verbal abuse.

"Minerva, if you're quite done here, why don't we do what we came here to do?" This took some of the wind out of Professor McGonagall, though she still glared at Professor Figg.

"I'm sure this is not appropriate for the children. Why don't you and I go?" Harry was mightily offended by this remark.

"Professor McGonagall, I believe that it is quite necessary for me to be part of this." Harry's voice was disdainful, "So why don't we all just treat each other like adults here, and get on with this."

"Mr. Potter, I do not think that being seventeen entitles you in any way to talk to me that way. You are still a student here, and I am still responsible for you while you are at Hogwarts. I would kindly ask you to remember that. I do not care for your cheek."

"So it's quite alright for me to face off against Voldemort, for me to stand up before a ministry inquiry attempting to secure the freedom of my Godfather. It's okay to chase thousand year old monsters through the castle sewer system. It's acceptable to carry the responsibility for protecting an entire generation of wizards; but I can't be entrusted to view the body of the man that I will be expected to avenge?" The air was deathly quiet and Harry and Professor McGonagall stared at each other with hard eyes.

Professor McGonagall's lips drew into a razor-thin line, "Fine, Mr. Potter." She turned to the gargoyle, "Sugarquill." The wall slid open revealing the passage beyond. Harry turned and raced up the stairs two at a time. Professor McGonagall swept in behind him followed by the others, though none moved so quickly.

Harry passed the study, heading for a doorway where light was spilling out some ten feet beyond. Harry turned the corner into the private quarters and instantly turned around and fell to his knees, retching in the corner beyond the door. He had been prepared to see a dead body. He had not been prepared to see the Headmaster's severed head perched on the pillow, a bloody hole in the forehead, and a green snake protruding from the mouth, its head nestled comfortably in the silver hair of Dumbledore's beard.

A soft sibilant voice carried to Harry's ear, "Harry Potter." Harry lifted his head and looked back towards the bed. The green snake had lifted its head and was looking fixedly at him. "Harry Potter," it hissed again. Harry rose and walked to the bedside.

"What do you want, Messenger of the Dark Lord."

"My masster wantss to remind you that no one iss ssafe from him. Not Wormtail, not Dumbledore, not even you." The snake rose up and flicked its tongue. Harry raised his hand as though to backhand the snake. "Sstrike the messsenger for the messsage?"

"Go back to your masster," Harry hissed. Harry heard a scream and looked back over his shoulder to see Hermione with her face buried in Ron's shoulder. Ron was pale and shaking, holding Hermione tighter than was probably healthy. Arabella stopped in the doorway and frowned grievously as the small green snake removed itself from Dumbledore's gaping mouth. Harry began to hiss and spit as the snake dropped to the floor. It turned and hissed something in a superior tone, then slid towards the door. Ron raised his foot as though to step on it.

"Don't," Harry told him. Ron gave him a questioning look. "Don't kill the messenger." In a mildly curious tone of gratitude, the snake hissed at Harry. Narrowing his eyes, Harry pointed sternly at the door and hissed. The snake slithered through the door and down the hall, Harry's message to the Dark Lord burned indelibly into her brain by the power of his anger.

"Well Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall's Scottish accent was thicker than Harry had ever heard it, "since you seem so determined to tell everyone what they will and will not do, what do you propose we do now?" There was no mistaking the resentful tone in her voice.

"Actually, Professor," Harry's voice was quieter than had been, "I have no idea. What do we do next?"

"I'm so glad you recognize my authority, Mr. Potter." Her voice dripped sarcasm; it was forced though, not the smooth sarcasm that had been Snape's signature ability. Minerva tapped Arabella on the shoulder and indicated that she wanted the other woman to follow her. The two women walked down the hall to the Headmaster's Office. Harry sat down in a plush reading chair and closed his eyes.

His mind was a whirl of thoughts, not the least of which was concern about what would happen. He concentrated on calming his mind, trying to focus on a rising memory that was not his own.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice pulled Harry out of the memory, which faded reluctantly. He opened his eyes and saw Hermione's piercing blue eyes staring into his own. Piercing blue eyes? Hermione doesn't have blue eyes. Harry shook his head to clear the cobwebs of confusion that seemed to have taken root.

Hermione was shaking his arm. "Harry, this letter was found in the Headmaster's desk, it's for you." Harry reached out and took the letter from her. It was written in Dumbledore's looping script on the same heavy yellow parchment that his school letter had been on. Harry opened the letter and read.

Harry Potter,

If you are reading this letter, then I will miss you, as I have gone on to the next great adventure. As I sit writing this letter, you are probably reading the letter inviting you to come to Hogwarts. I apologize for having to leave you with the Dursley's, but it was necessary. I still believe that it was the best decision and I will stand by that. If you have not already figured out why, ask your neighbour, Mrs. Figg, she knows. (Yes, that Mrs. Figg. And tell Tinkles his whiskers are too long.)

I am writing this letter to tell you a few things about yourself that you may or may not know. First, the big one; you are the Heir of Gryffindor. What this means is that you have powers beyond those of other witches and wizards. Tom Riddle and I both had them as well. (Oh, Tom Riddle is the name of Voldemort. And don't go in for that whole He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named thing. His name is Voldemort. You're name is Harry. Use it like you would use your own, he's just another wizard.) I must also ask something important of you.

There are Heirs to each of the four founders. When the school was created, the founders set down a powerful spell that would insure that one of their heirs would be present to guard the school at all times. Tom Riddle was to be the next successor and guard the school. However, he had other plans, and so I have stayed here to watch over Hogwarts. I am old, even by wizard standards, and it is because of my responsibility as the Heir of Ravenclaw that I have grown so old. I have been waiting for the next Heir to come and take up the mantle.

The last Heir of Hufflepuff died well before you were born, and I have been unable to find the most recent incarnation. Helga has always hidden her Heir well though, only revealing the Heir when it is absolutely necessary. I would imagine it is the same now. You must find him or her Harry, before Voldemort does. If Voldemort is no longer a threat, then it will be easier; but if he is alive and powerful, then it will be both difficult and necessary for you to protect the school. You may well be all that stands between Hogwarts as we know it, and Voldemort. (I sound a bit like Professor Trelawney, perhaps I should go back and change this. Damn, waterproof flame-resistant non-erasable ink.)

I do not know what powers you will have as the Heir of Gryffindor, but I can tell you what powers being an Heir has granted me. It has given me long life and good health so long as I have pursued the necessary course and protected the school. I can recall the memories of Rowena Ravenclaw, which has taught me much about the school over the years (and given me some rather interesting insights to the working of the fairer sex). It has granted me the ability to see the truth in all matters brought before me. If two students come to me with vastly different stories, I know the truth of it (no doubt I'll be seeing you a few times at least). I can tell if an accused man is truly guilty of the crimes of which he is accused if I desire to know.

In my private quarters, behind the shield bearing the Hogwarts crest, there is a secret compartment that only an heir can open. The command for you to open it is "I am the Heir of Gryffindor and Protector of Hogwarts, reveal to me The Secrets." Within, you will find several items of interest and power, but you must keep them to yourself. One is a box with an engraved Raven on it, place my glasses inside of it and keep it in the compartment. If you don't already have it, you're father's invisibility is in there along with the Sword of Gryffindor, which is also yours by right.

I am sorry to have to do this to you Harry, but I have great faith in you. You will know by now who your friends are and whom you can trust. Lean on them and seek their advice if you have questions. I hope we will get to know one another, I look forward to meeting you in a month at the sorting ceremony. I am interested to see if you actually end up in Gryffindor; or if, like me, your personality overrides your inheritance and leads you elsewhere.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster of Hogwarts

Heir of Ravenclaw

Harry's hand fell to his lap, still clutching the letter tightly. From somewhere very far away, he heard a woman's voice calling him. Slowly, he turned his head to look in the direction of the voice. "Harry! Harry, are you okay?" Harry nodded slowly, the layers of shock falling away as he swam back to full presence of mind. "What does the letter say, Harry?" Hermione's voice was urgent and worried, but not yet panicked. Harry noted with relief that Hermione's eyes were the same amber-brown they had always been. When he smiled at this, her eyes lit up and the worry faded from her face. "So, Harry, anything interesting in that letter?"

"Yeah, all kinds of interesting stuff. Here, read it out loud so that everyone can hear, I don't want to have to answer the same questions four times." Harry rose and walked to the wall where the Hogwarts crest hung. He placed his hands on the cold metal of the shield, pushing and pulling lightly, it did not move. He tried to lift it as Hermione began to read aloud, it did not move. With a resigned sigh he laid his hand in the center of the crest and spoke quietly. "I am the Heir of Gryffindor and Protector of Hogwarts, reveal to me The Secrets." There was a shimmering of light before him, and the crest disappeared to reveal a large cabinet built into the wall.

"Mr. Potter, what do you think you're doing there?" McGonagall asked her normal crisp tone used for rule breaking students. Hermione had barely finished the first paragraph.

"What Dumbledore told me to do." He reached into the cabinet and removed a box. It was a beautiful piece, a dark polished wood with an inlaid bronze raven of exquisite detail. Everyone else gasped as Harry grimly opened the box, which was lined with rich blue velvet. He pointed his wand at the nightstand, "Accio glasses." He settled the glasses into the box and closed it.

"What do you think you're doing with the Headmaster's glasses, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall interrupted him again.

"What I'm supposed to be doing," Harry replied in an exasperated tone. Reverently he set the box back into the cabinet and closed it. The crest reappeared with a shimmer and became solid.

"Mr. Potter, the Heir of Gryffindor you may be, but I do not believe that gives you any right to speak to me in that tone. I will not stand for it." She crossed her arms over her chest and gave Harry a stern look that Hermione and Ron both shrank from, even though they were both behind her.

Harry turned and gave the stern woman a hard look. "Do you want to know what's in the letter?" his voice was dangerous and low. "Do you?" he shouted. McGonagall's stern face did not flinch in the face of his ire. "It tells me that the rest of my life is going to be spent here, defending the school from Voldemort, who is supposed to be the rightful Heir." Everyone else in the room flinched as the implications of what he said sank in. Harry threw his hands up in the air and then stalked out of the room.

Hermione stared at the letter, Ron at the empty doorway. Arabella extended her hand to Hermione, "Go keep him out of trouble and out of sight, MLES will be here soon. Both of you go, and give me the letter." Never one to argue with a teacher, Hermione handed it over and she and Ron headed out to go find Harry. "How long till MLES gets here, Minerva?"

"Ten minutes or so. They will have to walk from Hogsmeade. If you will excuse me, I need to contact the Board of Governors."

"I'll gather the teachers in the staff room." Without waiting for an answer she swept down the stairs and headed for the Great Hall. Just outside the door she encountered Wilhelm Viscol. He had his nose buried in some kind of ledger and nearly ran into Arabella. At the sound of her voice he looked up, his dark brown eyes very bright.

"Oh, Arabella, didn't see you there. Good news, since Avery's Apothecary closed, revenues are up forty percent and profit is up almost sixty percent. Bought out his supplies cheap and I seemed to have attracted most of his old customers. I may have to expand my shop and take on a couple of new apothecaries. Isn't that great?" He spoke very quickly. Arabella let him take a breath before she interrupted him.

"Marvelous," it was clear from her tone she couldn't have cared less, "head up to the staff room." Viscol turned and headed in that general direction, his long chestnut ponytail swishing back and forth as he walked. "Tell anybody else you see on your way to head there as well," she shouted after him. He held out his hand with his thumb up to indicate he had heard; though his nose was again buried in the ledger. The sound of laughter in the great hall indicated that at least two others were still there. Sure enough, Flitwick, Sprout, and Sinistra were sitting at a table.

"So I go to see what all the racket is and I see Graham Pritchard has his hand stuck inside Emma Dobbs's robe just about here." Professor Sinistra's hand disappeared inside her robe in the middle of her chest. Professor Flitwick started to shake with suppressed mirth. "So in my best McGonagall voice I say 'Booby-trap, Mr. Pritchard? That'll be ten points for failure to disarm.' and all they can do is stare at me in horror. Funniest thing I ever saw." Arabella cleared her throat loudly as the three heads of house all roared with laughter. Finally Sinistra managed to get hold of herself enough to speak to Arabella. "Sorry Arabella, Head of House humor," she took a deep breath. "Aren't you supposed to be on sabbatical this summer?"

"Something has come up." The tone of her voice evaporated the remaining vestiges of laughter from the air. "Everybody needs to head up to the staff room. Where are Vector, Svedmark, and Hooch?"

"Vector and Svedmark have got some project they're working on in the Arithmancy room, didn't even come down for breakfast." Flitwick gave Arabella a curious look, "What's going on?"

"You'll find out when we get everybody there. Stella, can you go let Sibyll know please?" Professor Sinistra nodded and rose from the table. "Filius, can you go get Alexa Pince and Florence Pomfrey please." Professor Flitwick whipped out a small magic carpet that he jumped on and took off across the room. "Georgia can you go outside and find Charlie and Harriet for me?" As Professor Sprout left the great hall there was a loud knocking at the castle's main door. She began to walk toward it when a water balloon exploded on the ground in front of her. "Peeves!"

"Bella Bella alla wetta," Peeves cackled and sang. He stopped with a gasp as a silvery blue hand suddenly gripped him about the throat.

"Peeves, go find Professors Vector and Svedmark and tell them to go to the staff room right away." The silvery blue hand gripped a little tighter until Peeves nodded his assent. Arabella brought her wand down with a snap and the hand disappeared.

"Where'd he go?" It was Filch who was popping out from behind a tapestry to her right.

"On an errand, Argus. Head up to the staff room, I'll be along shortly." She gave Filch a commanding stare and his protests remained unspoken. The doorknocker banged again. "I'm coming." She leveled her wand and the door swung ponderously open.

A man with mousy brown hair extended his hand; on his chest was an MLES badge. Behind him stood three other agents, only one of whom she recognized. "Boot, Jack Boot, got here as soon as we could. Where's Ms. McGonagall at?"

"Inside, follow me." She turned and led them through the castle to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's study. Slowly it stepped aside and allowed the party to pass. "Minerva, the MLES agents are here," she called up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, Minerva stepped out into the hall and motioned them up. "The staff is all gathered, do you want to handle it and I'll stay here?"

"No, tell everybody what has happened and I'll be down in half an hour with some of the Governors." Minerva turned back into the room and was followed by the four MLES agents. She summoned Pebbly and had her set two elves to serve as doormen for when the Governors began to arrive. Walking at a brisk clip, she headed for the staff room. Only one person was missing when she arrived, but he came in a few seconds after her.

She knew the missing Professor had arrived because the younger witches: Stella Sinistra, Alexa Pince, Harriet Hooch, and Georgia Sprout all began to whistle and talk excitedly amongst themselves, even Sibyll Trelawney joined in with a raised eyebrow as she fanned herself with her hand. Without turning around Arabella spoke, "Professor Weasley, would you kindly take a seat." Charlie made a florid bow and jigged his way across the room to a couch where he plopped down between Stella and Sibyll, much to their delight and many giggles. Arabella caught a glimpse of him and turned to gape at him. "Oh for Heaven's sake Charlie Weasley, leather trousers?"

Charlie had taken to wearing his wavy hair a little longer, almost shoulder length. His skin had taken the dark color of a man spending a great deal of time outdoors; this caused his scattered freckles to turn a pale brown color. His You're just jealous because the voices only talk to me tee shirt did very little to disguise the fact that he did a great deal of physical labor. "Standard Dragon handler's uniform," he smiled casually, giving her a winning smile that failed to impress.

"You won't be handling any dragons during the school year. You will have decent robes by the time school starts, won't you?" It wasn't really a question.

"As much fun as we are all having here," Arabella's voice was deathly calm and seemed to suck the very joy from the room, "this staff meeting was not called to admire Professor Weasley's trousers." She raked her eyes over the assembled staff much like she would a class of rowdy first years. "This meeting has been called with dire purpose. Minerva is not here because she is currently meeting with several MLES agents. She and some of the school Governors will be joining us in about twenty minutes." The room was deathly quiet. Finally, Filius Flitwick asked the obvious question.

"Where's Albus?" The question hung in the air like poisonous gas. Arabella swallowed hard. The sound carried across the room.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," her voice sounded overly formal in her own ears, "won't be joining us. He won't be joining us at all." The tension in the room was unbearable. "The Headmaster has been murdered."

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

"I'm telling you Hermione, I think he's gone down to the Quidditch pitch."

Hermione took advantage of Ron holding her hand and pulled him down the fifth floor corridor that lead to the Gryffindor common room. "No Ron, he's not. He's in the common room." Her voice carried a note of finality that brooked no argument.

"Suddenly developing psychic abilities and not telling me?" Hermione picked up on the playful tone of his voice and avoided the bait. As payback she hip-checked him into a suit of armor.

"Ron, has Harry ever told you about where he goes to 'center himself'?"

"No. You?"

"Yeah, I had to drag out of him but he finally told me." Ron raised his eyebrows indicating he wanted her to continue. "The common room. He has an idealized vision of the common room that he travels to mentally when he needs to calm himself or draw on his deeper reserves of power."

"So you think he's gone there to re-center himself?"

"I would, given what's happened."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Yeah, Ron, it is. Harry has kind of resigned himself to the fact that he has to keep facing Voldemort until one of them dies. Now he has the whole school to worry about too."

"Let's go prop him up then." Ron squeezed her hand and pulled her close so that he could put his arm around her and kissed the top of her head as they walked. They stopped in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, who looked freshly cleaned. "Hermione, how was he going to get in, he doesn't have the password?"

"How was who going to get in?" asked the Fat Lady.

"Harry," replied Ron.

"Oh," the fat lady clamped her mouth shut and turned her back.

"Is he in there?" Hermione asked. The woman nodded. "Can you let us in?" The guardian shook her head. Hermione drew herself as though trying to look important. "I am the Head Girl here on official business, grant me entrance." Slowly the woman in the painting turned back around.

"If you're the Head Girl, what is the Head Girl's password?" Ron saw the flush of embarrassment rise on Hermione's cheeks as she stepped closer to the picture. She whispered something. "I'm sorry girl, you'll need to speak up."

"Hepretla," she said. Ron looked at her curiously as the portrait swung open slightly.

"Hepretla? What's that mean?" Ron was expecting her to give him a 'don't you know' look. What she gave him was an embarrassed little smile as she toed the floor.

"You'll laugh at me."

"Probably, but tell me anyway." He gave her a charming smile. She hemmed and hawed; Ron leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Come on, it can't be that bad. I promise not to laugh." Hermione gave him a strange look, then a sigh of resignation.

"It's an acronym, it means Hermione Plus Ron Equals True Love Always." She flushed bright red. She looked at Ron expecting him to be suppressing a laugh. He wasn't. His face was screwed up in a very strange expression. His right eyebrow furrowed to the center while his left was raised. The left side of his mouth curled up slightly into a grin while the right side frowned in concentration. Then he pounced.

Ron swept Hermione up off the floor into a crushing embrace and kissed her soundly. Had he not been holding her up, she might well have fallen. Her knees suddenly felt like water and her head was spinning very quickly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with openmouthed abandon. Ron stumbled forward slightly and Hermione felt the wall pushing against her back while Ron pressed against her front. Hermione was thankful when Ron's fingers wound themselves into the hair on the back of her head because his hands pillowed her from the cold stone. They might well have stayed like that for hours had the lady in the portrait not begun to speak very loudly.

"I say you two, why don't you find a room. Such a display I have never seen. Break it up now, lest I call Filch." The caretaker's name seemed to have done the trick. Immediately they broke the impassioned kiss and looked about nervously. Hermione took several deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm her body. A single shaft of sunlight fell through one of the high windows and highlighted Ron's hair as the golden light surrounded him. Hermione could feel the sunshine on her own face as well. He gave her a probing, steady look.

"I'll love you forever Hermione, with the Fat Lady as my witness, I'll love you until the stars fall from the sky." He pulled a small knife from his pocket, and on a wooden support beam carved a heart. Inside the heart he carved H + R and below the heart he interlocked the letters TLA. Hermione was torn between telling him off for defacing school property and wanting to kiss him again. She compromised and did both.

* * *

Harry was in the common room; he sat in what had unofficially become known as "Harry's chair." It wasn't that he had ever claimed any right to it, nor would he throw somebody out of it; but by general consensus, nobody sat in Harry's chair unless he was already in bed. The chair sat back some seven or eight feet from the fireplace, turned slightly toward the door, and buttressed against the table where Hermione usually set up to study. His feet were propped up on an ottoman and he stared blankly into the conjured fire.

He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there when he heard the portrait swing open and voices beyond. It was just like his friends to come looking for him and interrupt his brooding. He considered that thought for a moment, and realized he was thankful for such good friends. After several long minutes Ron and Hermione finally entered, both looked a little mussed.

"Just couldn't resist the opportunity for a good snog," Harry commented flatly. Ron and Hermione both flushed slightly and Ron pulled her close. "Why don't you two sit down?" He indicated a long couch and turned his chair to face it. "Ron, have you given any thought to what you want to do when we finish school?" Harry asked after they were seated.

"Well, before this summer I figured I'd probably end up working at the Ministry or something. Now though, it looks like I'll be going to Egypt to study for a few months." Seeing Harry's confused look he continued. "The Order of the Magi of David maintains a library and headquarters in Alexandria. Marix is going to present me to the Order's high council next July if she thinks I'm ready. After that, I don't know. A lot will depend on what Hermione is doing." He gave her a small squeeze.

"What about you, Hermione?"

"Well Harry, I've been thinking about that quite a bit and talking to my mum and dad. I think I'm going to study Magical Law and try and get a job working for the Ministry." Harry goggled at her. "Well, think about it. For years I've been taking on the horrible injustices of the Ministry's travesties of law. First there was Buckbeak, then S-P-E-W, then the wholesale imprisonment of the werewolves, and then Sirius's case this past spring. The Ministry is a law unto itself and most accused wizards have fewer legal rights than even the lowest British subject. I want to change that, but I have to do it from the inside. Like what your dad does, Ron." She leaned back against Ron; "I just want to do something that makes a difference."

There was a pregnant pause of silence, and then Hermione looked over at Harry. "What about you Harry, what do you want to do when we leave here?" Harry looked at Hermione; his look was at once lost and angry.

"It doesn't matter anymore, does it? I'll be here, serving in some capacity and protecting the school, that's my job now. I won't go live with Sirius next summer. I won't try out for any of the Quidditch teams. I won't go to Auror training. I'll just be here. Probably end up being the next DADA teacher, until the job kills me or drives me insane the following spring." He laughed a dry, mirthless bark of laughter. Professor Figg was the first Professor to serve consecutive years as a DADA teacher in over fifteen years. Although she had almost died at the end of his fifth year; some timely intervention by Ron and Hermione had prevented that. Harry also knew that she did not intend to continue after this year, she did not enjoy working with young people; the Troublesome Trio being a notable exception.

"Harry, I," Hermione stopped. She had read most of the letter and knew what it meant. Much as she wanted to assure Harry that his life wasn't planned out for him, but she couldn't lie to him either.

"Come off it," Ron said. "If anyone can break the curse of the Hogwarts DADA teacher, it's you." Hermione turned around and gave Ron a hard look. The room was very quiet. "What, was it something I said?"

"Forget it." Harry stood up and headed for the door.

"Harry, wait." Hermione stood up and grabbed Harry's arm. "There has to be another way, Harry. Think about it. What did Dumbledore say about the other heirs? Maybe we should start trying to figure out who the Heir of Hufflepuff is."

Harry scowled. "Hermione, Dumbledore couldn't even read the signs. You think I'm going to figure this out?"

Hermione put her hands on her hips and did a very convincing McGonagall stare. "Harry, do you constantly forget that you have friends who are both willing and eager to help?" She paused, her eyes challenging him. "Find somebody else to read the signs."

"Like who-oh!" The lights of understanding kindled in Harry's eyes. He looked sharply at Ron.

"Whoa, wait a minute here. What are we cobbing me into here?" Ron's eyes looked slightly panicked. "Besides, I don't have the cards here for that." He saw the look of defeat in Harry's eyes as he started to turn away. "Well, hold on a minute. What say we head back to the Burrow, and let Marix do the reading."

Harry furrowed his brow and gave Ron a look that clearly indicated he would rather eat glass than ask Marix for the time of day, let alone something this important. "You're the seventh son here, Ron. You're the one with the power, not her. It has to be you. Let's go ask Trelawney if she has a deck you can use."

"Forget it Harry. I need somebody I trust to help me with this. I can't do an Eye of the World by myself."

"A what?" Hermione and Harry asked together.

"Eye of the World. It's a reading specifically designed to seek out something of far-reaching or global implication. I doubt Trelawney even knows it, it's one of the Magi's carefully guarded secrets."

"And here you are blabbing it to the world." Hermione reproached him.

"Yeah, well, it's you guys, isn't it. Let's get out of here and find this other heir."

The three strode through the corridors of the castle like the advancing shadow of a solar eclipse. Even Peeves fell back before them with nary a word about students out of bounds in the castle. Just as they were about to knock on the staff room door, a thin blonde man in dark blue robes called to them.

"You there, who are you and what are you doing here?" His voice was authoritative and his look suspicious. He had his wand in hand. Harry could see he was looking at the sword that now hung in his left hand.

"I could ask you the same," Harry replied in a dangerous voice. The man's hand snapped forward and ropes shot from the end of the wand. However, the man hadn't realized whom he was facing.

As though possessed of a single mind and advanced knowledge, the three separated. Harry dove to the left and rolled into a crouched position against the far wall. The sword clattered on the floor as he drew his wand.

Ron flung out his cloak and dove to the right, covering Hermione as she herself fell back and snapped out her wand.

Two of the ropes tangled in the robe that Ron had flung out as he dove. Empty and tightly knotted the cloak fell to the floor. The third rope had wrapped around a suit of armor.

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione shouted. The man's wand flew from his hand as he was flung several feet.

"Petrificus Totalus!" A bolt of light struck the slight wizard while he was still in the air and his body landed with a stiff thump.

Ron, pressed against the wall opposite Harry, was checking the hall behind them when the click of a door handle reached his ears. Without thought he turned his head and snapped his wand forward. "Stupefy!"

The hex ricocheted off the glass of the opening door and struck the occupant within. The door swung open, creaking ominously. Hermione let out a groan as Professor McGonagall slumped to the floor. In the blink of an eye the doorway was filled with wands.

"WAIT!" The crack of Arabella's voice was like a whip, and everyone stopped. Wands were pointed in all directions and tension hung thick in the air. The sound of pounding feet came from further down the hallway and Professor Figg stepped into the open, glaring at Harry. She held up her hand as a witch and two other wizards came racing up the hall, wands ready. "Everybody, put your wands away."

Harry stood up and strode to where the first wizard lay frozen on the ground. "Finite Incantatem." The wizard's body relaxed and Harry extended his hand to the man, who looked at him suspiciously. "Harry Potter, pleased to make your acquaintance."

A look of relief swept over the wizard's face, which looked ten years younger when he smiled. "Jonathon Walker, Magical Law Enforcement Squad." He grasped Harry's hand and was pulled to his feet. Jonathon's eyes swept to Harry's forehead, though Harry ignored it. Harry was bracing for the whole "such an honour to meet you" spiel when Professor Figg's voice interrupted them all.

"Potter, was this your hex?" Charlie Weasley helped Minerva to her feet.

"Mine, Professor," Ron said in a sheepish voice.

"Detention, Weasley!" McGonagall said, more out of habit than cognizant thought.

"But-"

"Argue with her, Weasley," said Professor Figg in a threatening tone, "and you'll be doing detention at my house for the rest of the summer. I'm sure your mother would understand." Ron swallowed but said nothing.

"Professor," Hermione stepped forward, "we just needed to let you know that we are leaving. We need to go to the Burrow." Professor Figg looked suspiciously at the three.

"Very well. Harry, when are you expected home?"

"Couple of days."

"Good, stay with the Weasley's. Charlie, you go with them." Charlie started to say something, but whatever it was died in his throat at the icy look Figg gave him.

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

The Burrow was quiet when the four spilled through the fireplace. Charlie sneaked into the kitchen and slipped up behind his mother. He put his hands over her eyes, "Guess who?"

"Ronald Arthur--," she spun around, "Charlie?" She dried her hands on her apron, "Charlie!" After she had given him a hug she began to scold him for not owling all summer while he was off doing Heaven-knows-what in some God-Forsaken land. Charlie took it all with a smile and when she was done, replied that he loved her too.

Ginny heard the stomping gait of Ron coming up the stairs, then a knock on Marix's door. She slipped closer to her own door and listened very carefully. "Marix, got a question for you. Mind if I come in?" The door opened.

"What is it, Ron?"

"I, I need a favor; a huge favor. Harry's downstairs," Ginny's ears perked up and her heart began to beat faster, "and we need to figure out something really important. I was wondering if you could do an Eye of the World reading for me?" There was a long pause.

"Why?"

"Harry needs to figure out something that is just way beyond my ability."

"What makes you so sure?"

"It will make more sense if Harry explains it." There was the sound of a heavy sigh. Ginny stood back from the door and checked herself in the dresser mirror. She piled her hair up quickly and pinned it in place. She smoothed down the front of her blue sundress and hoped Harry liked it as well as Jared had. She looked at the sandals on the floor, and decided to go barefoot instead. Smiling to herself she heard Ron and Marix descend the stairs. She stepped out into the hall and walked down the stairs, her eyes darting from Marix to Harry.

Harry looked up the stairs at the sound of footsteps coming down. Damn you, Ron. Marix looked as good as she had last time, maybe even better. Her white cotton skirt and matching top gleamed against her cinnamon skin. He noted that her hair looked a little flatter than last time, but his fingers still itched to tangle in it. Oh no you don't, he thought to his traitorous body. She is not going to get to me again. He squinted his eyes and drew a surly demeanor about himself; he wanted to make sure that she knew he was not happy to see her. He licked his lips, which were dry, and his tongue felt like sandpaper.

Marix saw the slight form of Harry standing at the bottom of the stairs. He looked powerful and commanding. Strength emanated from him like warmth from a fire. Be strong, its just the spirits around him, its not him. She saw him look up at her, his mouth slightly agape. No Harry, don't do this. She watched his eyes narrow and the air about him seemed darker. She breathed a small sigh of relief. That's right Harry, wrap yourself up in hatred for me. Make this easier for both of us.

Marix heard a door close behind her and saw a smile break over Harry's face, the air around him brightened again. The sound of feet came up quickly behind her and ran past her. Ginny's hair bounced as she threw herself at Harry who gave her a hug and a peck on the cheek. Marix felt a wave of jealousy sweep over her. It's for the best, besides Ginny has been waiting for this for years. Marix forced a smile.

Ginny exulted in the light press of Harry's lips against her skin. Glancing over her shoulder she noticed a slight flicker of emotion over Marix's features. She smiled to herself; they had not been happy emotions. She turned her head back and brushed her lips over Harry's cheek, which scratched at her lips. "You need to shave," she whispered in his ear and felt him shiver slightly. Her pulse began to race and she forced herself to step back, but only a little.

"Hello, Harry." Marix said, her voice calm but still with all the richness Harry remembered. Harry forced himself to look away from her eyes, then away from the neckline of her blouse. "Ron tells me that you need to find somebody, but you don't know who they are. Do you have some kind of connection to who you're trying to find?"

"Yes," Harry said flatly.

After a few uncomfortable seconds of silence Marix spoke again. "Harry, I don't know what's going on. If you want my help you're going to have to tell me what you want."

Harry struggled with several things that he really wanted to say; some of them kind, many of them not. "I didn't want your help. Ron seemed to think it was necessary." Ginny reached over and took hold of Harry's hand, giving it a slight squeeze. Harry squeezed back, but did not look at her.

"Look, Harry, I told you, I don't know if I'm up to doing a reading of this power and importance."

"Of course you are, Ron." Marix's voice was reassuring and she smiled at him. "You can probably just do a Wizard's Cross. If all he really needs is to find somebody and he has a connection to that person, just do a reading with the question of 'How do I find this person?' You don't need an Eye of the World for this."

"Marix, this person is powerful." Ron whispered urgently. "This person has powers like You-Know-Who, and like Harry's." Marix looked at Ron very carefully, his aura was spinning wildly around him and she could see the dark splotches of things left unsaid coalescing into a large stain. She blinked slowly and turned to look at Harry, then back to Ron.

"Do a cross Ron, it's time you got some real experience anyway. Go upstairs-."

"The ivory deck, right?" Ron was already halfway to the stairs when he interrupted her.

"No!" Ron stopped dead in his tracks. "Sorry, didn't mean to shout. In the middle drawer of the desk is a redwood box. It's very old, be very careful." Marix took a seat far enough from Harry so as not to be in his area of influence or line of sight, but in such a place so that she could observe her student.

Hermione came into the room as Ron came back down. She resisted the urge to tut. She reminded herself that Ron's ability was supposed to be the real thing, not the carnival tricks and death omens she normally associated with divinations. Reverently, Ron sat the redwood box down on the coffee table and opened it. He pulled back a heavy black velvet cloth and revealed two stacks of marble tiles. With a studied carefulness he removed them from the box and sat them on the table.

"Marix, where did this come from?" Ron asked breathlessly. His eyes were still focused on the stack of tiles before him.

"The same place all items of great power come from," she answered lightly, "some old gypsy witch." Ron could feel the emanations of power from the deck. They tickled his senses. He had never taken Trelawney seriously when she was yammering on about the inner eye; but he felt his blink and open. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes; he began to shuffle the deck.

"Harry," Ron's voice had taken on a hollow, ominous quality. "I need you to concentrate on the Heir. Anything you know about him or her." Harry closed his eyes and almost immediately found himself in his idealized Gryffindor common room. Deliberately he traveled out of the room and went to the door of the Hufflepuff common room. He imagined Helga standing there. Ghostlike she rose from the floor of his vision castle. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back, her pale skin and round face solidified. Her azure eyes twinkled as he fixed on them.

"Take hold of the deck, Harry." Harry reached out and found the deck without opening his eyes. He cut it once, per Ron's continuing instructions. Ron concentrated on the image of Harry with the Sword of Gryffindor in his hand. Beside him was a woman Ron did not recognize, but she radiated great power. The world fell away leaving the two men standing in the star filled sky as the woman vanished. He heard Harry take a sharp intake of breath. He smiled; the connection had been made.

"Heir of Gryffindor," the man looked at him with sparkling green eyes. "What is your question?"

"Seer, I seek the hidden Heir of Hufflepuff, how do I find her?"

The seer extended his hands; a great 'X' shaped flagstone appeared between them. Out of the center rose a great dome of gleaming white. Corridors began to branch off of the dome. First the left branch closest to the seer, then its opposite, then the branch to the seer's right, and finally its opposite. The seer called into the darkness above him, "Come Gryffindor, let us see what we have wrought." He stepped forward and opened a golden door. Opposite him another golden door opened and the Heir of Gryffindor stood opposite him. The two men met in the center and clasped hands with a great smack. The building disappeared in a flash of light.

Ron blinked several times and looked at Harry, who was doing likewise. Their hands were clasped before them over the table. Ron glanced down and was surprised to see the cards laid out in a perfect Wizard's Cross on the table between them. He looked around quickly. Ginny was staring at him openmouthed Hermione sat on the floor looking up at him. Her look was unmistakably shocked. Even Marix was giving him a wide-eyed look of awe.

"What?" Ron asked in a puzzled tone, but nobody answered.