Harry Potter, Wheel of Time 1. Prologue

_A/N This is my first real attempt at a novel length story. I w__ould like to know what you think, so please comment and crit as you read._

_When this done I will move it to the crossover section. The story is finished and currently in beta._

_Hope you enjoy._

_I do not own the works of Robert Jordan nor JK Rowling. _

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the First Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the highlands of Scotland. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

Born among the mountains the icy wind roared southwards across the troubled country bringing with it a cold that was not natural for the summer months of Britain. Trees buffeted against the wind and homes were shaken with the force of the gale. The temperature plummeted as snow drifted down from cloudless skies. With the sunlit snowflakes falling, people huddled inside their homes in fearful wonder. Slowly the snow began to grow deeper as the blizzard grew in ferocity signalling an end to travel. Cars stood still, planes were grounded and boats were frozen to their docks.

Wizards alone could travel to and from homes and offices, though they were not comfortable. Another fear, much greater than the cold, had gripped their hearts for years. Grouped together even more, their cries were alike across the land. The wording might have differed, but they all shouted for a saviour to free them from the torment that was ravaging their lives.

Within the confines of a modest home in a forgotten village, a man and woman, both young, lived. The storm frosted the panes of glass that shielded this married couple from its bite. Tonight they did not care about the wind or darkness. Something life-changing was occurring.

Loud cries echoed around the inside of the tiny house and then they died away, replaced by the heavy panting of the woman and high the pitched cries of a baby. Gathering the baby, the nurse placed the child in the arms of his father. Silent in the father's arms, except for his little breaths, was a small black haired boy with piercing emerald green eyes. Harry, the father who shared the boy's hair whispered to his son, his young voice filled with awe. Handing his son over to his wife who shared her son's emerald eyes, he placed him gently into her arms. The pain was receding rapidly from her eyes, filled to the brink now only with love. A new tiny but bright light had been born among them.

Time passed and darkness continued to grow, reaching a crescendo on a cold winter's night. Defying the Dark, the black haired man and his wife fell. Each giving their life to save the little child who was asleep. The Dark turned to the boy and in a flash of green the child screamed and the darkness vanished. He was alone.

In an age still to come or one long past a similar yet weaker cry was screamed into the icy afternoon air. Although there was no echo, the cold snow covered slopes of the mountain ensured the cry did not go far. Shouts and screams were common further down the icy slopes, away from the pale shaking body of the woman. The clash of swords and loud calls of trumpets dominated the skies, a war had come to an end. Forgotten, she lay alone, no man or woman was there to attend her, no one to hold her hand. Her eyes stretched wide in agony before the pain subsided, replaced only by the angry cries of a new born child. Too weak to move she lay still, the cries went unheeded, until the world faded to her tear stained face, becoming dark to her. Her child lay alone.

Snow began to fall around her, covering her. The wind howled incessantly, its bite never wavering. Time moved on and the distant yellow sun continued to descend refusing to lend its heat to the land.

A tall man with broad shoulders heard the anguished cries of a child. Drawing nearer he saw the unmoving body of a woman, her clothes frosted by snow. Dropping to his knees by her side he lifted the child out of the snow and wrapped the baby boy underneath the warmth of his cloak. The cries lessened as the warmth his cloak offered soothed the child. The man s fingers, cold as ice, stretched out towards the woman, her pale skin frozen, her chest still, her eyes distant and hollow. With a silent prayer the tall man closed her lifeless eyes and waited.

Removing the child to ensure that he was still well, the man noticed the striking red hair and piercing gray eyes for the first time. The minutes turned to hours and still no man came to claim the boy, no woman mourned the death of a sister. The sun was setting and soon a dangerous winter s night would be the death of him and in turn the child resting against his chest.

Getting to his feet he had only one option left. Staring into the boy's eyes, he whispered the name he had always wanted for a son, Rand... Rand Al Thor, you are my son now. Wrapping him even tighter, shielding his fragile body from the elements he made his way down to the camp. He had to find his wife. The war might have ended but his son was still fighting. A new light had been born and been given to him, he would not let it be extinguished.

Born to never know his family the Dragon was reborn throughout eternity. Living a thousand times over. Each time his face different, the colour of his eyes though varying was always as piercing. Born to bring order to the pattern and a balance of power. He was the Champion of the Light, born to bring an end to the Dark. His destiny always lay before him, his enemies chosen long before he breathed a breath. His road steep and rocky, he lived to serve, he lived to love. The Dark One his foe though the men that do its bidding change. The outcome is never certain, but the stakes are always the same, The Wheel of Time.


	2. Chapter 1

It had been an unsettling day for Harry and rather confusing. Since he and his cousin, Dudley, had been attacked by Dementors he could do little more than ponder why. His hands rummaged through his hair with a twinge of nervousness. Had he not been able to conjure a Patronus, then things would have been slightly different now. The image of the tall proud Stag, the piece of his father in him that had erupted from his wand, was still vivid in his mind. If it had not been for that spell, he shivered at the thought he could not complete. The Dementor's Kiss would have sucked every fibre of soul out of his body. Just the thought of being soulless sent a tremor down his spine.

He stood from where he had been lying on his old lumpy mattress. The once-white sheets were dull beige from age. Something drastic needed to be done in his life. Staring out the window he got lost in the past. A few months ago he had almost been killed by Voldemort when he had been abducted from Hogwarts by Portkey. Luck had saved him then, he could not lie to himself. Brother wands had been his only saving grace. Tonight it had been the bare minimum just in time that had saved him once again. Not for the first time since Remus had taught him how to conjure a Patronus, Harry thanked his lucky stars. How many times had that man's help saved him? He owed Remus more than he could ever repay.

He began to pace about his room, standing still was not enough. Something more had to be done. He moved around in desperation. Would Dumbledore be willing to tutor him privately? His mind kept working ceaselessly. Things just did not add up. He understood that Voldemort held some sort of grudge against him for defeating him when he was a baby. Yet, this ran deeper than that. It was beyond obsession. His scar only proved the point. There had to be a link between them. As if summoned, the scar began to throb painfully causing Harry to mutter a curse. Something motivated Voldemort to keep hunting him. It infuriated him not knowing.

A stupid Ministry owl had arrived as well with bad tidings. He had been summoned to appear before a panel of judges about his blatant disregard for the Restriction on Underage Magic. It was another concern above everything else that attached itself to him. He was not sure how much more he could handle.

His hands lifted from his sides where his fists were clenched in anger. His emerald green eyes burned trying to fight tears of frustration. He kept them back, barely. He wanted to strike out, to hit something. The slightest noise he knew would bring his uncle's wrath down upon him so he relented. Instead his hands opened and he stroked his fingers through his longish mess of black hair. Only then did he realize that his hair was damp and oily. His shirt was stained and his arms and legs were covered in cuts and bruises. He still had not washed after the attack.

Leaving his room, he locked himself in the bathroom and began preparing a warm bath. The room began to become humid as steam wafted about. Waiting, he stared at himself in the mirror. Apart from the obvious lightning bolt scar, his face was battered and bruised just like the rest of him. A rueful grin spread on his face and he laughed at himself, he was a mess. He winced as his hands touched several of the deeper cuts on his face. The green eyes that stared back at him darkened in frustration. He knew then and there that he was going to do something about his training. Dumbledore or not, he would learn more.

The bath finally filled. Closing the taps he eased his sore body into the luxurious warmth of the water. A number of cuts stung as they made contact with the hot water, eliciting a round of muffled curses, not his first for the day. Fully submerged, he relaxed. The knots of tension that he could feel began to lessen. The steam filled the air around him and his mind began to clear.

He was in a war with Voldemort. He needed the tools with which to fight and if Dumbledore was not going to provide him with what he needed, then he would find alternative means to do so. The plan was simple, perhaps Hermione could help him search for spells.

That night he slipped into a fitful sleep filled with dreams and nightmares. Dementors and Death Eaters were chasing him, getting closer to him. He ran and he stumbled only to start running again. His wand was nowhere to be seen. Ugly shades of strange colours streaked past him from the wands of Death Eaters. He knew he could not run forever. Pain washed over his body as something struck his back and he began to fall. The ground did not stop him. Instead he kept plummeting in a dark void all sense of time and distance vanished. The only sensation was that of falling.

With a loud thump his eyes jerked open and he found himself lying on the floor. His breathing was ragged and his heart pounded in his ears. With his senses returning he noticed the morning sun had just crept up over the horizon. Shaking his head to clear it he gingerly got to his feet. The void felt so real almost as if he were physically inside it. There had been something there just out of reach. Trying to clear his mind again he sat back down. As tempting as it was there was no point in going back to sleep. In an hour's time he would have to wake again to prepare breakfast for the Dursley's. He might as well get a head start in the preparations. A desire not to dream again might have influenced his decision.

The day passed in relative peace and quiet. The Dursley's kept to one side and he to the other. Whatever it was that Dumbledore had told them, it had stilled his uncle. The looks that they were giving him were another matter. Still the silence was rather comforting as he always enjoyed peace and quiet.

His birthday had been a disappointment this year. His friends barely sent him a birthday card. They kept saying that they would see him soon. The only letter that seemed different was the letter from Ginny. She at least made an effort to cheer him up instead of saying, "See you later." The letters from his two supposed best friends made him want to scream with frustration. Ron and Hermione could be so thick sometimes. Hermione was too good at organizing and keeping secrets and Ron just followed her meekly.

Sitting at the small wobbly table in his room later that evening he allowed himself to smile, as his fingers traced over the words of Ginny's letter. Who was she? The question blossomed in his mind and he was surprised at how clearly he could visualize her. She was not meek, he had seen her temper enough times. She was a ball of fire who could not be contained – especially on a broom. Carefully placing the letter in his drawer Harry stood, took one-step and collapsed onto his bed. The wood groaned beneath him but held, thankfully. Turning off the lamp beside his bed he allowed the room to be bathed in pale moonlight. His green eyes unblinking stared up at the ceiling. He did not see the white paint. Instead his mind was wandering to memories long since buried.

Instead of a moonlit room he saw a large, cold, damp room with a hard stone floor. A man was standing at the end of the hall looking at a lump that was lying on the freezing floor in front of him. Harry ran towards the man, knowing what he was about to find. His eyes fell upon a sight that nearly tore his heart in two. The motionless body of Ginny, her long waves of red hair lay sprawled out across the floor. Life seemed to be flowing out of her. Why he had not seen that the man was a threat he did not know. In fact, he barely looked at the man, so busy was he trying to wake Ginny. A thought struck him, one long suppressed, he could not imagine living a life without her.

With that last thought tugging at him sleep came about slowly. Dreams overtook his musings and when he blinked, the sun had risen again. He sighed and rose stiffly before pivoting so that his legs could hang from the edge of the bed. Perhaps today he would be able to leave, perhaps. There was not much hope left in him.

As if summoned by his desires, a loud knock came from downstairs. The angry cries of his uncle reverberated through the house. His shouts bellowed up the stairs once he had opened the front door. "I will have none of your…" silence followed. He chuckled to himself knowing that the outburst and silence could only mean that a wizard had arrived. Steps could be heard ascending the stairs before a soft knock came from the door to his room and a head covered with the all-too-familiar Weasley red ducked inside.

"Morning, Mr Weasley," he said in a level voice that belied his excitement while getting to his feet. He did not want to get his hopes up too much so he suppressed his elation at seeing the familiar wizard.

"Morning, Harry," Arthur replied in a friendly tone. A hint of tension laced his voice and Harry arched and eyebrow. "Are you packed and ready to go?" Mr Weasley continued to speak before Harry could ask what he was doing here.

Life surged back into him. "I can be packed and ready to go in a few minutes," Harry replied, suddenly sounding joyful. He honestly did not need that much time. Moving about the room quickly he opened his trunk and randomly threw his things inside. There was not much to throw. A few pieces of clothing and a couple of books, a small album was placed carefully on top of everything. The last to go inside were the letters he had received from his friends. Unconsciously, he placed the letter from Ginny inside the album where he could reach it easily.

Expecting to be going to The Burrow he was surprised when Mr Weasley handed him a small parchment with the words, 'The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve Grimmauld Place, London,' written on it

"Focus on those words and visualize them clearly in your mind," Mr Weasley said wiping his hands slightly nervously on his pants. It was the first time that Harry had ever seen the man so tense. Wherever they were going or whatever had been occurring in the Wizarding world since the end of the school year could not be good.

Pulling his trunk down the stairs, Harry met the glares of his relatives with an intense one of his own. Their mouths were working furiously but no sound escaped their lips. "Good bye," Harry said in a flat voice. He held little room for feelings towards them anymore. He disliked them and they hated him, but he could not leave without saying farewell.

Mr Weasley held up his hand to halt him. "Just need to place a quick Disillusionment Charm on you, Harry," Mr Weasley said in a calm voice that belied his tense expression and his fearful glances at their surroundings. Before Harry could ask what he meant Mr Weasley's wand tapped him on the head and it suddenly felt as if water was flowing over his body all the way to his toes. When he lifted his hands he could not see them instead in their place were blurred versions of what should have been behind them.

An unseen arm wrapped itself around his waist and suddenly the world around vanished. If he was ever to be pushed through a hosepipe, he was sure that it would feel like what he felt now. The air around him seemed to compress against his chest and in the blink of an eye they landed outside a row of houses. Harry scanned the house in front of him. To the left he saw numbers ten and eleven. To the right number thirteen, he blinked and looked to his left again. He could find no trace of number twelve. Turning around he still did not find the number that was on the parchment.

The confusion he felt must have shown on his face. "Think about what you read," Mr Weasley prompted him. Closing his eyes he recalled the wording on the parchment that had been given him. When he looked up the houses seemed to shift. No one around them noticed the movement. The people in both numbers eleven and thirteen continued on as normal. It took no more than a few seconds, but there to his surprise plain as day stood number twelve. "Shall we?" Mr Weasley said from somewhere before a hand against his back pushed him towards the door. If Harry was not mistaken he could swear he felt the man's hand tremble. Things had become far worse since his departure from Kings Cross a little over a month ago. That was the last time he had heard anything about the magical community.

The inside of the house was dark and dreary. Told to keep quiet and to stay far away from a certain curtain, they crept into the house. The place seemed to radiate darkness and for the first time Harry began to wonder why Arthur had brought him to this place instead of The Burrow. He sincerely hoped that the Weasleys' home was still standing.

Warmth spread over his body and he realized that the Disillusionment Charm had been lifted by Mr Weasley. "Thank you for bringing me here," Harry said warmly turning to face the man. He noticed the sigh that escaped his lips. Mr Weasley was very relieved to be back within these walls. Surely it can't be as bad as that.

"I am just glad that we arrived safely," he said in a voice that sounded exhausted. "I think the Ron and Hermione are upstairs," he added as an afterthought before he made himself comfortable in one of the large couches in the sitting room. His eyes closed and he dabbed the sweat from his forehead. Deciding that it would be best to find answers from his friends, he darted up the staircase and almost ran Ron over when he rounded a corner.

"Ron," Harry greeted eagerly, clapping his friend on the shoulder before having to grip it to ensure that Ron did not fall over. Even in his excitement to be with his friends again Harry's smile at Ron could not reach his eyes. The lack of meaningful letters from his best friends had hurt.

"Blimey, Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "When did you get here?" He sounded more pleased at seeing Harry and his eyes glinted with joy.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Just got here." His voice was a little flat, but seeing the enthusiasm in his friend he began to warm a bit, perhaps he was overreacting about the letters. That smile of his began to touch his eyes if only a bit.

"It has been so boring here," Ron began talking as he led Harry down a corridor towards what looked like a library. He supposed that is where they would be meeting Hermione. "We have been locked in this place since Kings Cross. I haven't been on a broom all summer!" Ron almost shouted in indignation. One word came to mind that described Ron, frustration. Knowing that Ron had suffered a little made Harry feel good, in a guilty sort of way.

"Welcome to my world," said Harry with a laugh and Ron just glared at him. The comment washed over him completely. Harry sighed, the fact that he lived in a Muggle household did not seem to indicate that broom rides had been forbidden. For a bloke that was not stupid, Ron was decidedly thick sometimes. To his credit, his moments of brilliance were indeed something to remember and savour.

Upon entering the room Harry was awestruck by the size of the place. It held more books than Flourish and Blotts and most had an ancient look about them. "Where are we?" Harry asked Ron the question that he had wanted to ask earlier.

"The library," he replied giving Harry a quizzical look before he fell down onto a large couch next to Hermione.

"Ron, why…" she began to shout. Her mouth sealed itself when her face lifted and her eyes fell upon Harry standing before her. The book in her hand fell to the ground discarded, an act that would have be seen as sacrilege in her eyes normally. She leapt to her feet before she threw her arms around him in a tight hug. "Harry!" she cried out. "I can't believe you are finally here," she continued in her rapid voice. Before Harry could get a word in she continued and he smiled indulgently. "I did not hear you come in. How has your summer been? What have you been doing? Did you do your homework?" her voice continued to drone on, Harry shifted his attention to Ron who was rolling his eyes behind her back, and Harry had to stifle a laugh. The grin on his face remained.

"What's so funny?" Hermione's voice broke through his block. Her brow was creased and her eyebrow was arched. She suddenly reminded him of Professor McGonagall.

'Um… nothing. My summer was the same as usual. Nothing much happened and I spent my time working in the garden and cleaning the house," he said off-handedly. Ignoring his desire to add that he had sat patiently everyday hoping that they would send him a nice long letter that would explain what was happening in the world. "And yes I did finish my homework," he added when Hermione's mouth opened to repeat that question. She cared little if he had almost been killed countless times over so long as he finished his homework. A growing seed of anger began to build up inside his chest.

Hermione smiled. "Good, we meant to write to you, Harry. Dumbledore made us swear not to say anything important and that it would be best to say as little as possible," her mouth moved rapidly even so it seemed slow compared to the string of words that came out of it.

The seed sprouted and anger boiled from deep within him. They were his best friends. They knew how lonely he was sitting there at the Dursleys' day in and day out. No matter what Dumbledore said, they should have written to him, how many countless hours had he spent over the years discussing his relatives. He had written letters to them. "You could have at least told me a little more," Harry's words were pushed through clenched teeth and his knuckles turned white as he tightened his fists.

"We… we wanted to, but," Hermione stammered and Harry gave her no time to apologise.

"But!" Harry shouted, his voice was loud and anger seeped from his tongue. "But nothing. Friends help each other. They do not leave each other behind because someone asked you politely!" His face had turned blood red and he spun on his heels and strode briskly from the room. He wanted to run and shout even being at the Dursleys' would have been preferable. How he managed to rein in his temper was beyond him. A month ago he would have nearly destroyed the entire room in an attempt to vent it from his system.

Cries of "Harry" and "wait" echoed down the hall from behind him, but they were ignored and they faded into the distance. Seeing an empty bedroom he strode inside and flung the door closed behind him. "Call themselves friends!" he muttered angrily under his breath. "Only Ginny sent me a decent letter this whole bloody summer," his fingers ran through his hair knocking his glasses slightly askew. "Dumbledore said, Yes Dumbledore, No Dumbledore," Harry continued in mock imitation of Hermione's voice. "Anything you say Dumbledore," he continued. His mutterings died down, but his pacing continued. He had to get rid of this anger before he could face the two of them again.

"Hi, Harry," a soft voice spoke from the far side of the room. Harry turned and nearly almost jumped five feet into the air. To his credit he did not even flinch an inch, he did blush however enough even to shame a Weasley wondering what he had said aloud. Sitting on the side of her bed wearing a pale yellow summer's dress was Ginny. His eyes bulged as he drank in her appearance. He was so used to seeing her in Hogwarts robes, the dress she wore now accentuated her body and for the first time he realized that she was actually a growing young woman and not the little girl he saved from the Chamber of Secrets. Her red hair framed her freckled face and her brown eyes sparkled at him. Her face was flushed almost as much as his own.

"Umm… hi… about," Harry stammered trying to find the right words to apologize for bursting into on her room like he had. The idea that she could have been getting dressed only sent another wave of heat to his cheeks. She shook her head and closed the distance between them. Walking towards him she looked even more amazing. Her eyes seemed to scan him from head to toe and for an instant concern filled them. She did not say anything and her eyes returned to his smiling mouth. Where did his smile come from?

"It's okay, Harry. You are new to the house and probably thought that the room was empty." She giggled and seemed to say something more under her breath.

Harry nodded his head and blinked. When he came to his senses, she was standing before him with an easy smile that tried to hide a little tension. Tension of what he wondered. Her hands came towards his face and removed his glasses. Eyeing his face carefully she gently pushed them back on ensuring that the glasses were level. He had not even noticed that they were skew. She had the look of someone about to say something and her eyes darted across his face and he could see the concern in their depths.

"Thank you, Ginny," his voice sounded coarse and broken. All thoughts of anger against Ron and Hermione vanished. Childhood crushes on beautiful seekers evaporated. He only had eyes for the girl before him. He knew that he had to get out of this room before he made a fool of himself. His feelings for her came so suddenly he was unsure of how to continue. She obviously thought of him as a brother. That seemed like the best excuse, "Best we get downstairs before people start wondering where I got to."

She sighed and nodded in agreement. She seemed disappointed and the tension in room dissolved as her eyes left his. She glided passed me her hips swaying gently with each step and opened the door to leave. Harry gulped, "Bloody hell, what am I doing to myself," his words might have come out louder than he intended because a faint giggle that sounded like Ginny's came from just outside the doorway.

Taking a deep breath he calmed himself or tried to at least. Still he stood rooted to the spot. The faint footsteps of Ginny could be heard moving down the corridor. When the footsteps faded into the distance, he managed to free himself. "What is she doing to me?" he asked the empty room before moving through the door into the hallway. The dark within the house clashed with what he felt. He had been angry and then embarrassed yet he felt joyful and light.

Moving through the house he realized that he could easily get lost without a proper tour. Perhaps he could get Ginny to show him around. Even with her smile burned into his mind his feelings of betrayal from Ron and Hermione had still not gone away entirely, but they were faint. It would take time to heal the wounds that they had created, justified or not.

Finding the staircase he descended and entered the sitting room where he found Mr Weasley fast asleep on the couch. The smell of breakfast hung in the air, bacon and eggs being the main ingredient. Mrs Weasley was preparing her usual feast for Harry. From what he saw in the mirror the previous night, he knew that he needed a good meal or two.

Passing a bathroom on his way towards the kitchen, he decided that he needed to wash his hands. The house felt dirty and dust covered nearly every square inch. He laughed slightly wondering how Mrs Weasley was coping in such a dreary place. The Burrow was warm and homely. This place was cold and dark almost like a prison but not quite. Reaching the basin he turned the tap and let the water flow over his hands. Without thinking, he splashed some of the warm water onto his face and he nearly cried out. It burned where multiple small lacerations covered his face. Lifting his face to the mirror he once again saw the numerous wounds that he had received the day before.

No one had said anything. Perhaps they had been told to remain quiet. Ginny was the only one who had shown any signs of concern. He gripped the side of the basin as the warm water streamed down into the drain. Steam began to rise and the mirror fogged hiding his reflection from view before a hand gently placed on his back brought him back to reality.

"It's okay, Harry," Ginny's mild voice spoke from behind. "I… We care for you," Harry turned to face her and blinked in surprise at seeing her bite her bottom lip nervously. She did not seem to notice. "We did not want to ask about what happened. We thought it best if we gave you time to talk about it first." Ginny's words held multiple meanings. At the moment there were three maybe more things on his mind that he needed to talk about. The first event was the resurrection of Tom Riddle. The second was his encounter with Dementors outside his relative's home. The third, which was a more private matter, was his new and very confusing feelings for her.

He lifted a hand and gingerly stroked a stray hair and placed it behind her ear. "Thanks, Ginny," he said while his heart pounded in his chest. He still could not do this. Forcing himself away he turned to turn of the tap and left the bathroom. Unseen behind him Ginny's shoulders slumped slightly even though a hopeful gleam shone in her eyes.

Breakfast passed quickly and Harry was thankful that he actually made it to the table. Mrs Weasley's welcome hug was so overwhelming that she almost suffocated him. He enjoyed the attention she bestowed upon him. She was the mother that he never had, even if she sometimes got a bit carried away. Gathering a few supplies, Mrs Weasley managed to heal most of his cuts and scrapes. The deeper ones she healed well enough so that they would not scar. Having raised six boys, she was bound to be well-versed in healing minor wounds.

While eating he used the silence to gather some of his thoughts. Ron and Hermione he could deal with. They had come a long way with him and they were his best friends. He would just let them stew for a day or two before he mingled with them properly. That left him with a greater problem, a day or two with no one to keep him company except the one person he knew he had to stay away from, Ginny.

It was the sixth of August. That left nearly a month in a house with a girl who was already starting to drive him around the bend, and that was only after a few minutes. He sighed. From the other side of the table a red haired female smiled faintly. Perhaps she had come to the same conclusion just with another view on the outcome.

When he finally managed to leave the table he almost walked into a tall man. Sirius Black looked pale and gaunt. Years spent inside Azkaban had not been kind to him. "Hi, Harry," he barked out with a laugh before pulling his godson into a tight hug.

"Sirius!" Harry greeted in return when his godfather decided to let him breathe. "How are you holding up?" he asked the man.

Sirius laughed again, it was a good laugh, one that lifted a person's spirits and made you laugh along. "You were attacked by Dementors and you ask if I am alright," there was no anger in his voice just bewilderment. "For the record and you all bear witness," he motioned at all the people in the kitchen. "I, Sirius Black, am fine." He did not look fine, but Harry was not about to dispute knowing that he would probably never get his godfather to admit anything. "So how are you?" Sirius asked, jabbing a bony finger into Harry's chest.

"I am as good as a person could be after a near death experience. Seeing that these are becoming quiet common of late..." Harry tried to remain serious, but he could not keep a straight face. Sirius's laughter was stilling ringing in his ears by the time his own had faded. With Sirius's arm around his shoulder the two moved away from the crowd and into the house. Mrs Weasley's scowl wafted through the open door and they both laughed louder.

"It is good to see that you still have a sense of humour boy," Sirius began and they entered a large room with the Black family tree along one wall. 


	3. Chapter 2

_A/N Thank you to all those that have commented. I hope you enjoy this chapter._

His hearing at the Ministry of Magic had come and gone. Umbridge, a vile woman, had nearly seen him expelled from Hogwarts. If it had not been for the weight of Dumbledore's testimony, he would have been. At least it was over and he could return to school to continue his struggle against Voldemort. Strangely, his scar had been very quiet the last few months since Voldemort's return. He could not be certain what that meant, but anything out of the ordinary with Voldemort meant something was brewing.

Outside the courtroom, Dumbledore swooped down upon Harry. His blue cloak billowed and his face looked stern. Harry almost flinched at the sight. He had never seen the man act so strange before. When Dumbledore tried to put on a show he did it in style, but this was pushing it even for him.

"Harry, there is something that I need to show you." His bright blue eyes did not sparkle as they usually did and his voice was solemn and blunt. To Harry it sounded like this was the last thing that the Headmaster wanted to do.

Placing his hand protectively around Harry's shoulder, he began leading him through the maze of corridors within the Ministry of Magic. "Harry, what I am about to show you today is something that you cannot share with anyone." Harry tried to interrupt but he was abruptly silenced by the man. Chastised, he stared down at his feet.

Dumbledore's long grey beard trailed over his shoulder due to the brisk pace at which he walked. "This is not a joke and concerns grave matters. At this very moment I alone know what I am about to reveal to you. Your parents knew and to my eternal sorrow it formed part of their sacrifice. I ask that what I will show you not to be revealed to anyone."

The shudder that ran up and down Harry's body had little to do with the cold corridor they were walking down. When it passed his head jerked up and something akin to hate began to boil inside him with the knowledge that the headmaster had something to do with the death of his parents. The sombre tone of Dumbledore's voice coupled with the turmoil in Harry would have been enough to make any man feel ill. What he said just made the sickening feeling worse. "I will not reveal it to the others at headquarters," Harry replied quietly without really knowing why he said anything. There was little use in fighting. Dumbledore nodded.

Passing through a single small door they emerged into a large expanse. The ceiling was far away and shelves towered up to into the sky and seemed to almost disappear before reaching the limits of the room. Each shelf was stacked full of glowing orbs. Each one was small and its radiance dull. The only illumination came from magical candles fixed to the wall at set intervals.

They continued to walk with the same sense of urgency. Dumbledore had a destination in mind and nothing was going to interrupt him. "Ah, ninety-seven," Dumbledore said, finally turning down another smaller corridor of shelves. Eventually, he stopped and Harry's gaze turned towards an object that held Dumbledore's attention.

Harry's eyes almost bulged. On the shelf stood a small orb with his name on it – not only his name but the Dark Lord's as well.

"Take it," Dumbledore said with a firm commanding voice.

A ripple of frustration caused Harry to frown, but he complied, reaching out, knowing that arguments would be futile. Once Harry held the orb, Dumbledore gripped his arm and a now familiar feeling of being pulled through a tube passed over him. With a lurch he opened his eyes to find himself on top of the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts.

"How?" Harry whispered once he managed to orientate himself to his new surroundings.

"As Headmaster I have a certain number of perks when it comes to the rules of the school. One of them being the ability to Apparate in and out of the school," he answered hurriedly. The topic was not what he wanted to discuss.

The sky was clear and the typical cool Scottish breeze blew through the openings in the tower. Harry shivered, this time from the actual cold. "Harry, may I please have the orb," Dumbledore asked in an emotionless voice that sounded resigned. Harry wanted to object, seeing that everyone was ordering him around, but he passed it to the Headmaster. Harry's shoulders slumped. With all the budding rage and anger in him towards the Headmaster, he was still sure that Dumbledore knew what was best. If not, then what was left for him to believe in?

"Listen carefully to what you are about to hear. I am sure you have a lot of questions that you want answered about your life. This will provide you with the one answer that shaped all the others."

Harry's head tilted to the side wondering what Dumbledore could possibly mean. His hand brushed through his hair and his face filled with anticipation as Dumbledore dropped the orb onto the stone floor with a sharp crash releasing a pale haze. A voice began to speak from within the growing mist

"_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... Once marked by lightning, he lay in waiting. Twice marked the dragon, his powers shall arise. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._.."

The voice died away and a visibly shaken Harry fell back against the railings. That barrier that slammed into his back was all that stood between him and a hundred foot drop. His face paled while his body refused to move.

His mind raced to understand the meaning of what he had just heard. He could not be the only one to have the power to defeat Voldemort. What was this power that he would have? Harry shivered in horror. The prophecy did not indicate who would end victorious. It merely stated that he would have a power that Voldemort knows not and that either would die at the hand of the other. It was too much to take in. His mind whirred and went into overdrive. Power, death, power, death, his mind kept repeating. The meaning of the words were hidden deep within the lines and the answers would probably only come when it was all over.

While his mind clawed desperately for meaning, Harry's hand tenderly reached up to his forehead and felt the familiar ridge that was the lightning bolt scar. Just touching it made him want to retch. The thing was vile and filled with evil, at least it felt that way. The other word seemed significant, dragon, what did it mean twice marked?

Dumbledore eased an arm around Harry and supported him. Calm returned slowly once Harry felt the comforting arm behind him. His mind returned to his surroundings and he began to hear the words coming from Dumbledore's mouth. "… a lot to take in, but I will take you home now so that you can think the words over before I speak to you again."

Harry wanted to shout at the man, but he nodded dumbly instead. How could he let him listen to that and then leave him alone with no one to share it with? Incoherent words that were ignored came from his lips. The day had simply been too much. Darkness enveloped him just as it began to feel like he was being pushed through yet another tube.

His eyes fluttered open a few hours later. The familiar feel of his bed greeted his wakening body. The warmth of the blankets had made him feel comfortable. Surprisingly he faintly felt the presence of someone's hand against his. Rolling his head to the side where he knew a person to be sitting, his gaze fell upon Ginny. She was sitting on the edge of his bed staring at nothing in particular. Her eyes were distant – somewhere in a world of her own. Her thumb was casually brushing the back of his hand.

Why did this have to happen to him? Hate and frustration slipped away and were replaced by despair. Even before today, he knew that he should not be with her. Helplessness dominated his feelings as he studied Ginny.

She waited patiently for Harry to wake. Harry wanted to hide, the supposed day or two of keeping Ron and Hermione to one side had turned into a week and their relationship had still not been healed properly. Harry had known that it was childish to keep them at arm's length but at the time it was all that he could do as he let his emotions dominate his actions. He regretted the decision now more than ever knowing that it had been rash. He needed people around him for support and he did not want to place all his worries on Ginny's shoulders, no matter how willing she was. The friendship he shared with them needed to be mended, but he was too cowardly to talk to them – especially now that he had Ginny as a friend.

"Hi," his voice came out hoarsely. "How long have I been lying here?" These words sounded slightly more normal.

Ginny's face brightened at the sound of his voice and she leaned forward as if to place a kiss on his cheek. She paused with a slight blush. "Hi Harry," she replied and her eyes sparkled regardless, lifting his spirits. Being with her was almost like a roller coaster, endless ups and downs that shifted rapidly. "You have been here about three or four hours. I lost track some time ago." Her voice sounded animated. His skin tingled abruptly before the feeling faded as rapidly as it began, causing him to sigh loudly.

"Dumbledore said that you were exhausted after the trial and that he gave you a sleeping potion of some sort." She frowned faintly at his sudden chuckle, but then continued. "I am so glad that the trial went well and that you weren't expelled. Then again, none of us thought that it would happen. It's just a relief to know that it went as expected," Ginny continued while bouncing slightly on the bed as she held onto his hand with both of hers.

For a moment he wished that he could be as relaxed and carefree as she. Would it be possible for him to simply have a life of his own? His life had been strained enough. Now with the added pressures of a prophecy that clearly stated that he was The Chosen One, he prayed that it would not be too much. He closed his eyes tiredly. "It has been a long day," he added despondently.

Ginny scowled. "Aren't you happy that you are free?" she asked, confusion lacing her voice. Harry bit back a laugh and it came out as a snort. Free? He was now more imprisoned than he had ever contemplated being this morning.

Knowing that he could not tell her what he had heard, he simply stated, "I am, I really am." His fingers caressed her palms and she smiled again when he opened his eyes to look at her. Harry needed some way to vent his pent up frustrations. Why was he being denied his youth? Sitting on the bed with him was the most beautiful girl that he knew and she liked him, probably loved him in some way. Yet, he could barely enjoy her company because worries of a stupid prophecy now hung over his head.

There was perhaps one bright side to this prophecy of doom. Dumbledore might just begin to actually train him in magic. The man would not be able to ignore his development now. Surely Dumbledore would want to step in and take charge of developing him as best he could? Harry frowned and Ginny mistook it for something she had done. "Sorry," Harry told her. "I was just thinking about Dumbledore and all his secrets." It was an honest answer and one that did not reveal anything. If she inquired further he would just ignore it.

When Ginny looked up quickly at the sound of footsteps passing the door, his eyes darkened for a fraction of a second. Hate surged through him like a tidal wave, then was gone.

Ginny happily obliged his concerns, being curious. "What do you mean by his secrets?" Harry bit his lip to stop his anger from spilling out into a rude comment. The action resulted in another snort and in return he received a hard jab against his shoulder. "Stop laughing at me," she pouted, his anger dissipated and the sight of her caused Harry to laugh. Seeking revenge, she changed tactics from pouting to something more devious. Her agile fingers began to attack his sides and Harry nearly screamed at being tickled. Tears began to stream down his face from the effort not to shout. Gathering all his strength he managed to get his hands around her waist. He tossed her onto her back on the bed where he began to give her some of her own medicine in return.

"Stop! Mercy please, mercy!" she panted, her voice was high and squeaky from the strain of not laughing. Making her suffer for a few more moments Harry began to feel a slight tingle again, which caused him to finally let go. For a moment her eyes blazed as if she planned to retaliate, but her arms clutched around her own stomach caused her to pause. "Truce?" she asked. He agreed with a apprehensive smile. The fire in those brown eyes of hers had been replaced by something much more manipulative. His days were numbered and he knew it.

Forcing a crooked smile, he lay down next to her. There was little use in running away. "Thanks for waiting for me to wake." His voice was far away, his eyelids began to feel heavy.

Somewhere in the distance he heard a voice reply, "I will always wait for you." His face stretched into a smile before exhaustion overtook him again.

Waking a few hours later with the comforting warmth of Ginny against his side, he sighed contentedly. It felt strange in a good way to wake up next to her. Each of his movements caused her body to shift. In their sleep one of his arms had slid beneath her body, allowing her head to rest comfortably on his shoulder and as a result her red hair was spread across his chest. The flowery scent of her hair was becoming all too familiar to him.

She began to stir a bit more and her eyes fluttered open as she woke. Realizing where she was her face turned towards his in a rapid movement. Those large brown eyes went wide, but they were sparkling intensely. He could drown in those wide eyes, he determined at that moment. Within the depths of the various shades of soft brown were hidden a few small specks of green, slightly more green in her left eye. The numerous freckles on her face that had once been a mass became distinct individual markings, each one cute and perfect in their own right.

His own green eyes were wide and mere inches away from hers. The struggle inside him intensified and he felt the creature inside him roar. He felt like launching himself into the air with her in his arms. The idea of flying away seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his hand moved away from her side and up to her face, cupping her cheek in his palm. Her lips parted a fraction. He could not help notice how small and fragile she seemed. The normally strong, fiery girl looked as if she were about to fall apart. Moving closer to her, his skin began to tingle. Goosebumps formed on his arms. The world around him dimmed, inconsequential in comparison to her. He could hear her faint breathing echo in his ears as he drew ever closer.

His lips met hers and everything ceased to exist. All that he could think about was the feel of her wet lips against his. Driven by a raging furnace inside he poured more of himself into the kiss. A void that he did not know existed began to fill. He pushed away from her and gasped. His head was spinning and he wanted to laugh. He felt euphoric, a sudden feeling of being able to accomplish anything passed over him. His face was flushed and his emerald green eyes burned with more than just desire.

Ginny had it no better, she was giggling and her expression matched his. Panting for breath they closed the distance between them again and their lips met in another passionate battle for dominance.

The goosebumps began to fade and Ginny settled into his arms again, still trying to breathe normally. She laughed softly to herself and whispered breathlessly, "And I thought one day I would have to settle for someone else." With her arms around Harry she pulled him into a tighter embrace. The warmth of her hold and the look in her eyes had removed all thought of the prophecy from his mind.

Time however passed and with her asleep in his arms and with his emotions under control the words that he heard earlier echoed vividly in his mind. The one with the power… The hand of the other… Twice marked… Over and over the entire prophecy replayed itself.

Each word, each sentence held something disturbing. His own survival was in question, the fate of the world hung on his shoulders. The weight pressed down on him and it was not light. "I… I need to think," Harry said gently before pushing Ginny away from him. She barely mumbled a reply. Getting to his feet he crossed the room to stand in front of the only window.

With his hands behind his back he studied the world outside. Better to analyze the weather than his own fate. The weather did not help his mood. It was gray and dark outside, a thin mist of rain blanketed the street below. The single tree outside swayed in the wind, the only sign of movement.

Could he do this to Ginny? What if he did not succeed?

He wanted to scream and curse fate and all of its bloody prophecies. Instead he kept it all bottled inside. A pair of warm arms encircled his waist and Ginny's warm body pressed against his back. The battle was lost he knew it. Ginny was with him now. Leaving her would only hurt her, and he could not purposefully cause her pain.

Leaning forward he pressed his forehead against the window. The cold attacked his scar, which was warmer than usual.

"Time for dinner!" Mrs Weasley's voice called from below. They jerked away from each other. Two pairs of eyes shot towards the door thinking that someone had come in before they laughed nervously.

"Time for us to go then," Harry whispered, with his body facing her. Now his hand gently stroked her face before he gave her a light peck on the lips. Those pink lips tantalizing him even as he drew away. With his hand in hers, they left the room heading for the kitchen. They did not speak. Harry could not help but worry about Ginny if he failed.

A few paces from the kitchen, he released his grip on her hand and entered the kitchen a stride before her. In doing so he missed the look of hurt that crossed her face. Sitting down at an open chair he noticed the slight irritation on her face. He gave her a look of apology and her mood brightened a little. He hoped that she would understand, he needed time before he made their new relationship known. In fact they had not even discussed what their relationship had become. Were they dating now, or was what happened upstairs just another mistake in the life of Harry James Potter?

Dinner passed quickly enough. Another Order meeting had been scheduled for the evening and the kitchen would be converted into the meeting room. Throughout the evening meal Hermione had been watching Harry carefully, making him feel uncomfortable. Shifting nervously in his seat he spoke for the first time. "May I be excused?" he asked Mrs Weasley.

She seemed slightly taken aback by his sudden question. "Of course, dear," she replied rapidly after she gathered herself. When he stood to leave every eye in the room followed his movements. He left with his eyes downcast, his shoulders slumped, trying to ignore the looks that he was receiving.

Outside the door he immediately heard the gossiping beginning. Running his hands angrily through his hair he ran up the stairs before locking himself in his room. Ron shared the room with him, but he doubted that he would let his roommate in tonight. Another person in the room would mean questions that would need to be answered or ignored. Lack of answers to simple questions would only result in even more – especially after Ron informed Hermione. No, it was better to remain alone. Even Ginny would create turmoil at this moment. Perhaps she would even be the hardest to deal with.

Lying on top of his bed he stared up at the ceiling. There was little else for him to do. Rolling onto his side he picked up the small album that was lying on his bedside table. Reverently he brushed his fingers over the cover before he flipped it open.

Tears began well up in his eyes at the sight of the first picture. His parents stood holding each other, laughing together. They seemed so carefree, so happy and in love. The small bulge around her middle indicated that he was well on his way to being born.

Snapping the cover shut he lifted the album above his head. The desire to throw it across the room was almost overwhelming, but he couldn't find the nerve to follow through. He could not throw away his only link to his parents. Wet streaks streamed down his cheeks. His mother and father sacrificed themselves for him. They tried to stop Voldemort from killing him and now he learned that it was all his fault. He had thought Voldemort had just randomly chosen their house for anther raid.

He dug his face under his pillow and screamed. He had killed his parents, being born was enough to seal their fate. It would have been better if he had never been born. The same anger that he had been feeling all day filled him again. He was angry at Dumbledore for lying to him, he was angry at Voldemort for taking everything that he had ever wanted from him. Anger welled up in him at his parents for not running. They should have saved themselves and left him to die as predicated by the prophecy.

He loathed himself, he was the cause of it all. Without him none of this would have happened. He was the cause of all the suffering in the world. Hating himself even more than those around him, he drifted to sleep. His dreams were intense and confusing, but nothing more horrible than he was used to. A few more elements were added: two dragons flying around in the sky. With a cry he leapt from his bed just before Ginny could be harmed by an unknown assailant.

His body was coated in sweat while his hair was damp and messier than usual. Getting to his feet he found a small comfort in staring out the window. The dream had felt so real – unnaturally so. The pale half moon hung in the air. The rain and clouds of earlier were gone, leaving the pale moon to illuminate his face, highlighting the weariness etched into his skin.

The last few hours of the night passed while he stood by the window. The sun began to rise and the morning light tried to warm him. His legs were aching from standing so long, but he ignored it. The pain at least made him feel alive and the aches told him that he was real.

Deciding that he needed a shower, he left his room with a clean set of clothes and entered the bathroom. Once inside he lost himself in the warmth of the shower. The tension in his back began to loosen and the fogginess in his mind began to clear. There was still hope. He had not been marked twice, his power had not been discovered. Time remained for him to learn what he needed in order to survive.

Closing the taps he dried himself before wrapping a towel around his waist. Studying himself in the mirror he was surprised at the boy that greeted him. Harry was growing taller each year, but he was thin and pale. His face looked gaunt, but that could have been due more to yesterday's events than his general condition. He did not fully believe the lie. His shoulders and body were slumped forwards, as if in defeat.

The door of the bathroom flew open and a soft shriek came from the intruder. Harry jumped slightly and the towel around his waist almost came undone. His hands reached down and grabbed it before it could slide further down. Looking up he noticed that Ginny stood by the door in only her Harpies nightshirt. He gulped at the sight of her long pale legs, his eyes involuntarily scanning them up and down. Her eyes went wide, but she did not move. "Um…" she muttered while her eyes roamed over his exposed upper body.

"Morning," Harry finally managed with a grin. "I guess… I think…" He was lost for words and Ginny still refused to move. The pair just stood, the tension between them building rapidly. The air around them almost crackled from the intensity. The world felt more vivid and goosebumps began to form on his forearms.

Ensuring that his towel was tightly wrapped, he moved towards her, intending to close the door in her face quickly. He was a stride away from her when she took one towards him, throwing her arms around his back pulling him against her. "Gin…" He could say no more before her arms moved to his neck, pulling him down to her. The heat and passion between them was almost overwhelming. If it was not for the sound of a door opening and closing somewhere in the house, he was not sure if they would ever have stopped kissing.

Ginny's eyes flew open in horror when Harry pushed her out door. The situation that they were in would have been highly compromising. With a small yelp she darted down the corridor back to her own room.

Taking a large number of calming breaths, Harry urged the creature in him to relax. With considerable effort he managed to get dressed and ready for the day. When he emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later he had a large smile on his face. Harry Potter was ready for what lay ahead. Prophecies be damned, he would live his life! To some degree, that was.

The joy was short lived, as his problems only grew worse later that day when Ron confronted him while Hermione and Ginny were busy talking in the library.

"What do you think you are doing, messing with Ginny?" roared the voice of the tall red-haired boy. Harry, who was on his way towards the library to talk with Ginny, spun around, only to be confronted by Ron's blazing eyes.

"I am not messing with Ginny," Harry tried to reply calmly. Ron however continued to approach.

"Sure, like kissing her and holding her hand is not messing with her," he contradicted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harry frowned, confused over why Ron would suddenly be taking so much offense with him dating his sister. Surely Ron could understand that Harry liked his sister and that he would never dream of hurting her. Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys were his only family.

"To think that I trusted you," Ron spat, his eyes beginning to blaze dangerously.

"What do you mean? Of course you can trust me," Harry said defensively. "You know that I would never do anything to harm her or your family." He could feel his own anger at the continued insults beginning to grow.

With the words out of his mouth he tried desperately to calm down. Having a fight with his best friend was not going to solve anything. "Look, Ron," Harry tried again, "I like Ginny and she likes me and we are just seeing how things are going to develop." For crying out loud he was still only fifteen. What was Ron suspecting of him? On second thought, considering his reaction to what he had seen this morning and the way he kissed Ginny, Ron should be a bit protective, but even so this was going a bit far.

"Oh sure," Ron said dangerously, not listening to anything Harry was saying. Silence descended on the deserted corridor. Neither boy spoke as they stared unblinking at each other. Harry was almost frightened at the hate that emanated from Ron's eyes. He had never known that Ron could find it in himself to look so wrathful.

"Please, Ron," Harry said, finally breaking the spell. "Just give us a chance." His voice was pleading. The last thing he wanted was to ruin his friendship with Ron over his sister, but given the choice he knew that he would choose Ginny. The admission pained him.

The fire in Ron's eyes flickered, diminished and then he blinked. "Um…" the tall boy said scratching his neck. Then before anything more could be said Ron turned and left. The distant sound of his bedroom door slamming was the only indication that he was still angry.

"That could have gone a bit better," Harry muttered to himself as he exhaled. His messy black hair was sticking up at even stranger angles after he worked his hands through it while trying to decipher the conundrum that was Ron at the moment.

No answers were forthcoming. Harry prayed that the rest of the summer would not continue like this. If it did, then it was going to be one long hard summer locked up in this confined dark space.


	4. Chapter 3

_A/N Here is the next instalment. A few more chapters before the WOT kicks in. Please comment and crit, always nice to know what you think._

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September finally arrived and the usual Weasley panic set in. Mrs Weasley had been running around all morning shouting and arguing with everyone who did not move fast enough for her liking. Not having much to pack and having no desire to be rushed, Harry had packed his belongings the previous evening. Ginny, on the other hand, was scurrying around with a toothbrush in her mouth, a towel over her head, and her arms filled with bundles of clothes. The sight made Harry laugh, resulting in numerous scowls from Ginny that he still did not understand entirely.

The only other person in the house who still held some form of calm was Hermione. She and Harry had begun talking again, and if it were not for her explanations, he would still have been very perplexed by Ginny's antics towards him. He had only offered to help her pack, after all. From the looks that she had given him after he made the offer to help her, he would have sworn she had heard him ask if he could date her best friend. The thought of dating the blond-haired Luna nearly made him laugh. He had never met her, but Ginny had discussed her often enough the past few weeks for him to begin to understand the girl. Ginny's face had changed rapidly just after his offer of help. It went from shock to a shy blush and then immediately into a towering rage. It was all that he could do to get out of the room before she nearly hexed him to bits. Her wand tucked into a knot of her hair was too close to her hand for comfort. The slight pause he had taken before leaving to admire her radiance when she was all fiery nearly ended Voldemort's troubles for him.

"What did I do?" Harry had asked Hermione when he found her sitting with a book propped open in front of her. "I merely asked if I could help her pack her trunk," he added in a disgruntled tone. At that point, he was mumbling more to himself than actually talking to Hermione.

She closed her book and gave him a considering look. "Harry, a girl has certain very private… um… things," she said in one of her lecturing tones. Her voice seemed only slightly uneasy about the topic. "Her trunk is like her purse."

"Purse?" Harry asked bewildered. "What's a purse got to do with anything?" His brow was creased and he rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully. His scar prickled slightly, but he ignored the sensation while he was in front of Hermione's prying eyes. To Hermione it probably seemed like he was trying to solve a riddle. In all honesty, it did feel like he was trying to put together a puzzle with no diagrams to help. Women were still too complicated for him to understand. Not for the first time since he started dating Ginny, he wondered if he would ever understand her. From the look of growing frustration on Hermione's face, he was beginning to understand that she thought the day of enlightenment would never come.

An agitated huff came from Hermione as she crossed her arms. "A purse holds many things that a man is never supposed to see. To make your life simple, treat the problem as a simple one. I advise you to forget about purses and trunks. Remember to never open or offer to retrieve anything from them. If she asks for something, merely bring her the bag." She paused, straightening her blouse. "Never look inside!" she added rapidly. Her face flushed slightly, in either irritation or anger at his ignorance of such matters, or perhaps in embarrassment over what she had alluded to.

Still not knowing what was being hidden, he felt more confused than ever. At least he understood why Ginny was angry with him, but not what had caused it. "I shall try my best to remember," he added. No reply came from Hermione. Her book was already open in front of her and her nose was firmly stuck inside.

A few hours later he was sitting with his friends in a compartment on board the Hogwarts Express as it raced through the English countryside. A few scattered clouds hung in the sky and the sun shone warmly into their compartment. He arched an eyebrow and nudged Ginny when he noticed that Hermione and Ron were sitting noticeably closer to one another than he had ever seen before. He wondered if they had noticed the gap narrowing. They still seemed to argue as much as before, but the arguments were shorter and more heated. Ginny sat as close to him as possible without being on his lap. Her hand was in his as she talked to Luna, her silvery-grey eyed, blond-haired friend, who sat next her. She turned slightly towards him and noticed where he was looking. She squeezed his hand and gave him a knowing smile. Harry laughed quietly, causing Hermione to give him a sharp look. Her gaze made him wonder how much she actually did know about her proximity to Ron. Perhaps she was fully aware of her surroundings. That thought made watching them even more interesting.

While studying them covertly, he noticed how Hermione's eyes flashed towards the blond every few minutes. She reminded him of Crookshanks bristling with indignation. Those glares coincided with Luna mentioning the strange names of fantastical beasts that she and her father were researching or trying to discover. At first Hermione had tried to argue, but then gave in. Harry assumed that she must have known that her cause was a lost one, especially after what Ginny had told them over the summer.

Ron was looking disgruntled, as he had for most of the summer. The stares he directed at Harry were heated, in sharp contrast to the way his eyes softened when he turned them in Hermione's direction. Since Harry had begun dating Ginny, Ron had turned his back on Harry for large portions of each day. Ron was a kind-hearted boy and Harry's best friend, but sometimes his eyes blazed with an expression Harry could only describe as hate. After the confrontation in the corridor of Gimmauld Place, his relationship with Ron had been balanced on a knife's edge. Ron's immature and childish behaviour was increasing while growing more unpredictable. Each meeting hung in the balance until something nudged Ron one way or the other. At times he was extremely friendly and bubbly, enjoying the games they played. Then one sight of Ginny while she looked at Harry would set him off in a frenzy.

Trying his best to ignore the enigma that was Ron, he turned his attention back to Ginny and Luna. He found them still reading the Quibbler. The magazine was upside down this time. The Quibbler, Luna's father's magazine, contained the strangest yet funniest articles. Upon handing a copy of the magazine to Hermione, she had put it down as if it contained the plague. A piece of manure under her nose would not have made it lift any higher in the air. Harry goggled at her. It was the first time he had ever seen her treat something written in that manner.

Studying his friends began to bore him. Ginny and Luna were still avidly reading the Quibbler while occasionally discussing their summer. Most of the stories came from Luna, as there was little for Ginny to tell about their own holiday trapped inside a house.

With everyone around him occupied, he stared out the compartment window again. His eyes stared off into the distance, not taking in anything. His mind – as it had been so often – was on the prophecy. There was little else to think about. Except, of course, for the growing realisation that he was responsible for the lives of every child on board this train and every parent that dropped a child off at the station and every witch and wizard not serving Voldemort. Then there were also the Muggles, who were the most defenceless of all.

His head banged softly against the wall as the growing mountain of his task became clearer. How could he destroy the most powerful wizard alive?

"You seem very troubled, Harry," Luna Lovegood said in a dreamy voice. Her words brought him back from his growing fears. Her grey eyes never wavered. He could see them moving side to side as she read an article. Three other pairs of eyes focused on him when the meaning of her words became clear.

"Um…" Harry coughed. "I am always a little anxious." That was actually the truth. Knowing that a sadistic-twisted-evil-dark wizard was trying to kill you would put a person on edge most of the time. Knowing that you were linked to the man by means of a prophecy added even more tension. It was a miracle that he had not done more than faint when he heard the words for the first time. He would have to thank Dumbledore for telling the Weasleys that he had given Harry a sleeping potion.

"No, you are more troubled than I remember seeing you at school before," her dreamy voice bounced in the air as if it would float. He frowned and shrugged his shoulders, giving the others what he hoped was a quizzical look. It was not completely faked. He had to wonder about Luna and when had she been close enough to observe him at Hogwarts. The idea that a person had been able to observe him so closely without his knowledge unnerved him, though he could find little malice in her actions.

No more was said, but Ginny held onto his hand a little tighter. Was she angry at him for holding something back from her, or was she trying to comfort him? Perhaps she was annoyed for not seeing what Luna had seen. Maybe she was jealous. He had to force himself to stop that line of thinking. All his previous attempts at trying to understand Ginny's reactions had given him a headache. This one was proving to be no different.

Forgetting about what was said he smiled, and allowed himself to start thinking about flying again. His Firebolt was safely stowed in his trunk. He could almost sense the broom's desire – much like his own – to be set free into the skies above Hogwarts. "I can't wait to go flying again," Harry said in an eager whisper. There was no need to fake the joy in his voice.

"Blimey, I haven't been on a broom for months," Ron grumbled, his eyes flitting up towards his trunk where Harry knew his own broom was locked away safely. "Did you hear about the Comet series of brooms that are going to be launched in a few weeks?" he asked. Everyone in the compartment hurriedly said that they had. That was, everyone except Luna.

"No, what about them?" she asked, her voice unchanged from when she talked about Harry a few moments ago. She lowered her magazine and her pale grey eyes lingered on Ron's. Harry smirked as Hermione unconsciously bristled and shuffled protectively closer to Ron. Harry and Ginny sighed together and settled themselves in for what was going to be another long explanation of the new brooms. Even they could recall the specs in their dreams by now.

"The new Comet…" Ron began, but his voice died down when the compartment door slid open. An attractive girl with long black hair stood there. The smile on her face grew when she saw Harry. He almost yelped as a tight hand gripped his. Harry made a mental note that this was Ginny's jealous grip. That made the earlier grip one of reassurance and comfort, or so he hoped, at least. Considering the person standing there, it was obvious why she had become jealous. The girl leaning forwards seductively from the doorway was Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker about whom he had had an infatuation over the last year.

Gently he lifted his hand and placed it on his lap. Naturally, Ginny's tight white-knuckled hand followed. "Hi," Harry said, breaking the momentary silence. He was not going to be rude, but a subtle gesture like that should at least warn the girl that he was taken. He hoped so, at least. A scene like this in front of Ron could spark another of his insane bouts of anger.

"Hello," she replied in a silky voice that a little over a month ago would have had him grovelling at her feet. With Ginny in his life, he could see Cho's beauty but not be affected. She seemed to be waiting for Harry to reply. Her eyes dropped to Harry's hand that he had moved when she had entered. The pale arm that was attached to it caused her to flinch. Her eyes clouded over. "Oh, um, sorry, wrong compartment," she said hurriedly. She threw the door closed before her feet could be heard running down the compartment.

"I hope she will get over Cedric," Hermione spoke in a grim voice when Cho's footsteps faded. "She probably still associates you with him," she continued. Cedric Diggory had been killed alongside Harry in the graveyard by Wormtail, just before Voldemort was resurrected. Cho had been his girlfriend and they had looked like the perfect couple.

The tight grip around his hand eased. "I… thought..." Ginny spoke but did not finish. It was clear to everyone what she wanted to say. She had thought Cho had come to steal Harry away.

Harry had seen the look in her eyes. "I think you were right," Harry said while smiling at her. "But I think it is more the actions of someone trying to hold onto anything that would help her through her storm." Hermione, Ginny, and Luna agreed solemnly. Each in turn wondering how they would react if they lost a loved one. Ron, on the other hand, just glared daggers at Harry. With a mental sigh Harry glanced out the window. He wanted his old mate back.

The mood in the compartment had just begun to improve when a familiar voice drawled from the compartment door as it slid open. "Well, if it isn't Potty and his mangy bunch of…" he got no further with his insult.

Harry leaped to his feet and stood toe to toe with Draco. In his current mood he had little patience for the likes of Draco Malfoy. "Leave before I make you leave!" Harry snarled, his face blood red causing the scar on his forehead to prickle intensely. His skin tingled and goosebumps formed on his arms. Hermione, Ron and Ginny were only moments behind him in standing. Four wands were pointed at Draco. Harry's wand was still lying on his bench where he had left it. Luna, on the other hand, was still sitting, but her usual distant eyes were focused intently on the intruder, her wand almost touching his hip.

With a swagger and a laugh Draco turned to leave. "Let's leave these untrained vermin to themselves. We would not want to be infected, now would we?" Draco said to his two henchmen Crabbe and Goyle who were standing behind him. Draco pretended to shiver as he strode down the hall. Harry stepped outside and his green eyes, unseen by the rest, were cold as ice as they stared at the back of the departing group. He would make that boy pay. One day, he vowed, Draco Malfoy would kneel before him begging for his life. The dangerous gleam in his eyes vanished just before he returned to the confines of the compartment. The others had already taken their seats. Yet when he sat down he knew that he had lost the encounter with Malfoy. By losing his cool and not acting on his threats, he had shown a sign of weakness. However, he could not help but be amused by it all.

"Draco has got some nerve," Hermione said angrily crossing her arms.

Harry sat down and began to laugh without reason. He just needed to release all the tension inside him. Ginny, picking up on his laughter, joined him, laughing in near hysterics at the Slytherian. Hermione, Ron and Luna just sat still, their eyes staring unblinking at the two laughing for no apparent reason.

After a few minutes, Harry began to calm down. The feeling of euphoria settled and he began to notice the concerned looks that Hermione was giving him. "Sorry, just found that funny," Harry gulped, suddenly nervous. He pulled his gaze away from hers, instead focusing on the still chuckling Ginny. When her laughing died down, she rested her head against his shoulder and drew a few deep breaths that allowed her to finally calm down. With everything back to normal again, he couldn't help but think why he and Ginny had begun laughing like that. He had felt absolutely euphoric for a short amount of time, like he could accomplish anything.

When the room was quiet again and things settled back down, they discussed the coming year. Hermione as usual blabbered on about how much work they were going to receive and explained that was why she had already studied every textbook twice. Being their O.W.L. year she was overly paranoid about everything.

Ignoring most of the conversation that was going on around him, Harry's attention returned to the darkening world outside. The clouds had parted, leaving a clear sky above Scotland, but the sun was beginning to reach the end of its day's journey. It would be dark before they reached the station. For some reason, he did not like the idea of being outside in the dark, if it could be avoided. The prophecy as a whole had just turned his world a much darker shade of grey.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted. "Are you listening to anything that I am saying? It's important, you know," she continued in her usual bossy tone.

Giving her a slight smile, he apologized. "Sorry, I was just thinking about things." He placed emphasis on the word 'things,' so that she would assume he was speaking about what had happened at the end of the tournament. They knew only the bare minimum. As far as he was concerned, that was how it was going to stay.

"You know you should talk about it," Ron said, leaning slightly forward. Harry could almost hear Hermione purr as she nodded her head at Harry, urging him to divulge everything.

He sighed and gathered himself into the corner of the compartment. Ginny's arm on his leg was the only source of heat or comfort that he felt. "For the last time," Harry breathed out slowly while he spoke. It sounded like he was repeating something stupid to a small child who refused to listen. "I have not and will not speak about what happened." He was not nearly as angry as he usually would have been. He did in fact ask for it this time by being so silent and sombre. At least the topic of Riddle's resurrection kept the conversation away from anything that could lead towards the prophecy.

His eyes closed and he pretended to fall asleep. If they only knew half of what was running through his mind, they would never let him out of their sight. To them this was all some sort of game. Even Ginny was to excited and bubbly half the time. She might not see him exactly as a knight in shining armour anymore, but he was not far from it in her mind sometimes, he supposed.

He knew that she could be mature. He had seen it before. Perhaps her sudden giddiness these past few weeks were just her joy of them being together. A smile formed inside his mind and his heart warmed a little. Yes, perhaps it is all just because they were together. Give her another week or two and she would calm down, he reassured himself. His head gave an imperceptible shake. Why would he want her to change? He liked her just the way she was. Her sudden bouts of joy were exciting. Oddly enough, at times he himself had felt euphoric for short periods of time, just like earlier on the train. Being giddy was not concerning by itself, but being so while worrying about Voldemort was troubling. Was he going insane?

Forcing his mind away from that avenue of thought, he considered his Ginny again. It was not that he did not enjoy her fun and games. He loved them in fact. He had laughed each time he caught her running through the house before he tickled her. Those stolen kisses around deserted corners made him feel alive. It was all that he could ever have hoped for and more in a girlfriend. Except that he had a bloody prophecy hanging over his head that pressed down onto his shoulders and darkened the world for him.

Harry was jerked forward as the train came to a stop, effectively pulling him from his reverie. Perhaps he had fallen asleep. It was dark outside the window, except for lights that shone through the window from the platform. He felt slightly numb as he stood to reach for Ginny's trunk, forcing him to stretch his muscles. Being a boyfriend did bring with it certain duties, though he grunted under the strain of her heavy trunk. At least he only had to get it to the platform before the house elfs would take it. She smiled gratefully at him before pecking his lips to say thank you. The sparkle in her eyes was enough to make the effort worthwhile. Retrieving his own trunk, he followed the group out of the train.

It was rather warm outside, which was strange for this time of the evening, but he was grateful. It was a rather lengthy journey to the school and the horseless carriages always took their time. As they left the platform the air began to cool down. Harry wondered if there was some sort of heating spell over the station.

"Bloody hell!" he cried out in surprise when he saw the carriages. "They got horses for the things." Harry stopped and Ron crashed into his back.

"Oi, watch it, Harry," Ron accused him, giving him a cold a stare as the boy could manage. "Hey, I don't see any horses. Do you, Hermione?" Hermione shook her head, then looked at Harry as if he was suffering from some sort of plague that only Luna could have given him. She did however look genuinely concerned before she glared at Luna.

"I can't see anything, Harry," Ginny said softly, tugging at his hand. His green eyes stared at her in bewilderment. Perhaps the summer's events were really getting to him.

"What do you mean?" he asked exasperated, determined to prove that he could see them. Standing in front of the carriage was a winged horse-like creature. Vapour poured from its nose as it exhaled warm air into the cold night.

"Oh, they have always been pulling the carriages," Luna said as she glided past them and sat down inside the carriage. She either did not see or ignored Hermione's looks of outrage. "I have been seeing them since my first year," her dreamy voice lost none of its charm outside in the open air. Harry shook his head and helped Ginny onto the carriage before sitting down beside her. Deciding not to push his luck by further undermining his sanity, he dropped the subject of winged horses.

When they all sat down, the carriage lurched forward, beginning the final leg of the trip to Hogwarts. They sat mostly in silence now. The moon was already high up in the night sky. It was a full moon and bathed the world in its pale light. The tall towers of Hogwarts could be seen clearly silhouetted against the star-filled sky.

A faint echo, or rather vibration, pulsed through Harry. His eyes jerked towards the castle again. For a fraction of a second it had felt like something was pulling him towards the school. He shook his head. Prophecies, full moons and visible non-existent horses were defiantly making him paranoid.

Turning around, he faced Ginny. He wanted to get his mind away from his paranoia. "It is going to be an interesting year being here with you." His smile was genuine, the first real smile he had given all day. His cheeks almost burned at the effort of holding it.

She beamed back up at him. "That better be a positive interesting, Mr Potter," Ginny replied, while poking him hard against his chest. He laughed and drew her in tight against him. He laughed even more. He could not help himself. His laughter came from deep within his stomach. Even Ginny began to laugh with him. A lot of unwanted tension flowed from him.

When he finally managed to control himself, he had to wipe away a few stray tears. "Thanks, Ginny," he said, kissing her forehead. "For some reason, I really needed that."

"You definitely did, Harry," she replied loudly before whispering in his ear. "I have been worried about you all day." Her one arm wrapped around him and pulled him tight against her reassuringly.

"Thanks," Harry said, as the carriage jerked slightly, allowing Ginny to move even closer towards him. Her head rested against his shoulders and they continued to hold each other until they reached the school.

Upon entering the Great Hall, the group immediately veered towards the long Gryffindor Table. Luna followed for a few paces before she said farewell and left them for her table. Hermione looked extremely relieved to be finally free of the strange blond-haired girl.

They found an open section at the table where they could be seated together as a group. Ginny settled down next to Harry. Their proximity to each other ensured a few open stares. Ignoring the world around him, Harry took the time to look up at the enchanted ceiling that mimicked the world outside. "It is nice to be back," he said softly, more to himself than to Ginny. "This is the only place that I have ever considered home."

Ginny gripped his hand firmly. "You will always have a place at our home, Harry" she replied. He felt a tinge of relief at her words. He knew that the Weasleys loved him as another son and her parents had been overjoyed when they realized they were dating. The joy, however, did include an increase in awareness as to their whereabouts. Time alone in rooms was to be kept to an absolute minimum.

Ron was the only exception to the Weasley elation. Hermione, who was beginning to show overt signs of affection towards Ron, had sided with him to some degree. Her double standard with regard to Ginny's and his relationship infuriated him at times. Not knowing where someone stood agitated him.

Once everyone was settled into the hall and the first years had entered, the Sorting Hat sang its song calling on all students to work together. The sorting went as slowly as ever. Then the dreaded speeches were upon them. At least Dumbledore never talked for long. The idea of a quick speech was quelled when the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor Dolores Umbridge interrupted Dumbledore. Her speech droned on forever, and Harry almost fell asleep. The fact that he hated the toad-like woman did not help.

Eventually the speech ended, with none of her words registering in his mind, allowing him to begin eating. His stomach had been begun growling on the train. The food as always was superb and he devoured more than he usually would have. He still did not ambush food like Ron, but he was closing the gap. The image of the scrawny boy in the bathroom mirror still haunted him. He was determined to gain some bulk.

Wrapping Ginny around the waist with his arm, the pair walked casually to the Gryffindor Tower. There was no need to rush. Spending time alone with Ginny was always nice Near the end of the summer they had not enjoyed much time alone together.

"Being here with you is… wonderful," Harry began when no one was near them.

"It is," Ginny sighed, leaning further against him.

"Imagine all the fun that we could have this year: pranks, walks on the grounds, deserted corridors," he added with a mischievous grin, pulling her into a small side passageway that he had not noticed before. A slight pull tugged at him, but his attention was all on the petite form of Ginny Weasley and her soft pink lips.

A few minutes later they left the passageway with slightly swollen lips and red cheeks. "I wonder how many corridors are deserted?" Ginny's voice remained calm, but her grip and eyes betrayed her thoughts.

"I guess we will have to start an in-depth study," Harry answered.

A tug at his sleeve pulled him aside. Harry smiled warmly as he realized it would take them slightly longer to reach the dorms than he had previously thought possible.


	5. Chapter 4

_A/N Another chapter. Hope you enjoy. About one-fifth through the story now._

_Some people think that I am bashing Ron. I do not think that I am, I just have him a little highly strung at the moment. _

Lying on his bed Harry idly flipped the small piece of parchment in his hand around and around. The letter had arrived as he entered his dorm room a few minutes ago. It was delivered by Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix. He had not wanted to open the letter. He was too content remembering the numerous corridors that Ginny and he had graced with their presence during the first day of classes.

In the end, he had opened the letter, but was not sure what to make of it. The contents were obvious enough. He was to meet Dumbledore in his office at eight. The note also mentioned that he should keep the rest of the evening free. What would the man possibly want with an entire evening? Harry wished that it was for private tutoring, but that seemed almost impossible. Dumbledore had never taken a keen interest in his development. Yet, now that the prophecy was out in the open, he might have to.

Glancing at the ornate clock hanging on the wall, he saw that he had ten minutes before the supposed meeting was to begin. Heaving himself from the bed, he began the journey towards the Headmaster's office.

"Where you going?" Ginny asked, as he passed through the Gryffindor common room. Her face lifted from where it was buried in a pile of parchments. He laughed. It was supposed to be O.W.L. students who worked hard. Then again, Ginny was one of the top students. He had noticed her working hard before, if not nearly as hard as Hermione. He casually pushed a stray hair that hung in her face behind her ear. The smile on her face made him want to kiss her.

"Dumbledore," he whispered into her ear, ensuring that no one else heard. Especially not Hermione. If she discovered anything about private meetings she would wring him dry for information. Holding himself back, he placed a kiss on her forehead, then he strode out through the portrait hole.

From the corner of his eyes he saw Ginny receiving jealous glares from nearly every girl in the Tower. When the portrait swung shut he laughed heartily. What all those girls saw in a scrawny boy like him, he could not fathom. Fame was about the only logical answer, he snorted. It was all that they saw. His laugh died down. What he would give to be free of his fame and his duty!

A few students were still wandering about, but by and large the castle was deserted. The eyes of the portraits followed him down the corridor before they would begin to gossip. That was all they really could do and their never-ending whispers drove him crazy at times. Tonight, however, he did not notice them. His eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance and his strides were long and purposeful. He did not want to be late for this meeting.

Upon reaching the two stone gargoyles guarding the Headmasters office, he stated in a clear voice, "Tickling Turnips." Shaking his head at the password, Harry guessed it must be some sort of strange Wizarding sweet. Dumbledore's obsession with sweets of all kinds was almost unsettling. Honestly, having a password like that was just pushing the borders of sanity. Climbing the stairs, he realized that he had thought the old man mad since the day he met him.

"Harry, welcome," Dumbledore greeted warmly from behind his desk before putting down his quill. A large pile of parchments lay in front of him. A warm glow from the fire illuminated his face. He rose and came around to face Harry.

"Evening, Professor," he replied. Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled as usual. Harry broke eye contact and stared at the floor, feeling intimidated by Dumbledore. The man at least seemed pleased or slightly more so since they had last spoken to one another on top of the Astronomy Tower. The sombre tone in his voice had been replaced by something a little warmer.

The smile on Dumbledore's face remained fixed. "You are probably wondering why I have asked you to come to my office," Dumbledore asked lightly. Harry nodded slowly, lifting his gaze from the floor, and waited for the man to reveal as much as he wanted to – which considering past experience, might not be anything. "I would like to personally teach you a few things that I think will aid you in fulfilment of this prophecy," he continued, before gesturing Harry to sit down Harry did so. Dumbledore followed, sitting down alongside him.

Harry began to feel a touch of excitement welling up inside of him. Dumbledore was finally going to start working with him! He fought back the smile that was trying to stretch across his face. "That would be great, Professor!" This came out as an excited squeal. Harry clamped his mouth shut and laughed. Dumbledore chuckled at the sight of him. "Um, so what will you be teaching me, Professor?" Harry asked, his voice as calm and level as he could manage.

"First, I would like to begin with basics of how to Apparate. It is important to know when to fight and when to retreat to fight another day. Apparating is the first part of self defense. If you find yourself in an awkward position, the first thing to do is Apparate," Harry nodded stupidly while his mind absorbed every word that Dumbledore spoke. "Alongside learning to Apparate, I will be teaching you a few strong defensive spells. Each one will be useful against different opponents or needs." Seeing a confused frown on Harry's face, he explained further. "Sometimes you want to defend yourself at all cost and hence you would use a powerful but magically draining barrier. If, on the other hand, you are fighting a weak or tired opponent, you would not want to waste energy on barriers that you do not need. Therefore, you would use a weaker, much less draining barrier." Dumbledore paused and observed Harry.

"Right. Apparate away. Strong barrier but tiring. Weak barrier, lesser opponents. That's easy enough." Harry grinned. He might just begin to enjoy these lessons.

"Good. Then every other night we will be going through some advanced offensive spells. If you survive the initial few minutes of an attack, then you would need the tools with which to knock out your opponents," Dumbledore spoke while stroking his beard.

"The last bit that you will have to begin to work on your own is Animagus training." Dumbledore paused for effect. The grin on Harry's face grew even wider. He had always wanted to learn.

"I would have to register at the Ministry then, won't I?" a glum expression formed on his face.

"As long as it remains a secret, then there will be no need for the present. I do expect you to register at some point." Dumbledore got to his feet and began to pace about. "Learning to become and Animagus does not mean that you will become one. I, for one, will never be able to morph. There are no rules, some can and some can't."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. No matter the outcome, at least Dumbledore was willing to give him a chance at learning. What troubled him more was that Dumbledore had said nothing about killing curses.

"And what about lethal curses?" Harry asked. To him it was all good and well to knock out a few misguided individuals. What he wanted was a true means to destroy Voldemort. He needed the power to destroy the man thoroughly.

A shadow passed over Dumbledore's face and he suddenly looked agitated, almost angry. "There will never be any reason to kill. I believe that there is always another way to end a fight." Dumbledore's voice was stern and it left no room for argument.

Harry frowned. Dumbledore could not possibly mean to say that he would not be teaching him anything that would aid in destroying Voldemort. "Harry, I believe that it is the power of Love that will help you to overcome Voldemort." Harry snorted at the Headmaster's comments. "You do not believe me, do you?" He sighed. "It was your mother's love that saved you when Voldemort came for you. The sacrifice your mother made gave you an everlasting protection. That is partly the reason why you have to stay at the Dursley's. Your mother's protection lives on through her sister's blood."

Harry slumped back into the soft chair that he was seated in. All those years of living with his Aunt and Uncle, the cupboard, and the abuse were all because of some blood bond created out of love. He could not believe that this was the power that Voldemort knew not. If love was part of his protection that lived on through his Aunt, then love was a myth. The woman had never loved him. The hatred that poured from her probably equalled Voldemort's hate for him. No, he could not believe that this was the answer.

"If you believe that to be the answer, then so it is," Harry spoke out loud after a while. He was not about to begin a pointless argument. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that the power that Voldemort knew not was something that he would have to discover for himself. The answer that Dumbledore gave actually pleased him to some degree. If Dumbledore had truly known what the power was, then Voldemort would have known about it as well. The answer lay somewhere and he was determined to find that answer.

"Thank you for believing in me," Dumbledore said, not noticing that Harry had other thoughts running through his mind. "Shall we begin with your Apparating lessons?" he continued as he got to his feet. He retrieved a small worn glove from his table and held it out to Harry. "Portkey," the man said. "We cannot practice within these walls."

When Harry's hands touched the glove he began to move. It felt like he was being tugged from the navel as the world around him swirled and rushed past before he was flung to the ground unceremoniously. When he glanced up, he saw Dumbledore standing there as if he had not just been flung halfway across the world. The Headmaster waited just long enough for Harry to stand upright before he began.

The lesson moved slowly, but with each effort Harry moved closer towards his goal. He had heard from older students that it took time to learn. With help from Dumbledore and more than four hours of practicing, he had learned to Apparate from one hill to the next with surprising ease.

By the time they finished, Dumbledore looked extremely pleased. "If you are going to progress at this rate, I will have to add a bit more to the list of things to teach you. Good," he said again under his breath. Even in the moonlight Harry could see the glint in the man's eyes. It had taken him only one night to learn to Apparate. Dumbledore had told him earlier that he expected this to take a week. "You will practice this every lesson, but as far as I am concerned your Apparating lessons are complete. From tomorrow we will begin defensive spells."

Harry grinned again. If he placed enough effort into this who knows what he might learn by the end of the year?

When they returned to the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore sat Harry down again. "Before you leave tonight, I want you to take this book." Removing a very small book from the depths of his flowing blue robes, Dumbledore handed it to him. The book was entitled _Animagus, A journey of self discovery._ The cover was extremely old and Harry suspected that it was a very rare book. Becoming an Animagus was supposed to take years to learn. He hoped that this book would help him to get there faster. "That little book is very rare. It is in fact the only known copy left. Within it you should be able to find all that you require to master the ability on your own." The final statement made it quite clear to Harry that Dumbledore would not be teaching him this. Harry gave the Headmaster a wry smile but said nothing. If this came out, then Dumbledore would be able to tell the truth if asked whether he taught Harry.

With the book in hand, he arrived back in his dorm room. Everyone was already asleep and the fireplace in the common room had already gone cold. Lying in his bed, he began to read through the small book. It did not contain much information, apparently it was a relatively simple process. The problem lay mainly in visualizing the creature that you wanted to transform into as well as learning the necessary control over your magic. When he finished reading the book, he managed to fall asleep.

The next morning Harry waited patiently for Ginny in the common room. She had never been a good morning person. The lessons had not tired him completely and he was used to not sleeping well at night. The magical exhaustion had actually placed him into a nice deep sleep that was free of dreams. For that reason, he felt better than he had in some time. A few hours of peaceful rest worked wonders.

Perhaps his energy came from the burden that had been removed. He finally felt as if he was doing something to counter Voldemort. He was moving closer to completing what must be done.

"Hi, Harry," Ginny greeted him with a shy grin. Her flowing red hair was perfect and her eyes glinted when they made contact with his.

"Morning," he greeted, giving her a light peck on the lips. "So how was your evening?" he asked conversationally.

"Good," she replied before blushing. "A few of the girls are quite scandalized that I snagged you over the summer holidays." She gave a mock cautious stare over her shoulder. "They might even take me to get their hands on you." she was simply radiant while she spoke.

Harry found that he could not stop from grinning at his girlfriend. "So they want to get their hands on me, do they?" He teased and was met by a thump of what could only have been a thick book.

"Keep that ego of yours in check Mr Potter," she said, before quieting down somewhat. "I want to run my hands all over you myself." her eyes darted ahead of them and they both blushed crimson. Harry nearly choked, Ginny had never been so forward before. On second thought, all those deserted corridors might have adjusted her view of things slightly.

"Why are you two so red?" Ron suddenly shouted as they sat down opposite him at the Gryffindor table. He glared at Harry as if to challenge him.

"Nothing, Ron, just a stupid joke we overheard walking into the hall. Before you ask, it is not something that I will repeat." Harry hated being dishonest, but how could you tell your best friend that his sister wanted to run her hands all over you? The thought alone caused him to grow even redder. Ginny seemed to trying to match her hair color.

"That bad, huh?" Ron said immediately losing interest in them. Instead, he focused on the large portion of bacon and eggs on his plate. Harry relaxed visibly before he began filling Ginny's plate for her. She thanked him. Then he started to get some for himself.

Hermione arrived a few minutes later. Harry was relieved that both their blushes had gone away by the time she arrived. She would not have settled for such a basic explanation. "Oh, I can't wait to get to class again. It is going to be such a great year. Yesterday was so much fun!" she was smiling like it was Christmas morning. Harry, Ron, and Ginny just shook their heads. They loved their friend, but she defiantly was a lost cause when it came to work.

Eating in silence, he waited for Professor McGonagall to make her rounds past the table. When she finally walked past them, he stopped her. "Professor," Harry called out and she stopped.

"Yes, Mr Potter," she replied with a slight unease. She obviously did not relish his questions much.

"I would like to know if it would be possible to change from Divination to Ancient Runes?" He asked with a straight face. It was easy actually, considering that it was an honest question. Hermione's fork clattered onto her plate and Ron's mouth was hanging open. He was staring at Harry as if he had gone totally barmy.

McGonagall's lips disappeared slightly and Harry could see her sizing him up in order to determine if this was a joke. His face remained calm and passive. "It is possible. If it is what you desire, I will inform the respective Professors of your change." She paused before forming a devious smile. "No doubt this would elicit another prophecy of doom from her," she laughed and Harry choked on the piece of toast that he was about to swallow.

Part of him wanted to laugh. He had never believed that he would hear her make a joke. The only thing that stopped an outburst was the fact that Trelawny had made a prophecy over him years ago that still hung over him. "I am sure she will," he replied dryly, receiving three confused glares from his friends.

"Why are you being so daft? Divination is the same as a free period!" Ron exclaimed at Harry.

"Whatever his reasons, I think it is a wise decision," Ginny said before Hermione could get in a word.

"It will take some time to catch up, Harry. But I will help you as best I can," Hermione added her thoughts when the other two had finished. "Two years of work will not come easily." She frowned thoughtfully and Harry assumed that she was already structuring a course for him.

"I just want to do something more constructive." He did not add that a broader knowledge of ruins might help him discover what he was looking for. "It doesn't feel like I am learning anything in Divination."

Ron glared at him while both Hermione and Ginny nodded thoughtfully. "When did Harry grow up?" Hermione said softly to Ginny. "You seem to be a good influence on him," she said a little more loudly. Harry forced a laugh while his green eyes were fixed on his plate. His shoulder sagged a little. They did not want to know why he grew up, he for one didn't like it.

Ginny was good for him, but not in the way Hermione was thinking. Ginny actually made him feel even younger and made acting immature a little more fun. His girlfriend giggled next to him, gripping his hand under the table. She was thinking along the same lines.

When it was time to go to class, Ginny held him back. "What is the real reason for the change? Is it something Dumbledore said to you last night?"

"No, it was not something he said last night," Harry replied honestly. It was something Trawlany had said years ago. "I honestly feel like I need to be doing more and Dumbledore is helping me. The Runes class is my idea, though," Harry added. She smiled up at him and gave him a kiss goodbye before she ran off towards her first class of the day. He watched admiringly as her lithe figure moved down the corridor dodging around various students until she was out of sight. With a regretful sigh at her departure he dragged himself to his feet so that he could get to his first class.

From the teachers' table Harry saw Dumbledore looking at him with a smile. Apparently word spreads fast amongst teachers. He gave the Headmaster a small nod in recognition before following the remaining students out the hall.

The day passed relatively quickly. Ancient Runes was difficult, but he figured that he would have it under control if he put some effort into it. Defense was the same as usual except that it was taught by the stupid frog-like lady from the Ministry. Who would have agreed to a curriculum where magic was not allowed to be used in the class? Even Ancient Runes required wands for certain studies. Potions was a nightmare, Snape proved to be the same old bastard as the year before. Harry vowed that he would not let him get under his skin again this year. He snorted, the chances of that happening were slim.

"Ginny!" Harry called out when he saw his girlfriend's mass of red hair walking towards the tower. She turned and smiled, it felt good to have a girlfriend. A sour day could evaporate with a mere smile or kiss from her.

"Hi," she said greeting him with a kiss. "Missed you loads." a small pout formed on her face so he gave her another kiss. She beamed up at him.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you when I was not working," he replied. In fact he was sure that he would have a mental breakdown soon. Between thinking about the prophecy, Ginny, and his course work he had little time to relax. Even his evenings would be filled with Dumbledore's teachings. To make matters worse, he had not even had an opportunity to take his broom out of his trunk.

Taking her hand in his, they covered the remaining distance together. "So what did you do with Dumbledore last night?" she finally managed to ask him.

"The same as tonight." he paused, thinking, his brow creased and he absentmindedly rubbed his scar. "Do not tell Hermione, but he is teaching me a few extra defence spells."

Ginny smiled mischievously. "Will you be passing along any of that knowledge to me?" She made puppy dog eyes at him.

He almost fell down laughing at the sight of her. She looked adorable with her large brown eyes with fake tears rolling down her cheeks. Her bottom lip was quivering slightly. How could a man deny his girlfriend anything when she stared at you like that? "I will ask Dumbledore if I may," Harry replied slipping his hand around her waist. With a satisfied grin on her face she pulled him closer to her.

They spent a few minutes talking quietly together in the common room before they resigned themselves to starting their homework. Ginny had a foot-long essay to write and Harry had to begin studying Ancient Runes.

Time flew by and it was hard to concentrate with Ginny distracting him occasionally. Not that he never bothered her. Just before eight, he said good night to Ginny and left the common room. Hermione stared daggers into his back and then at Ginny.

Arriving at the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore spent little time with discussions. He jumped right into the subject matter and described the shields that he would be teaching him, the most basic being the Protego shield which all students learned. That was the most basic even if it was not weak. It was simple due to its constant strength. It altered little between witches and wizards and could block only the most basic of curses. There were a few variants of the Protego shield, each one slightly more adept at blocking different curses. Harry made notes and learned them quickly enough.

The spell that he learned next was not a shield. It was more a physical barrier. The Protego shield could block spells but physical items could still pass through. A barrier was a charm that would block something physical while letting through a spell. It took longer to learn, but like the previous shields it was still a rather basic spell. The strength was fixed and altered little.

"Professor, would it be alright if I taught some of this to Ginny?" Harry finally managed to gather the courage to ask. Dumbledore considered the question for sometime before answering.

"What we did today you may show her including any other defensive spells. I will not allow you to teach her any of the offensive spells except maybe a select few that I will inform you about." Harry thanked him and grabbed his parchment of notes and left after thanking him.

While walking down the corridor he felt something jerk him the other way. It felt similar to what he had felt on the carriage, except this time it was more specific. The tug increased in intensity forcing him to turn around. The pull dragged him further away from the Gryffindor common room. Along narrow corridors and stairways he continued until the feeling disappeared as quickly as it had begun. With the sensation gone, he rapidly began to make his way back to his dorm.

He frowned in concern, wondering what was happening to him. Deciding that it would be best to ask Dumbledore the next day, he continued on towards the Gryffindor Tower at a run. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and where ever he was being drawn to.


	6. Chapter 5

_A/N Here is the next instalment. Hope you enjoy. Comments are always appreciated and I take them into consideration while editing future chapters._

_I have updated the first chapter, giving credit to Robert Jordan and Rowling. I was informed by a kind reviewer that I failed to do so. I humbly apologise. I did so on another website, but it slipped my mind when I added the story here. _

Waking early the next morning with the sky still dark outside the window, Harry felt the strange pull again, stronger than ever. Dressing hurriedly, he began to find his way out of the Gryffindor Tower as quickly as he could manage without drawing unwanted attention by waking his friends. The tug at his very soul was much more intense than it had been the previous few days. He knew that he had to find whatever it was that was calling him. Growing impatient – almost frantic – he began to run down the deserted corridors. He needed to find the source. The previous evening he was running from it in fear, now he was running blindly towards it.

His pace increased almost with every stride that he took while running frantically. Halfway across the castle, he was running as fast as his scrawny legs could carry him, when without warning the feeling vanished, leaving him feeling lost and abandoned. The sudden loss startled him, causing his legs to crash into one another, sending him crashing to the floor.

His knees ached from where they collided with the stone floor. Getting onto his hands and knees, he remained motionless as he stared down the corridor into the black nothingness that was the school beyond. None of the classrooms further down the hallway contained anything odd. The Marauders' Map had never shown anything more than what he knew to be down there. Yet, something down that hall was beckoning him.

With a deep and tired sigh he got to his feet. He brushed his hands through his dishevelled black hair while muttering to himself in frustration. With a last longing gaze at the darkness, he began a slow walk back to the Tower. On his way to the dorms he began to wonder if he would learn what was pulling him and if he would ever reach it. Dumbledore might know, he supposed. That man knew nearly everything important and most of the school's secrets. The other side of the coin was that perhaps this was another Chamber of Secrets, a mystery so shrouded that no one knew about it. A mystery even lost to myth.

His stride stretched as a new determination to solve the riddle began to blaze in his emerald green eyes. A certainty blossomed inside of him. He was sure that he would find out. Each time he had gone longer and further before the sensation ceased. If the trend continued then it would only be a matter of time.

Nearing the Tower, he eventually began to feel the cold around him. He had been so busy thinking he had not noticed that it was almost freezing inside the school. In his rush to get out of the dorm he had paid little heed to the inevitable cold outside. Shivering slightly, he wrapped his arms around his middle and began to jog, hoping that the exercise would warm him. The increased tempo did not last long, his breathing quickly became laboured and his legs felt like jelly from his earlier sprint. He chuckled in spite of his frustrations. He might be good on a broom but he was a tad unfit.

Reaching the portrait that marked the entrance, he whispered the password to the Fat Lady who gave him an appraising look before allowing him to slip inside the Tower. Immediately, the heat of the common room comforted and warmed his icy body. A fire was blazing in the hearth. The orange glow and the warmth made him relax. Deciding to forgo his bed, he settled onto the couch by the fire after retrieving a few items from the dorm. While sitting in the quite room, he began to visualise the spells in his mind that he had learned the previous evening. Closing his eyes, he could almost sense his magic hanging just out of reach while his thoughts were occupied by the incantations and wand movements of each shield.

By focusing on his lessons with Dumbledore, he was able to ignore the most pressing issue. Each time he began to think about his escapade through the school, he forced it out of his mind. It was best not to think about what was pulling him. Time alone would answer his questions.

Becoming bored and finding his thoughts wandering more often, he removed a small book that he had retrieved from his bedside from his robes. It was the book about Animagus transformations. With nothing better to do, he began to study it from the beginning again. The book might be short but there was more than enough to take in. Carefully he opened the aged cover of the book, the old material groaning under the strain of being handled. The musty scent of age invaded his nose, but he pushed it aside and began to delve into the book.

Clearing the mind in order to visualize the animal within seemed to be the main component of becoming an Animagus. The book stated that this was where most wizards faltered as few could ever muster enough control over their minds to clear them fully. Once the mind had been cleared, something was required to trigger the creature within each person. Some might never have the trigger, while others may have experienced it when they were still young. The lack of a suitable trigger that formed the creature was the next large stumbling block in Animagus transformations; some people were born never to become an Animagus.

It was a strange coincidence that his father, Sirius, and Peter were all able to become Animagi considering how rare it was supposed to be. The idea gave him hope that he would become one. He desperately wanted to transform into an animal. A stag like his father would be great, but something like a lion or eagle would be nice as well. He couldn't help but close his eyes and imagine the wind rushing past him as he soared through the air as an eagle. The ability to fly whenever he wanted to, coupled with complete freedom, exhilarated him even if he was only sitting on a couch.

Pushing his daydreaming aside, he put his attention back on the book. Besides the trigger there were numerous techniques that – if mastered – would aid in the transformation process. A lot of it had to do with focusing your magic into your limbs without the use of a wand.

An hour or so later noises began to come from the dorms as the early risers moved about. The sudden clamour distracted Harry who was deeply focused on his book. He slipped the book back into his robes. A few laughs came from the boy's dorms and giggles from the other side. Sitting alone in the quiet of the common room, he enjoyed listening to the differences he had not noticed before.

A few minutes later the first people came down and scattered throughout the common room. A number of students left to eat an early breakfast. Patiently he waited for Ginny. Not being a morning person, she came down rather late. But when she finally did arrive, however, she looked magnificent- radiant was a better description. Her hair long, wavy red hair that hung past her shoulders glimmered as the light from the window shone off it. Her clothing was perfectly neat and not for the first time he wondered how many hours she spent combing that long hair of hers.

"Morning, Ginny," he greeted, getting to his feet and giving her a loving kiss. He smiled and was rewarded with a dazzling one in return. Her brown eyes mesmerized him. Not for the first time this summer he imagined a future with her. Preferably one free of Voldemort and prophecies. "You look absolutely beautiful," he whispered into her ear.

"Morning," she greeted, giving him a much deeper kiss in return. His hands slipped around her waist as they left together for the Great Hall, their hands entwined. Fortunately, Ron was not around to comment. A snog like the one they had just shared was a sure invitation to comment from Ron in his present state.

"So, did Dumbledore say anything about you teaching me?" she asked in a hopeful voice. Her face, contrary to her voice, remained impassive as if she did not expect the news to be favourable.

"He did," Harry began, stifling a yawn. The long night with insufficient sleep was getting to him. "Sorry," he apologized. She giggled slightly but quieted down waiting for him to continue. "He said that I could teach you any of the defensive spells that I learned and some of the offensive spells, but only those that he approved."

The words had not left his mouth before she started bouncing up and down with excitement. Her hair followed and made her look even more incredible. "Can we start over lunch?" She asked. "Please!" She begged even more. Her brown eyes gave him the saddest look that they could muster causing Harry to burst out laughing.

"Sure," Harry agreed with a sigh and a shake of his head when he finally regained some of his composure. "Of course I will teach you over lunch." Pulling her closer, he gave the top of her head a quick kiss. There was little to do but go with the flow, especially when his fiery girlfriend was using such underhand tactics. Chuckling at her antics, he held onto her even tighter, a sudden fear of losing her washing over him.

"Thank you!" she repeated a few times, still jumping up and down, jerking Harry's body with her. Her enthusiasm only died down when they entered the hall. The glint in her eyes did not, however. "Look who is waiting," she said, pointing at Ron who was already giving them a sour look.

Harry inhaled deeply, trying to relax while building the energy reserves required for the impending fight. His relationship with his best friend had been strained over the summer and dating Ginny, his baby sister, had not helped. Ron knew that Harry would never harm her, but he insisted on being an idiot about it.

Approaching the table he could already see the question forming on Ron's lips. "Where have you two been hiding?" Ron asked curtly before they even sat down.

"You saw me in the Common Room a few minutes ago," Harry replied briskly before giving Ginny a confused look. Nothing was good enough for Ron anymore and Harry was unsure how much longer Ginny and he would be able to take this before snapping.

"Well, that was ten minutes ago. Heaven knows what you could have done in that time," Ron spluttered between mouthfuls of bacon and eggs. The frown that had formed on Harry's face at Ron's first comment deepened.

Deciding not to cause a scene, he squeezed Ginny's hand before replying, "Sorry mate, I will try to get myself down here quicker next time." He could not, however, keep his true feelings from his voice.

"See that you do," Ron cut in, not noticing the sarcastic tone in Harry's voice, nor the growing hardness in his eyes as they narrowed behind his glasses.

"What we do with our time is none of your business," Ginny said, slowly puffing herself up. Her cheeks burned red, her eyes blazed in anger, and her tone was deadly. Ron's first comments passed over her, but thinking that they would actually listen to him was pushing it. Her hand tightened around Harry's, cutting off his circulation.

"Of course it is, I am your brother," Ron said back almost as heatedly as Ginny. Harry cringed as her grip tightened even more and he was sure that his bones were not far from breaking. He tried to back away, knowing that the explosion was about to occur. Ginny Weasley had been pushed too far. Unable to move away, he stiffened his body.

"You are not my mother!" Ginny growled through gritted teeth. Somehow she had managed to keep her voice low while making it sound like a shout. Ron was either too thick or hard-headed to notice the threat.

"I am as good as," Ron countered and Harry gulped. That was the final straw. Ginny was on her feet, her wand – already in hand – was in motion and the incantation muttered so quickly it was inaudible. Apart from her threatening stance and her blazing eyes, the only real evidence of her wrath was the loud crash of Ron landing on his back while fighting off bats. Everything had happened before the 'as' had even finished rolling off of Ron's tongue.

A few heads had turned towards them by that time. Harry looked almost pale. The sight of Ginny like that was breathtaking, yet absolutely terrifying. He muttered a quick, heartfelt prayer in the hope that he would never have to deal with that side of her.

She settled back down comfortably before calmly beginning to pile food onto their plates as if nothing had happened. Harry shook his head before scooting closer to her again, flexing his now free hand trying to determine if it was broken. To his relief it was not.

Breakfast went smoothly from then on. Ron had moved away and was eyeing them with a look of what might even have been a bit of jealousy. Shaking his head, he pushed the thought aside. Harry wondered how long it would take before the damage between them would ever be repaired. He liked Ron as a friend, but he was not about to risk losing Ginny because of Ron's antics. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Deep down, he was sure that Ron would come to his senses one day. Hopefully that day would come sooner rather than later. Looking up at Ron again, Harry noticed softness in Ron's eyes as his friend talked to Hermione.

With a hug and a kiss, he said goodbye to Ginny as they separated for the first lessons of the day. Classes were rather boring as usual. He had little time for lunch before Ginny pulled him away to a secluded classroom so that he could begin teaching her what Dumbledore had shown him.

She impressed him with the rate at which she learned. She pouted slightly about not being able to learn to Apparate, but considering that it would be impossible inside the grounds, she did not push him further. He managed to run through all the spells and gave her his notes to study which she took eagerly. With a kiss she ran off to her next class. "Meet me outside the Great Hall after class!" Harry bellowed after her, she paused before turning to give him a smile and then she was off again.

He sighed, watching the trail of long red hair scamper down the hall. She was truly a remarkable and powerful young witch and he loved her. The realization startled him when the words popped into his mind. Yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He loved her. It was simple: words could not describe how she made him feel. With her finally out of sight, he went back to the Gryffindor Tower.

When his last class came and went, he wandered down to the entrance hall to wait for Ginny. He was sure that he would have to wait for hours till Ginny showed up. To his surprise she was already waiting for him. Her back was propped against the cold stone wall and her legs were crossed. She was intently studying a thick textbook which lay across her lap.

"What you got there?" he asked, sitting down next to her, the cold of the stone attacking his back.

"Potions," she replied glumly. "Snape let us go early so that we could study for a stupid test that he wants to give us tomorrow." Harry leaned his head back against the wall. He remembered the test last year, but he and Ron never bothered to study for it. Snape used the students' fourth year to weed out the weakest in the group. He only accepted the best for his O.W.L. Potions class.

"So, do you know your work?" The question was hopeful. During the small break between classes, he had retrieved his Firebolt from his trunk and he was dying to take his girlfriend for a flight. He also wanted to see her fly. He loved watching her in the sky, though he had only seen it rarely and only now understood why he had enjoyed it so much. Seeing her laughing and full of joy made him smile.

"I think so," a reply like that from Ginny meant she knew it back to front. At least she was slightly more honest about it than Hermione, who always complained that she would fail.

"Good," Harry replied pulling her to her feet. The textbook nearly went flying but she managed to hold onto it, if only barely. Tugging her along he ignored her protests. Rounding a corner he placed his hand into the small nook where he had hidden his broom.

With a sigh of relief at finding it there, he pulled it out. "I wanted to go flying with you." He smiled.

Ginny's eyes grew wide with sudden anticipation and desire. "I have wanted to have a go on that broom for ages, you know." Her voice sounded bubbly and her eyes locked onto the broom in his hand.

Waving it playfully in front her, he watched her brown eyes track the broom's movements. "Patience." Harry smirked. "First, you have to fly around with me for awhile – to learn the broom, of course." His smile was mischievous, the meaning not lost on her.

"Of course," she said sarcastically. "I cannot fly without proper understanding of the broom."

"Of course you can't," he replied, giving her a playful kiss before he pulled her along again. Ginny wriggled free long enough to hide her bag in the recess where the broom had been hidden.

Talking excitedly and laughing, they ran out of the school and into the warm September afternoon. A few clouds dotted the sky, but otherwise it was a perfect day. "Hold on," Harry said, placing her onto the broom in front of him. With a squeal of delight, she grabbed onto the handle with both hands as Harry pushed off from the ground and shot into the air. Even with two people on the Firebolt he was sure that it was still much faster than any broom that she had been on before. The Weasleys did not have the money for anything but entry-level brooms. If she became a Prefect then she might be able to convince her parents to buy her a new broom.

The rush of air and the sounds of her excited cries and orders to fly faster filled him with pure joy. He could never remember being this happy before. With his arms wrapped tightly around her so that he could take hold of the broom, he had to push his body tightly against hers. The warmth of her firm body against his contrasted with the cool rush of air over his arms. The smell of her hair that was blowing into his face would forever be burned into his mind. All too soon, an hour had passed and he had to descend.

Landing softly on a secluded piece of land overlooking the lake, he fully expected her to take the broom for a ride. Instead, she merely threw it down onto the ground before throwing her arms around his neck to pull him down into what he could only describe as the most passion-filled kiss that she had ever given him. Breaking apart and gasping for air, he decided that a snog like that was much better than watching her fly.

Catching his breath, he collapsed onto the grass embankment with her still in his arms. "Harry!" she cried out just before she hit the ground. "That was uncalled for," she said, thumping his stomach hard with her fist, though her grin belied her anger.

Her fist had, however, knocked the wind out of him. "I… u…" Harry stammered, trying to get the words out of his mouth. Ginny meanwhile was rolling around laughing herself hoarse at him.

"Guess those abs need some work," Ginny teased when she calmed down and had settled against his chest, her head resting on his shoulder. His arm wound its way around her, holding her close against him. He could feel his heart beating in his chest while her calm rhythmic breathing soothed him.

"Ginny," Harry began slowly. Lying out here with her in his arms, he knew what he had considered earlier to be true. There was no denying it. The tension between them was palpable.

She lifted her head and her brown eyes met his green ones. Harry's mouth went dry and all the words of love and desire to live a life with her evaporated from his mind. "I… um… wanted to say…" His hand came up and gently cupped her cheek. Her eyes were so soft and they shone brightly in the sunlight.

"What do you think you are doing to my sister?" Ron's voice bellowed down at them. Harry did not reply, instead he pushed Ginny away slightly trying to make it appear as if nothing was happening. Nothing was, but Ron didn't know that.

The moment had passed and the tension faded away into a mutual annoyance at Ron. A look of sadness crossed her face when she glanced at Harry. Ginny huffed in annoyance while she got to her feet before running off. In that small moment of time, he was sure that he had seen her fight away a few tears. Harry groaned loudly, "Was that really necessary, Ron?" Harry asked dejectedly, sitting up still trying to decipher Ginny's response.

"Keep your filthy hands away from her!" Ron shouted. His freckled face almost purple in anger. "I know what you wanted from her today…"

"Ron, I would never—" The reply was cut-off. There was no real point in answering in any case.

"Save it for someone who cares to listen to your excuses and lies! Get lost, Harry, and leave Ginny alone!" Ron's voice had lost none of its anger and an element of something more had crept into his voice. It sounded almost like sadness. Harry had little more to say. What could he say? Ron would never listen to anything in his current mood.

As Ron stomped away, Harry had the sinking feeling that he would never get Ron's friendship back, not in the near future, at least. He wanted to shout in frustration, but deep down he felt like running away. The prophecy was hard enough to deal with. Now he had lost his best friend, just like the start of last year, when Ron had thought Harry had entered his name into the Goblet of Fire.

The sun began to set while he still sat there unmoving, thinking about everything. The Firebolt lay discarded where Ginny had thrown it down. Staring at the broom, the only thing he could imagine was her body pressed against his and her moist soft lips against his own. She was the only girl for him. All he needed to do was sort out Ron's strange attitude. Sitting there, he did not feel anger against Ron. Something more than just Harry's relationship with his sister was bothering Ron.

Picking up his broom, he suddenly became aware of the intense sensation of being tugged. Without thinking, considering nothing, he jumped onto his broom and raced it towards the castle as fast as he could. The setting sun had fallen below the horizon as he neared the school. Sensing where to go, he dove through the closest open window.

The opening was narrow and he almost grazed the sides of the gap as he flew into the school. Dismounting on the move, he nearly tripped. His body was alert and his heart pounded in his chest as his green eyes scanned the empty corridors. Feeling only slightly relieved that no one had witnessed his unorthodox and highly illegal entrance, he began to move, his Firebolt forgotten on the floor. Concern with being noticed vanished quickly as he began to walk.

His walk turned into a jog and then into a run. He wanted to find the source this time. Deep down, Harry knew that he had to. Entering a long corridor that was known to be a dead end, he continued, growing more unsure if he should go on. He wanted to discuss this with Dumbledore, but he wanted answers now more than ever. There were no portraits, no windows, and no doors. It was one of Hogwarts's ancient mysteries as to why this corridor existed. The source felt near. A faint vibration echoed through his body, growing stronger with each step he took down the hallway. At the end of the corridor, the solid wall began to shimmer before it vanished all together. He paused before entering the opening, but the choice had been made. There was no going back for help.

It was a long and dark corridor, much darker than anything in the castle. Memories of the Chamber of Secrets came to mind, but for some reason this place did not seem ominous. A few scattered flaming torches illuminated the path, but not much. Lifting his wand, he lit the end with a quiet "Lumos," the extra light not really helping except to show the stone work.

The stone walls were cold and bare and did not change as he strode along. In the distance he could see a chamber that seemed well lit and before long he entered it. The chamber was not large. It was square and about two stories high. Four chandeliers hung from the ceiling, providing constant light around the only object in the room.

Standing in the center of the hall stood a pair of glittering columns. Light danced about the room like the reflected light of a pond. With his feet rooted to the ground, he stared up at the columns. The vibrations were coming from them and were growing stronger. They were calling him, drawing him closer. He felt light as if all the worries and cares of the world dissolved. He could not even think about Ginny. Nothing mattered, all that needed to be done was to walk. Not knowing why or for what reason, all he could think to do was to stride through the columns. They almost seemed to be calling his name.

With agonizing slowness and calm, he moved closer step by step. Each one brought him nearer to the columns. With each stride they seemed to become more alive, their vibrations more excited. The light from the chandeliers was beginning to fade in comparison to the glow from the object of Harry's focus. The answer to his riddle was within reach.

With a final step, he gasped. His entire body shuddered as if it had been immersed in ice cold water. Then within the ever changing dazzle of the light he vanished. The columns began to calm and the light dimmed, until all that remained were two pillars illuminated by four chandeliers.

HGHGHGHG

Back in her dorm room, Ginny had been stomping about in anger for nearly an hour. Her face was flushed and her hair hung messily about her shoulders from the flight. She was angry more with herself for not hexing Ron into oblivion, than by his outburst. The odd feeling of something drifting away from her was pushed to the side, consumed by her rage. She had been having that strange sensation since arriving at Hogwarts and nothing had come of it. Deciding that it would do her no good to hang around in her room, she decided to go down to dinner. Harry would probably be waiting for her by now.

"Wait up," a classmate called from behind. She ignored the voice of her fellow dorm mate. The girl would likely only want to gossip about boys. Ginny only thought about one, Harry, and he was waiting for her. She could not wait to talk to him. She had a lot to get off her chest.

Despite her raging emotions, she wanted nothing more than to place her arms around his neck and tell him how much she loved him. It was felt weird that she should feel this way at such a young age. Then again, it felt so natural and right. They were born for each other. Ever since she could remember, the name of Harry Potter had meant something to her. They were linked, how she did not know, but somehow they would live their lives together. Every time she was near him she felt as if he was pulling her towards him. It was indescribable.

Entering the hall, she looked up hopefully at the Gryffindor table before she frowned. Harry was not there. With a confused expression on her face, she settled down next to Ron, but with some space between them. Ginny's fingers were never far from her wand. Hermione, who was sitting opposite her, voiced her own question. "Where is Harry? I thought that he would be with you." Hermione's face was a mask of irritation.

Ginny's frown deepened. "He should be here. I left him… outside." She glared at Ron with the last sentence. The wand in her pocket seemingly sensed her desire to use it. "I was sure that he would be here by now." Ginny's voice grew tight at the increasing looks of concern coming from Hermione.

"Good!" Came Ron's harsh voice. "He took my advice and buggered off."

Ginny glared daggers at her brother. He did not say that to Harry – he wouldn't have. The way he kept eating and his total lack of concern about Harry made her doubt her beliefs. Why would Ron be so against Harry and her? The entire summer had been a nightmare with him constantly watching them. His comments were uncalled for and his expressions of disgust were unsettling. If only he could get his act together with Hermione. The problem being that Hermione was just as thick about her feelings as Ron. The tension between the two was almost palpable. Ginny was sure that Ron released his tension by being angry at Harry. She knew that she had to talk to Harry about what she believed so that they could help get them together.

"What if… No, nothing could have happened could it? I am sure someone would have told us if he was in the hospital wing," Hermione spoke rapidly, her voice beginning to tremble with anxiety.

"Hello," the warm voice of Dumbledore shocked them all with its sudden interruption. "Oh, sorry to have startled you. I was just hoping that you could pass this letter along to Harry." He held a sealed envelope out to them.

Ginny took it from his outstretched hand. "Um, Professor, I… we are sure that everything is fine but none of us have seen Harry in over an hour." Her voice was surprisingly steady as she spoke to the Headmaster. The underlying currents of fear remained slightly hidden. She could almost sense that something had happened. Those feelings that she had been having all afternoon came rushing back to her.

At first, it felt like someone was being dragged away. Then there seemed to be a tension in the air, a calm just before something momentous was about to happen. Then it was all gone and a hollow feeling filled her.

"That is indeed odd, Miss Weasley." Dumbledore's face fell slightly and his gaze passed over Hermione and Ron, though only Hermione bothered to nod. "You say that he has been gone for a while now?" It was more a means to process the information than an actual question and no one answered him. In truth, it had not been a long time, but for Harry to be away alone for any length of time was reason for concern.

With a sharp turn, he strode out of the hall. She was startled when Snape appeared alongside the Headmaster as if he had been summoned. Their heads were close together and they spoke rapidly. None of what they said reached her. With a few more strides, they had left the hall.

With her appetite gone, she got to her feet and left. There was nothing she could do but wait. The voice of Hermione behind her was lost in her troubled mind. The feeling of loss only grew.

In the common room she sat and waited. The hours on the clock kept moving relentlessly, if slowly. With each minute her apprehension and fear increased. Concerned glances were sent in her direction. Thankfully, none of the students knew the cause.

The embers of the fire began to die. Hermione, Ron and the rest of the Gryffindors were fast asleep. Still she sat waiting, her eyes open wide, almost unblinking. She did not want to give in to what she knew.

A few minutes after the last light dimmed from the fireplace, the portrait hole swung open and Dumbledore strode in. With a flick of his wand, a few candles were lit. His eyes looked haunted and his pale expression told her what she needed to know, but perhaps there was still hope. Maybe Harry was in the hospital wing waiting for her.

"Is he okay?" she asked getting to her feet slowly.

"I am not sure," the Headmaster began. "None of my sources have been able to track him down. The good news at least is that Voldemort was not involved with his disappearance."

"That's… good," Ginny replied, unsure of what to say. She could not bring herself to mention what she had felt earlier.

No more was said between them as both stood waiting. "I best get to bed then," Ginny finally broke the silence, her face lifting with a tight smile.

"Goodnight, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore answered, his expression one of concern. Walking as if in a daze up the stairs to her bed, she barely heard the portrait opening and closing behind her.

Lying down on her bed, she held on to her pillow, squeezing the life from it. She would not cry, she would not let herself. Fear gave way to loss. An emptiness formed inside her, a void that could not be filled by anyone except Harry.

Thinking that she was still in control of herself, an unnoticed tear rolled down her face.


	7. Chapter 6

_A/N Here is the next short chapter, but one which I feel is important._

_Please leave a review, I always enjoy knowing what you think._

_The next chapter will reveal more about Harry._

Ginny Weasley stood behind the counter of the Windswept Broom, a new restaurant in Diagon Alley, quietly humming to herself. She was absently wiping the surface clean as she studied the picture and Quidditch jersey of Harry Potter that were hanging on the opposite wall. It had become a sort of routine, glancing at the picture of him holding onto a Snitch with an outstretched arm, his face alight with the thrill of winning. The smile that spread onto her face could not be helped. With the counter clean, she worked her way around the room cleaning each table in turn.

After Harry disappeared, the war and tension across the country decreased. Voldemort was still out there, but he was biding his time. Dumbledore finally managed to exert some more control by actively working against Voldemort. This increased show of force ensured that Death Eater activities decreased. The world almost seemed to be going back to normal. She could not believe that it had only been two years since his disappearance. It felt much closer to fifty.

With the lull in the war she had managed to persuade her mom to allow her to find a summer job. The only reason her mother consented was because she knew that Ginny was not working for the money. With little to do around the house except her usual chores, Ginny had drawn into herself more.

If school had been difficult for her, the summers had been a nightmare. The only highlight of her life the past two years was them being allowed to move back into the Burrow this summer. Grimmauld Place had not exactly been a welcoming place to spend your summer holidays. It was cold, dark and damp. A place like that allowed only one thing' really: brooding. Time alone with nothing to do was dangerous with Harry not in her life anymore.

Each day, she made a point of studying the various Quidditch jerseys and memorabilia around the restaurant as she worked. The few Harpies jerseys that hung in the one corner received a few more ambitious stares than the rest. A bright orange Canons shirt was barely visible in the dark corner where it had been hung. The owner of the Windswept broom tried not to have a Canons jersey, but he relented knowing that the surprisingly large number of Canons fans were rather obsessive. Not having a shirt of theirs would be dangerous. In an attempt to please them even more, seeing as they were his most devoted patrons, he even decorated one of his few guest rooms in their dazzlingly bright colours. It was not surprising that it was the smallest room.

A few older brooms that had been flown by legendary players were hung on the wall. A few even dangled from the ceiling. The place comforted her. Working here allowed her to focus more on her dreams of a future as a Quidditch player than her past with Harry.

This was her last day working at the Windswept Broom before she would return to Hogwarts for her sixth year. She was hoping that it would be a better year for her. It would also be Ron and Hermione's last year. Luna was still around, but being in Ravenclaw and not in the same classes they rarely had time to talk. The stupid inter house rivalries were infuriating. Her only real friend was always out of reach and her own Gryffindor classmates were inconsiderate prats. Unfortunately, being the house of the brave meant it was also mostly a house filled with egos to match. More than one idiot had to be told the hard way that she was not interested in dating them.

She would not call herself depressed. She was far from that, there was just no desire in her to start a relationship with any of the guys at Hogwarts. Her emotions were still too confused for her to make out what to do. Dumbledore had never been able to tell the Weasleys what had happened to Harry. She was only starting her sixth year which gave her more than enough time to think things through. A rash decision to date someone she did not really like would only end up hurting her, the unfortunate guy, and Harry most of all, if he was to return.

A bell rang indicating that a new patron had entered. Looking up she sighed, a regular. His weary eyes remained downcast as he took his usual seat. She felt sorry for the guy, an over worked ministry employee who worked countless night shifts. He always enjoyed a breakfast here after a long night's hard work. With just a wave of his hand he ordered his usual coffee and breakfast, it was always the same. Ginny had not really managed to get much out of the man and she often wondered what had happened in his life.

Another man came in a little while later, an Auror this time. Like the other man, he was also unfortunate enough to get the night shifts. Studying them while she pretended to be working, she wondered if they were single. That would explain why they always had the worst shifts. A man with no family to go home to was an ideal candidate for the worst hours. By the looks of them, she got the feeling that they were single, but that they had not always been so.

She was the only one working this morning, Saturday mornings were always relatively quiet in Diagon Alley. Most people preferred to do their shopping later in the day. Ginny always worked the morning and afternoon shifts. It was not the best time to work to make money, for that you had to work evenings, but she did not want to be around drunken old men. Besides, she wanted to spend time with her mother and father before she returned to Hogwarts.

The bell rang again and to her surprise two new people entered, a tall red haired boy and short girl with dark hair. Brother and sister Ginny supposed. Her eyes remained on the boy until he passed. He seemed preoccupied and his eyes – gray eyes – were focused on a table in the far corner.

Before passing, the woman gave Ginny a warm smile and a knowing look. She smiled back, confused. Upon closer inspection, the girl with him appeared much older than she had at a distance. Her face appeared almost ageless. A well aged forty-five, if she had to guess. Reconsidering her earlier assumption, the woman had to be his mother.

Forgetting the look from the woman, she studied the boy, mesmerised. He walked with an elegant ease, almost like he was gliding along the ground. He was neither large nor thin, his back was straight and her keen eyes noticed the outlines of well-defined muscles. Her cheeks tinged. Shaking her head she noticed that the woman herself looked like she was floating. They had an air of something about them, not snobbish or arrogant, but they looked like people used to authority. It was an odd thought, but she had become quite good at reading people while she worked here.

The pair settled down in the far corner. She noticed them looking around the room. The boy's gray eyes continued smoothly around until his eyes fell upon Harry's jersey. He paused. Her stomach fluttered suddenly and she looked down at her hands that were nervously drying a glass. Even the palms of her hands were sweaty. Only one man had ever done that to her.

Those piercing gray eyes had drawn her in. She could not resist looking at them again. When she glanced up, she saw him studying the two wizards who were still eating. His eyes were distant, as if remembering something.

Maybe, just maybe, she could let herself go for once. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she moved around the counter towards them. "Hi. I am Ginny..."


	8. Chapter 7

_A/N Finally we get to Harry's return. There is a lot of information and not everything will be explained in this chapter._

Standing under the blazing sun in the middle of an ancient abandoned city stood a taller and more muscular Harry Potter. The man that stood there was very different from the scrawny uncertain boy who had arrived in this age two years before. The last time that he had been here was when he had emerged from the gateway that now stood before him. The twin columns, similar to the pair in Hogwarts, rose into the air. Motionless he studied them. His emerald green eyes were much harder than they were when he had left Hogwarts, they held a tinge of coldness in them now. Not a heartless cold, but one of someone who had seen an experienced much suffering. With his mind focused on images far away, the young man almost didn't hear the sound of approaching feet. With reluctance he turned away to face the oncoming person.

Harry was not surprised to find a very tall, red haired man standing before him. "We will miss you Harry," the man said to Harry. His gray-blue eyes were piercing. Few people could hold his gaze, Harry being one of the few. The man, almost six foot seven was powerfully built. He wore a red coat embroidered with golden dragons. If his height, nor bright coat did not catch a person's attention then the sword on his hip would. The sword in itself was not odd, the fact that it was a Heron marked blade was. It was strapped to his side and his hand rested on it easily. Anyone who knew what the mark meant or could see how at ease he was with the sword would know that the man knew how to use it.

"It was... an interesting journey, Rand," Harry replied, extending his right hand to the man. In the heat both their sleeves were rolled up. Their two hands met and the dragons engraved onto their forearms shone in the midday sun. The red and gold scales of each dragon glittered brightly. When he had received them on the day he arrived, Harry had almost thought them alive. He and Rand had one on each forearm. The markings were unique to them. To him they were the fulfilment of the prophecy that he had heard just weeks before receiving them. _Twice marked the Dragon_, the words echoed in his mind almost each time he studied the markings. Looking at them now, he could not help but feel satisfied. He had found the power. Nearly from the day he disappeared his life changed. He was forced to exercise, while being taught to fight. Above all else, he learned to control the One Power, the force that turned the Wheel of Time.

Harry wore a simple black uniform with no decorations on it except for two golden dragons that were pinned onto his collar on top of a patch of seven banded colours. The dragon pins were a unique reference to the dragons engraved on his arms. Anyone else wearing that uniform only had a single dragon. A silver sword would be in the place of the second dragon. The seven striped badge indicated his rank, this however was unique only to him. Any other man only had a single band of colour.

Rand laughed at Harry's downplaying of the events of the past years. Fighting in the greatest war the world had seen in thousands of years had been more than just interesting. Turning around, Rand beckoned another man in a black uniform, like Harry's, towards him. The man held a long box in his arms. A few years ago Harry would have guessed that it held a broom. There were no brooms in this place nor were there any other means of flying. The sight of the box made him all the more eager to step through the gateway that was behind him.

The man reached Rand and gave a slight bow of his head at both of them, "My Lords," the man said, opening the box reverently. Inside was an elegant blade. The bright light made the sword seem like it was on fire. It was curved slightly and reminded Harry somewhat of an eastern martial arts sword, the names of which he could never remember. What caught Harry's eye, however, was the Heron mark engraved on its side. It was a sword like Rand's, one wielded only by a true blade master. They were rare and few were reckless enough to wear one unless they had earned the right to it. Someone might pick a fight in order to get their hands on the sword. As a result you had to be willing to back up your claim to the title.

"I am not worthy to have a sword like this," Harry said eyeing the mark with reverence.

"Few deserve the title more than you do, Harry," Rand said with quiet authority. "A panel of blade masters conferred and we agreed unanimously that you deserve to be raised."

"But..." the protest from Harry was cut-off.

"No buts, Harry, this was decided weeks ago. We only just found a Heron marked sword to give to you." The tall man paused, his eyes bright. "You are able to give Lan a good fight, that is enough in the books of most."

There was little to argue, it was true. Harry was one of the few people who could survive a duel against Lan for any length of time. Rand himself could barely last longer than Harry. Besting Lan was another matter, but no one that he knew had managed that. Lan had been born with a sword in his hand. From the day that he could hold one he had been trained by some of the finest weapon masters.

There was little to no use in arguing. Rand had made a decision and there was nothing to be done to change it. With that realisation, the fight drained out of Harry. Slowly Harry's steady hand reached out towards the sword before removing it. There had been a strange viewing about him with a Heron marked sword, but he had never understood its meaning. With the blade out of the box the man scurried of quickly, his duty fulfilled.

The sword now held firmly in his hand, Harry cleared his mind. His body began to move, flowing effortlessly into a few, well-practised forms to feel the weight and balance of the blade. The sword was wrought by the One Power. It was lighter but much stronger than the one on his own hip. Rising up onto the balls of his feet he pivoted smoothly bringing the edge around in a perfect arc. Even though he was moving rapidly his movements were precise. Coming to rest he returned his gaze to Rand. "Thank you for this honour," Harry said, meaning it. To be judged worthy of the title meant more than the title itself to him.

"You might not need it where you are going, Harry. Especially from what you have told me of your world," Rand turned slightly and stared at the gateway. "But perhaps it will save your life one day, or that of a loved one," Rand said the last part with a slight grin. Ginny's name had come up a few too many times for Harry to deny that he had feelings for her. He still loved her, or so at least he thought. Yet, two years apart meant that little was certain anymore. A cold fear gripped him often and images of Ginny moving on haunted regularly.

"I hope that it will never come to that," Harry sighed as more images of Ginny flashed through his mind. "I will treasure it, though."

Rand merely nodded slowly. Noises came from around a corner. Harry stood straighter, if that was even possible. His powerfully built body was always upright and his movements were as graceful as a leopard stalking its prey. The source of the noise came into view, a man and a woman arguing. The woman was small and she wore a dark blue dress. Her dark hair hung about her shoulders and her penetrating gaze was fixed on the tall man. She was not really the source of the noise. The disturbance came from the angry protests of Lan, who was walking beside her. Even though he was not bonded to her anymore, as he was married and bonded to Nynaeve, he still cared for the woman.

"Will you not reconsider, Moiraine?" Lan asked. His voice was hard and held an edge to it. Much like Harry's own voice at times, or so he had been told.

"No, Lan. My time here is at an end. I have done that which was required and now I wish to accompany Harry to learn of his world," the small woman replied in a very calm voice. She had been having this argument for days now and Harry was still amazed at how calm she remained. Only Harry knew the real reason for her leaving.

"Moiraine Sedai," Harry greeted her formally with a slight bow when she reached them. He might be her superior when it came to rank, but she was still a woman whom he respected.

"Harry Sedai," she replied just as formally with a curtsy. The honorific added in place of Potter still felt strange to him. The title to him belonged only to woman. It had, however, been used by both men and women who could channel in previous ages.

Being a man that could wield the One Power he was part of the Black Tower. Moiraine, a woman who could channel, was part of the White Tower. Together they were all called Aes Sedai. Though until a few months ago only the women had been called Aes Sedai, the men having been known as Asha'man. The name had instilled to much fear in people. So it was decided to call them Aes Sedai as well.

Like the two halves of the One Power, the White Tower and the Black Tower worked together and against each other. Constant friction ensured that balance and order was maintained.

"Are you ready to go?" Harry asked Moiraine. She did not have any luggage with her, which confused him.

She glared at him like he was an idiot. "I assume that I will be needing new clothes once we get to this place you call home. Especially considering what you wore when I first met you."

A few years ago he would have blushed at a comment like that. Now he just stared at her with his eyes narrowed slightly, considering his reply. "That would be correct," he agreed at last, knowing that she was right. In fact, they would be needing a lot more than just clothes when they arrived back in England.

"So are we going or not?" She said impatiently. Lan looked like he wanted to protest, but like the man he was, he remained quiet. The tall man knew when it was worth arguing and when not. Moiraine had made up her mind and few things on earth could make her change it.

"Farewell, Rand," Harry said turning to face the red haired man. An unspoken message of support passed between them. With a final nod he shifted his attention to Lan. "Thank you for all your teaching and wise words. I will miss our practise bouts," Harry said to the man whose temples were growing gray and whose eyes wore years of suffering.

"May the Light shine upon your journey and your prophecies," Lan said. "Harry Sedai," he bowed low to the ground before turning to Moiraine. "Take care of yourself, Moiraine." Harry could hear the concern and care in his voice. They had known each other for years and he had thought her dead. Now he was losing her again.

"Take care of that wife of yours," Moiraine whispered softly placing a gentle hand on his arm. "If she loves you half as much as you do her then..." she stopped it was rare for her to be lost for words. "Good-bye al'Lan Mandragoran," she said before turning to Harry. "Open the gateway," the demand was clear yet it seemed as if she was not in control of herself.

With a confused shake of his head he faced the gateway. Taking a deep breath he reached towards saidin the male half of the One Power. The rush of saidin through him made him feel truly alive. The world around him grew sharper and the colours more vivid. The faint breathing of those around him grew louder. Reaching out with weaves of the One Power, he touched the gateway. It began to glow and vibrate, just the way it had in Hogwarts. It had taken months of studying in the Tower libraries to learn how to use it, and even then he had to figure most if it out himself from the scraps of knowledge that he could uncover.

The familiar tug to his chest told him that he had succeeded. Without thought he gripped Moiraine's arm with his free hand. The other still held his new sword. Slowly they walked towards the trembling gateway. Touching the surface, he began to shiver and his eyes closed instinctively. Her arm, which was pressed against his palm, shook as well. He could feel her body, like his, turn to ice for fraction of a second before it passed.

When the vibrations stopped and all that he could feel was Moiraine's warm arm, he opened his eyes. Relief washed over him, he was back in the familiar room again. The four chandeliers still hung burning constantly. Without needing to turn, he knew that the gateway was the same through which he had stepped two years ago. Inhaling the damp and stagnant air he grinned, it was Hogwarts. He had done it. He felt like jumping into the air and shouting, but refrained. To hold onto saidin meant that he had to be within a void, separate from emotions. Even though he could feel everything, his body almost felt detached.

Moiraine was standing next to him studying first the walls and then Harry. "Well?" She asked. Her dark eyes watching him for any sign of success. Releasing his hold on saidin, light and warmth returned to his eyes.

"This is the place. Now we just need to find out if all is as it should be outside this room," he replied, smiling genuinely, before releasing her arm from his grip.

His first action was to undo his belt so that he could move the scabbard from his hip to his back. Removing the old sword from its scabbard he placed it carefully in a corner where he would be able to retrieve it later. Next to go were pins from his collar and the seven striped badges. He placed them in his pocket. The Heron marked blade replaced the old one in the scabbard that was now firmly attached to his back. Seizing saidin again, it vanished from sight. Only direct contact would allow someone to know that it was there. A few more weaves made feeling it even more difficult.

Satisfied that everything was as it should be, he turned away from Moiraine and faced the empty room. Weaving a different set flows a gash formed in the air in front of them, it spiralled slightly before snapping into a rectangular shape. Without a backwards glance they stepped through the hole that had been formed in the air. They emerged in a dark abandoned alleyway. It was still early in the morning, the same time as it was when they left the other age. The side street hidden from the sun by tall buildings remained shrouded in shadows and was still rather cold.

Harry was about to walk out before a tiny hand stopped him. "Aren't you forgetting something," she said. Harry made no audible reply. The only reaction came in the form of the air warping around him. His hair changed from black to a deep shade of red, similar to Rand's. His green eyes turned to gray and the now almost non-existent scar vanished. There was no need to hide his glasses since he did not wear them anymore. Lan's wife, an Aes Sedai, had discovered a new form of healing that had healed his eyesight.

Moiraine checked him over before nodding her approval. Lastly, Harry, tied off the weave and inverted it, effectively hiding it from view to any who would be able to see them. He was sure that no one alive would currently be able to see the flows, but oddities occurred, so they should not be discounted. With his appearance changed he let go of the One Power.

Satisfied that everything was in place, they exited the alleyway and headed straight towards Gringotts. It was the first place that he wanted to visit because it was the most likely place for news of him to spread. If he could fool the goblins with his disguise then he would get past most people. He hoped that the goblins still valued their clients' secrets, however, as he would have to reveal himself to gain access to his vault. He did not want to reveal himself, but he required Galleons so that he could buy supplies for Moiraine and himself.

Preparing her for the journey paid off as she gave only a slight start at the goblin guards in front of the bank. Her eyes were wide, but the goblins paid them little heed. There was little threat in two people. They also made no move towards him. He almost sighed in relief. They had not noticed his sword nor his disguise. He had been confident, but he had never been sure what goblins were able to see or not, as Gringotts was supposed to be the most secure location known.

Crossing the vast hall they reached a counter where Harry quickly managed to obtain a new key for his vault by means of a blood sample. His numerous demands for secrecy were taken in stride by the goblin clerk. The only visible reaction was that he seemed affronted that Harry had even deemed it necessary to ask. Harry shook his head slightly, little surprised him anymore, as he had enough experience with strange cultures and their customs.

While he was waiting for his key, Moiraine by his side was studying the bankers intently as they scurried about. Her keen mind was already sorting and filing useful information about them. While she was looking around, the clerk returned handing Harry a new vault key.

Feeling more confident, Harry followed the goblin towards a waiting cart that would take him down to his vault. Moiraine, unsure of what lay ahead, followed a little more uneasily than Harry. The journey as usual was fast and he revelled in the feeling. Moiraine, unlike him, did not enjoy the pace set by the goblin. Her pale complexion proved her dislike.

"You okay?" Harry asked Moiraine when they finally reached his vault. The grin on his face belied his concerns. The carts within Gringotts had a nasty habit of travelling rapidly and turning randomly. Doing so made it all the more difficult to locate vaults by oneself.

"I am perfectly fine," she said, straightening herself. Her eyes blazed and she stared at him. She made as if she had the appearance of someone half dead because that was what she wanted. Harry chuckled before stepping into his vault to remove a bagful of coins. The vault seemed much larger and fuller than he remembered, with a confused frown he closed the vault. He had some other business to attend to with the goblins.

Moiraine gave an almost imperceptible grimace when they climbed back onto the cart. She had hoped for a few minutes more to regain her balance. The ascent was rapid, but to her credit she appeared much better at the end of the second journey. "I would like to see a manager please," Harry asked the goblin who had shown him to his vault. With a nod the clerk led him to a small office. Being early in the morning on what appeared to be a weekend, the bank was oddly quiet, allowing him to walk straight in without an appointment.

An hour later, he and Moiraine finally left the bank. "First stop, Madame Malkin's," Harry said' quickly leading her across the small square to the store. They received a few odd glares, but most people were in too much of a hurry to comment or stare. Entering the store he was greeted with the musty smell of age. Some of the clothes inside had to be rather old.

The Aes Sedai was not impressed with the quality of cloth with which the robes were made of. The smell alone had been enough to make her agitated. Being of a noble family she was used to having the finest materials. To her these seemed second or even third rate. "Do you really expect me to wear these?" she said heatedly holding up an old coat. To her credit, her voice had remained quiet, at least. The faint goosebumps on his skin made him believe that she had channelled to form a small privacy ward around them as an added precaution.

"This is what everyone wears, including the lords and ladies," Harry said throwing a few pairs of what had been fashionable robes at her. Things evolved slowly in the Wizarding world, so he assumed that they were still proper to wear. Two years would not have changed that much, surely. "Go try them on in there," Harry said ushering her into an abandoned dressing room. She looked agitated and fingered the cloth rapidly before she complied and entered. Watching her close the door, he sighed before running his hands through his hair.

While she was inside, he collected a number of robes including a new set for Hogwarts. He had grown a lot taller and his previous scrawny body was a distant memory. Like Moiraine, he had also grown used to fineries. Going back to second hand clothes from his cousin, even though they might fit now, was not an option.

Trying on the robes he was finally satisfied with the right size. With that in mind he scoured the store piling up a large amount of clothes. He liked to be clean and neat these days; the slobbish, untidy Harry was long gone. Discipline and hard work changed a man.

The Aes Sedai finally enlightened him with her presence again. Her dark eyes did not seem pleased, but she managed to determine her proper size. "May I help you, dear?" Madame Malkin said at last from her chair in the corner where she had been asleep.

"I think we can manage," Harry answered slowly in as friendly a voice as he could manage. Only a tinge of coldness touched it. She shrugged and settled back down again. A few minutes later he had to wake her again so that he could pay. Madame Malkin's eyes bulged at the large quantity of clothes and she eagerly worked out the bill. Fishing in his Gringotts bag, he pulled out the necessary Galleons and paid her.

Before leaving the store, they changed into some of their new clothes with the permission of the owner. Moiraine seemed a little perturbed about asking this woman for permission to do something so mundane. Aes Sedai rarely needed to ask for anything, they just did what they wanted because that was always for the best – an arrogance that nearly cost the Aes Sedai dearly during the war that he had just fought in.

"Time to get some wands," Harry said as soon as they stepped out of the store, his hands filled with bags of clothes. The sun was shining down on them now and the air was considerably warmer. It felt like the last sun of the summer. That made him wonder what the date was.

"Do we really need those stupid ter'angreals?" Moiraine asked again. This topic had been debated heatedly over the last few days.

"They are called wands. And yes we do. People do not go about performing wandless magic here. We will draw a lot of unwanted attention. Like I said, all you have to do is hold it while you perform your weaves." She still did not look pleased, but she followed him down the next street towards Ollivander's. Harry was in charge. She had demanded to come and therefore she had to obey. With Harry being of higher rank, she would have had to take his orders in any case.

They reached the shop and entered. The place was just as he remembered it. Piles of boxes containing wands were stacked from floor to ceiling. The smell of freshly carved and oiled wood hung in the air. "Ah, here to get a wand?" Mr Ollivander said when he emerged from the back, looking as bubbly and joyful as he could manage, which was even less than Harry could manage these days.

"Two wands," Moiraine said, playing her part as the mother. Ollivander nodded thoughtfully but said nothing. A mother and a seventeen year old boy requiring wands was rare event indeed. Most wizards only ever owned one wand and they got that when they first started at Hogwarts.

Finding wands for the two of them was tricky. Harry went through countless wands. In the end, Harry faked a few sparks with a unicorn and holly wand, trying his best to imitate what had happened last time. Moiraine, catching on to what Harry had done, did the same shortly afterwards with a dragon heartstring and maple wand.

"Excellent, excellent," Ollivander said, looking disgruntled but pleased all the same that he had managed to find them wands. Harry could see his confused expression as he determined what the wands would cost. "That would be 14 Galleons, 7 for each," he said deep in thought. Harry handed him the money and turned to leave. When they were almost at the door he heard the man mutter, "Interesting, I had the boy down as phoenix core. Interesting." Harry left the store behind Moiraine wondering how the man knew what he did.

"What was that he muttered?" she asked once they were outside. The mood in the streets still seemed oddly quiet, but the amount of people around was increasing. Though Harry had been sure that it had been more lively before he left.

"He is very good with finding wands that fit people. He told me once that a wand chooses the wizard." Harry paused, his watchful eyes glancing up and down the street for any signs of a threat. "I think he saw something odd, even if he could not explain it."

"Hungry?" Harry asked her suddenly.

She gave him a quick look before replying, "I could do with a good meal." They began to walk, both of them gliding along gracefully, towards a new restaurant called the Windswept Broom. The name had caught Harry's eye earlier and he was determined to see the inside. "I hope the food is better than the cloth," she grumbled, as they continued further down the street.

"I am sure that we will find it satisfactory," Harry answered, with a name like that he was sure that he would. His grey eyes kept roving about, resting for a fraction of a second on each person, studying them for any sign of a threat. Death Eaters were known to be overt but that was no reason not to be cautious. The familiar weight of a sword on his back was comforting, though he would have preferred it on his hip where his hand could rest on the hilt.

Entering the restaurant Harry found them an empty table in a secluded corner. There was little light shining on the table and it offered both of them a clear view of the other patrons. Brooms decorated the walls along with countless posters and jerseys of the various Quidditch teams. Scanning the walls he paused at a particular jersey. It was a Gryffindor jersey and it had his name on it. Underneath was a photo of him with snitch in hand. Forcing himself to look away, he studied the rest of the place. It was nearly empty with only two other tables occupied. By the haggard look of the two wizards sitting there, they had been working all night. They had the appearance of Ministry workers, perhaps they were Aurors, or maybe just overworked staff.

"Interesting place this. Very different from a tavern, but yet similar in some aspects," she spoke while they sat waiting for someone to serve them. He did not pay attention to Moiraine as she continued to talk, he was too busy reliving his days flying at Hogwarts. The memories were so vivid that he could almost feel the air rushing through his hair, the fluttering wings of the snitch the moment before he grasped it, the sensation of knowing that he had won the game for Gryffindor.

"Hi, I am Ginny and I will be serving you today," Harry bit back a curse as his head spun up to see if he heard correctly. He almost cursed again. Harry looked away quickly, his heart pounding in his chest. Why had he reacted like that?

"Hi, dear," Moiraine said ensuring that Ginny was watching her and not focusing on Harry's pale face before it gave him away. "What was it that you wanted... two butterbeers for now, thank you."

"Two butterbeers," Ginny repeated before looking back at Harry who by this time had managed to regain some of his composure. A little bit of colour tinged his cheeks as he ducked his head and pointedly tried not to look at her.

"Yes, thank you," he said in a hoarse voice. She turned and he was sure that he heard her giggle softly when she was a few tables away. "Light!" Harry muttered throwing up a privacy ward. "Did you see her coming?" he felt angry but it came out exasperated. Ginny had been a few feet from him. She was the last person he expected to have bumped into. Considering the name of the place it did not surprise him to see her working here. Strange, the war must have calmed a bit if her mother had allowed her to work.

"Of course, but how was I supposed to know that she was your Ginny," she shrugged, but the slight gleam in her eye told him that even if she had not known she had suspected at least. "There must be hundreds of girls that look like her," she added in her defence. Her voice was far too casual, she had known of course.

"She is powerful in the Power," Moiraine added thoughtfully, "Just like you suspected."

"She is something, isn't she?" Harry said dreamily, unknowingly staring at Ginny who was busy behind the counter. Her brown eyes lifted and locked onto his gray. Immediately she blushed before turning away. His own cheeks burned again. "It is awfully hot in here," Harry said, tugging at the collar of his new robes.

"If you say so," Moiraine replied sarcastically. "She is the only one that I noticed today that could channel," she added when Harry did not reply. He nodded to the comment, but continued to study her. "Leave the poor girl. If you keep studying her like that she will be bound to drop something."

Harry blinked and glared at Moiraine, "You're right," he sighed, thinking about how she had reacted when she was younger. His feelings were suddenly knotted in confusion. What was he supposed to do? The plan was not to tell anyone who he was, but seeing Ginny made him want to do only one thing. He wanted to – , no needed to – hold her in his arms. The desire burned deep within him. An unquenchable fire raged, that demanded to be put out, and only the fiery red-haired girl could do that. How was he supposed to be with her without revealing himself? His head began to throb as hundreds of scenarios spiralled through his mind.

When she walked towards them he studied her from the corner of his eyes. The way she moved enticed him. He could not remember her being so curvy. He shook his head, he had been gone for two years, of course the girl he knew had developed into a young woman – a beautiful, attractive, sexy woman. Just thinking about the way she looked now made his throat go dry. She was almost of age by now. The colour of her hair had deepened and it contained even more shades of red than before. It was still long, but slightly shorter than she had worn it previously. He wanted to smile, instead he focused intently on the opposite wall making as if he was studying a broom. The broom was however not what he was seeing. She came closer. From the corner of his vision he could tell that her hair suited her well.

"Here you go," she said politely, placing the first drink in front of Moiraine. While she was handling his drink he noticed the slight quiver in her hand. The contents almost spilled onto the table before she managed to get it down.

"Thank you, dear," Moiraine said. Harry had told her to refrain from using the word 'child.' People would take offense and he could hear her voice strain slightly when she said 'dear.' Knowing Ginny even better, he was sure that she would have gone into a towering rage at being called a child.

Harry and Moiraine placed their orders and Ginny left them to inform the kitchen. A fresh unopened newspaper was stuck into a small rack by the door. Noticing it for the first time Harry got to his feet to retrieve it. Scanning it quickly while he walked he found what he was looking for, the date. "August 30th," he muttered under his breath as he sat down again. He looked slightly worried at seeing that date.

"That means?" she asked. Moiraine understood how the calendar worked, but not the significance of the 30th.

"It means that school starts in two days. It means that we have to get hold of Dumbledore today so that I can enrol at Hogwarts," Harry said in a harsh voice.

"No need to take that tone with me," Moiraine said back firmly. Had he not outranked her in the Tower she would have given him a good tongue-lashing for his outburst. Referring to him as Harry was already difficult for her. However, she did not need an excuse to teach him a few lessons in manners. Harry had the decency to look ashamed about his rudeness.

A few minutes later Ginny returned with two plates of food. "I hope that you enjoy these," she added politely again. This time Harry noticed the strain in her voice. She was not as completely in control as he had first thought. Her trembling hands seemed to be the least of her problems around him. He glanced up and straight into her soft brown eyes. They were studying him. They seemed lost, but a small glimmer of light was beginning to shine within their depths.

"Thank you, Ginny," Harry said earnestly. The desire to just grab her and kiss her was building rapidly inside him. His exterior remained calm, however. He had to remain distant, he could not interfere with their lives till it was all done. Voldemort came first.

She blushed slightly again, averting her eyes to study the salt and pepper shakers. "Um..." she bit her lip nervously. "I do not recognise you. Are you a Hogwarts student?"

"No," Harry said, glancing at Moiraine who was doing an admirable job of not laughing. A few dimples were forming on her cheeks, however. Fighting down his feelings for Ginny and his frustrations at Moiraine, he explained. "We have just moved back to England and we are going to the Headmaster today, to see if I can still enrol at Hogwarts." She smiled. It was a genuine smile, though a tinge of sadness creased her eyes when she managed to face him again.

It mirrored his to some degree. He had lost even more than just Ginny over the past two years. "I hope to be seeing you there, then," she said hurriedly before almost running off, she stopped and turned back. "Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster, is a good man. I am sure that he will allow you to... you know, come to Hogwarts," she added before scurrying away.

Moiraine laughed at last. "Ta'veren and the ones they love!" she said after a few bites of her food. Harry looked at her, confused. "You are Ta'veren. You weave the pattern around you and Ginny is bound to you. She is drawn to you just like you are drawn to her. The poor girl is horribly confused at the moment." She said all this like it was the most basic of observations. He ran a hand through his hair, studying Ginny just before she left the room. What was she thinking, he wondered? With a quiet sigh he began to eat.

"Explain," Harry said curtly after a few bites. He was growing agitated. "I have little want or patience for your riddles." It came out harsher than he would have liked. Just seeing Ginny was throwing him off-balance.

"She still loves Harry, but now she has developed an interest in you. A strange red-haired boy. Her feelings for you are confused by her attraction to you. Simple," she said taking another bite. "This pie is delicious," she added. Great, that made even less sense than before to him

Harry just sat there, silent, playing with his food idly and only taking a few bites. His attention kept being drawn to Ginny moving about behind the bar. Could Moiraine be right, was Ginny still in love with him?

"You will have to teach her," Harry said eventually, referring to Ginny's ability to channel the One Power.

"I know," she added softly, her dark eyes studying him.

The conversation lulled, allowing him to think. Being ta'veren would explain Ron's attitude towards him those few weeks before he left. A side affect of being ta'veren was that people tended to say things that they never would have dreamed of saying, had his presence not influenced them. Countless times before, he had seen people spill their deepest feelings or darkest secrets to Rand, all just because he was there. Ta'veren also increased the probability of an events occurrence, good or bad. Miracles combined with strange deaths, but always there was a balance.

Even before Ginny started dating Harry, Ron was inclined towards being an overprotective brother. He also had a hard time keeping his opinions to himself. When these attributes were combined with being in the proximity of a ta'veren, like Harry, those attributes were multiplied. If Ginny were also a ta'veren - which she might be, considering that she has the rare ability to embrace saidar in this world - then their combined effect would have left Ron with no chance to fight its power. There was just no way to know for sure, the effects of ta'veren were random and unpredictable.

They sat in silence again while he finished eating. Removing more than enough Galleons from his bag, he left her a tip that was more than the meal itself before leaving.

Diagon Alley was getting crowded. Most of the late weekend risers were out and about by now. He did not recognise anybody. He supposed that most students would have bought their supplies already. A flash of red hair caught his attention as a large group of Weasleys approached them. It took all of his willpower not to stare or greet them. Ginny came running out of the restaurant beaming, almost brushing him as she passed, in her hand were the Galleons he had left her. She noticed him as she passed and her famous Weasley blush graced her face. Harry's face stretched into a faint smile before he turned away.

Seizing saidin, he began to eavesdrop on the conversation that was developing behind him.

"Who was that guy you were staring at?" Ron muttered. So, he was still the playing protective brother. "He was smiling at you."

"A new student coming to Hogwarts and his mother. They left me a good tip," Ginny replied quickly trying to divert her brother's questions.

"Blimey," Ron muttered, presumably she had shown him the Galleons. That amount was more than a year's allowance. Probably more than she would have earned in a few weeks working at the Leaky Cauldron. "Probably trying to get into your..."

Harry could picture Ginny wand in hand when the sound of something swishing through the air reached him. "Don't finish that, Ron," her voice sounded threatening. Ron did not utter another word, but her brother could not help his chuckles.

Their conversation continued for a while. Ron had calmed down and even sounded as if he had matured since Harry had left. He must have listened intently, while Ginny described her meeting with Harry in the Windswept Broom, as Ron asked some interesting questions.

"So you finally giving up on Harry," her mother's voice came. It sounded resigned, as if she wanted Ginny to move on but at the same time mourned at the idea.

"I just met him, mother," she added hastily. The reply was too quick for someone who had nothing to hide. Harry almost smiled, even though Mrs Weasley's words pained him. A little part of him, the jealous part, had hoped that she had not moved on. Seeing her unhappy was even worse.

"Finished listening to her professing her love for you, Harry," Moiraine added. Letting go of the power, he tried to retort, but she was right. He should not be eavesdropping. Letting go of the One Power was never pleasant. The world seemed so mundane without it. He had to let go eventually, saidin was too addictive. Holding onto it for too long could lead to death. Even though he could channel for hours, the years had taught him to use it as little as possible. As life giving as it appeared, the One Power was too powerful for any man or woman to hold onto for too long.

To his horror he blushed because of his silence. "Better not call me Harry anymore, someone might overhear," he finally managed to say, changing the subject. Embarrassed and with red cheeks, he still managed to keep his head up, back straight, and his gaze level, continuously studying his surroundings.

She nodded, "Okay, Rand Damodred." The name had been chosen because it would be easy to remember. Rand was a name they both knew well and Damodred was Moiraine's last name. Acting as her son, it made sense for him to use it.

"I am done listening," Harry finally admitted to her.

Without looking back, they disappeared into the same narrow alley that they had used to when they arrived. Weaving a gateway Harry and Moiraine stepped out into a small clearing behind a line of trees hiding it from view. A large iron gate could be seen through the scattered bushes, the entrance to Hogwarts.

"Ready," Harry said growing slightly frustrated with the bags that he was still carrying. He had thought about stowing them, but they added to the appearance of being new to the area and desperate, since they arrived at short notice. Anything that would aid the process helped.

"Of course, Rand," she replied, looking her usual serene self. Her ageless face was turned to the enormous structure of Hogwarts. Gesturing for her to lead, he followed her up out of the clearing towards the path that led up to the school.

_**Glossary **_

_Taken from the glossary of Robert Jordan's books. If there are any items that you would like to be explained more, let me know. _

_Aes Sedai (EYEZ seh-DEYE): Wielders of the One Power. Widely distrusted and feared. At the same time few rulers are without an Aes Sedai advisor, even where such a connection must be kept secret. After years of channelling the One Power, Aes Sedai take on an ageless quality._

_Ajah (AH-jah): Societies among the Aes Sedai, seven in number and designated by colours: Blue, Red, White, Green, Brown, Yellow and Gray. All the Aes Sedai, except the Amyrlin Seat, belong to one. Each follows a specific philosophy._

_Amyrlin Seat (AHM-ehr-lin SEAT): Leader of the Aes Sedai, elected for life._

_Angreal (anh-gree-AHL): Objects that allow anyone capable of channelling to handle a greater amount of the Power than is safe or even possible unaided. Some were made for use by women, others for men. Sa'angreal are like angreal, but allow even more to be channelled. _

_Channel (verb): To control the flow of the One Power._

_Five Powers: There are threads to the One Power, named according to the sorts of things that can be done using them – Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Spirit – which are called the Five Powers. A wielder of the Power will have a greater strength with one, or possibly two, but rarely more. Spirit is equal in men and women. Men generally have greater ability with Earth and Fire, while women are more adept at Water and Air._

_One Power: The power drawn from the True Source. The vast majority of people are unable to channel the One Power. A very small number can be taught, and an even tinier number have the ability inborn. These few need to be taught; eventually they will channel if they want to or not, often without realising what they are doing. This inborn ability usually manifests itself in late adolescence or early adulthood. If control if not taught or self-learned, death is certain._

_ta'veren (tah-VEER-ehn): A person around whom the Wheel of Time weaves._

_ter'angreal (TEER-ahn-GREE-ahl): Unlike angreal, each ter'angreal was made to do a particular thing. Some require channelling, while others may be used by anyone._

_True Source: The driving force of the universe, which turns the Wheel of Time. Divided into the male half (saidin) and the female half (saidar), which work at the same time with and against each other. Only a man can draw on saidin, only a woman on saidar._

_Wheel of Time, the: Time is a wheel with seven spokes, each spoke an Age. As the Wheel turns, Ages come and go, each leaving memories that fade to legend, then to myth, and are forgotten by the time that Age comes again. The Pattern of Age is slightly different each time an Age comes, and each time it is subject to greater change._

_I hope that things are not too confusing. Harry's past and more will be revealed slowly as the rest of the story develops, so please be patient._

_Please review. I am still busy editing the story, so if something is severely lacking in your opinion please let me know. And reviews are just great._


	9. Chapter 8

_A/N Thanks for reading. If you have the time, please leave a review. Comments always make me think, allowing me to improve the later chapters. Hope you enjoy._

The sun now reaching its zenith warmed the Scottish countryside. Cloudless days like these were rare this far north. Standing there, it felt strange to Harry to see the school from this distance. It was almost as if it had only been yesterday that he had stood studying the battlements of the old structure. The tall towers that soared into the sky had once impressed him with the images of power that they portrayed. Now they seemed inconsequential compared to some of the castles he had seen. The most breathtaking of all was the city of Tar Valon that held at its centre the White Tower that stretched into the sky, dwarfing the structures around its base. Hogwarts seemed aged and uncared for, almost primitive. All the same, Hogwarts was still his home.

"Are you coming?" Moiraine's voice broke through his stupor.

"Yes," Harry replied, forcing himself to follow her up the narrow winding path that led to the school. Being back felt surreal, so much so that he was sure it was a dream. The familiar rocky path meandered past the lake and even Moiraine took a moment to study the smooth surface of the water that reflected the bright blue sky above and the trees on the opposite bank. "It is good to be back," Harry said softly to himself. He was standing straight with his head held high, an image of poise, but inside he wanted to huddle into a little ball. Ginny's presence had truly confused him.

"I suppose it is," she replied before moving off again. Continuing up the trail, they eventually reached the school itself.

Once inside, they were immediately confronted by the small but imposing figure of Professor McGongall. Careful not to show any signs of recognition, he allowed her to introduce herself. He supposed one of the multiple wards that they had passed through had alerted her to their presence. It was odd seeing the weaves of the numerous wards surrounding the school – those woven of saidin at least. Moiriane had pointed out various ones woven from saidar that he had could not see. Putting both sets together, he began to understand why Hogwarts was deemed such a secure place.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," the woman began. Her voice betrayed a bit of irritation at being disturbed and he thought a bit of nervousness as well. Harry was slightly startled by her appearance. He could not recall ever seeing her flustered or nervous. Then again, he supposed that he had become much better at reading people and listening to the smallest nuance in a voice for signs of emotion and weakness. Knowing if someone was being dishonest could make the difference between life and death. "I am the Deputy Headmistress, Professor Minerva McGonagall," she continued. The tension in her voice subsided slightly with the second part. Her eyes were still slightly narrowed suspiciously, her lips thin.

"Thank you. I am Moiraine Damodred," Moiraine replied, before gesturing towards Harry.

"Hello, Professor, I am Rand," he added quickly, before Moiraine would have had to introduce him. McGonagall glanced at him curiously, but nodded all the same before focusing on Moiraine again.

"I know that it is only a few days before school starts, but I would like for him to be enrolled here for the coming year," Moiraine continued.

McGonagall eyed Harry carefully for a second time. His erect posture and steady gaze almost made her falter, but she nodded after a while. "I will take you to see the Headmaster." Her voice was slightly calmer than before, but her lips remained pursed. Harry was relieved that she had relented, even though she had no real reason to deny them an audience with the Headmaster.

Again his forewarnings about things like moving and talking portraits paid dividends as Moiraine remained unflustered at passing them. The gossiping between the various portraits increased steadily the closer they came to Dumbledore's office. They made little effort to conceal their blatant study of the pair following McGonagall.

"This is a fascinating school," Moiraine said aloud. Harry gave her a quick look, but nodded in understanding. It would seem strange if they did not comment on the school, seeing as neither of them were supposed to have been here before. It might have been true for her and she did indeed look fascinated by it all.

McGonagall took the comment in her stride, almost as if she expected it. "The school is well over a thousand years old. Built by the four founders for the sole purpose of teaching young minds the fine arts of Magic…" she continued to go into some detail about the four founders and the school houses. Moiraine listened with rapt attention. He had told her about some things, but McGonagall's refined, well practised, summary filled many of the gaps. He, on the other hand, just studied the school, remembering past memories. To his surprise a large number of corridors and corners held memories of him with Ginny. Not only memories of his last week, but images going back all the way to her first year. Thinking about it made him realise again just how much he had always liked and later loved her.

Ginny had looked good back at the Windswept Broom. Not that he should have been surprised, but seeing her now as a young woman instead of little girl had been a pleasant surprise. Knowing that she still held onto the hope of seeing him again created a warm feeling inside him. The warmth melted some of the coldness about his eyes. He wanted to hit himself, he had to stop thinking about her. Yet, he could not get the image of her deep brown eyes or the sound of her voice out of his mind.

He felt disgusted with himself when they reached the Headmasters office and he still had not managed to stop his musings. He barely glanced at the Gargoyles before they moved aside and McGonagall led them up the stairs. He had not heard her repeat a password.

They entered the office. Harry wanted to grin at seeing everything just as he remembered it. The strange contraptions filled the room and the multiple portraits of the old headmasters were feigning sleep as usual. "Professor Dumbledore, I would like you to meet Moiraine and Rand Damodred," the elderly professor said before turning to leave. Her exit was rather rapid. He watched her descend the stairs.

"Afternoon, Mrs Damodred, Rand. Please excuse the professor, she is rather pressed for time at the moment," Dumbledore said in greeting. His bright blue eyes sparkled as usual. Rounding his desk while he spoke, he extended his hand.

Moiraine shook his hand and so did Harry. "Thank you for seeing us, Professor Dumbledore," Moiraine replied. The slight tinge of annoyance in her voice belied her calm exterior. Greeting someone with their title while withholding hers, vexed her. She was a proud woman who grew up in a strict social structure – a structure in which she was very high up indeed.

"It is a pleasure," Dumbledore replied, with a shake of his head and a chuckle. "Please sit down. Make yourself comfortable. " Moiraine and Harry complied and settled down into the two soft chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk. Dumbledore seated himself on his chair again. It was subtly higher than theirs, ensuring that his guests always looked up at him. That was something that Harry had never noticed before. It was subtle, but effective in providing a subconscious air of superiority.

"Sweet?" he asked holding out his usual bowl of sugary sweets. Both declined. "What might I be able to help you with?" he asked after he took one for himself.

"We have just arrived in England and I thought that it might be nice for Rand to attend Hogwarts so that he could get up to speed with his studies." She had remembered well, which had not been a concern, but it was good to hear her say the words effortlessly.

"We do not often take older students…" Dumbledore began.

"I just turned seventeen. I believe that means that I should be a seventh year," Harry interrupted Dumbledore. A flash of indignation passed over the Headmaster's blue eyes at being interrupted. When it passed, Dumbledore began to study Harry carefully. A tinge of nervousness fluttered in Harry's stomach. Even though he had changed his appearance, he still held most of his features. The only major change had been his hair and eye colour.

"You look much older. I apologise," Dumbledore said finally. His eyes swept over Moiraine and Harry was sure that he was recalculating her age as well. His brow creased slightly and Harry almost laughed.

Aes Sedai had ageless faces. At first glance they appeared no older than twenty-five, look again and you would say that they have aged to a very good forty. Only then would you notice some gray hairs or some other distinctive feature. Some Aes Sedai were well over 300 years old and the only sign of age would be their gray hair. They called it slowing. When a woman began to channel, her ageing slowed and her features began to morph into the pure, creaseless face that held no age.

"What is your current level of knowledge?" Dumbledore asked. Just being seventeen would not ensure his immediate placement into the final year of NEWTS.

"He has been home schooled. Defence and Potions should be easy for him to learn the prescribed material, he is quite proficient in those two. I have not taught him any Runes, but he might manage, if he so wishes. Transfiguration and charms should be a breeze as well, all things considered," Moiraine said calmly. Harry nodded as well.

Dumbledore did not look impressed or pleased. "Can you perform a few basic spells for me to see?" It was not a question but a very subtle demand. Of course the man would demand proof.

Getting to his feet, Harry removed his new wand from his pocket. His old phoenix core wand was inside a small compartment on the side of his scabbard. The Headmaster was one person who would instantly recognise his old wand. Dumbledore eyed the new wand carefully and then turned his eyes onto Harry, who was satisfied that Dumbledore did not recognise the wand.

Embracing saidin, Harry's features morphed. His expression became blank as he slipped into the void. However, his eyes held a touch of pleasure at being able to hold onto the One Power. Gripping his wand tightly he wove weaves of air, earth and water, creating a small metal cup on the desk. Keeping his eyes on Dumbledore, he was pleased to see the Headmaster blink in confused surprise. Conjuring a metal goblet like the one he did was tricky. Doing it without an incantation was rare, even among adults. Dumbledore's fingers stroked his beard thoughtfully.

With flows of air Harry began to manipulate some of the objects on the desk by animating them. Again this was done silently. The main reason for doing so was not to impress him with his abilities. Rather it was because he did not know the incantation. He had given it some thought over the past few weeks and decided that it would be better to display an uncanny ability with non-verbal spells than to spout strange words.

"Very good...Rand," Dumbledore said, slowly leaning back into his chair. "That will be enough," he added, placing his fingertips together in thought. "It appears that you are very talented. Even if your wand movements are not very precise, the outcome is." His speech was slow with his mind busy. Like Ollivander earlier, Dumbledore had noticed oddities that could not be explained. As far as Harry was aware, no one knew about the One Power or how to channel.

Looking into the calculating eyes of Dumbledore, Harry knew what the old man was thinking. The Headmaster's first thought was probably if they were Death Eaters sent to infiltrate the school. He probably shrugged that off quickly. Harry was sure that Voldemort already had more than enough spies in the school. Secondly, the crude wand movement with near perfect results pointed strongly towards wandless magic. Yet, that in itself was preposterous. How could a young, magically undeveloped child perform such powerful magic? The simple answer was that according to modern magical theories, he could not.

With those two questions asked and dispelled Dumbledore made a decision. "If you will follow me." Standing he led them towards a secluded corner where an ancient looking book sat carefully on a small wooden pedestal. It was open and a long list that contained the names of all the current and former students could be seen. Every name written in the distinctive green ink of Hogwarts.

Moiraine said nothing, but Harry was sure that she was comparing it to the book of novices back in the White Tower. Studying the book, Harry missed Dumbledore's wand movements. The quill that was lying next to the book lifted into the air and pricked Harry, drawing some of his blood.

Harry did not flinch, but he could see the impending disaster. With his blood, the quill was bound to write down the name he was born with. His skin tingled and goosebumps erupted on his skin under his long robes. The quill gave a slight jerk so faint that only if you had known what was happening would you have seen it.

As the quill tried to write, Moiraine bludgeoned it into writing his alias. Slowly the quill moved along writing with clear precise strokes, "Rand Damodred." For the first time in a while, a genuine smile broke out onto the Headmaster's face. He believed that the quill could not be tampered with. Harry was who he said he was.

The most obvious answer was always the one that no one ever saw. People had probably tried for ages to get the quill to lie, while all that they had to do was force it will flows of air to write what they wanted it to while the quill was merrily writing something else.

"I think that settles your acceptance into Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, rubbing his palms together, eager to have a talented new student under his rood.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Harry said, extending his hand to shake Dumbledore's, careful not to reveal the Dragon tattoos on his forearm. He should probably place a weave around them as well.

"Yes, thank you," Moiraine said decidedly, deliberately not using any titles. She was touchy when she wanted to be.

"You will have to board the Hogwarts Express that leaves at nine am from Platform 9 ¾ on the Monday," Dumbledore added, handing him a letter of acceptance and a ticket. Harry stared at the ticket and wondered why they were given them. He had never used it before. The thickness of the envelope told him that the list of required supplies would be inside as well.

Taking the letter and saying their good-byes they left the office and retraced their steps back out of the school grounds. "That went as well as could have been expected," Harry said when they finally stepped through the wards by the gate.

"I suppose. Fighting that quill was unexpected though," she replied, but her dark eyes glinted. She had obviously enjoyed it.

"That was well done, Moiraine Sedai," Harry complemented her.

"Thank you, Harry Sedai," she added with a smile. With a grunt Harry turned to weave another gateway once they had disappeared from view.

Emerging back at Diagon Alley, Harry and Moiraine made their way back to the Windswept Broom. He had noticed that the pub had a few rooms to rent and they required a place to stay for the night. Outwardly calm, he was a ball of tension inside, wondering if Ginny was going to be there. Each step closer made another knot in his stomach.

With a sigh of frustration and relief, he spotted her cleaning the counter behind the bar when he entered. "Hello there miss," Moiraine said, drawing Ginny's attention to them. Harry would have given her a pointed glare if he had been able to take his eyes off Ginny.

"Hello," she replied, her cheeks tinged a little at seeing Harry again. The colour brought her freckles to life.

"We would like to rent a room for the night, if that is possible." Harry kicked her gently without drawing attention. "Sorry, two rooms, if that is possible."

"Two rooms," Ginny repeated opening a small book that listed vacancies. "We have two rooms available that are next to one another," she said, checking the book meticulously. "There is no door joining the rooms," she added with concern.

"Thank you, that is quite alright. Rand here doesn't need to be tucked into bed each night," Moiraine replied with a mischievous grin. Harry's face flushed partly with anger, the rest came from Ginny's laugh and shy looks.

Before she could embarrass herself further, Ginny ducked behind the counter and rummaged for the keys. When she disappeared from view, Harry rounded on Moiraine. He could tell that it took all the woman's self control to not burst out laughing. Muttering under his breath about revenge, he turned away from her, crossing his arms indignantly. The bags in his hands protested at being squashed together.

Seeking the void, he poured his emotions into the flame. His eyes grew colder, he could see her chuckle but it did not affect him any more. His breathing eased and his heated cheeks cooled. Satisfied that he was in control again, he let go of the void, allowing some warmth to return to his features.

After a lengthy search which Harry was sure was due to her trying to wait for her own blushes and laughter to subside, she eventually emerged from underneath the counter holding up a pair of keys. Her eyes sparkled and she looked beautiful as the soft light that shone through one of the windows bathed her body. Her red hair dazzled, showing off the multitude of shades that it possessed as if to show him just how pretty she was. Sadly, she moved away from the light, leaving him with only a memory. Moiraine brushed past him, tapping him gently on the head to wake him. Closing his eyes he exhaled before following.

Entering the first room, Harry noticed that it was sparsely decorated, but it held a double bed. The theme of the restaurant was continued in the rooms. This one was decorated in the colours of the Harpies with a signed jersey hanging above the fireplace. "This is the larger of the two rooms," Ginny said, her own eyes studied the room almost in envy. Moiraine took half a step to leave, but was stopped by Harry. Being the mother she could take the all-witches room.

"It is rather quaint," she said, studying the decorations, her voice faint. Her nostrils flared slightly in distaste, but for a room this was more than adequate. Taking her bags from Harry she began to unpack.

Ginny moved out the door and Harry followed. It felt odd being nervous. He had trained himself to be calm. Even before a battle he had been more calm. Oddly, Ginny turned back in the direction from which they had come before stopping at the first door they met. She looked only a bit abashed. "This is your room," she said softly, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands as she fumbled to open the door.

Eventually getting it open, she stepped inside and he followed her. Harry wanted to scream in horror at the orange colour that attacked his eyes. Squinting, he managed to find a single bed in the one corner. When his eyes adjusted to the room, he noticed that it was indeed much smaller than Moiraine's, but large enough for him. After all, he would only be sleeping inside the room .

"It is nice, thank you," was all that Harry could think to say while he walked towards the bed to place his bags on it. The fact that he wanted to redecorate the room was left unsaid.

"If that is all, I best be getting myself back downstairs," Ginny replied, biting her lip again before she turned to leave.

Harry stroked his hair nervously with his right hand, struggling with himself as he watched her leave. "Wait!" he called out just before she could close the door. "Um… what time do you finish?" he asked. He found himself standing a few feet from her. The tension in the room was palpable, to him at least.

She glanced at her watch quickly, "About another hour…at four... Did you get into Hogwarts?"

Harry's hand worked through his hair again, his left hand was clenched tightly behind his back. "Yes… yes, I did," he sounded almost relaxed now. An easy smile formed on his face when he noticed her entire face light up with joy.

"That's… good," she replied, smiling shyly again. Her eyes, downcast, stared at her hands.

"Would… I mean… I need to buy some school supplies. Would you be willing to help me around Diagon Alley?" he asked hopefully. For a moment, her face was radiant. Then she frowned, shaking her head.

"Sorry, but… you know the unrest and all… I have to go straight back home after work," she said despondently. Her smile disappeared and Harry could feel his heart sink.

"That's okay, I am sure that I will manage," he tried to remain upbeat, but it proved difficult.

"Well good-bye then…" she paused, waiting. The silence stretch for a few seconds. He did not want her to go. To his surprise neither did it look like she wanted to leave.

She began to turn, her hand closed around the handle of the door. "Rand… Rand Damodred," Harry said, supplying his name to her at last. He was desperate for her to stay.

Halting, she beamed back up at him. "See you on the train then, Rand," She replied.

"Good-bye, Ginny." He did not add a last name because he could not remember whether she had given it earlier.

Then she was gone. The door was closed and his life felt empty again. Falling back onto his bed he wove a strong privacy ward and screamed. He needed to release all the tension that had built up inside him during the day. Coming back had been much harder than he ever thought possible. Being in a foreign world where he held positions of rank and power, it had been easy to remain calm and in control of his emotions. It was expected of him. People looked up at him for leadership and support. Being back in England around Ginny, all those barriers of control vanished. Even the empty feeling left after the death of... No, he could not think about that yet. Nevertheless the pain had receded upon seeing Ginny. Alone in his bed, the painful void in him returned.

With his eyes closed and most of the tension out of his body, he began to feel uncomfortable. The scabbard on his back was pressing into his skin. Sitting up, he removed it and placed it next to him on the bed. Lying back down, he closed his eyes and tried to find the void so that he could pour his emotions into it.

He needed to keep himself focused on the task at hand. He was here to find and kill Voldemort. That was first and foremost. When that was done he could think about Ginny and his friends. It proved impossible. Try as he might he could not detach himself from his feelings for Ginny. The harder he tried, the stronger they became. Even hearing the voice of Ron haunted him. His friend had sounded so much older and wiser. He still teased Ginny, but he had not heard any malice in his voice.

Fighting the urge to go downstairs to see Ginny proved to be a losing battle. After just thirty minutes, he found himself sitting in the same corner again with a cup of red wine in his hand. He had grown use to drinking wine. Taking a sip he found that it was not half-bad, though it was not quite what he was used to.

Ginny eyed him askance whenhe ordered the pitcher of wine. "I am of age," he had said with a smile, while his chest nearly exploded with desire. So much so that he was convinced that she heard his heart beating in his chest. "I have grown used to having a glass or two, but no more," he had added and was graced with a pleasant smile.

"Wine is not really that bad I suppose," she had said, just before walking away, causing him to laugh. Growing up with Molly Weasley would force most people into becoming conservative. Ginny had an adventuresome spirit, abandoned dark corridors had proven that. Nonetheless, some preconceived ideas of proper behaviour had still been drilled into her.

He had not eaten in hours. His empty stomach allowing the wine to go to his head. It felt good to be relieved of some of his tensions, the wine helping to soothe him. Perhaps that was the reason for his occasional glass. Being careful and staying true to his word, he only drank two glasses of wine.

While he sat studying Ginny without her noticing, Moiraine joined him. Taking the second glass that Ginny had left for her, she poured herself some wine. When Ginny looked towards them again, she seemed to relax. He supposed that she was worried that Moiraine would be angry with him for drinking. Seeing her enjoying a glass with him soothed her.

"How are you holding out?" Moiraine asked while she was studying the contents of her cup. Breathing in the aroma she took a small sip. Tilting her head slightly to the side she seemed satisfied with the quality of the wine. "This is not bad," she continued, still waiting patiently for Harry's reply.

Leaning back in his chair, Harry studied her. "It is a lot harder than I had thought. Ginny…" He paused and his eyes darted towards her before settling back onto the red liquid inside his glass. Lifting it, he took another sip savouring the taste. He said no more, he did not need to.

Moiraine understood, losing Lan to Nynaeve had been hard on her. She had confided as much to him when he asked her why she wanted to come. She had come to like her Warder, even if he never returned her feelings. Seeing them together and knowing that she would never be able to make him smile the way Nynaeve did was difficult. Her only escape was with Harry, where she would perhaps find happiness.

"It is alright to feel this way, Rand. Even during the wars we fought, people had still loved. There is no point in pushing her away. Even Lan found love during the most troubled times, and that was far worse than what you are facing now," she continued to talk but he could not listen to her any more.

Could he really love her, could he place her in danger? He was not Harry Potter the Chosen One at the moment. He did not have a large target painted onto his back. Perhaps he could allow himself to grow closer to her. It had been a mistake two years ago to be with her. Maybe it was not one now.

"Perhaps," Harry said softly. They said no more. Each sat in silence, their own troubles haunting them, as the minutes ticked by.

Harry watched as Ginny said farewell to the owner who handed her some coins. Even from here he could see that it was a meagre amount. For a Weasley, however, it was more than they would get in a year. The memory of all the gold in his vault made him nauseous. With the money she had received in her pocket she stepped towards the fireplace and vanished in a flash of green flames.

"Gone to the Burrow," Harry said, sounding depressed. "I need to go," he added hastily, getting to his feet after he handed Moiraine a handful of galleons. She gripped his hand, pulling him back down again.

"Wait," she hissed. "I will join you. You can't really intend to leave me here alone."

Nodding in agreement, he left the proper amount on the table and left with Moiraine in tow. Finding their usual alley, he formed a gateway and stepped through.

Emerging on the other side he stared out at the valley stretching beneath them. They were on top of a small rise that overlooked the small town of Ottery-St-Catchpole. The afternoon sun bathed the entire area in its warm orange glow as it began to descend. The town was not the reason for him being here. What he wanted to see was just on the other side of the crest, the Burrow.

Climbing the last few meters to the crest of the rise, he lay down on the ground so as not to form a silhouette against the sky. Upon reaching the ridge, he inhaled deeply at the sight below. The Burrow was situated in a quiet secluded little nook where it was free from disturbances and prying Muggle eyes. The place looked strange, just as he remembered it, as if the various pieces were held together only by magic. Each piece attached haphazardly to the one next to it.

Ron and Hermione were sitting outside on the lawn, her head rested on his lap while she read a book. Ron was studying a magazine that could only have been about Quidditch. Seeing his two best friends confirmed his suspicions about Ron. He had matured and Hermione was the reason for his emotional growth. Hope blossomed in Harry.

A familiar flash of red in the house caught his eye. Ginny was pacing about in the sitting room before she disappeared. Probably to her room on the other side of the house. Harry's hiding place was some distance from the house, but even from here he could see the anxiety in her movements.

Mrs Weasley was in the kitchen, busy preparing dinner. The wonderful smell of her cooking reached them on top of the hill. Breathing in the scent deeply, he allowed himself to remember all the dinners that he had shared with them.

A few faint noises came from the shed outside the house. Mr Weasley was tinkering with Muggle objects, as usual. Lying there on the hard ground he could only imagine what mundane object was fascinating Ginny's father at the moment. It could be a plug or even a toaster. Maybe he had found something actually worth investigating.

Easing himself away and downhill again, he rolled on to his back and almost cursed. His sword pushed painfully into his back. With a grimace, he settled onto his side, staring out over the countryside. He longed to just walk over to them, but he couldn't. If no one knew that he was here, then no one could betray him, willingly or unwillingly. Who knew where rats like Pettigrew lurked these days?

"Find what you were looking for?" Moiraine asked next to him.

"Yes," he replied, not bothering to face her. He had found what he wanted. The Burrow was still standing and the Weasleys still looked relatively happy. The twins were not there, but he felt sure that they were still alive and laughing somewhere in the world.

Harry and Moiraine returned to Diagon Alley. It was getting rather late, but they managed to purchase all the items that he required for his upcoming school year. Fortunately they had decided to visit the bookstore last. The decision was made mainly because it was one of the last stores to close. Moiraine lost herself among the multitude of shelves filled with books. The libraries of the White Tower were vast. It was not the amount of books that captivated her, rather it was the variety of subject matter in areas that she knew nothing about, but wanted to study further. With a guilty look on her face, she asked if she could borrow some money in order to purchase some books.

A good hour after entering the bookstore they finally left, Harry with his hands full with NEWT textbooks and Moiraine under a pile of books ranging from healing to defence. Entering the Windswept Broom they received a number of curious stares. Harry just faked a smile before disappearing up the stairs.

After dinner they separated into their rooms. She was eager to dig into the subject matter that she had purchased. Harry did not mind, he wanted some time alone to think about what had happened during the day.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he removed his Heron-marked sword from its scabbard, allowing the last light from the setting sun to shine upon it. Holding it loosely in his hand, he moved it around in a few controlled arcs. The balance and weight was perfect. Even though he had used his other sword for almost two years since Lan gave it to him, this one immediately felt a part of him.

While playing with the sword, he began to think about Hogwarts. He was eager to go back to the school. His friends would be there, even if they did not know him. He would be happy in the knowledge that they were safe. If he was lucky, then he might make friends with them again. Things were already looking positive with Ginny. At least she was not hexing him, he gulped, yet. What would she do to him when she found out that he had lied to her? Would she be angry or just relieved to have him back? He was hoping for the later.

Voldemort did not feature in his thoughts as the sun descended, leaving him in complete darkness. If it wasn't for the sudden crash of a few plates downstairs, he would not have realised that he sat in the dark. Getting to his feet, he turned on the light before sitting down on his bed again.

Thinking about moving about in the dark at night made him consider that maybe he could pull a few pranks this year at Hogwarts. He sat up straight at the thought. He had always used his invisibility cloak when he gallivanted around the castle at night. The problem being that he did not have his cloak. He had left it inside his trunk. His eyes widened even further.

Without taking more time to think it over, he sheathed his sword before attaching the scabbard to his back again. He snatched his cloak from the chair and pulled it over himself. Embracing saidin he wove a gateway. On the other side a familiar set of trees came into view. Striding through, he emerged outside the Burrow. This time, however, he was well within the wards. The house stood a short distance away. His presence was well hidden by a row of bushes and a number of trees. The night air was getting chilly, but he did not let it bother him. He stood motionless and listened for any sounds of movement around him.

The faint glow of lights and the lit fire that shone through the windows of the house were the only visible signs of life. It was late and it appeared that no one was outside. Pulling his black cloak tightly around his body, he moved out from the thicket towards the house. Careful all the while to remain out of the light, he approached the nearest window.

Ensuring that he did not make a noise, he dared to peek through the glass window to see what was happening inside. A warm fire was blazing in the hearth, in front of which sat Ginny, playing a game of chess with Ron. Mr Weasley was sitting on his usual chair reading, while Mrs Weasley was busy knitting a pair of socks. None of them were laughing, but they did not look depressed. Harry sighed in relief again. He was sure that they would have shown signs if one of the elder boys were dead.

He could not be sure, but he assumed that his trunk would be up in Ron's room. He was also sure that he would find it at the foot of a bed that was ready for him in case he returned. Weaving a complex flow that imitated the ones used by wizards to Apparate, his body began to shimmer silently until it winked out of existence outside the house.

Upstairs in front of Ron's bed, his body took shape again just as quietly. His manipulations of the weave had enabled him to slow the disappearance enough not to disturb the air so rapidly. The result was near silent Apparation, even if it took slightly longer.

The room was still the same. The Chudley Cannons posters and shirts still adorned the walls. Ron's broom was propped into one of the corners. What caught Harry's undivided attention was the second school trunk in the room, his trunk. Dropping to his knees, careful not to thump the floor, he opened the lid.

His relief was audible this time. Lying on top of the pile of clothes inside was his invisibility cloak. He quickly snatched it out and threw it over himself. His body vanished underneath it, throwing the hood over, so did his head.

The second reason for his coming here lay neatly tucked away in one corner. The Marauders Map. With it, Ron or Ginny would have discovered him on the first day. He was not going to believe that they had never dared use it themselves while he was gone. He actually hoped that they had. It would have been a waste to not put it to good use.

The sound of feet thumping up the stairs reached him. The foot falls were too quick to be Mr Weasley, and to loud to be Ginny. Grabbing the map, Harry threw down the lid of the trunk and shimmered out of existence just as the light from the hallway spilled into the room.

Outside below the window, Harry listened anxiously for the ensuing panic. It remained quiet. A few minutes later he heard Ron descending the stairs. Glancing through the window cautiously again, he watched as Ron settled down onto the couch, one of his Wizarding chess books in hand. Ginny still sat in front of the chess board studying her pieces. Her face was a picture of concentration as she replayed the last few moves on the board. Harry grinned. She had received another good old Ron thrashing.

The minutes ticked by and still he found that he could not leave. Even though he was standing outside, he still felt like he belonged. The homely feel of the Burrow enveloped him.

"Looking forward to your work-free day tomorrow?" Mrs Weasley asked Ginny when her husband and Ron had left. Something in the way that Ginny had just been sitting there had made Harry think that she had something on her mind.

"It will be nice to just have a peaceful day tomorrow," Ginny said with a sad smile.

"But..." her mother urged her onwards. Harry silently prayed that she would continue. The sound of her voice melted away the pain he felt.

"Its... nothing," Ginny finally managed to say.

Glancing at Mrs Weasley, he noticed the knowing smile that she gave her only daughter. "You would have liked to see that boy again," she stated. Ginny's head shot up towards her mother. She bit back a grin and nodded.

"Is it... you know..." the words could not come and her whole expression seemed confused.

"Wrong? No, it is not wrong," Mrs Weasley said softly.

Ginny sat back thinking. "But, Harry..."

"Has been gone for two years," she cut in. "You will always have a special place in your heart for Harry."

Ginny sat still. With the experiences that he had had, he could clearly see the internal struggle that she was having. Was she going to give up on Harry and move on or was she going to live in hope? "I..." her lips trembled as she spoke.

"You don't have to make a decision tonight."

"There is something there... I can tell," she said at last. It was undeniable, even Moiraine said as much. Forces much greater than them were working within Ginny and Harry.

"Follow your heart," Mrs Weasley said, getting to her feet. After hugging Ginny good night she left to go to bed.

The urge to run inside began to build. Visualising a flame in his mind, he began to pour his emotions into it. He had to keep his thoughts clear. Voldemort was the main objective. Find and kill Voldemort. When that was done, he could drop his disguise and hold her in his arms as Harry.

The last of the light in the room began to dim and still Ginny sat. Sometimes her lips moved silently as if she were speaking to herself. As time passed, her body began to turn in on itself, until she was huddled into a small ball. Her knees pressed against her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Though soft, he could hear the almost silent sobs that shook her body.

Even if he could not hold her, he would look over her. Guilt was all he felt. Leaving her in a state like this, he could not help but feel like a jerk. The suffering finally ended when she drifted off to sleep. Her body relaxed. Seizing saidin, he listened closely to her breathing. It was deep and steady.

Knowing that she was asleep, he gave the room one last glance before turning to leave. A gateway formed in front of him. The bold orange colours of his room came into view and he stepped through. Even before the weaves dissipated he had removed the two cloaks that he had worn. Throwing the black one over the chair, he sat down studying his father's old invisibility cloak. It felt strange in his hands and he marvelled once more at its perfection.

The map lay abandoned on his bed where he had thrown it down upon entering. There was little use for it now except to stare. He did not feel like looking at it. The memories it would bring were too much for him to cope with now. Memories of Remus and Sirius caused him to wonder where they were. Grimmauld place seemed like the obvious answer, but how much had changed over the course of two years? The Weasleys were back at the Burrow, that was a good sign at least. Ginny had been working in Diagon Alley during the summer, another positive. All in all, the Wizarding world seemed like a much better place than it had been when he left.

Removing his sword from his back he entered the bathroom and turned on the shower. The warm water cascading over his body helped him to relax. He had forgotten how good a shower felt. Steam tents and baths were all that he had known recently. Feeling refreshed, but drowsy, he slipped on a pair of boxers and pulled on a shirt before collapsing onto the bed.

Sleep would come easily, he knew. The day had been long and taxing. Seeing so many people that he knew and not being able to tell them that he was back had drained him emotionally. Or maybe it was just the fact that he had been so close to Ginny. With one last loving thought of Ginny, he fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 9

_A/N Here is the next instalment. Hope you enjoy. Sorry for the delay, life tends to get busy._

_Strolling Along: I agree with some of your points, but Harry is not perfect. He might have learned of war and power, but not much of relationships, so he has not grown mature in all areas. What you call his 'pathetically weak' conclusions are indeed that, he is wrong so why would his conclusion make 100% sense. I have reread your comments numerous times and taken the time to go through latter chapters to see if I can improve them. I wrote you a lengthy reply, but I don't think that it was sent._

Exhausted, Harry spent the greater part of Sunday morning sleeping. He should not really have been tired, considering that he had not done much the previous day. The gateways that he had woven were taxing, but he was used to doing more on a daily basis. His lack of a goodnight's sleep was probably a factor. Much of the night was spent tossing and turning after he had gone to bed. Just the idea of being so near Ginny again was enough to make his head spin and his heart yearn to be with her. The disappointment that came with knowing that she would not be working today was perhaps the greatest reason for his utter lack of motivation to get out of bed.

Eventually, however, Harry managed to swing both his legs out from under the covers. The first thing he did after he woke was to go downstairs to talk to the owner. "She said she needs to get ready for school today," the owner had replied after Harry asked him if Ginny would be working during the day. The answer was expected, he had just hoped that he was wrong, or that she would show up this morning. Defeated, he ordered some pumpkin juice. Taking a few graceful strides with his drink in hand, he joined Moiraine at one of the tables for what appeared to be lunch.

"I always had you down as an early riser." Moiraine raised an eyebrow at his exhausted appearance. To be honest, he felt worse than he looked. That was saying something, considering the bags under his eyes and his pale face.

"I needed to relieve some friends of my possessions which could have caused me a few headaches at Hogwarts," Harry replied bluntly, ignoring her stares. The fact that he studied Ginny for half the night was left unsaid. The truth was he had been too haunted by dreams of his friends being angry with him to have gotten much sleep. Ron shouting and Hermione's admonitions were bad enough, but Ginny telling him that she did not want to see him made Harry scream himself awake half a dozen times at least. "I could never love a liar," she had shouted, the words still reverberated in his mind.

Taking time to consider, Moiraine smoothed her robes with her hands. "What was so important for you to stay awake all night?"

"The Marauders Map," he replied after taking a sip of his drink. She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "The map is unique, with it I can see the location of anyone within the school as well as their name." He placed emphasis on the word 'name'.

"Is that so?" she said suddenly curious. "I would like to take a look at it."

"Sure," Harry replied. "It is in my room, I will show it to you later." She seemed pleased by the reply and the conversation ended. The two sat in silence while he brooded over his dreams, his pumpkin juice untouched.

After lunch, Harry and Moiraine went back to Gringotts and were pleased to discover that the Goblins had purchased a house for Harry in Hogsmeade under Moiraine's name. After signing a mountain of parchments, they retrieved the keys. Studying a map to find the location of the house, they travelled to Hogsmeade by means of a Portkey provided by Gringotts.

It was a small two bedroom detached house with two floors. Arriving on the front lawn, Harry had to smile at the sight. Even though it was under Moiraine's name, this was the first house that he had purchased. The green grass and well cared for flowers told Harry that the person who had lived here before was meticulous. Even if he would not be spending much time here, he was determined to keep it in good condition.

Unlocking the front door, they stepped inside. The wooden floors provided warmth and the walls were painted a nice calming beige. Without furnishings it felt cold and empty, regardless of the floor.

"This is... interesting," Moiraine spoke to herself while walking through the house on her own. Occasionally her fingers would run over some object that she was not used to. Harry grinned, it was quite different from anything that Moiraine was used to.

"It is perfect," Harry replied, as he made his way to a window that overlooked the garden. Like the front, the green lawn was immaculate and all the flowers looked in perfect health. The rose garden looked like it had been a favourite corner. The garden's only small bench was situated in front of the roses.

Leaning against the wall, he realized just how much he wanted to share a place like this with Ginny. He could imagine them living in a home together. When the war was over, nothing would be better than to live a quiet life with Ginny. The gardens would need to be much larger, considering the amount of Quidditch that would be played. There was no doubt in his mind about what their children would be doing.

The house needed a few furnishings, not much but the basics needed to be bought: two beds, a few couches, and other magical appliances. Ordinary refrigerators and stoves did not work around so much magic. Thankfully, Hogsmeade – being a magical town – allowed them to easily find what was needed. The furnishings arrived later that afternoon. Once Harry had explained that they were new in town, the people were kind enough to deliver their purchases to them before nightfall.

The witches and wizards weren't overly friendly, but rather cautious, though kind of heart. These were suspicious times and they were hesitant with their aid. A large number of people arrived together to help with the furnishings, each one watching the other's back. Fortunately, by the time everything was inside and ready, the tension had lessened considerably. Moiraine had a natural charm about her, especially when she wanted to. She had an innate ability to make people at ease around her, something that he had witnessed frequently in the past.

The large, impressive structure of Hogwarts could be seen from nearly anywhere in town. The massive wards of the school, almost its most impressive feature, pulsed and flared to Harry's eyes. The wards formed shining beacon that constantly reminded him of pictures he had seen of the Northern Lights, except their form was man made and more constant. He knew that for every pulsing ward that he could see another, unseen, woven by saidar, would also be there.

With everything in place they settled down for the night. Moiraine read her new books while Harry began to study from his textbooks. He might not need NEWTS, but he was determined to do well. Discipline and hard work were something that he had learned a lot about, especially from Lan and Rand. A lack of focus might not kill you, but it could kill the man or woman on either side of you. His throat constricted at that thought. It would do so every time. He clenched his fists as the hollow feeling in his chest returned, a bitter reminder of failure.

Eventually in the early hours of the morning, he slipped into bed and fell asleep. His trunk was packed. The only object not inside was his sword. That would remain by his side until he had to stow it. It was stupid, in all honesty. He knew the sword did not mean much to him in terms of safety. Harry only sought comfort in the knowledge that it was there.

As the minutes ticked by, his eagerness grew. He would be seeing Ginny again in a few hours. The hollowness in his chest subsided. His breathing slowed as he drifted off to sleep.

Waking rather late the next morning, he rushed to get ready. He did not have much to do except to shower and dress. Waking up at eight meant that his time was rather limited. The desire to arrive before the Weasleys urged him to move even faster. Shouting his goodbyes, he travelled to a secluded corner at Kings Cross Station.

"May the Light shine upon your path," the distant voice of Moiraine wafted through the gateway before it dissolved. He fervently hoped that it was.

At the station, he waited patiently for Ginny and his other old friends to arrive from the Burrow. Glancing around, he did not see any signs of them yet. They still had twenty minutes before the train was set to depart. He was sure that they would be late, so he passed through the stone wall and onto Platform 9 ¾. Finding an out-of-the-way pillar, he casually leaned against it. Not for the first time during the past two days, he wished that he had a sword hilt on which to rest his arm. His sword was now safely tucked away inside his trunk. He could not risk the sword being felt in the narrow confines of the train. The hard benches would probably make wearing it near impossible anyway, he thought regretfully.

As predicted, the small group of three Weasleys, accompanied by Hermione, appeared on the platform ten minutes before the train was to leave. They all appeared the same, but different. Ron had grown taller, his shoulders broad and firm. Hermione, like Ginny, had grown into a young woman. Her features had lost their childlike appearance. Even her hair had been tamed slightly, and Harry felt himself missing her bushy brown hair. Even so, he could not deny her beauty. Mrs Weasley, however, was the same as before. Perhaps a few more signs of age had crept in, but not much. Pushing himself away from the wall, he approached them unnoticed.

"Hello, Ginny," he greeted warmly from behind. It was not difficult to sound enthusiastic. Being overly friendly was the problem. Sounding too familiar might raise a number of unwanted questions. His gaze shifted to Hermione for a fraction of a second. Her attitude remained unchanged, allowing him to relax. If there was one person in this group that could be troublesome, it was her.

"Rand," Ginny said excitedly. Spinning round on her heel, she faced him. Her sudden movements sent her vibrant red hair flying around her neck, enthralling him. "I hope that you will be joining us on the train?" The words left her mouth even before she stopped turning. The desire to kiss her only increased when she bit her lower lip, anxious about his reply. At that moment, Harry knew that he could crush her spirit. A single word and she would be broken.

"Sure, I have nowhere else to go, really," he replied, running his hands through his longish red hair. The action ensured that it remained messy. She let go of her lip and beamed up at him. Only then did he allow himself to study her. Her clothes, slightly more revealing, hugged her skin tightly. Every curve of her already enticing figure was accentuated. His heart beat slightly harder. Pushing down his desires, he managed not to blush, barely. It appeared as if Ginny had made her choice. She was willing to give him a chance. The problem being that he was not sure what he wanted.

"Oh, where are my manners. Rand, this is my mother," Ginny said, gesturing towards her mother. Mrs Weasley, who had remained silent, was studying him intently. Those mother's eyes, he was sure, saw much.

"A pleasure to meet you Mrs…" Harry greeted formally, leaving the last name hanging hoping that someone would provide a last name.

"Oh... Weasley," Ginny said softly, blushing at her own omission. Her hands worked nervously.

"Mrs Weasley," Harry said again, giving his head a slight bow. Old habits die hard. Mrs Weasley on the other hand took the formal greeting well. Her eyes shifted. The calculating gaze disappeared, allowing her motherly warmth to shine through.

"Oh, such manners," she muttered under her breath self-consciously. "It is nice to meet you as well, Rand," she replied with a slight tremor in her voice. Harry couldn't help but feel mournful at her greeting. He wanted nothing more than for her to crush him in one of her famous motherly hugs. If there was one thing that he missed more than Ginny, it was Mrs Weasley's love for him. She was his adopted mother, the only woman who had ever really cared for him. He knew that his mother had loved him, but Mrs Weasley was all that he ever experienced.

"This is Ron, my brother, and Hermione Granger, his girlfriend," Harry smiled at Ginny and almost thanked her for providing Hermione's last name.

"Nice to meet you," Harry said extending his hand carefully, ensuring that his Dragon markings were not revealed. That would come, but hopefully only after they knew him a little better. He felt like cringing, they would never learn who he was if he kept lying to them.

Ron and Hermione both shook his hand. "Rand," Ron said stiffly, eyeing him wearily. There was no hate like before, just weariness. Ron was a protective brother, but not overly so any more. Hermione at least saw him in a good light. He supposed that she would make an effort for any man who made Ginny smile. From what he gathered, there had been no one and little cheerfulness in Ginny's life. Yet, he was not fooled. Behind those placid eyes, Hermione's mind was at work, trying to determine what kind of man he was.

With the introduction made, he gave them some space to say their farewells. He did, shamefully, eavesdrop again while he made as if he was studying the train. He felt guilty about invading their private time, but he could not help wanting to know what they thought of him. That, at least, was the lie he told himself to justify his actions. The brevity of the farewell surprised him.

"He seems rather decent," Mrs Weasley whispered to Ginny so that Ron would not overhear. "Take care of yourself, dear," she continued. Harry could hear her pulling Ginny into a tight embrace.

"Thank you, mum," Ginny replied. He could sense the smile in her words.

A few moments later Ginny stood alongside him. "Let's go find a compartment."

"Sure, lead the way Miss Weasley," Harry said, gesturing for her to lead.

From behind, he heard Ron muttering about Harry while talking to Mrs Weasley. Having let go of saidin, Harry could not make out the words. Entering the narrow corridors of the train made him wary. It was the ideal place for an ambush. Feeling exposed, he forced himself to let go of his paranoia. No one was going to attack him here. All the same, he felt naked walking around without a sword on him.

Looking ahead at Ginny, he felt more confused than ever. If only his training and experiences had taught him to deal with his feelings. Matters of the heart were as new to him now as they were when he was fifteen.

A few compartments down the corridor, Ginny found one that was still empty. Having said farewell to Mrs Weasley, Ron and Hermione were just behind Harry as Ginny slid open the compartment door. Maybe it was Harry's imagination, but he was sure that he could feel Ron's calculating gaze on his back.

Once inside, Harry hoisted his trunk up onto the rack above him with effortless ease. Turning back to Ginny, he found her struggling to lift hers. "Here let me," Harry said, taking the trunk with one hand. The weight took him by surprise and he almost dropped it. "What do you have in here?" He laughed as he was forced to place his other hand beneath it, in order to add its strength in the fight against gravity.

"Not much really," Ginny shrugged, looking faintly embarrassed.

"Only half her bloody room," Ron snorted, causing Harry to start laughing. It felt good to be laughing, and soon Ron was joining him with his own laughter. Even though the last memories he had of Ron was his stupid bickering about his relationship with Ginny, Ron had still been a good friend over the years. With Ginny's trunk eventually secured on top of the rack, Harry settled down into the corner by the window.

Hermione, the consummate witch, lifted her trunk with a levitation charm before she sat down next to Ron. Oddly enough, they were seated exactly like they had been two years ago. Once settled, he noticed the unimpressed glares that Hermione and Ginny were giving Ron and him.

There was no malice in those glares. Ignoring them, he knew that he would have to pay the price someday. Though the seating was similar, things were different. Ron and Hermione were noticeably closer to each other, while he was noticeably further away from Ginny. Then there was Luna, or rather the fact that she was absent. Curious, he almost asked about her. Thankfully, he bit back the words before they were uttered. He would find out soon enough he supposed. If history was anything to go by, stupid House politics lay at the root of her absence.

With a lurch, the train began to move. The station vanished quickly, replaced by a few buildings before the countryside came into view. Leaning his forehead against the window, he closed his eyes. He was going home. Strange as it seemed, Hogwarts was his home.

"So where do you come from?" Hermione asked. The sudden question broke Harry's thoughts of Hogwarts. The warm feeling of knowing that he was returning vanished. Trust her to be the one to break the mood by asking questions.

Taking a deep but silent breath, he steadied himself before opening his eyes. "I don't really come from any one place, really. We travelled a lot: England and then all over really, never staying in one place for more than a year," Harry replied glumly, avoiding Hermione's gaze deliberately. He had become good at hiding his half-truths, but Hermione was very good at reading people - well as good as any person here. Those intelligent piercing eyes were always studying, filing information.

Honestly, he had travelled a lot, it was just that the names would be unknown to them. Ginny and Ron might shrug it off, but Hermione would know that they did not exist. Who would have heard of Andor or Illian or even Tear? Some of the great cities that he had travelled to.

"That must have been interesting. I have always wanted to travel," Hermione's excited voice promised more questions. Mentally rolling his eyes, Harry waited for more.

"Not really," Harry said, emphasizing his glumness. It was not difficult, considering that it did depress him somewhat. "After a time it just becomes a nuisance." Hermione would never be able to understand how he longed for stability, and most of all family.

"Oh, but surely you saw amazing places," she added leaning forwards as if that would make him say more. Those eager eyes burned with desire to learn.

"Hermione, leave the poor guy," Ginny interrupted leaning closer to her friend. Her voice was gentle, but her posture indicated a firmness behind her words. He almost smiled; the strong Ginny was still there, willing to stand up for those she cared about. The thought made him pause, she really did care about him now.

"Thank you," Harry replied, turning back to stare out the window, the true meaning behind his words unsaid.

"You play Quidditch?" Ron asked eagerly. They were the first positive words, directed at him, that Harry had heard coming out of his friend's mouth in a long time.

"I have played before, but with all our travels I haven't played in a while." The reply came quickly and naturally. There was no dishonesty, just plain facts, he could not keep the obvious longing to play out of his voice. The eagerness that blazed behind his gray eyes would have given away his desire even if his words had not. Eager, not only about the topic, but about having his friend again.

"Great," Ron almost shouted, clapping his hands together as if warming himself up. "So what position did you play?" The question came as Ron's eyes scanned him from head to toe. In that instant he knew why Ron was meant to be with Hermione. Those eyes, just as eager as hers, desperate to learn and know. Those Weasley eyes kept roaming, trying to determine the ideal position for Harry. The days of the scrawny little seeker were gone, but perhaps his increased strength and weight would not be too great a disadvantage. Actually, some increased bulk would aid him in a physical game, such as the one against Slytherin.

Only then did Harry see the small pin, which indicated Ron as the Gryffindor Quidditch captain. Mentally he berated himself, he should have noticed earlier. Even if he wanted to make excuses, he would not. There reason was simple enough, he was learning just how great a distraction Ginny really was.

"I use to play Seeker," Harry answered after thinking for a while. There was no point in lying. If he had said Chaser, while proving incapable of throwing a Quaffle, they would have been suspicious.

"Brilliant," Ron said eagerly, his brown eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Ginny here is our Seeker at the moment." Harry sat up a little straighter at Ron's comment. Harry had known Ginny to be a good flyer, but he had never imagined her as a Seeker. She had spoken about Quidditch, regularly in fact. It was one, of many, things they could truly spend hours talking about. During all those conversations, he had been sure that she had wanted to be a Chaser, even if never stated explicitly.

"Don't act so shocked, Rand," Ginny said with a wicked smile. "I bet that I would fly a few circles around you, given half the chance." Harry's mouth shut, he had been unaware that he was gaping.

The surprise faded, allowing a genuine smile to break out on his face. He could definitely see her as a Seeker. "I look forward to it, Miss Weasley." She was simply radiant after the comment. The playful, yet dangerous, glint in her brown eyes was conjuring images that Ron most definitely would not approve of.

Ron tried hard not to burst out laughing. He failed. "Either Rand here has had got some guts, or he is just plain stupid," Ron managed to say between breaths from the other side of the compartment. Relaxing for what felt like the first time in years, Harry joined him. His laughter, though, was more restrained. Hardship could not vanish in a day.

There were no meetings to attend, and no kings, queens, or nobles to entertain. The Wizarding world was so much simpler than the one he had left. The sword lying in his trunk and the exposed feeling that its absence provoked were proof of that. Harry had left a world where you had to watch your back, as a knife could end up in it. Here the blades were cutting words or cold stares, rarely was it any more. No, in this place there was only one real enemy, Voldemort. Even Draco Malfoy was little more than a nuisance. Harry knew who his target was and what he had to do – one simple task, and then he could truly begin to live the life he wanted with his friends.

"Rand… Rand…" Someone was calling for Rand. Harry kept looking out the window, lost in his own world. The rolling hills, covered in thick green grass, were bathed in the afternoon sun. Everything seemed so calm and peaceful, yet somewhere out there was the darkest wizard to have lived in centuries. The man he was destined to kill or be killed by.

"Rand!" Ginny said loudly near his ear. The proximity of her voice rather than the name brought him back to reality.

"Yeah, sorry… thinking," Harry replied quickly. He could still feel her warm breath where it touched his skin. "It's just..." his mind froze as the warmth faded. "So beautiful outside. I think am coming to like the British countryside." He had always loved it. Even though he had seen countless lands and been to dozens of cities, he still felt at home here in Britain. No other place would ever make him feel the way this place did.

"I suppose," Ron muttered hurriedly. "So what House do you think you will be in? If you want to steal Ginny's spot then you will have to be in Gryffindor."Of course, he had more important things to discuss.

Harry shook his head deliberately, trying to act confused. "Houses? I do not know anything about different Houses. Surely it's just alphabetical?" he asked, hoping that they would elaborate. McGonagall had explained most during their visit to the Headmaster, but he was not about to tell them.

Of course, the task of explaining rested on the shoulders of one person. "There are four Houses," Hermione answered, taking control of the discussion. Ron and Ginny rolled their eyes. Harry felt like doing as much himself. "Gryffindor, which we three are in, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and then Slytherin."

"What does it matter apart from which team I play for?" That was actually an interesting question, one that he had no answer for but supposed it was similar to the different Ajahs for the Aes Sedai. Each group provided a place for similar people to be around one another, except you chose which Ajah you wanted to be part of. That in itself provided a better spread of people. The problem with the system of Houses or Ajahs was that it led to prejudices. A more random selection would improve inter-house relations. The way it was now, few people outside your house attracted your attention. If that was not enough, politics dissuaded most people from trying to make friends in other Houses in the first place.

"Well for starters we are sorted by an old hat…"

"Really?" Harry said, feigning surprise.

"Yes," Hermione replied, glaring at him for interrupting her. She would probably turn into a professor, he surmised. With a look like the one she just gave him, he was sure. "The hat studies you and then decides which house best suits you. Gry…"

"No need to tell me. I would rather not choose a favourite before the Sorting. That way I will not be influenced," Harry cut her off before leaning back into the corner of the compartment. Ginny just sat there staring at him, her brown eyes searching. What was she looking for? Or more importantly what did she see?

"Well said, Rand," Ginny said proudly with a faint smile. "I wish more people had that attitude toward the House system. Though, I suppose that would change once you get yourself sorted. House pride is a big thing at Hogwarts."

"If you say so," Harry yawned. "Where I come from people had been separated. In the end they had to unite to overcome a common enemy. I hope that the lesson will not be learned too late here." He brushed his hair with his hand knowing that the Wizarding world was too stubborn to change. The nervous glances that they shot towards each other confirmed his suspicions. "Well I hope that Voldemort…" Three gasps echoed around the compartment. Harry shook his head, "it is only a name people." Neither Ron nor Hermione looked convinced. Ginny, on the other hand, appeared to understand. By the way her lips moved, he could tell that she was repeating the name to herself.

Harry, one of the most powerful and influential men, had risen to the Amyrlin Seat of the Black Tower. He was equalled only by the Amyrlin Seat of the White Tower, a young girl. She was no more than a few years older than him, he guessed, though he was never sure. The women of the White Tower never revealed their ages and Rand had never told him. The most important attribute of being the Amyrlin Seat, apart from ruling the Tower, was that he was of all Ajahs and of none. Prejudices had to pushed aside and decisions made for the good of all, not one. Above both Amyrlin Seats, but with no real office, was Rand Al'Thor the Dragon Reborn.

Harry almost chuckled at the thought of Moiraine forcing herself to call him by his name even with the added honorific. It was proper for people to refer to him as "Father," just as the Amyrlin Seat of the White Tower was called "Mother." He had to admit it was nice to hear his own name again even if it was Rand at the moment.

"Things are a bit strained with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his followers," Hermione added, trying to defend the state of the school. He chuckled, perhaps people will be able to say Voldemort's name when he is dead and buried.

"When you are threatened, that is precisely the time when you should be united. When trouble brews around you, then you should let go of your pride to help those that need to be helped. Standing up against the dark forces of the world requires that all people should be united," Harry lectured loudly. His eyes blazed with fire and the conviction in his voice was almost overpowering.

"I… yes… but," Hermione tried again to explain the circumstances. Harry would not let her.

"There are no buts." His voice was suddenly low. The fire extinguished and all that remained was a hard shell. He could see all three of them shiver at his expression. "Sorry," Harry said.

Before they could reply, the compartment door swung open to the familiar drawl of Malfoy. Harry seized saidin and revelled in its life giving purity. Ginny alongside him grabbed her wand and his skin began to tingle. He almost smiled, as goosebumps formed on his forearms. "Oh, look, the little Weaslette and the Mudblood found themselves a new friend, and a redhead to boot. I am so glad that you finally decided to stop pining over that stupid Potter boy."

Ginny stiffened considerably and Hermione looked like she was about to breath fire. Ron glared angrily, his wand firm in his hand.

"I can see that you are not welcome in this compartment, Mr…"

"Malfoy," the boy said proudly.

"Malfoy, thank you. If you would be so kind as to leave my friends alone it would be appreciated," Harry said in a calm controlled voice. It was not loud, but it contained a weight behind it that had managed to make grown men run before. He had been taught that a quiet hard voice was far more effective than any shout.

Malfoy glared at him and Harry's gray eyes grew cold, drawing deeper on saidin. He held the boy's gaze. Paling slightly, Malfoy averted his eyes. "Fine, since you asked so nicely." With that he turned to leave.

"Blimey, Rand," Ron said, ogling at him. He did not need to say more, the cold hard Harry had surfaced. Ignoring them, he closed his eyes before reluctantly letting go of the One Power. The void slipped away and his senses dulled again. His features warmed and a tight anxious smile graced his face. The power was still around him, he could sense it just out of reach, waiting to be called upon again.

With the Power gone, he felt tired and numb. He really needed to exercise again. Growing strong in the One Power was much like physical exercise. The more you worked it, the more you got in return. Each man or woman had a limit to the amount they would ever be able to channel safely. Being only seventeen he was not near his potential.

When Malfoy had entered, Harry had felt the familiar tingle that told him a woman was holding saidar near him. He knew the source of the sensation had to be Ginny. It had to be her, before he left he had felt it near her. Moiraine had also told him that she could sense Ginny's power. Ginny was still alive, but she would need to be taught by Moiraine before the One Power managed to kill her. There was a chance that she would learn to control it on her own, but he would rather not risk it. Harry needed to get Ginny to Moiraine.

Only one in four people, man or woman, who was born with the ability to channel survived long once they began to channel on their own. The One Power was as wonderful as it was deadly. The desire to touch it, to draw upon more than you could safely wield, was almost overwhelming. A strong person was needed to guide you through the process, to help you until you could control the One Power and yourself safely.

The room fell silent. The timing was perfect, he could tell the group now who he was. He wanted to say, it had to be said. For Ginny's sake most of all. His mouth worked, but no sound escape. There was a knock on the door, before it slid open. The moment passed.

A tiny head poked through the door, Luna. Her eyes scanned the room until they settled on him. That knowing gaze, penetrating. "Just thought I lost somebody," she muttered dreamily. Then as Ginny tried to introduce Rand, she began to close the door. "But I found him," her words drifted back through the last bit of the opening.

"That was odd," Ginny laughed, staring at Hermione.

"It was," Hermione agreed.

"That was Luna Lovegood. An old friend of mine. She is a bit strange, but a kind soul," Ginny explained.

"She is a bit odd," Harry agreed. Could Luna really have known who he was? No, it was impossible. With that, he pushed all thoughts of her out his mind.

Little more was discussed as the journey continued. With the lull in conversation, Harry felt like retrieving his sword. It had been a few days since he last practiced his forms. The feeling of being one with the sword as he moved between the various forms kept him going. He could slowly drain his emotions and fears into each movement. It was called the Oneness to blade masters. Similar to the void that he formed while channelling, it had nothing to do with the One Power though.

Eventually they reached the Hogsmeade train station, forcing Harry to begin interacting again.

"Are we there?" he asked, feigning ignorance. The darkness outside the compartment hid the school and town from view.

"Yeah," Ginny said excitedly, jumping to her feet, before giving Harry another shy glance as her eyes returned to her trunk.

"I'll get that," Harry grinned, getting the meaning behind her looks.

Lifting his arms up to reach for the trunk, he heard Hermione whisper to Ginny, "He seems well trained." Both girls giggled, but he heard no reply from Ginny. Using two hands this time, he retrieved the trunk before handing it to Ginny. He gave no indication that he had heard them.

Stepping out of the train, he was overwhelmed by the familiar warmth and feeling of home. With a smile he fell in beside the pair. Immediately he was halted by Ron. "Sorry mate, but I think that you should be over there." The red haired boy's finger was pointing down the platform to where Hagrid was standing, his voice booming over the noise calling the first years.

"Really?" Harry replied exasperated. "I am not really a first year, am I?"

"I am afraid you are," Ginny interjected reluctantly. Her brown eyes looked slightly downcast. "You need to be sorted and all, so I guess Ron is right." Hermione nodded in agreement.

Giving in to the inevitable, Harry said farewell. "See you later then." He gave a last wave good bye and turned to leave.

The solitary walk towards the growing number of first years irritated him. He had forgotten about the journey to the castle in the boats. He was an adult, not some stupid little child who needed to be awed by the vastness of the lake and the enormity of the school. Surely, he could have just waited inside the entrance hall of the school.

Nevertheless, he was hurried into a small boat with only one other first year. The boats usually took four, but he was much larger than any of the other kids.

Inside the entrance hall, Harry stood to one side. Even if he hadn't, he still would have stood out, the tallest first year barely reached his chest.

"Good evening, children," Professor McGonagall's voice echoed through the room as she rounded a corner to come into view. She was dressed more formally than usual in an emerald green dress, the same that she wore during his first year, if he remembered correctly. "I am the Deputy Headmistress here at the school and I would like to welcome you all to Hogwarts. I hope that you will enjoy your time here at the school while striving to learn." Her voice had always seemed so stern, he could remember her words in his first year terrifying him. He had been so afraid of her that he would have done anything to remain in her good books. Now she just looked and sounded like any of the Aes Sedai whom he knew. That was a compliment indeed, Aes Sedai were renowned for their presence. He was just not in awe of them any more, he was a leader amongst the Aes Sedai. Even Moiraine who was with him rarely intimidated him any more.

"You will shortly be sorted into one of four Houses. They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherian and Hufflepuff. The House that you will be sorted into tonight will be the one in which you will stay for the next seven years. Your actions in class and out of it might lead to points being taken or removed from your House. In the end of the year the House with the most points will win the House Cup…"

Harry stood quietly, not bothering to listen to her explaining the inner workings of Hogwarts. All that he wanted to do was to get sorted again. He just hoped that the Sorting Hat would not put up a fight about him being sorted for the second time. Then again, the Hat would go through his memories, so perhaps it would understand.

"Ready?"

A few nods and nervous cries of yes rang out from amongst the students. That was when he noticed her studying him. With a quick jerk of his head, he nodded towards her. She frowned slightly before turning to open the door to the hall.

The slight buzz of noise inside suddenly warped and turned into a loud torrent of voices and sounds as the door opened. Hundreds of excited students who had not seen their friends since the previous school year were having animated discussions.

Feeling slightly tense at being paraded in front of so many people, he slipped into the void. A calm washed over him. Nothing outside of the void could affect him. His emotions poured into the flame that burned vividly in his mind. He could hear every noise, sense every pair of eyes upon him, but they did not interfere with his calm. At the Gryffindor table he spotted Ginny, Ron and Hermione. Ginny gave him a slight wave, which he ignored. He could not be touched by sentiments so deep within the void.

He stood straight, his head held high facing the front of the hall where Dumbledore was standing behind the dais. His voice was loud and everyone in the hall quieted down. The ceremony was about to begin.

As the list began he visualized his sword forms in his mind. The Heron Wading in the Rushes, a practice form, flowed smoothly into the Falcon Stoops, an aggressive strike at an opponent. Working rapidly through the various forms in his mind, he waited patiently for his name to be called. He would probably be last, considering his unusual circumstances.

Concentrating on each of his movements, his body remained motionless. Inside his own world he was moving swiftly with deathly precision. Outside he was a cold wall of calm, his gray eyes staring ahead. If there had been a breeze inside the hall, it would not have dared touch his black cloak for fear of disturbing him.

More and more students were observing him. The first years were scurrying about and fidgeting nervously. Their movements made his calm all the more pronounced in contrast.

Eventually the last first year was sorted. When the cheers from the Houses died down, the name "Damodred, Rand," was called out by McGonagall. Some might have thought him so lost in thought that he would not react.

Instead, he began to stride confidently towards the front as soon as his name was mentioned. Adopting the walk, the Cat Crosses the Courtyard, it appeared as an arrogant saunter to nearly anyone in the hall. To the trained eye, however, it was a movement that left the body at complete ease. His body was loose and ready for any threat, movements were made on the balls of his feet. His eyes were scanning, his chin was up. He was arrogant.

Holding onto saidin, he was prepared to defend himself. Flows of Fire, Earth, and Air were held at the ready. He could attack with balls of fire while conjuring a power-wrought sword in his hand before a man could blink. Death was not something that he shied away from, though he avoided it as far as possible.

The three-legged stool with the hat came nearer. Hundreds of eyes were staring into his back. McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat. Her gaze was level and deep in thought. How far did she trust Rand Damodred? He was sure that it was not far.

Flinging his cloak around the stool he sat down and waited. A shadow from the hat darkened his features and a few Hufflepuffs in front of him jerked slightly before he disappeared behind the brim of the hat.

"Well, well," a voice inside his head spoke.

"It has been awhile since we talked," Harry replied to the hat.

"Harry? Is that really you? If it is, then I cannot sort you again," the hat replied and was about to speak aloud.

"Wait!" Harry commanded sternly inside his mind and he heard the hat gasp. "Study me and sort me as Rand Damodred!"

"But…"

"There are no buts. I need to be sorted, so sort me. The world does not need to know who I am yet! Voldemort does not need to know that I am here!" Harry's voice was stern. Even if it was not spoken aloud, it still reverberated with authority.

"If you insist," the hat muttered. A few gasps and cries came from the hat as it shifted through his memories from the point of his last sorting. Each time the voice sounded fainter and shakier. "I… Gryffindor appears to have a been good choice, but from what I have seen any of the other house would serve you well. Then there is your position to be of all and of none. What am I to do, how can I sort you?"

"Figure it out," Harry replied, beginning to feel agitated. He was exposed. He could not see, only hear what was going on around him. Any man who wished it could kill him now.

"I could choose a random House, but I see that you have certain feelings for a girl in Gryffindor… I will not tempt fate, there is really only one House for you…"

The voice changed from inside his mind to a loud voice ringing around the hall, "Gryffindor!"

The hat then muttered so that only Harry and McGonagall could here. "As true a Gryffindor as there has ever been, but a man for all Houses."

Removing the hat, she studied him intently again. "Thank you, Professor," Harry said, before moving off towards the Gryffindor table to the resounding cries and cheers from his old – or should he say new – House.

Walking along the table, he ignored the attempts of others to have him sit by them. Instead, he walked straight up to Ginny and settled down alongside her. Only then did he release the void.

"That took longer than average," Hermione noted, almost as soon as he was seated. Trivial things never seemed to pass her by.

"We almost had a chat," Harry replied, taking a sip of pumpkin juice from a goblet that had appeared. With his face partially hidden, he turned to face the Headmaster who was making a few last minute announcements. In doing so, he missed her reply.

"I hope that you will enjoy the coming year. Without delaying any further, let the feast begin." With the almost non-existent speech over, Harry suppressed a laugh. Dumbledore had always been a bit mad.

Food appeared on the tables and enthusiastic students began to pile various delicacies onto their plates. It smelled incredible. For a few moments, Harry sat staring, he had forgotten much.

"I am glad that you are in Gryffindor," Ginny's voice came from next to him. So wrapped up in memory, he almost missed it.

"Me too," Harry replied, grinning slightly. Ginny had the uncanny ability to put a smile on his face. She rarely had to do anything, her presence alone was enough to make him happy. With his mood on the up, he began to select his own favourites from the selection on the table.

"So will you be trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team?" Ron asked, leaning over the table a few minutes later. "You have the look of someone who can keep his balance a little. That will serve you well on a broom."

Harry snorted, but not so that Ron could hear, only Ginny. "Thank you, Ron. I might, but I will wait and see."

"Please try," Ginny begged, making puppy dog eyes. "I really want to play Chaser and if you are half as good a Seeker as…" she paused and her head jerked around away from him. The playful look vanished, taking along with it the glint in her brown eyes. Harry felt like wrapping an arm around her. It felt odd seeing her react upon mentioning his name. Guilt did not begin to describe his feelings.

"The previous Seeker, disappeared a few years ago. He was a bloody good Seeker," Ron explained to Harry. "You might have heard of him, Harry Potter was his name."

Harry could not say that he hadn't, pretending as if he was ignorant of the Boy-Who-Lived would only draw unwanted attention to his past. "Yeah, it is a pity that the world lost a man like him. My mom explained his whole history to me when we arrived in England. It is a pity that he went missing."

Ginny turned back, her eyes slightly red from tears that she had fought. "He was something special and we should never forget him." Her voice quivered slightly from what he could only assume was her raging emotions. Harry stared at her through his gray unblinking eyes, which were so much colder than his green eyes of his youth.

"It is okay to still love him," Harry replied and her eyes widened in horror for a few moments. Those eyes of hers were searching. They seemed almost pleading. Finding either nothing, or an answer, tears began to leak out of them in earnest. Feeling as if his heart were being pulled from his chest, he willed himself to act. Slowly, cautiously, he placed an arm around her shoulders and held her while she cried.

Ron and Hermione sat opposite them, staring at Harry, their mouths hanging open. It was as if they thought him crazy. He did not care, all that he wanted to do now was comfort Ginny. She felt so small and fragile under his arm. She was only sixteen, confused about Rand, and heartbroken over Harry. Guilt definitely did cover his emotions.

Composing herself, Ginny pushed herself away from Harry. She began to eat in silence. Hesitantly, he removed his arm and ate just as silently as her. The pumpkin juice helped lessen his thirst, but what he really wanted was a nice glass of red wine.

The feast eventually finished and the students stood to leave. Waiting until his friends began to leave, he followed them out of the Great Hall and up towards Gryffindor Tower.

Ginny hung back from Ron and Hermione. The pair were too busy talking to each other to notice Ginny. Gathering his courage, Harry moved up alongside her.

"How are you feeling?" He asked tentatively.

She remained silent, the only sound being their feet touching the stone floor. Even in her silence, Harry could tell that her mind was working. The events of the past two days were no doubt in the process of being digested.

With his head down, he nervously stuck his hands in his pockets. "I had a great time on the train today," he added, breaking the awkwardness.

Her step faltered, though briefly, before she continued walking. He swore that a tight smile had appeared on her lips. Her hand, nervous, pushed a tendril of hair behind her ear. "It was nice," the reply was hesitant. It was like she did not trust her own voice. "Really nice," she added with a bit more conviction.

"Your brother and Hermione tend to dominate conversations," Harry laughed.

"I..." she paused, "a bit." This time she laughed. It was real, nothing forced, it was pure Ginny. The girl he knew.

"Life tends to be a bit unfair." The words came from his mouth before he even thought of what he wanted to say. It was if the comment had been pulled from his soul.

Ginny stopped, the laughter died away, her eyes downcast. The words tore into his being, they were too true. Instinctively, he moved closer. "Ginny," the name was whispered softly. "Ginny." Lifting his hand he touched her cheek, it was damp.

A pair of eyes, stared up at him. Expecting despair, he was taken aback to find a glimmer of hope in their depths. "I..." she tried to speak. Her body turned, facing him directly. The air itself seemed to crackle intensity. Her tongue moistened her lips. His free hand moved into her hair.

A loud thump resounded down the corridor. When they jumped apart, the tension vanished. A loud group of students came around the corner from an adjacent corridor. They walked past Harry and Ginny on their way to Gryffindor Tower.

When they had passed, an awkwardness returned. "After you," Harry gestured for her to lead.

"Umm... thanks," she muttered, walking past.

When they entered the Common room, they found it deserted. They still had not spoken since they were interrupted. Not stopping, Ginny continued towards the sixth year girls dorm.

"Night Ginny," Harry called out to her before she could disappear up the staircase. She paused mid-stride before turning around. She still looked lost, but life began to flood back into her as she stood looking at Harry.

"Sorry about tonight," she apologized.

"Nothing to be sorry about," he replied, taking a step closer to her. The air began to come alive again.

"I… I usually don't cry on people's shoulders," she said softly ensuring that only he could hear. "I am not so emotional usually."

"Ginny," his voice broke as he placed a hand on her arm. "There is nothing to apologize for or to be ashamed about. You cared for someone who disappeared, there is no shame in that." She stared up confusedly at him.

"I do not understand you, Rand," she frowned slightly, not in anger. "We barely know each other, yet…" she paused in consideration. "I feel like I know you… I am…" she bit her bottom lip nervously. "… drawn to you."

"I feel something strange inside me too, when I look at you," Harry replied. The girl before him softened him and he recalled memories of Lan staring at Nynaeve. The man was as hard as stone and cold as ice, yet when he even so much as glanced at his wife, the hardness softened and the ice melted. Ginny was his Nynaeve, she would always melt away his pain. "You fill a void in me. A void that I had almost forgotten was once filled," he whispered softly.

She took a small step closer, his eyes darted down to her moist lips. He could feel himself being drawn to her. Pushing down his desires, he stopped her movements. "I think it best we move slowly, Ginny." Harry closed his eyes as he spoke. The pain of pushing her away was agonizing, but he did not want to hurt her more. He could not start a relationship with her as Rand. Ginny belonged with Harry.

She paused. Her brown eyes were still fixed on his when his eyes opened. Her face was set, determined. "I have waited long enough. I have not felt this way about anybody in years," she paused, her faced turned away, eyes blinking rapidly. "I have not done this in years," she muttered.

Her back straightened and her features morphed into determination. "Sod it!" she cried out. Her face came round again and her arms moved around his neck, pulling him down aggressively.

He tried to fight, but his body could not. Resisting Ginny was near to impossible. Relaxing under her weight, his lips met hers. They were softer and gentler than he remembered. Her emotions flowed through the kiss towards him and he was sure that his flowed back.

Desperately his hand moved up towards her soft, freckled cheek. Almost trembling with desire, his hand ran along her jaw and into her long fiery red hair, while his other arm wrapped around her waist pulling her closer. Her warm bodied pressed against him, allowing him to feel every inch of her. The kiss deepened as two years of solitude and tension was released from them both.

Eventually they stood, holding each other. Ginny's head rested against his chest. Harry's hand gently stroked her back. Being with her was almost indescribable. The hours of the night slipped by until they finally managed to say goodnight. The clock on the wall, if they had bothered looking, would have told them that it was well into the morning hours.

_A/N I am sure there are a few heads shaking at the moment. Please take the time to leave a review, tell me what you think. Thanks for reading._


	11. Chapter 10

_A/N Thank you for the comments. This chapter shows a bit of Harry's past. Hope you enjoy._

A few minutes had passed since he had said goodnight to Ginny in the common room. Under his covers, with his eyes open, he lay unable to sleep. He could still feel her. Each movement of her body. The tenderness of her lips when his own touched hers. The silky feel of her hair when his hands moved through the long tendrils of red. His body shivered at the mere reminder of her warm breath against his neck. Even the smell of her hair enthralled him. Those brown eyes staring up at him, filled with a combination of desire and pain, haunted him.

How could he have been such an idiot, allowing her to kiss him like that? The determination within those brown eyes had been irresistible. The worst part was, if placed in the same situation again, he knew that the outcome would be the same. Still, his anger at himself came in waves, the moment replaying vividly over in his mind. The selfish part of him wanted to shout for joy at having her in his life again. The other portion felt sickened about what he had done. How would he ever be able to tell her that he loved her when he was causing her so much pain? Could he really be in love with Ginny? Was this love?

Finally managing to get his thoughts away from Ginny, his eyelids began to grow heavy as he studied the ceiling. He was back home, in Hogwarts, surrounded by his friends whom he thought of as family. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were his family and he was sure that they felt the same way about Harry. It was doubtful that they would be able to accept Rand in the same way. Harry had been through too much with them.

Taking a few deep, controlled breaths, he began the process that cleared his mind, shielding his dreams. The process almost complete, he wondered if the Wizarding world had something similar. Vague memories of Hermione mentioning something about Occlumency tickled his mind. Thoughts and images disappeared, darkness descended over him, and sleep came.

His dreams began as confused as ever before they settled onto a vivid memory.

_Propping his back against a large rock, Harry studied the stars just above the horizon. Orion was just beginning to creep up into the sky. A few more constellations that he recognized from his astronomy classes became visible. Quietly, he whispered the names to the air. They all shimmered brightly in the night sky, casting a faint light around him. The sight was breathtaking. Not even at Hogwarts had he seen a sky like this. After several evenings in the desert, he was still fascinated by the sheer number of stars visible in the evening sky and intensity with which they shone._

_Gingerly, Harry touched the hilt of a sword lying next to him. The leather handle was unfamiliar in his soft hands. His sword training with Lan had gone well earlier that afternoon. He was nowhere near proficient with a sword, yet. At least he had learned which part to hold and how to defend himself against an attacker long enough to get away. Then there was magic. Even if Lan and Moraine did not know, Harry knew that he could defend himself with a few carefully chosen spells. Blocking an opponent's sword would give him ample time to strike back with a stunning spell. That is if he ever allowed an opponent to get that close to him._

_Hours after finishing his training, he still sat quietly some distance from the camp. His interest was prickled when a star vanished just above the horizon, before returning a second later. Sitting up, he straightened his glasses, squinting through them. A moment later, he inhaled sharply. Another light blinked out of existence before shining again. Narrowing his emerald green eyes even more, he noticed that numerous stars vanished. Some never came back. _

_The loud thumping in his chest was the only indication of his growing anxiety. After a few more minutes, the dark outline of shapes that appeared to be human became distinct. Cold fear gripped his body. The people approaching could not possibly be friends. _

_The dark shapes grew larger and more ominous. The air around him began to stir. The evening breeze that had been still, descended down the hill into the valley where the camp and water hole were situated. Glancing back, he could not see any signs of movement. Why had the guards not called the alarm? If he could see the intruders, then surely the guards had._

_Turning away from the camp, his green eyes began to blaze with intensity. Withdrawing his new sword from its scabbard, he held it out firmly, if a bit nervously, in his right hand. In his left, he now gripped his wand, which had been hidden inside his robes since arriving in this forsaken wilderness._

_Sweat dripped down his face even though the night air was cool. The comfort of a Hogwarts bed was relegated to a distant memory, though it had only been a few weeks. Had he thought of running or Apparating he could have been inside the camp by now. Fleeing had, however, never been part of his mind set. Even Voldemort had not caused him to take flight. _

_Bracing himself against an onslaught that he knew was about to hit him, he was surprised at the utter calm within himself. He was afraid. Death was close enough that he could feel its touch, but his mind was at peace. A bit of Ginny still warmed him. The sound of hundreds of feet began to echo around the valley and suddenly shouts reverberated from the tents behind, "Trollocs! Trollocs!" The camp was far away and what the voices called Trollocs were nearly on top of him. Like so many times in his life before, Harry Potter found himself alone._

_With his heart racing, he waited. The shapes still grew in size and a terrible realisation dawned on him. "Stupefy!" Harry shouted in panic. A disgusting feeling pulsed through his body making him feel nauseous. The curse caused a bright red beam of light to shoot out from his wand, which went soaring towards his attackers. The short span of time that the Trollocs were illuminated, caused Harry's heart to almost stand still. Whatever he had thought Trollocs were, he was horribly wrong. They were worse than his most hideous nightmares. Not even the vile snake-like Voldemort was so horrifying. Trollocs appeared to be part man and part animal. In the brief instant of illumination, he could see them. They had heads of goats, bulls and things he could not describe, all of them on shoulders of men. Not only were they huge, but they were close and even more numerous than he had previously imagined. Was this going to be Potter's last stand?_

_Calming himself, he began shouting stunning spells as fast as he could. There was little point in holding back. The bitter truth, he knew, was that stunners would not be enough. The words of the killing curse sat on the tip if his tongue, but he could not gather the nerve to shout out an Unforgivable. The sound of their feet was coming closer, perhaps only twenty paces when his nerve shattered. It was kill or be killed and he shouted the words that changed him. His voice sounded unattached to his thoughts, almost as if they belonged to someone else. "Avada Kedavra!" the words ordinarily would have chilled him, not now. A sickly beam of pale green light tore through the night sky. The glow highlighted the beasts closing in around him. The ghastly jet of death vanished upon striking Harry's first victim, a ram like creature. It tumbled to the ground with a crash. _

_A dam broke, innocence had been lost. A glimmer that had been in his bright green eyes dimmed. The words rang out again and the perspiration on his face began to form drops that dripped from his face. The curse was much more draining than any normal stunning spell. _

_They were almost on top of him. Green jets of light went flying into the night air, without pause, despite his growing weariness. Each beam struck another beast, the mass of bodies made it impossible to miss. His time was running out, his right hand gripped the sword tighter. The blade would be needed soon. He felt like laughing, so much for keeping his enemies at a distance! _

_His palms were growing moist even as his throat began to go dry from shouting. Closing his mind to distractions, he could hear the words Lan had spoken earlier that evening, "The Apple Blossoms in the Wind." Relaxing the grip on his sword, he gathered himself into the stance as taught by the blade master. The sword was held in a low guard ready to move with his body. _

_The first Trolloc appeared before him, its face snarled in anger. The shoulders of the creature were immense and powerful arms glistened in the green light that shot out from Harry's wand into the animal's companion. From his stance, Harry parried the Trolloc's dark blade before countering with a smooth movement, slicing the dark creature across the stomach. The blade glistened darkly when it was removed, but he kept flowing. There was no time to think, no time to comprehend what he had done. Killing the Basilisk had been the actions of a boy, unsure. Tonight he was killing with intent and full awareness._

_Effortless smooth movements of blade, wand and body coupled with his sharp eyes honed through years of seeking snitches kept him alive. All the while Lan's voice spoke to him, "The Branch in the Storm." His blade moved in a horizontal slash, effectively blocking another almost-black blade before it could slice into his skin. His muscles began to ache, the strength required to move his sword about was wearing him down. Unlike Gryffindor's sword, this was no ornament he held in his hand. It was a plain device, made for a single purpose._

_Incessant blows drove him to his knees. Tired, he managed to parry another sword, but only half way. Biting his tongue until it bled, he held back a cry of pain as the edge of a sword cut into the flesh of his shoulder. Warm blood began to flow down his left arm from where he had been cut. With a slash from his right hand he cut into the Trolloc before firing a killing curse into its chest. The creature collapsed at his feet._

_Panting heavily, Harry knew that he could not last much longer. His physical strength was leaving him and his ability to perform magic was being strained to its limits. Only vaguely aware of his surroundings, he hardly noticed the flames that erupted around him. Death was near. _

_Harry's breathing came in short sharp rasps. The wand in his blood-soaked hand felt heavy. The burning pain from his shoulder stole his strength. He halted any attempts at offensive cuts or thrusts, it took all his strength to defend his exhausted body. His now-multiple wounds made him want to cry out in agony, but he could not. He needed the breath for spells. The orange light of flames merged with the conjured green light of death. Behind him, he could hear swords clashing, coming nearer. Perhaps help was almost there. _

_White light erupted next to him. Trollocs began to fall back. Blinking a few times to clear his eyes from the sweat that had dripped into them, he noticed that no Trollocs remained near him. He wanted to laugh, but instead tears began to roll down his cheeks. His body convulsed as waves of emotion surged through him. _

_Nothing stirred around him. He was alone. Collapsing to his knees, he let the sword drop to the ground. His upturned palms covered his face. His wand, dangling from his fingers, fell. The ground was littered with corpses, all of them Trollocs. The sight of them would have made him heave, but he was too tired to look, let alone see. There was no energy left in him. Alone, he wept into his hands. Why could he not be tucked away within the safety of Hogwarts, with Ginny to make him laugh? _

_Lifting his head, he let his left arm lay limply on his lap. His face, covered in dust and his own dried blood, was streaked with tears. Kneeling there, each and every cut began to draw his attention. The only comfort being that the injuries were not as painful as a Cruciatus curse. With his good hand he wiped away the moisture from his face. Breathing deeply, he waited for his heart to settle. The rhythmic thump in his chest refused to slow. The air around him felt stale and a stench had already begun to rise from the dead and dying. Reaching to the ground, he gripped the sword again. With it he pushed himself to his feet, his legs were injured the least of all._

_After two steps, he lost his balance and would have crashed to the ground, if a strong hand had not caught him. Too weary to glance up at his saviour, he merely hung onto the man who felt like an unyielding rock. "You did well, Master Potter," Lan's usual hard voice came from the man holding him. _

_He was safe, but still alone. _

In the darkness of the boys' dorm, his eyes began to blink. He could tell that it was still early. Glancing at his watch, he groaned. It was only five. It was too early to go down for breakfast and most people would not wake for another few hours. With the memory of the battle vivid in his mind, he decided that he needed to exercise. Sleep would not come again. Besides, if he was not careful, he would begin to grow weak, both physically and in the Power. The last thing that he wanted was to be the scrawny little boy who left two years ago who could not handle his powers.

With an effort, he heaved himself up and out from under his warm covers. The night air felt cool against his body. Dressing in tight fitting but comfortable robes of black, he silently began to move his way out of Gryffindor Tower. The Heron mark sword, hidden from view, was once again attached to his back. The Fat Lady did not seem impressed with him being awake so early, but a quick explanation of exercise convinced her to open. It was odd for wizards to train, but not unknown. Many witches and wizards from Muggle families kept to strict training schedules. A few obsessed Quidditch players, like Wood, had been known to wake early as well.

The castle itself was empty, even the portraits were fast asleep. Walking rapidly, his elegant strides made it appear as if he was gliding above the floor. His soft footfalls made no sound. Emerging from the main entrance onto the grounds, he was surprised to find the weather slightly warmer than he expected, considering the cold from the tower. The air was still and the cloudless sky still held a few dim stars. Glancing up at them, he longed for the clear desert sky that he had known for a few weeks. The rising sun would soon be near the horizon where it would begin to shine down upon the grounds.

Finding the path that worked its way down to the lake, Harry began to jog. A good workout always started with a run. It loosened some muscles and warmed the body. The darkness faded slowly around him as sunrise approached. Blood flowed through his veins with each beat of his heart. The calm surface of the lake mirrored the orange sky as he made his way around it to the far side. It was hard to believe that beneath the placid surface there was a thriving, often violent community of magical creatures.

The jog had not been long, the pace slow. His breathing was even and calm when he found a nice grass-covered clearing that would allow him to practice. The area was small, but the ground was flat and hidden from view, which to him was more important than the size. Settling himself onto the damp grass, he began to stretch out his muscles. Flexibility, coupled with strength, was vital when maintaining his sword forms. Together they provided freedom of movement and balance.

Satisfied with his preparations, he unsheathed his sword, studying the intricate Heron engraved onto the blade. How much had he given to obtain the honour of owning one? Removing his long black cloak and shirt, he poised himself. Standing motionless, the air chilled his bare skin. The cold contrasted with the burning sensation of the Dragons on his forearms. Those twin Dragons glistened against the sun when it rose above the horizon.

He ignored his surroundings, he was focused on his blade, he was one with the sword. Working rapidly through each form his muscles began to ache from the constant strain of balancing his body during each extreme movement. Some of forms were rapid strikes while others demanded balance to be maintained for long periods. Not all the forms were meant to be used in a sword fight, but they were all designed to condition the mind and the body. As his tempo increased, droplets of sweat began to form on his pale upper body before running down his back, their paths occasionally diverted along the lines of multiple white scars.

An hour after he had begun, he arrived back at the tower. A few students were already awake when he entered the common room. To his surprise, Ginny was one of them. Her expression mirrored his own when she saw him coming in.

Her appearance made him feel guilty again. Instinctively, he brushed his hand through his dishevelled and sweaty hair. He had worked himself hard and he had set a brisk pace when jogging back to the school.

"Morning," he managed to greet her without sounding too surprised or sad. He was sure that she was not a morning person. The slightly hollow look in her puffy eyes and the dark rings under them told him what he needed to know. Ginny, the girl that meant the world to him, had been up all night crying.

"Morning," Ginny greeted, getting to her feet too, trying her best to sound excited. She failed miserably.

"I am rather sweaty at the moment," Harry said holding up his hands when she was almost near him. At that moment, all he could think to do was distance himself from her.

She smiled faintly, closing the remaining distance. "Really, like I care about a thing like that." He laughed and allowed her to give him a quick kiss. Warmth flooded back into him. Light filled her eyes again. Relieved and oblivious to the surrounding students, the kiss deepened with longing.

Around them heads turned to face them, each holding a pair of eyes wide with shock. The worst of all was Dean Thomas. His knuckles white from the force with which he held a piece of scrunched up parchment in his hand showed what he thought.

When Harry stepped away from Ginny, he paused. Heat rose up his neck, his cheeks reddened. The room was silent. Ginny, still alongside him, blushed spectacularly. Glancing around, Harry did not need to see Dean's eyes to know that they were filled with anger. The boy's expression and posture were enough. Harry knew the look. Dean wanted a fight.

"Is he a boyfriend of yours?" Harry asked, suddenly nervous. Everything that he had heard the past few days led him to believe that she had not been seeing anyone while he was gone.

Ginny glared up at Harry, her eyes sending a clear message. "No!" she breathed out through clenched teeth, too low for anyone to hear. With the kiss over, most of the students returned to what they were doing. Dean alone seemed unable to move on. "I can handle the idiot," she muttered again. Her arms were crossed across her chest, her eyes filled with fire. If Dean knew what was good for him, he would let this go.

Deciding it wise not to create another scene on his first day, and knowing that Ginny could take care of herself, he made to leave. "I need to take a shower. Meet you down here in a few minutes," Harry said to Ginny before giving her another kiss.

Moving past her, he walked up the staircase. "I'll be here," she said as he ascended the first step. If Dean wanted to start a fight with him then it would be best to grant him some time to cool down. Hopefully, Dean would have released enough anger to avoid a confrontation by the time Harry finished his shower. With a rueful grin, he wondered if Dean would survive Ginny.

Only when he stood under the shower did he begin to berate himself again. Starting a relationship with Ginny was the first thing that he wanted to do, but definitely the last that he should have done. Seeing her tired face this morning confirmed his fears. She was struggling with her feelings. Yet, what could be done to put an end to their mutual attraction? They were drawn to each other, it was just that simple. Neither could deny what each felt for the other. The way that Ginny managed push aside her feelings for Harry proved just how strong his pull on her was. Perhaps he really was as strong a ta'veren as they had always claimed. Rand had always just been so much more – negating Harry's influence on the pattern.

The warm water running through his hair and over his body helped to sooth his worries like it so often did. His fingers brushed over a few scars as he remembered how they were formed, the thick white line on his left shoulder being the first. Formed by a cursed Trolloc blade. It was actually second, the lightning bolt being his first.

The other notable scar, a thick white streak between his shoulder blades, held the most pain. Not because of the pain, or his near death, but rather what it had cost him in the end. What was physical pain compared to the loss of someone so dear to him?

There was one comfort. To the world he was just Rand Damodred, a foreign student who was here for his seventh year. He was not Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, who had a large target on his back. The target had not only been for Voldemort, but the ministry and fellow students as well. Even though he had barely interacted with other students, he could already feel the difference. He was beneath notice, a comforting change, something that he had always desired. Maybe, just maybe, he could spend a decent amount of time with Ginny without having to worry about her safety. He was being selfish, he thought, as he pounded a fist against the wall.

Closing the taps he dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. He wanted to strap his sword, which now lay in his trunk, onto his back. However, with Ginny so near to him now, he could not afford for her to feel the scabbard, or the invisible hilt that stuck out above his shoulder. Something that she was bound to do sooner rather than later. You never knew where a fiery, bouncy girl like her, would end up. The image of her jumping onto his back made him smile.

Halfway out the dorm, he realized that he had forgotten about Moiraine. He would need to get to her soon, seeing as the main reason for them being here was to find and kill Voldemort. He sighed loudly, Ginny was truly messing with his mind. Time management – he had to find the time to get to everything.

Descending the staircase he was greeted by the sounds of an intense argument, Ginny's voice being the most vocal. The other came from Dean Thomas who was standing in front of her. His whole body was bent in rage, his face purple. "How could you just throw yourself at this guy!" he shouted at her. Apparently, someone had been refused a few times. Harry paused.

Harry did not want to interfere, but one look at Ginny told him that she needed support. "This guy?" Harry's voice was not loud, but it carried across the room. Dean's head whipped around towards him, his eyes burning heatedly. Ginny's entire body sagged in relief.

Harry slipped into the void, saidin pulsed through him, as he approached Dean. The One Power crashed around inside him, fighting for dominance. "I hope you did not harm her," his voice was calm but cold as ice, all the while he fought to control saidin. He would not let anyone harm Ginny. The contradiction was not lost on him, but he pushed it aside.

"You think that you can just walk in here and take the first girl that you lay eyes on!" Dean roared before coming to stand in front of Harry. The way Dean moved indicated to Harry that he was no threat. Being Muggle born, he might have had some martial arts or other forms of training as a child.

Harry's gray eyes, unblinking, bored into Dean's. "I hope that you will apologize to Ginny for this outburst," Harry replied slowly. Ignoring the enraged Gryffindor, he stepped past Dean towards Ginny to take her hand in his. "Hi," his voice was gentle and reassuring. "Are you ready for breakfast?" Harry asked, before giving her a reassuring kiss. As his lips touched Ginny's, Harry was almost certain he heard steam pouring out of Dean's ears.

Pulling away from her, Harry studied Ginny. Her dull, weary eyes of earlier were now intense and full of fire. Like a true Weasley, her cheeks were flushed in anger at Dean. Seeing Harry completely at ease with the situation seemed to soothe her temper. "Sure, Rand," she answered, giving Dean another meaningful look. For his part, Harry prayed that Dean got the message.

With her hand in his, Ginny and Harry turned to leave the common room. Thankfully, Ron was still nowhere to be seen and had probably not heard about Harry's altered relationship with Ginny. If he had, Harry was sure that he would have been standing alongside Dean threatening him. Breaking the news to Ron was another scene that he was hoping to avoid. Then again, the Ron on the train had been vastly different from the Ron of old. Harry would have to ask Ginny one day if Hermione had given Ron a good lashing. Perhaps Ginny herself forced an attitude change.

They had almost reached the portrait hole when the sound stomping of feet reached him. Within the void the harsh footfalls reverberated inside his head. In a single fluid motion he turned, pushed Ginny behind him and effortlessly blocked a fist that was aimed at his head. Holding Dean's hand firmly in his own, Harry studied Dean. The boy's mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish's, while soft, unintelligible words escaped his lips.

"Really, I did not have a Gryffindor down as a coward who attacked a man's back," Harry said emotionlessly. From within the void, the disappointment he felt could not be conveyed. "It would be wise never to do that again." The tone of his voice was much more threatening than his words. His gray eyes, having lost none of their intensity, made Dean flinch.

Releasing the void Harry fumed suddenly with rage as he glared at the guy that had once been a friend. The overwhelming desire to knock sense into him was almost overpowering. Yet, violence rarely solved any problems. Dean paled slightly under his gaze before beginning to move away. The crowd inside the common room was staring at him peculiarly, as if they could not make up their minds. On the one hand, they appeared to be afraid of him, on the other they looked pleased to have him in their house.

The unfortunate Dean had not backed away far enough. A bundle of fury, called Ginny, came around from behind Harry and threw a punch into Dean's unsuspecting stomach, doubling him over. "That's for trying to hit, Rand," she stated. Dean barely had time to utter a response, before she kicked him hard against the backside. "And that is for being an idiot!" she shouted this time. Dean collapsed onto the floor groaning. A very smug looking Ginny stood over him. "And I didn't even need magic," she whispered, so that only Harry could hear.

Harry cocked his head thoughtfully then smiled. "Nicely done," he complemented her before helping her out of the room. Not only did he want breakfast, he was afraid of what she might do next. The common room was silent as they left. Ginny Weasley had just let her temper loose in front of the guy and he just smiled, that was unheard of. Harry in fact loved it, her strong character was what drew him to her in the first place. She reminded him of Nynaeve with her stubbornness and temper. Perhaps women like them required men as hard as Lan and himself, they needed someone strong who would not break against their relentless pounding.

"Thanks," Ginny said, bouncing up and down as she beamed with pride.

"Not a bad block there yourself," she added and he thanked her. Dean could be glad that he had only received a punch and a kick from Ginny. A strike from Harry would have left a lot more damage, to his body that is. On second thought, Ginny's punch and kick had damaged Dean's ego a lot more than any punch from Harry ever could have.

The rest of the trip down to the Great Hall was done in silence. Harry was thinking about their new relationship. The glint in her eyes led him to believe the she was reliving Dean's humiliation. They entered the hall and crossed towards their house table. Sitting down across from Ron and Hermione they piled food onto their plates. Ron was still looking slightly displeased about Harry being around Ginny, but he kept things to himself. It was a pleasant change.

"Mr Damodred," Professor McGonagall said from behind Harry.

Turning around slowly he faced the professor. Her face was rigid and focused solely on him. "Morning, Professor." He refrained from bowing his head formally, barely. She would most likely take it as mockery.

"I need to ask you what classes you will be taking during the course of the year," her voice sounded slightly agitated. If he suddenly decided to take a strange combination of classes then she might have to redo everything just to accommodate him. It was something that would have irritated him had he been in her position.

"Sure, um… let me think… Defence, Potions, Charms and Transfiguration," Harry replied with a smile. Those four, he was sure, were bound to be rather common in combination. The classes were not that important. He was really only here for one reason. Hogwarts was the ideal place to look for Voldemort.

She nodded, allowing a brief smile. Then with a wave of her wand, over a piece of parchment, she created a timetable. A relieved McGonagall handed him his schedule. Taking it from her, Harry wondered if she had changed over the years or if it was just his improved ability to read people. He was sure that she had never shown such signs of displeasure or relief before.

Glancing at his schedule, he noted that he only had Defence and Transfiguration lined up for the day. His first two periods were free, which would give him time to see Moiraine as well as to exercise.

The fight against Voldemort would take time to become organized. Determining ways to discover his whereabouts would be difficult. Perhaps he should have asked the Sorting Hat to place him in Slytherin when he had the chance. It was too late to change that, so he pushed it aside.

What he needed to do was find a way for Moiraine to be part of the Order of the Phoenix, that much had been discussed and decided. The how was the difficult part. He thought about just going to Dumbledore as Harry, but that would mean a secret that Dumbledore would have to keep. That secret would eventually be told to the Order and he was sure that there were spies within the organisation. Even if there were none, Dumbledore might find a way of revealing his identity in order to gain the higher ground somewhere. No, it was best to keep his secrets close to his chest.

The more unnerving reason for not telling the Headmaster was because Harry was not entirely sure that he could trust Dumbledore. The old man had withheld various pieces of information from Harry in the past. He had also placed him with his Aunt and Uncle. Even if they did not harm him physically, the mental damage had been profound. A small trickle of fear laced his worries, what other secrets had Dumbledore kept from Harry all those years ago? What vital knowledge of Voldemort's resurrection was locked inside the Headmaster's head?

With two hours before his first class, he knew that he had ample time to visit Moiraine. After breakfast, Ron and Hermione left the Great Hall before Ginny and he. Hermione had Ancient Runes to attend while Ron, as the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, had trials to organize. Ron took his position seriously and Harry was looking forward to actually working with him. That is if he could still fly a broom. Harry almost tripped over his own feet. He did not have his own broom.

Ginny's eyes looked him over after his small stumble. "I guess I will be seeing you at lunch," Ginny said to Harry as they walked out of the hall together.

"Of course," Harry replied warmly. He wanted nothing more.

Fidgeting nervously with her robes as they walked, she looked rather hesitant to let him out of her sight. "I'll miss you," her voice low and unsteady.

"I will be in the Great Hall for lunch," Harry said with a smile.

Ginny nodded slowly, unsure. Pulling her close, he gave her a reassuring kiss. Some of the tension left her body. "Promise," she whispered.

"Promise."

With that, she turned to leave. There was neither a smile on her lips nor any joy in her features.

Taking a step to the entrance, he paused. Ginny's unease was too great to ignore. "I'll walk with you," he added, before rushing to come up alongside her.

Ginny brightened considerably, letting go of her robe she slipped her hand into his. "Thank you," she whispered, leaning against him. His hand squeezed hers, gently, but reassuringly.

"So, what class do you have first?" Harry asked kissing the top of her head.

He almost shouted aloud at his inability to leave Ginny alone. She was crying herself to sleep at night and here he was giving her even more reason to do so or maybe he was helping her. Honestly, he was growing more confused by the minute.

"Arithmancy," she sighed. "It's a shame that you are only taking those four subjects. I could have tutored you in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy."

"I would have liked that," he replied sincerely. "But I will have enough catching up to do in my other four classes. Perhaps you could help me with those."

She smiled brilliantly. "Perhaps." Straightening herself, she walked faster. Classes were about to begin and she most likely did not want to be late. Upon reaching the right door, she gave him a quick kiss. "Thank you," she said pulling away. Without waiting for his reply, she scurried inside.

Harry stood there for a while, staring at the door. Why was he letting her control him so easily? He was sure that he had learned something over the past two years about self-discipline. Eventually he managed to leave. Knowing the castle well allowed him to find a secluded corner away from the prying eyes of students and portraits. Weaving a gateway, he stepped through into the house they had bought in Hogsmeade.

Moiraine stood quickly, smoothing her robes in the process with her hands. "Morning, Harry Sedai." Her greeting was formal and held proper respect. Not that he deserved it, the one thing that he had been adamant about he had already contradicted.

"Morning, Moiraine Sedai," Harry replied sitting down on a chair opposite her. He released the weaves around him allowing his natural hair colour and eyes to be visible. It felt good to be himself again, even if it was just with her.

"From the look on your face, things have gone either horribly wrong or extremely well," her eyebrow was raised drawing attention away from her knowing smirk.

There was no point in denying. "Light! I just can't stay away from her," his hands worked furiously through his hair in frustration before his fist thumped down onto the wooden table causing it to creak in protest. "I tried to keep her away, but she just kept on coming back and I kept moving closer." His head fell backwards and he stared up at the ceiling. A cry of pure frustration echoed around the room.

"I never suspected any less, honestly," she said slowly taking a sip of her tea. "This tea here is rather nice."

"What am I to do?" Harry moaned in frustration, ignoring her comments about tea. He sounded like the immature seventeen year old that he was.

"Tell her. It will solve a lot of problems for both of you," Moiraine idly took another sip of tea, her smooth ageless face staring at him, studying. Her dark eyes filled with wisdom and understanding.

"But…" he began before stopping. Could it really be the best way to solve most of his problems? What Moiraine said held some truth. He knew that Ginny would be able to keep his secret and it would remove a large burden from her. The mere idea of her not having to cry herself to sleep every night was worth it.

He sat in silence thinking. Days of confusion and frustration warping his thoughts. It was all a jumble. Not only did Moiraine's advice hold some truth, it made sense. The tangled webs in his minds began to unravel, forming clear precise thoughts. A sigh escaped his lips. He really had been thick.

"Tonight then," Harry agreed with a faint nod.

"Good, that will give me something to do," Harry gave her a quizzical look. "Well if she knows about you then you can tell her about channelling. That means that I can train her."

"Of course, sorry," Harry replied with a shake of his head. Ginny really was messing with his mind. Forgetting something even that simple could be disastrous. That made him even surer about his decision. Ginny had to be told, for both their sanity's sake. By revealing more of himself and his part in the prophecy to her, he could move on with what was required. Three days he had been here, and he had barely given any contemplation to how he was going to fulfil his prophecy.

"What have you been up to?" Harry asked finally.

"Nothing much really, I walked around town yesterday. Not much here. So I went to Diagon Alley." She paused, her dark eyes locked on Harry's. "The Weasley Wizard Wheezes was an interesting store." Harry's eyes darted up towards hers, sparkling.

"Weasley!" he said loudly smacking his palm loudly against his leg. "I knew they could do it, I knew it!"

"Are the owners related to your Weasley?"

"Older twin brothers. I gave them some money that I had won in the hope that they would be able to start their own business," his voice was filled with enthusiasm. He paused; he had not shown so much in years. He had become so good at guarding his thoughts.

"Harry, it is good to see you so full of life," Moiraine said very informally. Harry almost reacted, but he waved it off. Here he was just Harry Potter, no more no less. He smiled, there was no need for him to hide behind a wall of stone.

That did not mean that he should become careless. It just meant that he could allow himself to live his life a little more than he had allowed himself before. Making another decision, he, got to his feet.

"I will see you later, Moiraine Sedai."

"Take care, Harry," she added. He smiled, being informal was a nice change.

"I will, Moiraine." It felt like a small burden had fallen from his shoulders.

A gateway began to grow before him. Knowing what he wanted and where he had to go, he stepped through. His hair and eyes shimmered and then morphed into red and gray. Harry Potter would have to wait just a few more hours.


	12. Chapter 11

_A/N Thank you for the reviews. I have moved this to the crossover section where it belongs. _

_I hope to hear from more WoT fans. Comments are always appreciated as getting WoT facts right is not easy. _

After leaving Moiraine, Harry felt much better than he had in some time. With a plan forming in his mind, he began to breathe easier. On the other side of the gateway he had formed at Moiraine's house, he emerged in the dark deserted alleyway of Diagon Alley. If he was going to start playing Quidditch again, then he would be in need of a good broom.

The only place that he could think of going was Diagon Alley. The broom store there, he was sure, would provide him with a wide assortment of brooms to choose from. Moving gracefully, but quickly, he exited the alleyway and began to make his way through the crowded streets to his desired destination. First, however, he made a detour to the bank. He did not normally walk around with a broom's amount of Galleons in his pocket.

A few minutes later, with enough coins clinking in his pockets, he ducked inside the Quidditch store. Immediately he felt comfortable. The smell of freshly oiled brooms permeated the air. A number of witches and wizards were scouring the shelves in search of their next broom. Most, however, were in the more common transport section of the store. Harry veered to the other side. The Quidditch section was where he wanted to be. His gray eyes widened at the sight before him: row upon row of brooms were on display. He felt like a kid let loose in a candy store. In awe at the sight that he had forgotten, the Firebolt on display almost went unnoticed. His own Firebolt, sadly, stood untouched at the Burrow. His fingers reached out, wanting to touch, but the rational part of him brought them back. He could not get another one.

One of the first things he realised upon walking through the store was that broom technology had not changed much since his departure. The Firebolt was still the most advanced broom on the market, the supposed successor was still in the works. The Nimbus 2001 still ranked second, but he had never liked the broom much, considering that it was the one used by Malfoy and the entire Slytherin team.

Walking back to where the Firebolt was on display, he considered his options. The desire to buy another was almost overwhelming, but buying one would raise too many eyebrows. The new kid riding such an advanced broom was bound to draw unwanted attention. Besides, he still owned one. The Nimbus 2001 was an emphatic no. That left him with only one real option.

Glancing down the racks, his eyes fell on a broom that held a special place in his heart. The Nimbus 2000, the broom he had received from Professor McGonagall when he was a first year. It was still ranked up there as one of the best brooms. To be honest it was not much slower than the Firebolt. However, in a battle of Seekers, the smallest advantage could mean the difference between winning and losing.

Having made a decision, Harry casually walked down the aisle towards the broom. It was beautiful in his eyes. The polished wooden handle reflected the light inside the room, making it appear even more magical. Reverently, his fingers stroked along the fine grain of the handle – a forgotten feeling. His mind wandered back to a time when he had flown this same model around the skies of Hogwarts. The exhilaration of soaring through the air was almost palpable. Back then, he had still been free of the worries and pains that filled him now. Would flying still be the same?

"Do you require any assistance?" a young man asked. His uniform identified him as an employee. He looked vaguely familiar, probably an ex-Hogwarts student.

"I think..." Harry began, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I will take a Nimbus 2000." The answer came slowly, softly. His eyes flicked towards the Firebolt. With a shake of his head he looked away regretfully.

"Good choice that one, sir," the wizard replied, taking it from the shelf. With broom in hand, the pair headed towards the counter. Once there, the man wrapped the broom carefully, before placing it into a long slender box. All it did was to proclaim loudly to the world that Harry had bought a broom. While the man's hands worked, his mouth moved rapidly, listing the merits of the broom. Without listening Harry just nodded good-naturedly. He already knew how to fly the broom. Stats were a poor substitute for experience and instincts. Besides, he had already shown that he could break the supposed limits.

Glancing down at his watch, Harry noticed that he had been inside Diagon Alley for almost an hour. That meant he only had ten minutes to get to his first class of the year. Handing the man the required galleons, he rushed out of the store. Being careful not to be noticed, he slipped into the alley. A gateway blossomed in front of him and he stepped through. The rapid change in light was disorientating, but thankfully he found himself inside a narrow corridor at Hogwarts.

With his broom still in hand, he sprinted to Gryffindor Tower. He needed to get the broom into his trunk. He would need it later and carrying it into class was not an option. Explaining how he got his hands onto a new broom after breakfast was not something that he wanted to try to do, because there was no plausible answer.

Reaching his trunk, his breathing ragged, he unwrapped the broom and placed it gently inside. There was no point in damaging it. With the broom safely stowed and no witnesses about, he crushed the box before a ball of flame burnt it to ash. Suspending the pieces in the air, he floated them to a nearby bin. Releasing the weaves of air, the ash dropped inside. With everything in order, he casually glanced at his watch, only three minutes remained before the start of class. Throwing down the lid of his trunk, he locked it with the usual combination of wards while running out the room.

The Fat Lady huffed in annoyance at Harry's impatient attitude, as he strode through, ignoring her. The corridors were already empty with only a few scattered students still milling about. It had been a miracle that he reached his dorm unseen. The people about were mostly those who had a free period, they looked senior enough to have those. There was little time for making detailed observations, considering that he was sprinting. With his time almost at an end, he reached the entrance to his class. Opening the door, he slipped inside.

As he closed the door to the classroom behind him, the bell rang signalling the start of the period. He was the last to arrive. The professor looked up, but said nothing. A relieved Harry sank into one of the desks, ignoring some of the stares he was receiving. After the rush, Harry sat quietly, allowing his heart rate to settle. Blood still pumped through his veins from the exertion it took to get here on time. His table and chair were in the corner at the back of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The class began.

With his body beginning to calm, he allowed himself to study the teacher. The professor, to his surprise, was Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry remembered him vaguely from Grimmauld Place. He was or at least had been a member of the Order and an Auror. Harry supposed that Dumbledore tried his best to get people he trusted to teach. Sitting back, Harry allowed himself to wonder what had happened to the toad of a woman who had been teaching before he left. Her policy of no wands surely must not have gone down well with the students. Yet no one spoke of her, so perhaps her reign as professor just fizzled out. He was sure that the vile woman had tried to take control of the school. She just had that look about her.

Forgetting about Umbridge, he focused on Shacklebolt who was demonstrating a number of advanced curses to the class. Harry, holding on to saidin, observed each one and memorised the weaves. In times of danger, a person had to learn to instantly recognise and maybe duplicate certain threads. It was important to be able to tell what was being used against you and whether you could use it against your enemies.

When the professor was done demonstrating the spells that they would be learning this year, Harry began to lose focus. Concentrating on a teacher explaining how to use a wand to create a weave, which he could do with his hands behind his back, was not captivating. Growing more and more bored, Harry's mind began to take him back to when he had first learned to channel.

_It had been the morning after his first encounter with Trollocs. Moraine had treated Harry's wounds as best she could. A few cursed cuts would probably leave scars. Sitting inside a tent, in the middle of the camp, Harry had spent most of the morning explaining to Moiraine and Rand about magic. In addition to the pair he knew, another girl, Egwene, who was also able to channel saidar, sat in and listened. She, however, remained quiet. Her eyes never left him and held a hint anxiety within their depths._

_Upon arriving, Harry had tried to hide his ability to perform magic. Apparently, the people here were scared of men who could control the One Power. From what he could tell, it had something to do with the Dark One tainting the male half. The result being that any man who touched saidin eventually went mad. Remembering the nausea associated with each curse, he shivered. After the battle with the Trollocs the previous evening, there was little else for him to do but admit his powers. The multi-coloured show clearly indicated his abilities._

_To their credit, they listened carefully and asked a number of insightful questions. The first thing that Harry had noticed about Moiraine was that she did not use a wand, neither did Rand nor Egwene. The fact that Rand could channel had shocked Harry. Apparently, he was not the only man hiding his abilities from the world at large. Rand also had the twin Dragon tattoos on his forearms. Were they some form of indication? No, they could not be, otherwise Moiraine would have realised the moment she saw them._

_The no-wand thing bothered Harry. Why were these people able to perform magic without them? That was a question he wanted answered. _

_The first answer came when Moiraine informed Harry that his wand was a ter'angreal. A ter'angreal was an object that used the One Power to perform a certain task. Because a ter'angreal channelled the One Power, it was not required for the witch or wizard to have any great strength in the Power. In fact, certain types of ter'angreals could be used by Muggles. He knew he would have to think about wands and magic more openly from now on. _

_Magic, or the One Power, was a force barely understood where he came from. It was a source, infinitely more powerful and flexible than he had ever been made to believe. Somehow, Harry doubted that Dumbledore knew about this. If he had, then he would have told Harry. The fight against Voldemort meant that nothing could be held back._

_His voice was hoarse from explaining, and his body tired from demonstrating spells when they finally let him rest. Climbing into his bed, which was nothing more than a carpet and a blanket, Harry fell into a deep sleep. Too much had happened, the resulting dreams proved as much. His nights would be haunted for months to come by Trollocs and the sound of ringing swords._

_Waking hours later, Harry went in search of Rand, the one person who could help him. It had been made clear that only men could teach men to channel. Finding the tall red haired man, Harry gathered his courage. _

"_Will you teach me how to channel saidin directly?" Harry asked nervously, his wand held limply in his hand. There was no reason for Rand to trust him that much. The man looked at him. Gray eyes pierced Harry. Harry felt as if he was being weighed by Rand._

_Taking a deep breath, Harry continued, "I am part of a prophecy. I think learning to channel has something to do with my prophecy. It states that I will have a power that he knows not and I think that your method of channelling may be it." His voice sounded desperate, because he was. Learning to control the Power these people wielded could mean the difference in his struggle with Voldemort. Fighting a man bound to the restrictions of a ter'angreal, while he was free to bend and form magic at will, would a great advantage._

_Still the man made no reply. Rand sat down and his eyes scanned the horizon in contemplation. The light made his gray eyes appear pale blue. His red hair glistened in the afternoon sun. Facing Harry again, Rand's eyes changed. Something in them flickered, almost in recognition. "From one Dragon to another," he spoke up finally, referring to their tattoos. "If you can be taught, I will teach you." He paused and Harry felt a surge of hope blossom inside him. _

"_But first, we should practice our sword forms," Rand added hastily, bursting Harry's bubble. Harry must have looked as confused as he appeared, because Rand elaborated. "You can be cut-off from the source, and then you will only have your sword and your wits to save you. Let us practise what can be perfected in the light and leave the lessons of saidin to the night."_

_Harry could not argue with that logic. Learning that a person can be cut-off from the source was unnerving. Agreeing, he followed Rand out to a flat piece of ground where they spent the next few hours going through various forms. It was gruelling, especially when Lan joined them and imparted his knowledge and skills. It was not only experience and techniques that he passed down, but also words of wisdom. The previous night's battle only emphasized Harry's need to learn. By the time they finished Harry was exhausted, his back ached and his hands were raw. The multitude of scars across his body burned. All he could think of was a long hot shower. There was no room for other thoughts, not even of Ginny or home._

_Fighting a battle against Trollocs the night before, combined with the intense discussion this morning over his past, had been mentally exhausting. The added physical torture of hours of training had been the final straw. Walking back to the tent, he wondered if this world would break him. At this rate, there was little doubt that it would. _

_For all his suffering, there were positives. His body was already much firmer, his arms and shoulders were already bulkier and he could feel his shirt beginning to sit tighter. However, he would have to replace it today. His clothes were cut and covered in dried blood. A year at this rate, he would become very strong, even for a Muggle. Determined to never give up, he gritted his teeth, forcing the pain to the back of his mind. _

_Reaching the tent, Harry collapsed onto the floor. He wanted nothing more than to sleep. Instead, he was tapped on the shoulder. Turning over, he groaned when Rand motioned for him to move to the middle of the tent. Crawling over, he joined Rand who was sitting cross-legged on the floor. _

"_Are you ready?" he asked. Harry nodded. "I am not sure if you have the ability to channel saidin directly, but we will find out soon enough."_

"_Close your eyes," Rand began uneasily and Harry complied. "I am not sure exactly how to teach this, but I will try my best." Opening his eyes quickly again Harry studied Rand's face. The man definitely looked unsure. His hands swept through his tangled red hair. The Dragons on his forearms glistened in the light of the tent. Hesitant as he was, Rand still radiated an aura of control and power. There was something about the man. Harry was sure that he could feel the Power within Rand. "I will start with how my father taught me to concentrate. It is how I taught myself control over the raging torrent that is saidin."_

_Rand halted. "Brace yourself. Saidin is a powerful force that needs to be controlled; you cannot let it overwhelm you. Unlike women who embrace saidar by surrendering to it, men must seize saidin. We must dominate and bend it towards our will. Now close your eyes."_

_Nodding, Harry closed his eyes again and waited for Rand's instructions. "Now I want you to picture a flame in your mind." Harry concentrated hard as a small dull image of a flame began to form inside his head. It was distant, but as he focused more and more on the flame, it began to grow._

"_Concentrate on the flame," Rand spoke in the distance, his voice seemed far away._

_All Harry's worries surfaced: his fears of never returning the hate he felt against Snape the longing to meet his parents, the desire to be with Ginny and the ever-present fear of losing her. Emotions ranging from love to hate, each as strong as the next, poured out from him causing the flame to dwindle in his mind. He groped towards the dying embers with his mind, but it kept diminishing._

"_Focus Harry... you are the flame... there is nothing but the flame," Rand continued to coax Harry further along the path towards saidin._

"_I want you to take all your emotions and pour it into the flame... Your fears..." Rand's distant voice came from somewhere outside the emptiness which was starting to form around the flame in his mind. "As each is released into the fire, allow your mind to slip into a void of calm."_

_Focusing as hard as he ever had before, he began to let his emotions slip into the flame. As the seconds or even minutes ticked by he began to feel a stillness envelop him. The miniscule spark that had remained began to flare to life again. With each desire or feeling that left him and floated into the growing flame the void became more absolute._

"_There is nothing but the flame..." _

_And there wasn't. The flame alone filled Harry's consciousness. The fire kept growing, encompassing his being. Then he was at peace. Those fears and worries were there, but they were distant. Along the rim of the rippling flames, emotions flared. Like his thoughts, however, they were deflected away like a rock skipping across still waters._

_Then a feeling more distant drew nearer. Along the outer regions of the void, Harry began to feel a presence. Reaching out, he attempted to touch the pulsing power. A floodgate opened, allowing the torrent that was saidin to inundate him with its raging power. It flooded his very being and he had to fight for survival. The tranquillity and peace of the void alone gave him the needed strength of will. _

_Saidin was terrible and relentless in its desire to submerge him. At the same time, the feeling was wonderful. His hearing became more sensitive. The faint breathing of Rand sitting across from him was loud and clear, where before it had been silent. Opening his eyes, he was awed by the world he saw. Everything seemed vivid and more detailed. Whatever he had felt before, he realised was an imitation of life, he truly felt alive now. _

_The feeling of euphoria lasted only a few moments before a sickening feeling washed over the flow of saidin. With considerable effort, Harry managed to keep the vile flow of the Dark One's taint on saidin from filling him. It appeared and felt like oil floating on the surface of a lake. Beneath the surface was pure life giving water, on top was a layer of sickly death._

_During everything, he still remained calm within the void. His body felt distant, his thoughts composed. Releasing saidin, he slumped to the ground, exhausted. The faint noises that he heard vanished and proper feeling returned to his limbs. The calm of the void was shattered._

_Lying on his back, panting heavily, Harry stared up at Rand. "That was incredible and yet…" he could not finish and his face paled at the mere thought of the taint. _

_Rand grinned back down at Harry. "You feel alive when you touch the source," his voice was faint as if reminiscing, but then it turned cold. "Be wary. You can burn yourself out if you draw more of the One Power than you can handle." He lightened up a bit then added, "you are very powerful, Harry."_

_Harry made no reply. Instead he just sat, trying to avoid the searching eyes of Rand. Now that they were finished, Rand wore a confused frown. His mouth worked, but no sound came out. If Harry did not know better he was sure the man was talking to himself. Had Rand already gone mad, or was it himself? _

_Those gray eyes blinked, a sense of knowing filled them. "Who is Ginny?" _

"Seeing as you are unable to stay awake, Mr Damodred, perhaps you would be willing to demonstrate the advanced Protego shield. You know, the one I demonstrated earlier," Shacklebolt's booming voice said from alongside Harry. The entire class was staring at him, waiting. Dean most of all was smiling. The glare Harry sent Dean wiped the grin from his face. Pulling himself together, Harry sat up straight in his chair.

"Of course, Professor," Harry said confidently removing his wand, which was in the pocket of his robes. Giving a slight yawn to emphasise how easy this was he barely formed the incantation coherently. With a nonchalant wave of his wand, the shield erupted in front of him. It was an arrogant gesture and he regretted it immediately. There was a pause, a few breaths caught, including the professor's.

"Excellent," Shacklebolt boomed proudly, breaking the silence. "Ten points from Gryffindor for sleeping in my class and twenty points for Gryffindor for conjuring a perfect shield." Before he moved away, Harry noticed that he was giving him the same quizzical look that Dumbledore had given him in the Headmaster's office a few days ago. Knowing what the look was for, he carefully placed his wand onto the desk. He had once again performed a flawless spell with shoddy wand movements. The lack of an incantation or an incoherent one, could be ignored because spells could be done non-verbally. A spell could not be done with improper wand movements.

The movement of a wand wove the various threads of the five elements into intricate patterns, which eventually became the spell. Of course, no witch or wizard could know this. Experience had taught people much, and thousands of years of research proved that wand technique was crucial to a spell's success. If the pattern of the wand was incorrect, then the weave would be woven incorrectly. The result being a spell that would not work – it could not. Harry was not using his wand to weave the Power. Shaking his head slightly, he made a mental note to try and get his wand movements more precise. Perhaps he should even fail once or twice.

When the bell rang at last signalling the end of the period, Harry deftly exited the class, not wanting any extra attention from the professor or his classmates. His moves to avoid the professor were successful. However, they led him straight into the path of Hermione and Ron, both of them anxious to see him.

"That was an interesting demonstration you gave in class," Hermione began, trying to sound conversational. The hidden question in her words was not lost on him. Years of dealing with the fine art of cunning phrases from Aes Sedai had taught him the hard way to listen.

"I just got a bit lucky, I suppose," Harry replied shrugging his shoulders, very unlike him.

Hermione's mouth was about to open. Her next line of questions already planned, when Ron came up alongside, boxing him in. His face was set in concentration and his cheeks were red, making him look almost angry. Harry knew better. Ron was being serious and considering his options.

"Hermione would you give us a minute, please?" Ron asked his girlfriend. Hermione looked confused and did not move away. Stopping, she crossed her arms staring defiantly at Ron.

"We have Transfiguration in a few minutes," she replied, pointedly looking at her watch, trying to emphasise her point.

"I will meet you there," Ron said after he stopped walking and placing a firm hand on Harry's wrist forced him to stop as well.

Hermione spun around and began tapping her foot impatiently. Looking back, with a raised eyebrow, she huffed. Ron gave her a hard unwavering look. "Fine," she muttered indignantly before striding away rapidly in an obvious attempt to show her anger. With Hermione moving away, Harry felt proud of Ron for standing up for himself.

"Ron," Harry began, but was cut off by a raised hand. There was no smile on his friend's face, nor any hint of what was to come.

"Rand…" Ron said, but stopped as group of students walked passed. By the way they stared at the two of them, the group had some inkling of the topic. Ron glared at them, forcing the huddle of kids to scurry off rapidly. Turning back to face Harry, he inhaled deeply. "I heard about your… you know… with Ginny." Ron grimaced, but Harry was surprised by how calm his former best friend sounded.

"I suppose you are referring to my relationship with Ginny," Harry replied, staring up at Ron with his gray eyes, wondering what was about to happen. Harry did not embrace saidin, he did not want to risk being detached from his emotions. If he was cold and distant in the void, he was afraid he might hurt Ron if this turned ugly. If he did, Harry would never be able to forgive himself.

"Yes, that was what I was referring to," Ron continued, trying his best to remain composed. His hands were working furiously to drain some excess tension. "What I really want to say is that…" Harry could see the pain and effort that these words were causing Ron. The sweat forming on his brow was enough to show his friend's unease. "Look... Ginny has been through more – for Merlin's sake lost more – than you could ever imagine."

"I…" Harry tried to speak but was cut-off again.

"She has suffered for two years. I have watched my little sister go from a joyful energetic girl, to a detached empty shell!" his voice was still low, but it held conviction.

"Ron..." Harry tried again.

"Quiet! Rand." It was just them. No other soul walked the corridors. When Ron paused again, the world was silent.

Closing his eyes, Ron took a deep calming breath. "What I want to say is that Ginny is happy again. Not only that, she is opening up, her former self is reappearing."

That was not what he expected Ron to say.

Leaning away from Ron, Harry's back collided with the wall. He could scarcely imagine a Ginny more fragile and lost than the one he had seen this weekend. Ginny, alone in the Burrow, was as close as he had come to seeing the girl that she had become without Harry.

He had to tell her who he was. Ginny deserved the truth, had earned it. In fact, he owed her more than he could ever repay.

"Listen," Ron said, interrupting Harry's thoughts. Staring down at him, Ron used his lanky frame to its full advantage. He almost succeeded in intimidating Harry. "Being with Hermione has taught me a lot about relationships," he began uneasily. "I can see and understand Ginny's feelings," he took another deep breath. His eyes darted about in search of words. "I..." he stopped before his eyes darkened a fraction, he jabbed a finger hard against Harry's chest, "If you so much as hurt a hair on her head then you will have not only me, but every Weasley hunting you." His voice almost broke as he let go of his emotions. The quiver in his voice was not replicated in his serious eyes. In another time, Harry would have been frightened by his friend. Now he just stood there, still as a stone statue, solid and unmoving. His gray eyes unblinking.

"I cannot make any promises," Harry began slowly. Ron's finger was still pressed against his chest. "I will, however, try my best to ensure her happiness." The bell rang in the distance as the two boys stared at each other. Neither moved – their eyes narrowed, both searching for any signs of deception on the other's part.

Eventually, Ron dropped his hand. It stopped, his palm open, extended towards Harry. Two pairs of eyes softened as Harry took Ron's hand in his and shook it. "I will take you on your word, Rand," Ron said with a slight smile. "I like you, so I would not enjoy having to hurt you."

Harry laughed and so did Ron. "I would not like you to try," he managed to say between breaths. Ron laughed, the true meaning of the phrase missed.

With the conversation at an end, they turned towards their class and began a slow walk. There was no need to rush. They were already late and thereby would have lost house points. McGonagall had no favourites.

"So, are you coming to trials this afternoon?" Ron asked, an eager look in his eyes, his voice bursting with excitement.

"Sure," Harry replied with just as much fervour. Apart from wanting to hold Ginny as Harry, he had no greater desire than to jump onto his broom that was now lying in his trunk.

"Great," Ron replied slapping Harry on the back, making him lurch forward. "I just hope you are good enough to be our new Seeker."

"Me too, me too," Harry muttered. While walking he could feel another weight drop from his chest. Realising that he could now openly be with Ginny without incurring her brother's wrath, he allowed himself to smile. Someday, hopefully soon, everything would be right again.

Entering the class a good five minutes late, the two of them fell silent. The entire class turned in their seats to stare. Hermione looked livid and worried at the same time. Obviously, the class had been waiting anxiously for the result of the impending war between Ginny's brother and the new guy. Stories of Dean's thumping had spread like wild fire. Ron's and Harry's smiles had them even more curious, if a bit disappointed. A black eye, or broken arm, would have been much more fascinating. Studying the class, Harry could think of no better outcome than the one they just had. Well, except for telling Ron who he was.

"Where have you been?" McGonagall asked in a stern voice from the front of the class. She appeared to be in the middle of a demonstration, if the half-transfigured cup on the table was anything to go by.

"We had a few things to discuss," Harry replied quickly trying to sound respectful.

"Ten points from Gryffindor each," Her lips were thinned, her eyes stared daggers. Being late on the first day did not bode well. Ron looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it, instead he muttered something unintelligible under his breath. Harry on the other hand merely looked at her and gave a slight bow of his head in acceptance. McGonagall stiffened slightly at his bow, but a small smile managed to grace her face.

Harry moved to sit at one of the desks in the back of the class. "Wait," Ron said softly to him so that no one could overhear. "Why not join us at the front?"

"You sure?" Harry asked unable to keep the joy and relief out of his voice. Ron nodded and the two of them settled down next to Hermione, who sat near the front of the class. Hermione glared at Ron before staring ahead at the professor who was already continuing with her lesson, Ron and Harry's interruption already forgotten.

Harry on the other hand leant back against the seat and revelled in being in the company of his friends again. Ron was his usual self, too busy fooling around with the little things around him to concentrate. Hermione, on the other hand, was memorizing every utterance of the teacher. Her quill was moving frantically over the parchment in front of her so rapidly that even Harry had trouble making out her movements. Despite the rush of movement, her handwriting was as perfect as her memory.

Harry was so caught up in watching his friends' familiar mannerisms that he did not notice the other activity around him. The class had begun practising a spell. "Are you alright, Mr Damodred?" The stern voice of Professor McGonagall bringing him back to reality.

"Um… yes… sorry professor, there is no excuse." There was none, Lan would have done more than just tell him to focus. A hard knock across the back or stomach would have forced him back down to earth.

"See that it does not happen again," she replied, sounding slightly warmer this time. His lack of attention and focus on his surroundings bothered him. He might pay a high price for a loss of focus.

The class went by relatively quickly from there. Not being able to see the weaves formed by McGonagall, he had to teach himself by means of trial and error. Using his wand, he forced it into performing the spell. Due to being incompatible with his wand, the first few tries were abysmal. The first attempts did at least allow him to see the weaves. Thinking about the threads, after he had seen them, they slowly began to make more sense. By the end of the period, only slightly behind Hermione, he managed to conjure the intricate multi-metalled cup.

After the period had ended, the trio made their way down to the Great Hall for lunch. Ron and Hermione were walking hand in hand, comfortable in each other's presence. The almost constant bickering of the past was a distant memory. To Harry, they appeared perfect for each other. As different as can be, but together they complemented each other.

Sitting down, Harry barely had time to fill his plate before Ginny joined them. She was careful to sit slightly away from Harry, as not to draw her brother's attention. Knowing that he had Ron's blessing, sort of, Harry wrapped an arm around her. With a gently tug, he pulled her against him. "Hi there, Ginny" he said giving her a light kiss.

Her eyes bulged as she pushed him away. "Rand," she almost shouted, but her eyes sparkled with joy. Her gaze darted nervously to Ron who was looking at them, his sandwich halfway to his mouth. A grin was plastered onto his face that he quickly removed.

Trying to act serious, he dropped his half eaten lunch dramatically. "Just keep it to a minimum in front of me," he grunted, eyeing the pair.

"Sure, Ron," Harry laughed, giving his girlfriend another kiss.

"Rand, agh," Ron groaned. "Please, not in front of me... please!" His hands were in front of his eyes. Trying, but failing miserably, to hide them from view. Even with all the drama, Ron still chuckled.

Ginny brightened considerably. Moving closer to Rand, she piled food onto her plate. "So, how was your first day of classes?" she asked.

Hermione looked up as the conversation moved towards lessons. "Fine really. Defence was easy," he added with a smile that was between a grimace and a laugh. "I had a few more problems in Transfiguration." Hermione tried to act as if she was not listening, but he could tell that she was making mental notes about him. No doubt for later study. "Yours?" He asked, diverting the conversation from himself.

"The usual..." Ginny sighed. "Boring," she laughed pulling herself tightly against Harry. Hermione looked sour at Ginny's attitude to classes while Ron and Harry were both grinning. With Ginny pressed firmly against him he could do little else but revel in her touch.

Lunch passed quickly enough and soon they were all outside in the afternoon sun. Like them, Ginny had the rest of the afternoon free. The lack of any substantial homework allowed the group some time to themselves. Considering that three of the four were Quidditch-obsessed, the first stop had been to retrieve their brooms, none more eager than Harry. He wanted to do some flying before the team trials later that afternoon. He would be rusty, of that he was sure.

"Oh, a Nimbus 2000," Ron said eyeing the broom in Harry's hands with reverence. Not as much as Ron had goggled over Harry's Firebolt, but there was still an element of lust in his eyes.

"Yeah, I just got it," Harry replied, grinning broadly. "Can't wait to fly the thing."

"Get on it then!" Ginny demanded from alongside Harry. Unlike him, she was already perched on her own broom with a fierce competitive gleam in her eyes. Lost in her gaze, he stood motionless. With a laugh she sped off, "Catch me if you can, Rand!" The call came over her shoulder and was almost lost in the rapidly increasing distance.

Not wasting any more time, he leapt gracefully onto his own broom and soared into the warm skies above the grounds of Hogwarts. The extra speed of his broom allowed him to reach her relatively quickly. Her ponytail fluttering in the air behind her was a blazing beacon of red, marking her in the sky. As he approached, she veered to the left before diving. With an effortless roll, he plunged down after her. The distance between them only narrowed. "You should try harder than that, Miss Weasley," he laughed, coming dangerously close to touching her. He only needed to stretch out his arm. She gave a slight start before rocketing higher up into the air again.

The proximity to her made it more difficult to react. By the time his broom was pointed in the right direction again, she had managed to increase the gap. "Nice one," he laughed, engrossing himself in the feel of air moving across his body and through his hair. He had forgotten how wonderful it felt to fly. Ginny continued her evasive manoeuvres, but Harry just calmly sat behind her. The ever increasing raggedness of her movement betrayed her growing frustrations. In what had to be a last ditch effort, she went into a mad dive.

With a sigh, he followed her, the good old feint. The force of the air against him increased rapidly as they descended. Down below a small crowd had gathered, staring up at them. Nearly every head turned up to face them as they plummeted towards the ground below. Similarly to his sword forms, he wrapped himself in a void of calm. Everything around stilled. It was just him and his broom, he was one with the broom. Faces below became clear. The breeze, blowing across the grass, moved as if in slow motion. He did not see it, nothing existed outside the race to the ground.

The point at which most people would have pulled up had come and gone. Still Ginny pointed her broom towards the grass. Harry watched within, he had never seen her feint so low before. Even without the void, he knew he could still go a bit more. The ground was rapidly becoming uncomfortably close. He was near his limit when she pulled up.

The crowd below almost cheered, but their attention was on him. A surge of anger poured through him, shattering his void. With a stunt like this, he could just as well have bought the Firebolt. Pulling hard on the broom's handle and kicking down with his feet, he forced the broom to level out. His feet almost grazed the long grass before he was flying level. The crowd behind was going wild. His eyes were searching the skies above, however. He wanted to fly with Ginny again. He found her hovering in the air about fifty feet away. Angling towards her, he flew to her.

Her eyes, seemed distant, as if recalling a distant memory. "That was...," she said breathlessly before pulling him into a passionate kiss. From down below he could hear the outraged cries of disgust from Ron along with a few whistles and hooting. Ignoring everything except Ginny, he deepened the kiss, his hands worked through her long hair, loosening her ponytail. Thankfully, they had descended below a small ridge hiding the intense session from view. Allowing her soft lips to distract him, he forgot that he was not Harry.

Hovering above the ground he rested his head against her forehead, trying to catch his breath. "I never imagined that you could go so low. Most people pull out much earlier," he complemented, her brown eyes sparkled as she held onto him.

"And there I was thinking that you had not flown in years," she said to him with a raised eyebrow. Her own hands, soft hands, stroked his hair gently. Her soft breaths against his skin felt warm against the cooling afternoon air.

"Honest, I have not flown in two years." He felt like cringing when the words left his mouth. With them said, he could not retract it. Ginny turned away slightly, but said nothing, her thoughts had to be on Harry. "Besides, the only difference between us is the brooms," he added, pointing out her much older model.

She glanced back at him before nodding. Her mind was far away, her eyes hazy. When she eventually spoke her smile began to return. "Well, with a performance like that, you'll be our Seeker for sure." He could still see her mind working as her eyes began to sparkle lighting up her entire face. "Now I get to play Chaser again!" she shouted suddenly, sounding ecstatic. Harry could not help but be filled with her enthusiasm. Throwing her arms around him, she jumped about in celebration. Lifting her effortlessly into his arms he brought his lips to hers again. With a quiet laugh against her lips, he realised that he had managed to quiet her down.

They spent rest of the afternoon flying. A few students came to the trials forcing Harry to fly against a number of hopefuls. Each one was squashed in turn; he was clearly the best Seeker. With his trials finished, he landed to watch Ginny. She was busy flying circles around other aspiring Chasers. Watching her dance about the sky from the ground was mesmerizing. Her control over a broom while handling the Quaffle was unequalled. One thing was clear in his mind. He might be the better flyer, but she was by far the superior Quidditch player.

With the trials finished and the team chosen, the Gryffindors dispersed, a large number of them grumbling about the choices. Ron, his duties fulfilled, immediately headed off towards the school. He had to report his findings to Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor House, though Harry was sure that she had kept an eye on the trials.

While observing Ron, Harry barely heard the soft landing next to him. "You really are amazing," Harry said pulling Ginny down onto the grass next to him from where he had watched her.

"Much the same could be said about you," she replied cheerfully, rolling onto her side and propping her head onto her hand so that she could stare down at Harry. Lying on his back, his gray eyes stared into the blue sky above. Those brown eyes of her, never left his face. They flicked from his eyes to his cheeks, taking in every inch of him. It felt like she was delving into his very, soul. She smiled, almost like she had found an answer. For a brief moment he was sure that her eyes had moved up to his forehead.

Growing uncomfortable, he began to talk. "Not really, I could never handle a Quaffle like you when I am flying. Actually, I doubt that I could while standing on the ground." Her smile grew more radiant. Was it his comment or what she had found? Her free hand came round and rested on his chest, allowing her fingers to stroke his chest through his shirt.

"Perhaps," she said slowly watching the movements of her fingers. Her tone made the meaning of the words unsure. Her fingers paused. "Though I am sure that you are slightly better than you claim." Something in the way she talked, moved and reacted made him wary. Was she referring to the time that she and Harry had thrown a Quaffle around inside Grimmauld Place, even he had been surprised by his own abilities that day? What was Ginny thinking? Surely not that he was Harry.

"It's a moot point. I am a Seeker and you, Ginny, are the best Chaser I've ever seen," she laughed, but silenced herself by pulling Harry towards her, giving him a deep kiss. The kiss was different. Something not there before, was there now. A faint memory sparked, it felt the way he always remembered. When he let go of her she simply placed her head onto his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The feelings begged the question again, what had Ginny seen?

The last few students that remained were busy filtering back to the school. The stragglers sent a few, what they thought unseen, envious glares towards the pair. Stroking her hair with his fingers, he knew what needed to be done. Ginny deserved the truth, if he did not tell her now, then he did not love her. And he loved her!

"Ginny," Harry said getting to his feet. She looked confused, but he held out a hand to her and pulled her up from the ground. "I want to show you something." The confusion morphed into an accepting smile.

Taking her hand in his, they walked down the path, which he had been using for his training the past few mornings. The sun was beginning to set but they still had a few hours before it would be dark outside. He held little fear for the darkness, but being caught outside was probably not for the best. If all went according to plan, they would not need to take the arduous path back to the school. Thankfully, it was not a cold afternoon, even though the summer's warmth was beginning to fade.

Their hands, firmly intertwined, swung about lazily as the walked. "I enjoyed flying with you today," Ginny said from beside him. Her voice was calm and level, containing only a tinge of anticipation. There was a feeling in the air as if they had been dating for years, not a day. Her eyes glanced towards him, almost knowingly. Ignoring her odd looks, he focused on how remarkably comfortable they were around each other.

"It was something special," he replied with a smile, which actually reached his eyes this time. Few things in life lived up to a flight with Ginny. The flight on the day he had left, was burned into his mind. It was a constant source of joy and sorrow. It was an image of what he had and what he had lost . That flight alone, the joy of being near Ginny, fuelled the emotions required to conjure a Patronus.

"So..." Ginny began, slightly unsure. "Where are we going?" she asked. Harry remained quiet, the only sound was their breathing and the sound of feet on the rocky path. There was no fear in her voice only curiosity.

"I want to show you something," Harry finally managed to say as squeezed her hand gently in reassurance.

"No need to comfort me..." she paused, "Rand..." Turning to facing him with her soft brown eyes, she spoke, "I do trust you." She sounded so confident and relaxed. How could she trust him so much after only knowing him a few days? How was she able to walk away from the school, along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, while the sun descended behind them?

Meandering around the lake took them almost thirty minutes. It was a pleasant walk, spent mostly in companionable silence. Her hand felt warm in his while they walked. Nearing his destination, he could feel his chest begin to constrict under the weight of what he wanted to say. He had not thought about what he was going to say.

Reaching the secluded grassy area he had used the past two mornings for training he let go of Ginny's hand and walked slightly away from her - suddenly nervous. "Ginny…," he began his shaking hands working through his hair. He flinched involuntarily as a gentle hand touched his shoulder.

"I have not been completely honest with you the last few days. I…" his right hand moved to his shoulder and he placed it on top of hers. His cold fingers trembled against her cool skin. "This was not supposed to have happened. I promised myself that I could not do this."

"Rand," Ginny's voice was firm, but his experienced ears heard the faint quiver in it. Her arm twitched slightly before he felt her hand beginning to slip away from under his. Closing his fingers around hers, he held onto them.

Turning to face her, he tried to look up. His gray eyes could not meet hers. "I am drawn to you Ginny. I have suffered for years, but being near you it's… indescribable."

"What are you trying to say?" She said taking a slight step backwards. Her other hand was moving to her waist where he knew her wand to be. He had to act quickly now before she could do something. Looking up he began to see the outlines of fear in her eyes. It was an odd look, not one he associated with her. If he had to guess, he would say that she thought he was about to leave her.

"Please don't," her voice shook.

"Look at me, Ginny!" His voice laced with pain from the struggle. "Look at me," his voice was pleading now and tears began to slip down his cheeks at the pain he saw in her eyes.

Slowly the weaves around his hair, eyes and scar began to disappear. His red hair morphed into black, his gray eyes became a striking emerald green and the faint outline of his lightning bolt scar came into view. "I am..."

Ginny's eyes grew wide then softened before tears began to stream down her face. "Harry," she whispered interrupting his own confession. Her voice held no shock. She took a hesitant step forward then another. She was within arm's reach of him, but he could not move. Her watery eyes stared up into his, her bottom lip was trapped by her teeth as she bit down nervously.

"Harry," she whispered again softly almost afraid to say the words.

"Ginny," he replied, his own throat constricted by emotion while his hand moved to stroke her face.

Her hand gently lifted and her fingers moved along his cheeks tentatively, before moving up towards his scar. "It has grown so faint," she said almost in awe as her hand moved across it.

"It has been healed - well almost - along with my eyes," he replied – babbling. He cupped her face in his palms allowing his thumbs to brush along her tear stained cheeks wiping away the dampness that was building. "Don't cry... please," he whispered as a new wave of wetness built up behind his own eyes.

"Is it really you?" she asked almost disbelievingly. The radiance in her brown eyes already told him what she believed.

"Does it feel like me?" Harry asked her in reply. She nodded subconsciously.

"Since the restaurant, the way you looked at me. Only Harry ever looked at me like that. Hide it as you may... love... I..." Her voice grew frustrated, "should've known." A fresh stream of tears rolled down from her eyes and his hands worked gently to brush them away. Ginny looked emotionally vulnerable, making her appear small and fragile. Yet, the growing light in her began to shine brighter.

"I… can you forgive me for not telling you sooner. I…" Harry spoke desperately trying to keep his own emotions in check, but words failed him, like they so often did.

His hands moved away from her face, instead his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. Leaning forwards, he watched her lift her damp face to his. Their salty tear-drenched lips met. It was soft and tender, a kiss that had been reserved for this very moment. There was no rush, no lust, just two people filling the other with the love that they felt.

The kiss deepened gradually. The setting sun held little importance; Ginny was back in his life. Not the life of a fictitious Rand, but Harry's. He could love her as him, the weight that dropped from his shoulders as they held onto each other was a enormous and came as a great relief. He almost felt himself standing taller now that it was gone. Ginny relaxed and eased into his arms as the minutes flew by.

In an instant, the situation changed. Her body tensed. Pulling away, he was stunned by the sudden fury behind her gaze. His skin prickled intensely. Before he could react or say anything, the flat of her palm connected with the side of his face.

Stumbling backwards, his own hand against his face. "Ginny!" he moaned. "I..."

Still taken aback by her sudden violent attitude, he missed the movements of her other hand. With a resounding smack, her left palm impacted his other cheek. "Never! ... Ever! ... Lie! ... to! ... Me! ... Again!" each word was emphasised with a solid punch against his stomach. Like a Bludger, her fist connected with his taut muscles, sending ripples of pain through his body. Looking up, he saw only the pain in her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

Harry was sure she must have used saidar in some way. His breath was completely knocked out of him. Collapsing to his knees, he could do little more than groan. "Gin... ny," he tried to say. It was barely audible. His mouth was open, but no air or words could escape. Even breathing was impossible.

"Don't you 'Ginny' me!" She shouted down at him. Her wand materialised in her hand and it was pointed straight at him. The back of her other hand wiped at her damp cheeks. "Now, what to do with you," she said, her eyes wide.

"Please... please," Harry muttered. Her brown eyes were hard. Fear pushed air through his throat. On second thought, still holding his stomach, a Bludger could not have done as much damage.

Her eyes softened. However, her wand was still steady in her hand. In that instant, he almost seized saidin, but he refrained. He would never use the One Power against her. Realising that he had probably lost her forever, life drained from him.

Sagging, his limp body began to drop towards the ground. "Harry!" came a faint cry from Ginny. She dropped to her knees. Red hair materialised in front of him. Slender arms encircled him as she let go of her wand. She felt warm and comforting against him. Breathing her in, his eyes closed.

"Harry, forgive me," she begged. Her lips lovingly touched his red cheeks.

"What is there to forgive?" he whispered, holding on to the thin slither of hope that burned in him – refusing to die. "I am the one who has been lying to you."

The tender kisses stopped. His eyes opened. Her brown eyes were mere inches from his. Unspoken words passed between them. Love, forgiveness, understanding and other emotions that could not be described. Exhausted and in pain, Harry collapsed backwards. Ginny, whose arms were still around him, was pulled down towards the grass embankment with him. Locked in an embrace, they did not move.

Sometime later, still on the embankment, they gazed out over the lake. Ginny was sitting between his legs with her back against his chest. His arms, wrapped carefully around her, ensured that she remained close to him. Her body warm against his. Her head rested against his shoulder. It felt so natural, so peaceful to be here with her. Ginny's explosion was fast becoming a faint memory. The bruises on his stomach would take time to heal. For all the money in the world, he would not let anyone heal them. The bruises were deserved. The real injury lay within Ginny.

"I felt like I was betraying myself and my love for you while I longed to be with Rand," she whispered. With the slight breeze that was blowing across the lake, he was barely able to make out her words. Her words were just a glimpse into the internal monologue raging within her mind. "But..."

He made no immediate reply, nothing he could say would make her feel better. All that came to mind was, "I am sorry." He meant it. The breeze shifted her red hair and it blew over his shoulder, brushing tenderly against his face and neck. The fresh scent of flowers, slightly dimmed by sweat from flying, smelled familiar. Inhaling deeply, Harry relaxed, he truly was home now.

"I could not help but be pulled towards you," Ginny said with a faint smile. He could not see it, but the tone of her voice told him it was there. He tightened his grip around her as they sat in silence again. "Then as I sat on the train... I began thinking, maybe Rand was Harry, but it couldn't be. Luna made me even more curious."

"Why not ask?"

Ginny elbowed him painfully in the ribs. "Just ask! Really, you can be thick." As he rubbed another bruise, she chuckled. The sound alone made the pain worth it. "How could he be Harry?"

"Then today as we were flying, I knew, or at least thought I knew. There is just something about how you move on a broom. The look in your eyes when you catch a Snitch. The way your hands work through your hair. How you talk and act. The Harry of old is still in you," she laughed softly to herself, her head shaking. "I should have known the moment I saw you on Saturday. Looking at you now, it was obvious."

Harry frowned. His silence urged her to elaborate.

"You looked at that picture of Harry. The reaction was to strong, then your eyes glazed over, like they always do when you are reliving a memory. Were you thinking about that game?"

"I... yes," he admitted.

"What happened to you?" Ginny finally gathered herself enough to ask.

"A long story …" he paused taking a breath while sorting out his memories. "It all started when I arrived at Hogwarts two years ago. I felt something pulling at me. It continued for a few days until finally I arrived in front of this gateway or portal. I will show it to you later." She nodded silently so he continued. "It was vibrating. It pulled me. Without thinking, I was unable to think coherently, I stepped through and emerged in another age. I think it was the future."

She did not comment, instead she shuffled closer to him. He tried to think of a way to explain the past. "I… I was trapped in a war. The war was much greater and deadlier than the one against Voldemort. In the end we won and I returned shortly afterwards."

"I am sure that the story is more interesting than that," Ginny finally said after a few minutes of silence. Shifting, she brought her face round to stare up at him. "Harry, you have never been good with the juicy details."

"Interesting would be an understatement," Harry replied mechanically. His gaze was locked on the distant horizon.

Looking down, he was relieved to be looking into her eyes again. "I just need time..." A memory, more vivid than the one he had of flying with Ginny, crashed down onto him. The hollowness it created was more painful than a Cruciatus.

Ginny's curious eyes, unwavering, urged him to say more. "Please..." he begged, overwhelmed. Tears welled up. "I... love... you... Ginny," he uttered the words softly to himself. They had kept him alive since that fateful day. They were the sole reason for his survival. He was too lost to notice Ginny's reaction. "I need time." All he remembered was her arms wrapped tightly around him, while she whispered to him.

The wind was picking up and growing colder. The sun hung across the horizon. Only half of the orb still illuminated them. From behind came strange sounds. The Forbidden Forest was awakening for the night.

"Harry, are you alright?" Soft fingers brushed away the last of his tears. He nodded slowly, the emptiness faded. Ginny's comforting warmth seeped back into him. As always, love alone brought him back.

"Thank you," he said finally.

"For what?" she asked.

"My life," he replied, leaning forwards to give her a kiss. They sat in silence, the world growing steadily darker.

"Best we get back before it grows totally dark," Ginny said getting to her feet, "Or before we freeze to death." Her teeth were already chattering now that she was away from his body. Her usual rosy cheeks were pale.

"There are easier ways to get back to the school. My time away has not been completely fruitless," he grinned at her mischievously.

"Harry, you know you cannot Apparate within the school grounds," she admonished him. "Haven't you ever listened to Hermione?"

Of course he had listened. "Who said anything about Apparating," Harry laughed. Seizing saidin, he wove a gateway behind her, unnoticed. Lifting her from the ground, he kissed her for all that he was worth. Her eyes closed as she moaned into his mouth. So wrapped up in the embrace, her legs around his waist, she did not notice the wind disappearing, nor the warmth. Letting go of the One Power the gateway vanished before he placed her back down.

"Ha…" she began to cry out before he placed his hand over her mouth. Even though their current location would be free of listening ears, it paid to be cautious.

"Rand, if you please, darling," Harry grinned. Her eyes were still wide as she scanned the abandoned room they were in. "This, Ginny, is the portal that I spoke about." His hand pointed over her shoulder.

She spun around and gasped when she saw the object. "So it really is true. Not that I did not believe… it's just so weird." She turned on her heel, facing him. "How on earth did you do that?" she almost shouted at him. "And why did you have to kiss me while doing it?" She struck him hard against the stomach, a mistake for both of them. He winced in pain and her eyes darted to where she had hit him, shaking her fist. "Do you have a bloody rock under your shirt?" she wanted to sound angry but she could not help hide her appreciative smile. Her reaction only confirmed that she had used saidar earlier.

He did not reply, there was no need to, nor did he have any breath to do so. Inhaling deeply, he eventually managed to find his voice. "It's a simple weave," his voice faint and forced. Still clutching his stomach a gateway formed behind him. Ginny's eyes grew wide as snow drifted through the opening. Before she could fully comprehend it all, the gateway vanished.

"But… where's your wand?" she squeaked out softly. "You did not use a wand, did you?" He shook his head. She paused, thinking. Her brow furrowed. "I heard about that shield you conjured in class, but Hermione or Ron would have recognised your old wand." The words came slowly. Realisation dawned. "You did not use the wand then either," she stated in triumph.

"No, I didn't," he laughed. "Wands are for amateurs."

"So, what happened?"

"Ginny," Harry began placing his arms on her shoulders to steady her. His green eyes held hers and she calmed visibly. Since she had received so many blows this night, he might as well add another. "It all began with a prophecy that was made about me before my birth. I will not quote it, but the meaning is clear. I alone can defeat Voldemort." With the statement hanging in the air, he waited. To her credit, and his surprise, she did not gasp nor did she show any visible reaction.

"I guessed that it had to be you," she said simply averting her eyes slightly. "So much happened to you while you were here. Voldemort's constant attacks... things just happened to you," a touch of dread was mixed into her voice. "Hermione thinks the same. She says that is why Dumbledore threw such a fit when you went missing."

Harry nodded. "The prophecy also said that I would have a power that Voldemort knows not," Harry continued to explain slowly. "The gateway that you saw is part of that power – I think. As far as I know only three people in this world have this power." Her soft brown eyes turned back to his. "Myself, Moiraine and –"

"Dumbledore! it has to be Dumbledore! He is the most feared wizard alive apart from Voldemort and if he does not know this power then it can't be him," she began to talk rapidly, walking in circles, before she inhaled. "And there I was hoping that I could travel like that," she said despondently. With sagging shoulders, she glanced back up at Harry.

"The other is person is actually you, Ginny," Harry said trying to suppress his laughter. Her dull eyes brightened.

"You mean that I can do..." Her words trailed off in awe.

"Yes, but what it actually means is that you are more powerful than any witch or wizard alive today. The likes of me and you compare to a wizard like a wizard compares to a squib. We can control our power, we can see the power move around us, we weave it like we want. Wands have no place in our world," he said with a smile and he could see Ginny's face brighten before it dropped noticeably.

"Then why did I not see your weaves or other forms of the power as you call it?" she said, her voice filled with doubt. Her arms crossed across her chest, her gaze piercing.

"You have not learned to control it. You have not learned to embrace nor surrender to saidar, the female half of the power, like I have wrestled for control over saidin, the male half of the power."

"But I can do magic," she said still not believing. His words had washed over her completely.

"A wand is an object that can draw upon the power by itself. That is why it has a magical core. A witch or wizard only needs the smallest, tiniest bit of ability to be able to control a wand. The likes of you and me only begin to develop our full potential when we are older, between fifteen and eighteen more or less."

"What about accidental magic?" Ginny asked.

"They are random surges of power brought on in times of great emotional struggle. Not much different than what the Wizarding world believes." He said shrugging his shoulders slightly.

"Wait, how do you know that no one else can channel except me?" Ginny asked suddenly. He sighed, she was a tough person to convince.

"It is difficult for me to know if another man can channel, but Moiraine – like you one day will be able to do – can sense the ability in another woman. When we were still at the Windswept Broom she told me that you were exceptionally powerful. More powerful than herself by a good margin." Ginny finally seemed to accept his answers. She had nothing more to ask or say.

"I feel tired," she yawned, leaning against his chest for support. She would be, considering that she had channelled earlier. That was not even considering the emotional battle she fought today or the whole weekend for that matter.

"I will take you to the tower," Harry whispered, lifting her up into his arms, her body limp. She barely moved as she held onto him for support. Her face rested against his shoulder. As he walked back down the deserted narrow corridor that had brought him to this room two years ago, he replaced the weaves around himself. To the rest of the world, Harry Potter will have to wait. The red hair, gray eyes, and smooth forehead of Rand had returned. He sighed regretfully.

"Remember that I am Rand," Harry whispered and he felt her nod against his chest. Her small body clung to him.

"Will the others ever forgive me?" He whispered to himself.

"They love you, Harry... I am sure they will." Her words did little to convince him. He could not help but think that this had all been a mistake.

The journey back to the tower took long enough for his arms to begin to ache from her weight. A few weaves of air would have solved the problem, but he wanted to feel her without the void distancing him from her touch. It had taken two years to be here, he did not want to waste a moment of his time with her. Eventually reaching the portrait, he whispered the password. Ginny had fallen asleep in his arms, the steady rhythm of his strides had lulled her.

"She alright?" the Fat Lady asked in concern.

"She fell asleep while we were sitting outside," he replied quietly. The portrait studied the red haired girl in his arms until she seemed satisfied. Only then did she allow him to enter.

Inside, Harry found Ron and Hermione sitting on their favourite comfortable couch. The warm fire in the hearth blazed, heating the room nicely. The dancing flames created a sense of movement about the room as it created dark shadows that contrasted with the orange glow of its light.

"Hi there," Harry said to them after he had gently placed Ginny onto one of the seats. Tucking a stray hair carefully behind her ear and out of her face, he sat down on the opposite seat. Crossing his arms, he studied Ginny, lying asleep. Inside he felt like bursting with joy, Ginny knew and accepted. It was not that simple. He had lied to her, hidden himself. The hurt, the betrayal, would surface once Ginny got over the initial relief. While his thoughts raged inside, outside he remained cold and distant. His grey eyes, almost unblinking, studied the sleeping Ginny. Her breathing was slow and even, barely audible above the crackling fire and the general buzz of students walking around.

"Ginny okay?" Hermione asked, neither she nor Ron appeared to be angry or upset. The look on Harry's face as he placed her down gently was enough to tell them how much he cared for Ginny.

"I think that she is just tired with school starting and Quidditch this afternoon. She fell asleep while we were still sitting outside." He shrugged, "So I carried her back to the tower." Harry stared at the fire, his gray eyes reflecting the dancing flames. Hermione's wide eyes blinked before taking the opportunity to scan his body up and down. He almost smiled, but he did not have to react to the incredulous stares. He was content in knowing that Harry was with Ginny – not Rand. To him that was all that mattered.

Alternating between watching the flames and Ginny, he sat in silence for the rest of the evening. The dragons on his arms burned and the scars across his body tingled while he tried to relive the events of the afternoon.

With a sudden idea, he got to his feet and rushed towards his dorm. There was little need to do what he wanted, but he felt that it would be the final piece of proof. With the required item in hand he returned a few minutes later. Being careful, he carried a book down with him in case anybody asked why he disappeared. Only when he was seated did he notice that it was his potions book. With a shrug, he flipped it open. He needed to start studying anyway.

With the book open on his lap, he began to read the first few chapters. Progress was slow. He had forgotten most of the basic components of brewing a potion. Two years without brewing a single potion would tend to make a person rusty. With his frustration growing, he turned his head towards his friends. "Hermione," Harry asked the bushy haired girl. "Did you use the same book last year?" lifting the book for her to see.

"Yes, the sixth and seventh year is actually one course split over two years. Last year we covered the first half of the book. This year we will finish it," Hermione answered quickly before returning to her own studies.

"Great," he muttered under his breath. He was only ten chapters behind. He was actually further behind considering that he missed his fifth year, as well as not having worked with potions lately.

With agonising slowness, he progressed through the pages until Ginny eventually began to stir and her eyes fluttered open. She seemed slightly disorientated when she looked around her, but her eyes quickly fell on Rand, not Harry. She deflated slightly, perhaps wondering if everything had been a strange dream.

She stood to leave, but Harry mouthed for her to wait. It took her a moment to understand, but she nodded. "I need to get my potions book," she said but Harry held up his.

"We could study together, I am trying to catch up. I've reached chapter four," he said with a sheepish grin.

"We could..." she replied biting down on her lip. "I could help with revising chapter four. I was planning on reading five tonight, but a recap won't do me any harm." Her smile was genuine as she moved around the couch where Ron and Hermione were sitting. Harry moved over as far as he could on the small single seat allowing Ginny to wriggle herself down next to him.

"Missed you," Harry whispered kissing her cheek. His one arm wrapped around her shoulders. The desire to have contact with her was overwhelming.

Ron moaned from next to Hermione. "I am going to bed," he groaned, causing Ginny to laugh. Harry was relieved that he did not shout. Ron was growing up, even if it came in baby steps.

Hermione strangely enough looked lost after Ron kissed her goodnight. Harry noticed that she did not turn her page. Her eyes remained still. Her hand hung poised as if to move. "You okay, Hermione?" Harry asked with genuine concern, it was not like his best friend to appear so lost.

"Oh… I am fine really," she said hurriedly. "It's just... Ron needs to grow up," she breathed out in frustration.

"You want him to stop treating you like Hermione the girl, but Hermione the grown strong independent woman," Harry said looking straight at her.

Hermione flinched slightly from his comment. "How… yeah," she sighed closing her book and rolling up her parchments neatly before stowing them in her bag. "I wish that he would look at me and care for me like you do for Ginny… I know that you have only been together for a day or so, but you already look like an old couple." She was smiling now. "Take care of her, Rand, she is more special than you will ever know."

"I think I am beginning to understand as much," Harry said placing a hand on Ginny's arm. "Thank you, Hermione," Harry stood from where he sat. Hermione who got to her feet at the same time found herself standing in front of him. "Friends," Harry said holding out his arms as if he wanted to hug her.

"Friends," she replied before he pulled her into a friendly hug. Hermione stiffened awkwardly, but she relaxed eventually. He had almost forgotten how much of a sister she was to him. Ginny, sitting behind them, was trying desperately not to cry. She knew what this meant to Harry even if Hermione did not. Harry was being reunited with his sister after two years.

When she eventually ascended the stairs to her dorm, Harry settled back down next to Ginny. "You can tell her you know," she whispered so that none of the other occupants of the room would overhear her. "She spent months in the library trying to find clues to your disappearance."

"Did she get close?" Harry asked, squeezing in next to Ginny again.

"Actually..." she laughed. "No, not even close. You know Hermione. She would never believe anything like your tale."

Harry nodded. "Give it a bit longer. I trust Hermione completely, but there are methods of extracting knowledge from people." He sighed regretfully. "Besides, the fewer who know a secret the harder it is for said secret to be revealed," his voice was filled with regret. "I only told you because I could not bear to see you struggling against your feelings."

She nodded as Harry flipped to the back of the book revealing the Marauders Map. "You!" she almost shouted, but she managed to say it through clenched teeth.

He shrugged, "I had to get it before you saw me on the map, besides I thought it would make you feel better." Harry handed it to her and she whispered the password. The map appeared and situated comfortably in the Gryffindor common room were two dots close together, Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter.

Ginny turned to face him. The dying embers of the fire illuminated her face with a soft orange light making her look even more radiant. Brushing a tendril of hair that hung in front of her face behind her ear, he kissed her. "I love you, Ginny, only you. It has only ever been you," he said before kissing her again.

"You know that I love you, Harry Potter," she hesitated, nervous. "Even though I thought I liked Rand," he laughed softly and her eyes softened considerably, melting under his gaze.

"I did make a mess of it," he whispered.

"As long as you never forget," she agreed.

Their lips met again and they remained on the couch until the last light vanished from the fire.

"I suppose we should get ourselves to bed," Harry whispered softly into her ear.

Stretching, she yawned. "We should shouldn't we?" she replied. Harry nodded sadly.

_A/N I hope that you all enjoyed the chapter._

_The next chapter is marked up by my beta and I should be able to get it up soon._

_Now for all your comments, please take the time to tell me what you thought. They either make me smile or make me think, either way they are always appreciated. Thank you._


	13. Chapter 12

_A/N There is a lengthy quote from the Deathly Hallows in this chapter. Just so that you know, I do not own the work of Rowling nor Jordan. _

_Hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading. Please remember to tell me what you thought of this chapter or the story as a whole. I know it's not perfect, but to improve I have to write._

Ginny sat wide eyed, barely able to sleep. She was too excited about the weekend – the inevitable result being a sleepless night. She kept thinking about the events of the past week. The excitement wanted to make her scream in frustration and laugh with joy, all at the same time. All her raging emotions were linked to a single person – Harry. He had returned, and not only that, he was back in her life.

The previous weekend had been difficult for her. The red haired boy arrived at the Windswept Broom and she literally fell over her feet just looking at him, an unnatural reaction for her. Drawn like a moth to a flame, she had been surprised to find him so familiar. No one except Harry had ever made her act so foolishly, nor looked at her in the same way. She should have suspected that something was wrong, but common sense dulled her thoughts. How could Rand have been Harry? Even now, lying in her bed, she was still unable to understand Harry's logic. Yet, what could she do or say? Harry had been and was still being stubborn. The more she told him to tell those around him, the people he cared about, the more he refused.

Just thinking about Harry's choices brought pain. With a quick flick of her wand, she raised a privacy ward around her bed. The small bubble of protection from the world outside allowed her to scream. Years of frustration and days of suffering ebbed out of her system, yet not nearly enough. With her voice growing hoarse, she still felt at a loss. Turning, she hid her face in her pillow. One thought echoed through her mind, why did have to lie?

The last few hours of the night ticked by and with some of her anger in Harry vented, she thought back to their first meeting. There had been the boy's reaction to her. His bewildered expression was not the type of reaction you would expect from someone you had never met before. The warning bells should have been deafening by then, but they were silent. Perhaps Moiraine's knowing smiles kept her coming back for more. The woman had clearly sensed Harry's discomfort. Strangely enough, Ginny had rather enjoyed making Rand so nervous.

Honestly, he looked at her the way only Harry had ever done. The way his eyes studied her felt both familiar and natural. There was no open lust or desire like those looks she received at school. Rand's gaze was much deeper. Those eyes held meaning. That gaze made her comfortable. Something had burned within the depths of those piercing gray eyes that brought memories of a similar pair of green eyes. Perhaps it was the intensity.

The train ride was interesting with him helping her with his trunk. The way he talked. Everything around him was so mysterious and odd. Some of his traits reminded her of Harry, but still she could not make herself believe that it could really be him. What were the odds and why would he hide from his friends? During several of his distracted moments, she allowed herself to study him. He definitely brooded over things like Harry. Yet, there were inconsistencies. The first being his size, Harry had been scrawny. Rand was taller, his body powerfully built. They way he walked and held himself were very different from the shy Harry. Of course, she should have considered that two years would have had a considerable influence on a young man's physique – just look at Ron. What about herself? How much had Ginny Weasley changed in two years?

The way Rand walked made everyone else look lead-footed. It appeared effortless. His balance never seemed far from centre. His back was straight and his shoulders never slumped like Harry's. His gaze was active, never resting. She could only wonder how the change came about. Yet, she should have seen the signs. The way he nervously stroked his hair, the way he became exited about Quidditch and a hundred other little details that mimicked Harry. The small things, which had always attracted her to Harry, were there. Diluted and subtly different, yes, but there.

The worst of it all was her feelings of guilt after he had left the restaurant. Returning after her small break, she could do little but stare at Harry's photo. When that grew too painful, she had stared at his Quidditch jersey. It had been another odd reaction she should have considered. Rand had avoided looking at the wall, even though it was the most natural one for him to face from his seat. There had been pain in those vacant gray eyes. Nevertheless, half her mind was too active imagining him holding her while the other portion clung onto Harry. It was a relentless, soul-destroying struggle. Some of the pieces still lay broken.

That night at the Burrow had been strange. Her mind had never been on the chess game with Ron. Studying the board afterwards merely kept her brother quiet. The internal conflict and sudden spark of life in her had been immediately apparent to her mother. Her father had been too busy with his latest contraption to notice such small things around him. Her mother had stayed awake so that they could have a talk. It had been a difficult discussion, but one that was frankly almost a year overdue. Everyone accepted that she would cling to the hope of Harry's return. After six months, it became apparent that he would probably never return. The flame of him still burned inside her. A further six months should have seen her begin to bounce back to life. Harry still burned in her. Two years after the departure should have seen her almost back to her old self. He could not leave her.

Throughout it all, she would not have called herself depressed. She did not cry herself to sleep, something she had done only for the first few weeks. Thereafter, it became more of a quiet vigil. She did not constantly mourn his absence and days even passed without thinking of him, but she was waiting. Several boys had tried asking her out on a date, they were politely refused. They tried again and she declined them more adamantly, Dean being one the most persistent. The punch and kick, on Monday, had not gone down well with him. She grimaced at the memory.

The sun had barely risen above the horizon when she rose from her bed. The bitter cold was hardly a deterrent. Fumbling about in the dark, she managed to gather her clothes before running to the showers. The warm water helped to fight off the chill. Dressed, she moved downstairs to wait for Harry, not Rand. The mere idea of the guy waiting for being Harry was enough to warm her even more.

The minutes ticked by while she sat alone in the common room. Apart from waiting for Harry she was excited about what the day was going to hold in store for her. During the week, he had arranged for her to be taught by Moiraine. This weekend was the first opportunity for them to get to her. Not that it was really an effort, considering Moiraine was apparently waiting anxiously to begin the lessons in the first place. The only hitch in Ginny's happiness was Harry persistently emphasising the dangers of channelling. Ginny just laughed and shrugged at the thought. What could be dangerous about a little magic? She had been using it for years after all.

She was shifting about anxiously in her seat by the time the portrait opened. She sat up straight, excited. Harry stepped through. She bounced to her feet, eager to see him. The red hair and gray eyes of Rand stared back down at her, alight with joy. His hair was wet and his damp black clothes clung to his body.

"Morning," he said in a tone that made her stomach flutter. Harry's voice had grown much deeper and his beard had darkened considerably. Then there were other changes too. He seemed more knowledgeable and wise, almost as if he were older than his years. All things considered, the years away had been good to him. Yet, there was a tinge of darkness, a sense of loss in his eyes. Every now and then, his eyes became haunted – almost hollow.

"Morning," she replied before throwing herself at him. The lies and deception of the previous week were already beginning to fade in her mind. The pieces would take time to mend and some of the scars would last a lot longer, but she loved him. Deep down she knew all that truly mattered was Harry. He was alive and safe. Leaning against his body, she relaxed in his arms, which surrounded her. Even after a week, it still felt too good to be true. Her mind kept shouting that it was all a dream.

"Ready?" he asked, pulling away from her. His eyes were shining, hiding the pain within them, but that was as far as any facial expressions went. He did not have to tell her about the pain he felt, just like he did not always have to show his love for her. She could feel and sense it in everything he did. Looking up, she wondered what was causing the suffering in him.

"I guess," she replied, feeling very nervous all of a sudden. All thoughts of Harry's problems and her worries vanished. Her mind was focused entirely on the lessons she was about to receive.

"Follow me then," he said with a smile. Holding out his hand, She took it.

Once outside and in the quiet abandoned corridors of Hogwarts, Harry led her down numerous corridors. "So what is she going to teach me?" Ginny asked, suddenly very bubbly and energetic. "Will I be able to create fire and lightning and..."

She stopped when Harry began to laugh alongside her. "What is so funny, Harry?" she pouted.

"Oh, maybe in a few months or years. Learning to channel is a process," he turned to face her. "It is a dangerous process and one that will require patience to learn." Not really believing him, she nodded just to please him. She had heard it all before. She was sure that he was just pulling her leg. Her brothers had done the same about flying. Always telling her how hard it was to handle a broom. She laughed at the memory. Flying had been the most natural thing in the world.

Reaching a secluded corner of the school, the air in front of them began to spiral. The spiral grew until it snapped into a rectangular gateway. She could feel her mouth hanging open, but she could not close it. Even though she had seen it once before it amazed her even more now since she was more awake and in touch with reality. Learning that Harry had indeed returned had thrown her into a spin. Everything else had blurred into nothing in comparison.

With the gateway formed, she found herself staring at and through it. On the other side, she could see the interior of a home. It was sparsely decorated, but a house nevertheless.

"Welcome to our home," Harry said, as they stepped through. "Well not really mine, but you get the idea."

The house, to Ginny, was very empty. Being use to the cluttered Burrow, this place felt unlived in, almost sterile. Yet, it had potential. With a bit of work, time and some love the place could be turned into a nice home. With Harry beside her, she could do little but think of a future with him in a place like this.

Before her mind could drift too far into the future, the small woman who had been with Harry at the Windswept Broom rounded a corner. She was dressed in dark blue witches robes. "Harry Sedai," she greeted with a curtsy before turning to Ginny. "Good morning, Ms Weasley," the grin on her face widened. Her dark eyes seemed to take in everything.

"Moiraine Sedai," Harry replied with a bow of his head.

Ginny stood there. Only then did the formality of it all strike her. "Ma'am," she finally managed to say in greeting. Her mind raced. What else could she say?

"I think that I should be leaving now," Harry said from beside her. Frantic, Ginny gripped his arm tightly. Stopping, Harry faced her.

"You aren't leaving, you can't leave me," she protested fiercely, her brown eyes wide.

Harry, whose eyes had turned back to green, stared down gently at her, "You'll be fine. It's best that I am not here to distract you today." She tried to plead, but it was of little use. With a kiss, he opened a gateway and walked out into what looked like a forest.

"He is right." Moiraine's voice came from behind Ginny. For a few moments nothing happened, she just stood watching as the gateway began to disappear. Eventually, with a deep breath, she turned to face Moiraine. The woman was no longer with her, instead Moiraine stood in the living room.

"I..." she stuttered, walking into the room the woman was occupying.

"Just relax," Moiraine said in a motherly voice. "This will all happen only if you are relaxed. The One Power – saidar – cannot be forced," as if to emphasise the last point she sat down on one of the couches and motioned for Ginny to sit opposite her.

"Okay," Ginny muttered, unsure. Nevertheless, she complied. She found courage in the fact that Harry trusted Moiraine. From the little he had spoken, Ginny gathered they had saved each other numerous times. Though, she was not sure what he really meant by that. Harry had been very cryptic about the few small details he let slip.

The couch was comfortable and as they sat in silence. Moiraine drifted a pot of tea to them from the kitchen. As soon as it settled, it rattled slightly before steam began to rise out from the pot. Everything was done silently and without any movements from Moiraine. In fact, the woman's dark eyes never left Ginny.

"That is just a small demonstration of what you will be able to do." Calmly lifting the pot, with her hands, she poured two cups of tea, handing one to Ginny. "I suppose Harry told you a little about the One Power."

Ginny nodded her head enthusiastically, "He told me a few things." The tea was warm and slightly sweet. With something to do, she drank it eagerly.

"Harry, you and myself can channel the One Power directly. Something that no one else here can do who are known to us." Moiraine took a slow sip of her tea, allowing her words to settle. "Men channel the male half of the Power, called saidin. Women channel the female half and it is called saidar. The two halves of the Power work together and against one another. They are the same yet completely different, that is why Harry would never be able to teach you how to channel saidar, just like you would never be able to teach him how to channel saidin."

Placing her cup of tea down on the table she, leaned forward. "Now I want you to try to clear your mind... Close your eyes," she said softly.

With her stomach fluttering nervously, Ginny forgot about her steaming cup of tea on the table and closed her eyes. A mass of confusing images flooded her through her mind. Harry's disappearance and now his return, those piercing green eyes that morph into gray, his messy black hair.

"That's good," came the soft voice of Moiraine. "Empty your mind of all thoughts..." Ginny squeezed her eyes shut tight trying hard to empty her mind. It was an effort in futility. Images of Hogwarts began to filter through. Dark images. Unwanted images of diaries and Basilisks.

"There is only one thing in your mind," the voice continued to say in the distance. There was only one conscious image now. A diary, her hand working furiously to move her quill across its pages. The words were clear, pages cluttered with her feelings for a small scrawny raven-haired boy. The vanishing letters and the sinking feeling of the reply, each time accompanied by a feeling of filth. Yet, it was addictive, she needed to talk, she needed the replies no matter where it came from.

"Imagine the bud of a flower," the words echoed in her mind. A flower bud, what flower could possibly fill her mind? Focusing on the word flower, a small bud began to form. It was shapeless and without colour. It was nothing, but it was there. "Only that, only the bud of the flower," the now faraway voice kept talking.

The bud rotated in her mind and she began to feel its presence inside her, it was more than just an image. "You can smell it... You can feel it." And she could, the faint but distinct smell of the bud filled her. If she reached out, she was sure that she would have been able to touch the bud. "Let the bud grow," Moiraine urged gently.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the bud morphed and changed. Petals began to unfold, beautiful white petals, a lily. She could feel her excitement growing. "You can feel every vein... of every leaf... the curve of each individual petal." As if an unseen hand reached out towards the lily, Ginny touched and experienced every detail of each part of her flower. It began to throb, as if life had been breathed into it. "Feel it pulsing... feel it," Moiraine was still saying. Yet Ginny could not think, her entire being was the flower.

"Know the flower... be the flower... the flower and yourself are the same. You are the flower," Moiraine kept iterating. Time held no meaning anymore, nothing outside the lily existed as she began to be the flower in her mind.

Inside she was the lily, white petals extending in full bloom. With everything in place and the lily in full flower, something else began to be felt. Something was pressing down on her petals: light. She, like her flower, began to turn towards that light, drinking in the presence of the light, absorbing its radiance.

The lily and the light became one, the light and Ginny became one. She reached out, she yearned for more of the light to touch her, she needed and wanted more. A heartbeat later it was all gone leaving her feeling empty and cold.

Her eyes fluttered open and she was surprised to see Moiraine smiling. "That was very good, Ginny," the woman praised. "Remember, it cannot be forced. I know that it is not intuitive, and it certainly not within the nature of women like ourselves, but you must surrender fully. You must surrender wholly to the One Power before you can control it."

A few hours later Ginny was still sitting with her eyes closed. The lily clear in her mind. "Flow... let it flow through you. Feel the flow of the Power as it moves," Moiraine continued to coax her further.

It was euphoric, little else could be said to describe the feeling. The ebbs and flows of saidar moved through her, powerfully and yet gently. Like a river flowing peacefully between its banks, surrender and it flowed in peace. Force it, try to seize it then the river broke its banks.

"Open your eyes, slowly," Moiraine said. When Ginny complied, she gasped at the outlines of various threads floating in the air above her. The colours ebbed and flowed like the feeling inside her, but there was more. All around the weaves, flames bounced around in the air. "These are weaves of Fire. Study it..." Ginny was already trying to determine how it was. "Now close your eyes again."

"Remember what you saw," she said softly her voice already distant. "Now imagine it before you." The river of saidar in her began to flow a little more quickly. The calm was being disturbed as she visualised the weaves of fire. Power surged through her in growing quantities, not only flowing into her but out of her as well. She was one with flower, she was one with the river and she could feel every detail as it moved in her.

Opening her eyes, she noticed two balls of flames bouncing merrily in the air. The one next to Moiraine's was small and flickered in and out of existence. Ginny's weaves were crude and faint. However, they were hers, it was her power creating the flames. In her excitement, the flame vanished and the oneness with everything left her.

"Excellent," Moiraine laughed. Her eyes filled with pride as she stared back at Ginny. "I do not think I have ever seen a girl learn so quickly."

Ginny shrugged, feeling her cheeks blush, at the compliment. "That was nowhere near as good as yours," Ginny said shyly, she knew that she could do better. There was much more power in her that could have been used.

"My dear!" The woman exclaimed. Ginny felt herself sitting straighter at Moiraine's tone. "Some girls take months to create a weave one tenth as strong as yours. You held that flame for nearly five minutes. That in itself would have had most girls fainting at your age," Moiraine continued. Truth be told, Ginny was feeling rather faint and her skin was pale.

"I am rather tired," she admitted, leaning back in her seat.

"That will be enough for today then," Moiraine replied getting to her feet. Ginny made to protest, but standing her knees buckled, her whole body felt like jelly. With an uncontrolled sigh, she fell back down onto the couch.

"Yes," Ginny admitted reluctantly, but with a smile. "That will be enough for the day." Her eyes began to droop. The only sensation reaching her mind was of being lifted. The familiar warmth of Harry's body only made her relax more. For the second time a sleeping Ginny was carried to Gryffindor Tower.

HGHGHGHG

Sunday morning came all too early for Harry. Watching Ginny the previous day had been fascinating and exciting. Even though he could never see any weaves, he had felt her embracing saidar. Ginny had been exhausted come late afternoon. Learning to channel saidar had the effect of tiring a body, only years of experience increased one's endurance. Physical strength helped as well. He could still vividly remember how worn out he was after his first few lessons with Rand.

When the sun was nearing the horizon and with her falling asleep at the house, Harry had decided that it would be best for them to return. Lifting her half-asleep body into his arms, he had travelled back to the school. The fireball she had managed to conjure had drained the last bit of life from her. The fire was inconsistent and unstable yet her face was radiant with excitement. Looking down at her lying in his arms, he remembered how lovely she was with the light from her own flame illuminating her face.

Once they were back in Gryffindor Tower, she had gone straight to bed. A pity, he had thought settling down on the couch by the fire alone, he had wanted to discuss the experience with her. Lying comfortably in one of the seats he had relaxed in the heat provided by the fireplace for an hour before following her example and going to bed. It was still relatively early, yet there was little point in staying awake longer. With Ron and Hermione out and about, there were no friends of his remaining in the common room and he had not felt like giving some of his secret admirers any chances. Even as Rand he remained in the spotlight.

Lying in bed, shrouded by the night, his fingers slowly traced the dragons on his arms. Thankfully, he was not nearly as strong a ta'veren as he could be. He hoped he would never have to be.

Waking up easily in the dark early hours of the morning Harry dressed for his usual morning workout. The jog around the lake and his practices had become a routine. Working his forms each morning helped to clear his mind and prepare him for the day to come.

With his muscles burning and his shirt damp, he arrived back in the common room where he was not surprised to find Ginny sitting. With him waking early, she had developed the habit of studying in the mornings. However, this morning there were no books on her lap and the common room was still deserted. She lifted her eyes when he walked in and he was greeted with her glimmering brown eyes.

"Morning," Harry greeted after stepping through the portrait hole.

"Morning!" she replied cheerfully jumping to her feet. Almost exactly the same as the day before. Her arms wrapped around his damp neck to pull him down for a kiss. Breaking apart with a large grin, she stared into his eyes. "So what time is Moiraine expecting us?" Ginny asked her eyes still sparkling with enthusiasm. The exhaustion of the day before was gone, the effects of channelling passed quickly enough with rest.

Harry studied her for a fraction of a second. She appeared to have slept well. Deciding that she was ready for another day's lessons, he glanced up at the clock on the wall behind Ginny. "Another hour should be enough for her to be ready," he replied pulling her closer, inhaling her flowery scent.

"When will you tell me more of what happened, Harry?" she asked, trying to press herself harder against his body. It felt to him as if she was afraid to let go, and if she did, she feared he would disappear. His right hand travelled up her back and into her long hair while his left just held onto her. A soft sigh escaped her lips.

He wanted to tell her everything, but he did not know where to begin or what to say. Some things were too horrible to describe and others too painful to think about. "When I am ready," he replied honestly, while his hand worked through the long tendrils of her red hair.

She pushed herself away slightly, considering him. "You need a shower," she said finally, wrinkling her nose at the smell in mock disdain. There was an element of hurt in her expression, but she did an admirable job of trying to hide it.

"Yes miss." Giving her his most impressive bow, he exited the room, hoping that the gesture would help her to laugh. The idea of hurting Ginny caused a stabbing pain in his chest that followed him up to his dorm and was with him throughout his shower.

An hour later, Harry and Ginny went for a quiet walk in the grounds of Hogwarts. He was feeling slightly better. Her warm smile when he returned helped alleviate some of his suffering. It was already reasonably warm outside as they ventured hand in hand down a rocky path. The lake was as flat as a mirror and reflected the rolling hills and countryside on the far bank. Even if it was breathtaking, the view was not what they were after. Finding a small patch of land hidden from view on all sides, he seized saidin to form a gateway straight to the house. Disappearing in the same corridor of the school each morning might become suspicious.

"I wonder when I will get used to that," Ginny said, eyeing the gateway dissolving behind them once they were safely inside the house.

"I don't think I am," Moiraine said, entering the room with a steaming cup of tea in her hand. "Especially not a gateway woven by saidin," she paused and smiled at Ginny. "A gateway woven from saidar is much more impressive."

"They are rather strange," Harry added slowly, but nodded all the same. A female gateway also felt foreign to him. With his back towards them he studied the complex pattern of threads woven together to form the gateway as they slipped apart. When they eventually died away, he wandered through the house in search of the two women who had left while he was lost in thought.

He found them sitting comfortably in the living room, the first place he should have looked. Ginny was already beginning to relax, as Moiraine talked her through the process. The goosebumps on his skin told him that either one or both of them were channelling.

"I want you to empty your mind of everything but a flower bud," Moiraine began softly, just as she had done the day before. The way she studied Ginny intently told him that she was keeping a close eye on her. Learning to channel was a very dangerous affair. An over eager or ignorant student could burn themselves out, or worse, kill themselves by drawing too much of the power. Moiraine had made as much clear to Ginny yesterday and he hoped that she finally understood the message since it came from Moiraine.

Harry settled down on the couch as he observed them. Unlike yesterday, he wanted to watch for a while. He had been afraid that his presence would make Ginny nervous, hindering her abilities. The process was rather long and boring. The only sign of effort was Ginny's red face that was damp with perspiration. Everything changed in an instant as another faint tingle ran through his body causing him to shiver. He stared at Ginny. It took only a few seconds for a ball of flame to erupt in front of her.

He clapped his hands together in support. The orange ball of flame was similar to the one that she had conjured the day before, though this time it took her less than hour instead of the whole day to create. The orange ball of flame was one of the easiest weaves to create and it was the simplest visible thread. Studying the flame, he found it strangely odd. Not that anything was wrong with how Ginny channelled, a conjured ball of flame could honestly never look real.

Moiraine herself was smiling at Ginny, whose eyes had opened. The brown of her eyes had gone slightly cold with her tucked away deep within the void. A hint of euphoria still emerged, however, at the absolute joy of holding onto something as sweet as saidar. The look of a person learning to channel was disconcerting at times. Like Ginny now, they could look both joyful and emotionless at the same time. The joy of touching the One Power and the emptiness of the void fighting for dominance. It was imperative for the void to be stronger, otherwise a person would continue to draw the One Power until it killed them. That was one of the reasons why a mentor, like Moiraine, was needed. She could cut Ginny off from the One Power if she deemed Ginny was drawing too much power into herself.

Deciding it was best to leave them, he got to his feet and wove a gateway straight to the grass field he had been using the last few days. He needed to work up a sweat. He stepped out amongst the trees being careful to emerge where no one would see him.

It was late morning by now, but the sun was hidden behind a bank of clouds. A sharp cold breeze blew across the surface of the lake and past him in contrast to the morning's warmth. His black cloak billowed in the wind as he studied the school on the opposite bank. Seizing saidin, he could see the outline of students milling about outside the main entrance. It had become too cold today for people to wander far away from the warmth offered by the school. Those outside had probably left earlier.

Turning back, he removed his scabbard and sword from his back and placed it against a nearby tree. Today he would not need it. Thankfully, Ginny had yet to feel it. Gliding effortlessly back to the open area, which was becoming worn from his continuous movements, he poised himself.

With his eyes wide open and set in concentration, he adopted the Hawk Surveys the Plain. The stance was high guard forcing his empty hands above his head. Standing motionless, he began to move, his empty hands working in unison. Without warning a burst of flame erupted from his hands. At first glance, it appeared as pure white flame, taking time to study the flames one could make out the outlines of a sword hidden in the depths of the fire. Wrought by the One Power from earth, air and fire, it was a blade much more powerful than anything made by man.

Rising onto the balls of his feet, he flowed into the Heron Wading in the Rushes bringing his blade down into a tight cut. The sword radiated the heat of the tiny white-hot flames, which hugged the surface of the blade, the glow nearly blinding his eyes as he drew deeper on saidin strengthening the blade even more. It was already much hotter and stronger than was required, but he was training. The movements came thick and fast, but the added effort of keeping his conjured sword began to have its effect.

His body began to groan under the strain, his feet stumbled and his movements became ragged. Each strike and step slower than the one before. After an hour, he collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, panting for breath, as his lungs burned. "Light!" he shouted at the few birds that flew over him. "I used to be able to do that for hours," he muttered under his breath to himself.

Memories long suppressed flooded back. Tears began to form in his eyes before they trickled down his cheeks. A pain almost forgotten surged and tore open the wounds deep within his chest. Sobs echoed around him as he laboured to breathe under the combined weight of his exhaustion and emotional struggles. How could he forget her, how could he move on. Rolling onto his stomach, he muttered her name while he hid his face in his hands. Lying there for another hour he cried and beat his fists against the ground until his knuckles bled. The physical pain not nearly enough to make him forget the broken bond nor the desire for revenge. Thankfully, his love for Ginny had always been there to bring him back.

Wiping away the last of his tears, he eventually rose to his feet, gingerly, before gathering his sword from the tree where he had left it. With a sigh, he returned to the house. The inside was warm and comfortable, especially after he allowed himself to lay still for an hour after a hard work out in the chilly air. His skin was blue and cold as ice.

His haggard looks did not, nor could have gone unnoticed. "Harry!" Ginny cried out when she saw him, jumping to her feet she ran towards him. His cheeks were stained red and blood dripped from his palms onto the floor. "What happened to you?" she asked carefully, coming to a halt before him.

"Nothing," Harry replied hoarsely. His eyes lifted to where Moiraine was standing. Her feature were filled with compassion and understanding. His arms enveloped Ginny while being careful not to touch her with his blood stained hands.

"Let me help," Moiraine said, finally stepping towards him sounding irritated. "Take off that shirt so that I can see what else is wrong with you," he nodded in understanding. She could not risk him having done more harm to himself in his torment, it was not uncommon for one like him. Other injuries would have raised more questions, but thankfully he knew there to be none. Though, the look in Ginny's eyes told him that questions would be coming later. Removing his cloak and shirt, careful not to let the hidden sword be noticed, he placed them on the ground.

"Harry!" Ginny shrieked as her eyes fell upon the twin dragons that were tattooed onto his forearms. "What are those?" she asked after her mouth began to work again.

"These?" He asked pointing at the dragons. "A present from a ter'angreal," she kept looking at him in horror. "Why, don't you like them?" he teased, trying to lighten the mood in the room.

She just stood there staring, unmoving. "They... they are rather interesting," she managed to say with a small grin. Her eyes were beginning to lighten up again. "At least they aren't pigmy puffs," she laughed at last and Harry felt himself relax as Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck for a kiss. Letting go her hands travelled up his arms, he could feel her fingers moving over the small indentations left by the dragon scales.

"Thanks, though they really weren't my choice," he shrugged, "they were forced onto me that day I left Hogwarts two years ago." She nodded, not really understanding, as she studied the intricate details of the red and gold dragons.

"They feel so strange," she whispered placing her head against his chest. He could feel his heart beating against her warm cheeks.

"You should try them from my side," Harry chuckled before wincing. Every time he let himself think about the dragon tattoos, the burning sensation would return, almost as sharp as the day they were formed.

A few minutes later, she pulled away. "Bloody hell, Harry!" Ginny said in shock when she allowed herself to move her eyes away from his arms to look at his exposed upper body. His body was laced with numerous white lines, indicating only the wounds that could not be healed fully, some of them were fairly thick and long. Several others healed so well that no scar remained. Ginny's small fingers reached out towards him too touch one of the larger ones running along his side. "What happened to you?" She asked so softly, he barely heard her speak. "No, don't answer," she said still gingerly moving her fingers across each of the scars. "I suppose you will tell me when you want too."

"I want to... just not yet," Harry replied pushing a tendril of hair behind her ear before giving her a soft kiss. "Thank you, Ginny."

With that, she turned away from him, her hands wiping furiously at her face.

Giving her a few minutes to compose herself Moiraine finally spoke up. "Ginny, I want you to observe the healing process." Ginny faced them hesitantly. "The cuts on his knuckles are minor so it will be rather easy to heal properly."

His skin tingled as they both embraced saidar. Moiraine placed her hands onto his cheeks. His body turned to ice as her weaves worked on his body. The coldness passed and so did the tingling. Looking down he unsurprisingly found his cuts healed, though there was still blood on his hands.

"That was... amazing," Ginny said suddenly with enthusiasm. "Not even Madame Pomfrey would have been able to heal those cuts so quickly," her voice filled with awe. Feeling a little shy, she asked, "Will I be able to heal like that?"

"Perhaps. A weave so simple can be done by most. The question really is if you are gifted in the area of healing," Moiraine said reassuringly. "People have various gifts when it comes to the One Power." She paused and gave Harry a considering look before facing Ginny again.

Harry cut in. "It's just like with witches and wizards. A witch might be powerful and be perfect in transfiguration while never being able to perform even the simplest charm."

Ginny just nodded thoughtfully. "I wonder what my skills will be?" It was a question, but one asked of herself. It was not something that she or anyone else could answer – only time would tell.

"Ginny," Moiraine spoke up again. "From what I saw of your flame, I would venture saying that you are very powerful when it comes to the element of fire."

"Really!" Ginny shouted jumping up and down before she stopped suddenly. "What does that mean for me then?" she stopped bouncing, probably completely unsure of why she was excited. Honestly, Harry did not even know why.

"That is difficult to say really, it means that you will be more adept at handling weaves of fire, but not necessarily where your talents lie," Moiraine added and Harry nodded in approval.

They stood in silence as Harry dressed again, making sure to leave his sword behind. He would not be able to put it on with Ginny watching, nor did he want to risk her finding out about it. He wanted to ease her into everything. It was one thing to show scars, another to tell the woman you loved that you had killed. The truth still shamed him. "I think we should call it a day," Moiraine said loudly, making Ginny, who was deep in thought, jump slightly.

"I suppose we can't be away for two whole days now can we," Harry said with a grin. "Ron will have my head if we do not spend some time with him and Hermione today.

"I guess so," Ginny said dejectedly. He could see that she wanted to practise some more. The look she sent his way was filled with sadness. She deserved more answers.

With that, they said their farewells before travelling to Hogwarts. Emerging from an abandoned corridor they received a few raised eyebrows. The hallways were rather full since the weather outside had taken a turn for the worst. Rain lashed against the windows and the icy breeze of earlier had turned into a raging gale. Ignoring the students around them, they made their way to Gryffindor Tower.

As expected, Ron and Hermione were sitting on their usual seats in front of the warm fire. "Horrible weather this," Harry said sitting down next to Ron who was studying some pieces on the chessboard in front of him.

The board reminded Harry of an ancient game. Similar to chess, the board had black and white squares. The outside rimmed with red and green squares. It was a game between the red and green sides. Yet, at the heart of the game was the Fisher King, the only piece that could change sides. The piece was a blind man, his eyes were covered and he had a wound to his side. In most games the piece was key to victory. On a black square it was strong, but not manoeuvrable. On a white square, the Fisher king was weak, but could move with incredible agility.

"I know," Ron said in exasperation. "I really wanted to go flying this afternoon. Especially since I have been studying all morning." Harry nodded thoughtfully at Ron before noticing that Hermione was reading a book. The book was not the surprise, the fact that it appeared to be a children's story book was.

Ginny must have noticed the book as well. "What are you reading there, Hermione?" she asked her friend. Hermione stiffened slightly, her back rigid, as she looked up at Harry and Ginny – guiltily.

"Ron has been going on about all these magical stories that I know nothing about so I decided that from now on I will read one every weekend until I have read most of them." The tone was matter of fact as if to imply why they would think anything else. Harry had, however, noticed the gleam in her eyes when he entered, she was enjoying the book.

"So which one are you reading this weekend?" Ginny asked again before Harry could. She sat down on an open couch opposite Hermione and Harry settled down alongside Ginny.

"The Tales of Beedle the Bard," she replied closing the book to show them a worn out cover. The book was so faded that the title was barely legible.

"Never heard of it," Harry said shrugging placing his arm around Ginny.

"I guess we better explain it to you then," Ginny said with a smirk. Turning her body towards Harry, she tucked her feet underneath her body and began.

_" '__There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight — In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure._

_" '__And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him._

_" '__So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother._

_" '__Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead._

_" '__And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being fol lowed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.' "_

_" '__Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts._

_" '__In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination._

_" '__The first brother traveled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quar rel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible._

_" '__That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat._

_" '__And so Death took the first brother for his own._

_" '__Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him._

_" '__Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as truly to join her._

_" '__And so Death took the second brother for his own._

_" '__But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.' "_

"Ginny!" Hermione cried out at last from her seat. She had been fidgeting nervously for nearly the entire retelling. "That was practically word for word from the book!" Ginny blushed, but remained quiet, ashamed at her own lack of imagination. Hermione closed the book from where she was following Ginny's words. "I..."

"That's the way mum always used to tell it," Ron said with a smile. Inadvertently answering her unasked question. Hermione, exhaled, falling back in the couch.

"Can I take a look at that?" Harry asked Hermione, before she could think of a new round of questions.

"Sure, Rand," Hermione replied, handing the book to Ron who gave it to Harry.

Opening the cover with care, he was startled by the sign on the inside cover. It looked familiar to him, but he could not place where he had seen it before. "What is this symbol?" Harry asked, lifting the book so that Hermione could see the drawing he was referring too.

"It is the symbol of the Deathly Hallows; the Cloak, the Resurrection stone, and the Elder Wand mentioned," she explained drawing the three items in the air, which as a whole formed the symbol in the book.

"Is that so?" Ginny said tilting her head slightly to the side, her eyes fixed on the book.

"How do you know that?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing further – studying the symbol. His mind working furiously to place it.

"I asked Dumbledore," she replied matter-of-factly.

Harry nodded slowly. Placing the book on the table in front of him, he paused. His eyes fell on the chessboard again. Absent-mindedly, he reached out and took the King from the chessboard. He leant back and remained silent for a long time while the others spoke around him. A bearded man stared up at him from his palm, though that was not what he saw – instead he pictured the Fisher King. Ginny gave him a few concerned looks, but she did not say anything, as he gripped the figure. Those questions would come later

Hermione, however, was not one to ignore things that bothered her. "Rand, what's bothering you?" she asked, leaning forwards and placing her elbows onto her knees.

"Just thinking," the reply was soft and his voice sounded distant. "Will you excuse me," he said after a slight pause. Ginny began to stand, but he pushed her down gently. "I am okay, really. I just need some time alone."

Thinking about the Deathly Hallows nor the game had not been good for him. The problems did not end there, but thinking about death triggered another bout of memories. The Hallows were long forgotten by the time he climbed into his bed later that night.

The pain in his back from an old wound throbbed more from memory. Closing the curtains around his bed, he curled into a small ball. His body trembled and a boiling rage that demanded revenge filled him. The problem was there was no one to seak vengeance upon, they were already gone. The pain moved from his back to his chest as his throat constricted.

Time passed and soon all the seventh year boys were fast asleep. Deciding it was best for him to move about, he climbed out of his bed into the cold of the night. Opening his trunk, he went to remove his black cloak. His eyes fell onto his invisibility cloak, his fingers reached out and stroked it. A little sparkle formed in his eyes.

Making up his mind, he pulled the cloak out and threw it over his shoulders. Vanishing from sight, he moved out of the dorms. In the past, he often gave away his presence with his loud footfalls, now he moved as silently as he was invisible. The Fat Lady gave a start when he opened the door from the inside with flows of air. Stepping through, he closed the door before the portrait could cause a stir.

The halls were deserted, the only sign of life were a few teachers that patrolled the dark corridors. The prefects had already gone back to their dorms and the portraits were mostly asleep. Through it all he just walked, thinking, trying to move on. Focusing on Voldemort had proved futile and he had given up trying. For now there was little to be done about it. That would require time and would develop at its own pace. Ginny, however, proved a much better distraction from his suffering. If it had not been for his love for her he would probably have died long ago. That love for her had kept him from acting rashly on a number of occasions.

The school offered little of interest for him so he kept walking. He was beginning to feel slightly odd as he walked. He could not completely describe the feeling. It was vague, as if not there. Pushing the feeling away he stopped and began to pace up and down.

A light was coming down the hall, so he pushed himself against the wall. Professor McGongall came into view before she passed by. She was silent as she patrolled. Her face was set, but Harry was sure he could see lines of worry around her eyes. As the light vanished around a corner, he began to move again.

What had fascinated him about the corridors of the school when he was younger? There was little to do, no monsters lurked around corners. Well apart from his second year that was true. The place was just cold and lonely. No place for a man like him.

Deciding that it would be best to return to his bed, he began to make his way back. That odd feeling was growing stronger, it felt almost sickening now. Reaching Gryffindor Tower, he snuck back inside. The sleeping painting of the Fat Lady, oblivious, slept. An unnatural cold seeped through his body. He shivered. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around the edges of the cloak to pull it tight.

With the cloak firmly wrapped around his body, he began to ascend the stairs. The nausea he had been feeling intensified, almost exponentially. Pausing halfway to the seventh year dorms, he gathered himself, thinking. The sickness was familiar. After only a few more steps, he paused. It felt a lot like the Dark One's taint on saidin. Everything registered. His gray eyes went wide. His features paled. The conclusion was not pleasant, but true all the same, the Dark One was touching him.


	14. Chapter 13

Frantic, Harry wove a gateway in the middle of the corridor. The razor sharp edge of the gateway cut a small incision in the passageway. Not noticing, Harry stepped through his portal hurriedly. On the other side he emerged inside the house where Moiraine was staying. The warmth of the home contrasted noticeably with the cold of the school. This too, he did not notice. His entire body was near panic as he fought to remove the cloak, which had tangled around his arms.

Time slowed. All that Harry could sense was the sickening feeling of the Dark One touching him. The taint seemed to seep through his skin, making him feel nauseous. Desperate, he tugged harder at the tangled mess. Both his arms were trapped inside the sleeves. The calm, the void, was unattainable.

"Light!" Moiraine shouted at a pale Harry. He did not spare her a look, the fight with the Invisibility Cloak continued. Prickling skin told him she had embraced saidar, though he paid it little heed as there was nothing she could do for him.

Sparing her her a quick glance, he took just enough time to notice her appearance before focusing on the more important issue — tangled arms. He gathered she had been sitting at the small table, by the window, reading. A book lay discarded on the floor by the chair. Parchments and quills were scattered about the room. The papers, he guessed, were probably covered in her meticulous handwriting. With an audible sigh, he managed to free his arms.

Raising his arms above his head, he threw the cloak down with as much force as he could muster. Barely a few seconds had passed since he first noticed the taint. Yet, enough time had passed for fear to surface within him. The Dark One's presence was something he had not felt recently. For what seemed like hours, he stared down at the cloak as the sickening feeling retreated.

In control and feeling safe again, Harry reached out to saidin. Dropping down onto his knees, his hands frantically began rummaging around inside the cloak. Cold fingers trembled as he searched. The nausea might have gone, but the fear remained. With agonising slowness, his pale shaking hands worked, diligently making their way through the various folds of the cloak.

Then they paused. "Bloody hell," he exclaimed, sitting up. He had found what he was looking for. He had hoped he would not find anything, but it was there. Hidden almost from view was undeniable proof of what he feared most.

Taking a step back, he eyed the cloak with disdain. His entire body shook with disgust and horror. He held onto the One Power, hiding deep within the void, as if to ward himself against the darkness he felt flowing from the cloak. It might have been his imagination, but it felt real enough. Gathering his courage, he approached it again — carefully. His fingers barely took hold of it, as if the cloak contained the plague. In fact it held something far worse. Bringing it close to his eyes, he studied the very fibres of the cloak carefully. "Nothing," he whispered inaudibly. His head shook slowly.

With a deep sigh he handed the cloak to Moiraine. "I hope this is important, Harry," she spoke softly, before taking the cloak. Harry finally managed to look at Moiraine properly, her long dark hair was slightly messy and her clothes were rumpled. Ink stains covered her new dress from where she had wiped her fingers or cleaned a quill. She must have been sitting and studying since he had left a few hours ago. Her eyes narrowed taking him in, still ignoring the cloak she held onto. "You look ill," her reply was gentle, perhaps beginning to understand the seriousness of his antics.

"Study it," was all he managed to say, he was in no mood for conversation. A shiver ran up his spine again at the mere idea of the cloak and he shook visibly. To think that he and his entire family had actually used it was enough to make him sick.

Taking one look at it she said, "This is the invisibility cloak you took, the one passed from father to son. How many generations?" Harry did not reply, his pale skin grew whiter. Looking confused, no doubt having noticed his near ghostly appearance, she took another look, "All that I am seeing is the faint outlines of an invisibility cloak."

"You are getting to the root of the problem." Harry paused closing his eyes before rubbing them with his fingers, he felt frail, about to break. "Take a closer look," his voice was low but urgent. The tingling on his skin increased, she understood.

A few minutes later the goosebumps, which had formed, disappeared. "I still only see an invisibility cloak." Throwing the cloak back at Harry she turned around and moved back to her books. Unseen by her, Harry side-stepped the cloak and let it drop to the floor, not wanting to touch it. Instead he stared at the thing, knowing he would never wear it again. A part of him broke. The cloak had been one of the few things that connected him with his family. With a sigh, he followed Moiraine.

"No threads of power are visible, neither saidin nor saidar," he said then remained quiet, allowing the idea to sink in. "The One Power was not used in the creation of this cloak." Harry's words were low an ominous while he stared at her retreating figure.

Moiraine stopped, her back going rigid. "That... are you sure?" she asked and he could see her face pale at the implication when she turned to face him again.

Harry merely nodded, he was certain. "This does raise another problem," he continued. "A problem much greater than the cloak, perhaps one more worrying than Voldemort himself."

"Explain," she said, motioning for him to sit, her composure regained.

Harry began by telling her about the tale of the three brothers and their discussion with Death. He shortened the story significantly, removing much of the drama from Ginny's version. He achieved his goal of getting across what he had wanted.

"So, Death or the Dark One gave them these three objects and you believe your cloak is the one from the story?" she asked, leaning forward. Her posture reminded Harry of Hermione, who had done so earlier.

"Maybe not the Dark One himself, but a minion of his. Nevertheless, inside the book, which was a very old book, was the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. That symbol, though very faint can be seen on the inside of the Invisibility Cloak," Harry continued to explain while his eyes narrowed at the cloak lying on the floor. "And seeing as the cloak is woven by something other than the One Power then it could only have been created by..."

"The True Power," Moiraine muttered loud enough for Harry to hear while getting to her feet. The words rolled uneasily off her tongue. The idea itself was frightening and her fear could not be kept from her voice. "If we are to believe the stories then the Dark One created these objects with his own power..."

"To go out into the world with the sole purpose of spreading his discord. I have heard tales of powerful wands used in the past, all of them led to great destruction. Perhaps they were all the same wand." Harry paused.

Moiraine continued for him. "It makes sense for the Dark One to have created such a powerful ter'angreal wand. The True Power as you know disrupts the pattern — destabilises it." She stopped and stared at Harry. "The problem is that no one save you and Ginny, who I know about, can channel strongly enough to actually wield the True Power if given the chance. The Elder Wand would give an enormous amount of power to any witch or wizard that controlled it..." when she stopped for breath, Harry began talking.

"And the True Power is as addictive as it is dangerous. Anyone using the wand for any length of time would go mad. No matter how good a person is, the Elder Wand will eventually wear away that person's sanity. That madness would in turn lead to destruction. The Dark One let loose a weapon on the world that would continue to wreak havoc until it was destroyed or fulfilled its goal."

The implications were profound: alike in every Age that has been and in those to come. The Dark One attempts to break free from his prison in order to wreak havoc upon the world. His ultimate goal, once free, is to destroy the Wheel of Time that turns continuously with the One Power. Destroying the Wheel, he destroys the pattern that holds the world together. That at least was what they believed. The Dark One's true intentions have never been clear. In the uncertainty lay the biggest problem. How do you fight a war when the opposition's goal is not clear? In every Age the Pattern produced a man who leads the fight against the Dark One, the champion of Light, the Dragon. In one Age the man was Rand Al'Thor. In this Age it was Harry.

The prophecy hanging over him since birth and the expectations those words brought with them now seemed insignificant. Voldemort was a minor irritant that would need to be dealt with as soon as possible, but he was no longer of much concern to Harry. There were unseen enemies lurking about now that were much greater and darker.

"So what is the point of the other two items then?" Moiraine asked sitting back down again, the full implication of it all beginning to dawn on her as Harry spoke.

"I can feel the Dark One's taint in the cloak now that I know what it feels like," Harry began before falling silent. The little colour that had returned to his face disappeared again. "I think they were created just to destroy the lives of those that they touched. Being made of the True Power, it will harm the pattern wherever it went. The cloak the least of all, but eventually it would destroy the world around the one who owned it, essentially betraying the bearer."

Her eyebrow lifted slightly, encouraging him to expand. "Like I said, the cloak and the stone betray those who use them. Take for instance the Resurrection Stone, the first brother lost the will to live because the stone could not give him what he wanted. Yes, it gave him a glimpse of his loved one's deceased soul, but he could never have that which he saw. In the end it drove him mad." Harry remained silent for some time.

"The Invisibility Cloak provides a sense of security which leads to it being used more and more. The desire to take it and hide oneself keeps growing. There were countless times where I had lain in my bed longing to be walking about under the cloak. But like the stone, it leads to eventual madness and betrayal." He stopped again, his chest felt like a weight was pressing down on him. "My father, my parents," his voice suddenly sounded hard and filled with anger. His gray eyes flickered to green, the depths of them burning like fire.

Drawing saidin, he faced the cloak lying on the floor. A thin white beam of light shot from his raised palm and flew towards the cloak. Instantly Moiraine weaved a flow of air that moved it. The anger inside him boiled as they watched a wooden floorboard shimmer, change colour, before disappearing.

"Harry!" Moiraine cried out in horror. "That... how could you use that!"

Harry did not move nor flinch at her outburst, he just sat there with his head hanging. "It had to be done, Moiraine. There is no other way that I know that would have removed it completely."

"Yes, but Balefire! Harry that is..." she stuttered and then remained silent before bowing her head in acceptance. Balefire was the worst possible weave to create, not even their enemies, the servants of the Dark One used it. Not only did it destroy or kill a person, it also ripped a person from the pattern of life. Not even the Dark One could reach a person touched by Balefire. A soul touched by it was forever lost.

"Just wait before acting," she continued in frustration. Her face, to his keen eyes, betrayed her understanding. Together they sat in silence, neither moving nor saying anything, both minds working actively to solve the problem of what to do. "You are missing something," Moiraine said quietly. Harry did not move, but he listened to what she had to say. "You are looking at them as three separate entities. What if they are designed to work together?" she speculated.

"The combination of the three powers would make one like Death," Harry said shakily. "The Resurrection Stone can bring someone back while the Elder Wand might have the power to give life to the soul," Harry speculated uneasily.

"Yet, how does the cloak fit into it all?" Moiraine asked, more to herself that to Harry.

"I have no idea," he muttered. The unanswered question was almost more unnerving than the Elder Wand.

They continued to discuss the problems around the Deathly Hallows before Harry finally decided to call it a night. Moiraine had calmed down visibly after the discussion, but she was still pale when he stepped through the gateway. The only oddity remained the cloak, which he now held draped over his arm. He dared not wear it again.

The icy air of the tower bit into him as he made his way to bed. It was dark, his roommates still fast asleep. The soft snoring of Ron and Neville were the only sounds around him. Careful not to wake anyone, he placed his clothes inside his trunk, ensuring that the Invisibility Cloak was well hidden. Getting into his usual t-shirt and pants he slipped underneath the covers. Closing his eyes, he formed the void to try and clear his mind. With his mind having worked hard to piece together everything he forgot to shield his dreams for the first time since arriving.

He decided to skip his morning routine upon waking late the next morning. The Deathly Hallows had kept him up nearly all night and he had only gotten two, maybe three hours sleep. The cloak was safely tucked away inside his trunk with even more wards woven around it. Anyone trying to break into his trunk would find themselves in for a surprise or two.

What bothered him above all was the Elder Wand. A wand using the True Power was a threat he had not considered before. A wand using the One Power might be weak, but there was no telling how powerful the Elder Wand would be if it actually channelled the True Power. The One Power was not inherently weaker than the True Power, it was just constrained by the Pattern. The True Power, being destructive, broke down nature before twisting it to its own desire. The wand might even be a match for his own strength. Believing otherwise could lead him down a dangerous road.

Getting out of his bed, he got dressed before sitting down in the common room. His purpose here had changed. Voldemort came second now. First and foremost he needed to find the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone, though the latter could wait.

Sitting in front of a fire he had conjured, his hands worked furiously through his hair in frustration. Where would he begin looking for the other two objects? The wand could be anywhere, though he was sure it would be in the hands of a relatively powerful wizard. An object of such power would inevitably end up in the hands of a capable witch or wizard.

Harry doubted that Voldemort had found the wand. When Harry duelled him in the graveyard, he still had his old phoenix-core wand, the brother wand to his own. If Voldemort had the Elder Wand then, there would have been a lot more destruction, nor would the two wands have connected. The question was, who, after Voldemort, would have the wand? There were no other powerful dark wizards running around that Harry knew about.

That logic confused him. Using the True Power was addictive and led to madness, surely the current bearer would have gone mad. Then again, long periods of time had gone by with no conflicts in the wizarding world. Was this just another lull? Was the next wielder of the wand lying in wait somewhere? There were just too many questions that could not be answered.

His fire still roared when a small, comforting presence sat down next to him. "Morning, Harry," Ginny whispered. She enjoyed calling him Harry. It made him slightly nervous, but the joy in her eyes at being able to say 'Harry' was enough to make him not stop her. Besides, she was cautious and never mentioned his name anywhere near other people.

"Morning," he replied, putting his arm around her shoulder. He glanced at her to give her a tight, uneasy smile before turning back to the fire.

"You look troubled," she said, her voice filled with concern. "And you did not exercise this morning. What's wrong?" He did not turn to look at her again, instead he stared straight into his own orange flames.

"Nothing much, just had trouble sleeping... I have a lot to think about," he said in reply, while the light bounced and reflected off his unblinking gray eyes.

"Anything that I can do to help?" she asked, moving closer, studying him. Her one hand began to stroke through his dishevelled red hair.

"You are helping already," he answered with a sigh. "Being here helps." The gentle movements of her fingers allowed him to relax, even if only slightly.

"I am going to miss you today." Her head rested on his shoulder as she too began to study the fire. "Is that a natural fire?" she asked, lifting away from him slightly to lean forward.

"No," he replied with a laugh. Glancing about the common room and seeing it empty, he rapidly changed the colour of the flames to blue, green, yellow, red and back to a natural looking colour again. It happened so quickly that a person not looking would have been hard pressed to notice it.

Ginny's mouth just hung open slightly. "I want to do that!" she pouted, but her whole body radiated her eagerness to learn.

Harry chuckled, "I am sure Moiraine will get to it soon." It would be soon, he reasoned. Ginny had already shown her abilities to be profound. She might not have done anything considerable yet, but achieving what she did in just two short days with Moiraine was already more than most young girls learned in months. Even the most talented young girls took weeks to get as far.

"That's Moiraine Sedai to you, Harry," she said in a strict voice, her finger waggling at him.

"Not really," Harry said with a grin before getting to his feet. The flame vanished from the hearth and he pulled Ginny up with him.

"And now?" she asked questioningly. Harry's rapid movements removed the question that had been on the tip of her tongue.

"We are going for a walk on this fine late summer's morning," he replied quickly before dragging her along with him and out of the common room.

"This is crazy, Harry," she muttered in a low voice. "The sun has barely risen and I am sure it is freezing outside."

"So?" he replied, looking ahead.

Ginny huffed in annoyance, pulling her cloak tighter around her. "I didn't even bring my warm jacket," she said aloud to herself. Harry looked down at her and smiled shaking his head. Once outside the cold nipped at them, but Harry ignored it. He could feel the cold but not be affected by it. Doing so was not something to do with the One Power but rather a conscious decision of the mind. "Do we really have to go for a walk?" Ginny begged trying to pull Harry back inside.

"No, not really, but the fresh air would do you some good," he replied with a grin. There really was no need for Ginny to be outside. He wanted to be outside, the confines of the common room had just become too much for him. The walls had begun to press down onto him. Being outdoors also helped to clear his thoughts, allowing him organise them.

Following one of many paths around the grounds, they continued in silence. Dark trees loomed over their heads, each swaying in the morning breeze. Ginny was too cold to notice her surroundings, nor talk. He was too busy thinking to be conversational.

Harry stopped suddenly when he heard the faint sound of voices ahead of them. "Quiet," Harry whispered, seizing saidin. She nodded, obviously having heard the same. To his astonishment, Ginny embraced saidar next to him. "Be careful with that," he told her very quietly. Her hearing would be very acute, so there was no need to be loud. She nodded, after glaring at him, before removing her own wand. If it wasn't for the seriousness in his voice, he was sure she would have stuck her tongue out.

With his hearing more sensitive and the world more vivid, he began to make out the distinctive voices of Dumbledore and Snape. They were somewhere ahead of them, further along the path. Weaving flows of air, he projected it towards the voices, allowing him to eavesdrop.

While he listened, they moved closer. His footfalls were silent in comparison to Ginny's noisy feet. He felt like telling her to stand still, but he could not admonish her, especially since Ginny's teeth were chattering and her skin was blue from the cold.

"Clear your mind from the cold," he said to her a bit harshly. Ginny looked fiercely back at him, her wand an inch from his nose, the incantation of the all too familiar Bat-Bogey Hex not far from her lips. Harry had always wanted to stay far away from any of her spells. Now with her being able to channel saidar, the desire only grew. Just thinking about her bats being even bigger made him shudder. Knowing she would soon be able to use the hex silently and without a wand was not a comforting thought. Thank the Light the twins could not channel. Harry's hands involuntarily touched his nose. Acknowledging the facts, Harry held up his hands in defeat, before placing his full attention on the voices ahead of them again.

The voices at first were a distant and faint, but as the gap closed and he fine tuned the placement of the flows of air, they became more distinct.

"How is your arm?" Dumbledore's voice said to Snape.

"It is fine," Snape hissed back at Dumbledore. It did not sound like it was alright.

"How long before your meeting with Voldemort?"

"Judging by the pain, he expects me any minute now," it sounded like his teeth were clenched in pain.

"Good, are you sure he is not planning anything at the moment?"

"If he still trusts me, then no, there should not be any attacks soon."

"But it has been two years since his open display of power inside the Ministry when he tried to steal the prophecy."

"It is a good thing you had already removed the orb." There was a pause. "He is still very weak, however, after the damage you inflicted on his body. He might need a few more months to regain his full strength."

"Very well. I hope we can arrange a strike on him before he is well."

"He can defend himself," Snape snorted. "He is just a cautious man by nature. Evil, yes, but cautious"

They said no more and when Harry reached the crest of a small rise. He lay down behind a row of bushes. Looking down, he saw the two men walking slowly towards a back gate that led out of Hogwarts. Swinging the small iron gate open, Snape stepped through and Disapparated. Dumbledore stood there alone for a long time studying the area around him. His hands behind his back and his long beard along with his robes were the only things to move.

Crawling carefully back down from the crest, Harry sat down against a tree. Ginny followed ensuring to be out of sight of the road in case Dumbledore came past them.

"What happened down there?" Ginny asked when they were finally settled down and hidden from view.

"Snape is going to a meeting with Voldemort," he said lightly, his face tilted to the side in thought.

"What!" Ginny said in a loud whisper. Her cold brown eyes blazing in fury, confirmed what his prickling skin told him, she was still holding onto saidar.

"Snape is a spy, perhaps a double agent, who knows." Harry fell silent. Dumbledore was returning. Ginny must have heard as well since she remained deathly quiet.

Dumbledore passed them walking slowly along the road, whistling to himself. The whistling died down and then he chuckled a little before saying something under his breath. Harry could not make out the words but they sounded like a joke, something humorous at least. The man had always been a little odd, Harry mused watching the retreating figure.

With the Headmaster well past them Ginny finally spoke up. "I always knew that man was vile," her voice full of loathing.

Placing a gentle hand on her arm, Harry spoke in a wizened voice, "I have seen people sworn to the Dark One fight all their lives for the Light." Ginny looked at him as if he had spouted something ridiculous. "The world is not as black and white as it once was to me. There are good people stuck on the wrong side of a line drawn by forces much greater than them."

"What are you saying?" she asked, sitting up straight, her brown eyes wide. The emptiness had left her gaze and his goosebumps had dissipated.

Harry sighed, but he understood. If he had not experienced what he had, then he would still have had the same view of the world as Ginny. To her there was good and evil and you were either one or the other.

Getting to his feet, he turned away from her facing the rising sun. His hands clasped behind his straight back. He looked like a king surveying his country. "What would you think of someone that has used the killing curse?" he asked Ginny when she came to stand beside him.

"I would think them despicable and evil. They should be thrown into the depths of Azkaban," she said heatedly. Even though he was not facing her he could hear the conviction in her voice. Closing his eyes, he knew this was going to be difficult.

"Yet, that is not the worst crime a man can commit," Harry said, moving out of the bushes.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Ginny demanded, keeping stride alongside him. He halted abruptly. The gray faded and his green eyes looked haunted as he studied Ginny's soft brown questioning eyes.

"There are many meanings to the statement. Perhaps, you will discover the answer to it yourself one day," he replied, still staring into her naive eyes. Without looking away, he said, "I have used the Avada Kedavra countless times," he said and behind him a sickly green jet of light formed. It hung as if suspended for a fraction of a second before it struck a rock.

Her eyes grew wide in horror. "But..." her brow creased and her mouth worked furiously.

"It's a simple weave of spirit," Harry turned changing his eyes gray and hair red again. Letting go of saidin, the world around him muted and the noises of the forest dimmed. "Think about it, Ginny," Harry said beginning to walk gracefully, his head bowed, back to the castle.

"Wait!" Ginny cried from behind him and he paused. Turning around he noticed her dazed appearance. Her hand slipped into his and they continued to walk in silence for a time. "Why?"

"To defend myself and the people I cared for," Harry replied in a low voice. "I fought in wars far greater than this... you saw the scars."

Ginny did not reply, but she did not flinch. "I... I think I see what you mean. Bad people do good and good people revert to bad to defend what is right."

Harry bit back a laugh and tears. "Not quite, but almost," he paused before facing her. "I honestly hope that you never have to fully understand what I am talking about. In a perfect world the Light and the Dark are two separate entities. In our world they merge into a gray of so many shades that defining good and bad becomes a matter of perspective."

"You are Light," Ginny said giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"No." He shook his head. "You are innocent and pure Light. I am a much darker shade of gray, much darker." The cold edge could not be removed from his voice and even the morning sun shining in his eyes could not remove the hardness in their depths. Ginny flinched but she held onto his hand.

"And Moiraine Sedai?" Ginny asked, her voice a little unsteady.

"She... she has stretched what is right to breaking point, but she is much better than me," he replied. They were nearing the school by now. A few early risers were outside getting some fresh air before the day's classes. Being cooped up in the school all the time did not suit everyone.

"Why would you call yourself dark then?" Ginny asked.

Harry stopped walking at her question. His brow furrowed, "I just am," he replied after awhile. He said no more, there was no way to explain.

Her face brightened a little. "But more Light than Dark." It was not a question but a statement.

Harry laughed softly staring out over the grounds. "I hope so," Harry whispered before pulling her into a tight embrace. "I love you, Ginny."

She pulled back slightly to look at him. "I love you too, Harry," she said quietly before rising up onto her toes to give him a passionate kiss. A few whistles came from the school, probably a few younger students, but they were ignored. Breaking apart, his gray eyes had lost some of their hardness and the light from the sun reflected just a little bit more from them.

"Breakfast?" Ginny asked and he rolled his eyes.

"Weasleys' and their appetites," he chuckled, just before she began pulling him along. "The world crumbles at their feet. A man speaks from his heart. Yet, all they can think about is food." Ginny giggled in response.

The school felt stifling after their long walk outside. It was not winter yet but the mornings were already very cold, though not yet icy. "That feels better," Ginny said shaking her hands about to put some heat in them. "Aren't you freezing?" she asked, staring at him oddly.

"I am too Dark for the cold to affect me," he said seriously with a straight face. Ginny froze.

"Your kidding, right?" she said instinctively. Her eyes wide, studying.

Harry roared with laughter before placing an arm around her waist to drag her into the hall. "You look adorable when you're confused." When he eventually managed to settle down, they were already seated at the Gryffindor table. Ron was already there, his food forgotten as he stared blatantly at Harry. Hermione looked scandalized that Harry was going on and on with his laughter. Tears had already streamed down his face and his side hurt not only from his laughter, but from Ginny hitting him for making fun of her.

"Do you really have to make such a big deal of it?" Ginny huffed in genuine annoyance.

"No..." He chuckled again, before being able to calm himself. "Sorry, but like I said earlier. If you just ignore the cold, you can reduce its effect." He kept smiling as he piled food onto his plate. The students of Hogwarts really did lead sheltered lives. While eating, he could not help but think how he had once been the same.

_A/N Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Not many people read the stories in this section. So please take the time to leave a comment at the end. I'd love to know what you think. Comments make me think, and help to improve future chapters._


	15. Chapter 14

_A/N I was asked if Harry and Ginny are the only ones who can channel. The short answer, no, others can channel. Moiraine can sense other women, but her contact with people are limited. Ginny will be able to when she has learned more. As for Harry, it is more difficult for men to find others who can channel. They don't feel it like women do. Hope that answers your question._

_I was also asked about my timeline. My timeline is correct. Harry was gone for two years from Britain. He spent the same amount of time in the WoT. Voldemort tried to get the prophecy just after Harry left, no doubt becoming concerned by Harrys absence. So Dumbledores statement just implies that it has almost been two years, somewhere between 1.5 to 2 years since Voldemort attacked._

With breakfast out of the way and everyone in class, Harry travelled to Moiraine. Upon arriving, he found the house oddly quiet. He slipped into the void while moving upstairs quietly. Every subtle noise became clear. Approaching her room he began to hear the faint slow rhythmic breaths of Moiraine. She was still asleep. Feeling relieved and deciding not to wake her, he walked downstairs and into the sitting room.

He ambled up and down the room a few times. Thinking about the cloak proved too painful. In search of a distraction, he studied the garden. The flowers in the garden were nearly all gone. Red and gold leaves littered the green lawn. Winter was rapidly approaching. The garden provided no comfort. He strode into the centre of an open space, still looking for something to occupy him.

Standing still, he memorised the room. Only then did he allow himself to run away from the problems and worries threatening to drown him. His mind filled with an image of a flaming blade — his retreat. The conjured sword of flame blazed in his hands. The heat attacked his body in the confines of the room. The tension needed to go somewhere and so he began working his forms, letting all his anxiety ebb out of his system. The blade swung around in the air effortlessly, never far away from anything but never touching. He was one with the sword. It was an extension of his body.

It was rather repetitive he knew, but there were enough varied movements ensuring that he rarely needed to repeat any of them. He had his favourites, but he tried to keep it varied. Focusing too much on a single form could be dangerous. Lan had taught him well.

_"You already did that!" Lan bellowed at Harry who was kneeling on the floor breathing hard. The dark outline of where Lan's practice sword had struck him across the side was already beginning to show on his exposed upper body._

It was mid-afternoon and the sun was baking them as they practised inside the walls of Caemlyn's palace. A large crowd was already gathered around them, it had become usual for people to stop and stare while Lan and Harry practised.

Lan was renowned for his prowess and the amount of time he had spent with Harry the past year ensured that Harry had become one of the finer swordsmen. He was nowhere near a rank of blade master, as Lan kept proving, but Harry was rapidly improving. The two of them fighting was like watching a dance. Swift and precise movements flowing from one form to another mesmerized the onlookers.

"A true master will find your favourites and expose you for it," Lan spoke so only Harry could hear. "Never rely on a single movement too much. Constantly change, keep moving, and never return to the same place!" Lan continued to lecture while Harry was trying to regain his breath. It was proving difficult, exhaustion combined with the physical pain of multiple encounters with Lan's practice sword.

Harry's tanned upper body was glistening in the sun from the rivers of sweat running down. His black hair hung in damp tendrils across his face and clung to his neck, no longer sticking up at odd angles. With a deep breath he hoisted himself to his feet. "Again," he demanded of Lan. The man nodded, a sign Harry knew to mean respect. Few men could go on so long against Lan.

The man took guard, the Ox Lowers His Horns. It was an unusual stance and one that Harry had never seen him use before. The words, "Constant Change," rang in his ears alongside the voice of one that he had heard some time ago, "Constant Vigilance!" Moving into his own opening stance, he studied Lan while he cleared his mind. It was different from when he channelled. This was the Oneness, similar to the void used for saidin, instead he never touched the One Power. All emotions drained from him into the flame forming in his mind. The soft sound of his own feet on the stone floor and rustling of Lan's clothes as they moved against the wind echoed in his mind. He could feel his burning muscles and his fatigue, but within the void he pushed them aside, they were distant and unimportant. His focus was on the man before him. More importantly, on his movements, his intentions.

Beginning to move, the clash of swords echoed around the courtyard. The cries and shouts of the spectators could be heard, but they held no meaning. Rising up higher, Harry struck downward, ripples of force coursed through his body as Lan parried the sword before moving into a strong counterstroke. Barely in time, he balanced and moved into the Falling Leaf. The hard crash of blades rocked his body and he stumbled backwards. Lan, whose breathing had not changed and whose clothes were still dry, moved quickly now. His face was an image of calm and control. His sword moved effortlessly, high then low, left then right, a jab followed by a cut — never constant, never predictable.

Fighting with all his strength, Harry tried to gain the upper hand again, but it was all he could do to parry each blow. It was no use, Lan was far too experienced and skilled to allow Harry back into the fight. Closing his eyes at the last moment, Harry braced his body for the impending blow that was about to strike him. A surge of pain flooded his senses. Deep inside the void he could feel it, but he managed to move despite it.

"Thank you," Harry said through clenched teeth, still standing after Lan had struck him hard against the stomach. The blow would leave a nice long blue mark if left unhealed.

"A pleasure, Harry Potter," Lan said giving Harry a nod of approval. "Shall we go again?" he said readying himself. With a grimace Harry agreed. A few minutes later another blow to the back ended their fifth duel for the day. Harry had lost each time.

Releasing the void, he collapsed onto his knees. The void, while it helped to keep him going far longer than normal, was a dangerous place to be. The full pain of all the blows rushed to his head. The agony of what he suffered surfaced.

"Harry," a woman said, running to his side and placing a steadying arm around his shoulder. "You really shouldn't push yourself so hard," she grimaced and muttered under her breath. Harry wondered how much of it she felt. He hated it when she suffered.

"I need to improve. I need to be able to defend myself and you," Harry replied, trying to stand. His breath caught and he shuddered as pain racked his body. As he collapsed, the woman's arms alone kept him away from the stone floor.

When he finally stood straight, she rounded on him, her ageless face an image of concern. "Let me," she said, placing her hands on his cheeks. With a nod from him, she closed her eyes, his skin tingled and then he turned to ice. As the feeling of cold vanished, he breathed out in relief. The pain was gone, but he felt even more exhausted. Healing with the One Power used only a little amount of the Power, the rest of the strength came from the one being healed, often leaving the person weak from fatigue. He would need to rest now. At least the pain and bruising was gone.

"Thank you," he said to her, sitting down on a nearby seat. She stood by his side. He sensed her relaxing.

Lan was standing a short distance away with his wife, Nynaeve Sedai. She wore her hair in a long braid that was thrown over her shoulder and a red dot on her forehead indicated that she was married. The braid was a custom from her hometown and the red dot from his kingdom. Her hands were tugging at the braid slightly, in obvious concern for Lan. She did look pleased with her husband's abilities, however. Harry smiled. Nynaeve tended to be rather proud and protective over her Lan.

"Shall we go get some food?" the woman by Harry's side asked. He glanced up at her ageless face and found himself wondering, not for the first time, how old she really was. He guessed thirty something, but it could just as easily be fifty if not twenty. With a shake of his head, he let go of the thought. It was of little use. His stomach gave a low growl at her mention of food. He would need the energy after being healed.

"Of course," he replied and joined her as she walked away towards the kitchens.

With his routine finished, he released the void and began to prepare a cup of tea for himself in the kitchen. Another few minutes were wasted. Time spent not thinking. Finished, he sat down on a small chair in the living room with his cup of tea and waited for Moiraine to join him. The rising steam warmed his face each time he took a small sip. There was some comfort in that warmth.

By the time she finally arrived, a few minutes were all he had left before his next class. "Morning, Harry," Moiraine greeted as she stepped into the room. She looked haggard, as if she had not slept well. The dark rings under her eyes emphasized the point.

"Morning, Moiraine," Harry replied, placing his cup on the table before rising. "Unfortunately, it appears my time here has run out," he smiled in an attempt to lift her spirits. "I have Charms in a few minutes. I will try to return afterwards." There was no time to discuss her worries now, so he left his questions for later. Classes were not important, but missing one would garner unwanted attention.

Saying his farewells, he went back to school and hurried along the corridors to Charms. He was actually relatively early this time and settled down alongside Ron and Hermione.

"What do you do with yourself between periods?" Hermione asked just as he got comfortable in his seat. He loved Hermione dearly, but he wished she would do more than just ask him questions. Then again, if he were friends with Rand, he would be asking the same ones.

"Not much really," Harry replied, making sure not to seem as uncomfortable as he felt. Hiding his feelings was not difficult. "I go for walks around the grounds. There is so much to see." A hand nervously worked through his hair, the only vice that he had yet to stop.

Hermione nodded while she continued her quiet study of Harry, her calculating eyes lingered on his hand while it ran along his head. For a moment he was sure her gaze had lingered on his forehead. It was eerily similar to the look Ginny had given him. From beside him, Ron asked a question drawing Harry's attention away from Hermione. "Like what?"

"The lake and the way it reflects the sky and school off its surface. The winding paths that lead around the various parts of the grounds... you can get lost in them," Harry answered wistfully. It was the truth. The grounds were spectacular and more than once since returning he had found himself sitting while staring out over the grounds. There was so much he had missed before. Difficult times had taught him to enjoy the simple pleasures of life while you could. "I try to make a point of taking in the world around me."

"Really?" Ron said with a raised eyebrow, not fully understanding what Harry could mean. Like nearly all Weasleys, life was too simple for them to fully enjoy the pleasures around them. One had to suffer, Harry mused, to appreciate the small details like watching the sunrise before a battle, thinking it might be your last, or studying the small dew droplets on a leaf reflecting the colours of the rainbow. Everything is fragile, even the venerable towers of Hogwarts would come down one day.

It took a few moments for Harry to come out of his reverie. "Unlike what you might believe, the grounds are there for far more than just Quidditch," Harry replied with a forced laugh, slapping his friend on the back. Ron looked sour suddenly, but he could say little before the class began. Professor Flitwick had arrived and was beginning to write something on the board. Oddly, Hermione did not start writing. Her eyes lingered on him for a while. They looked sad.

Harry leaned slightly towards Ron, more to hide than talk, and whispered in his ear. "I will show you a great place where you can take Hermione for a picnic." The frown disappeared from Ron's face, replaced by a small eager grin.

The class, like Defence, passed in relative calm and ease. Being with a male professor allowed Harry to see the fine weaves. A slight advantage before he had to form them himself. Knowing how to weave the spell, he would have been able to perform the charm with effortless ease. He held back, however, until Hermione or someone else got theirs right. Of course, Hermione managed first, but she seemed distracted. He had learned from his previous mistakes, constantly being better than Hermione was a sure way to draw attention. Sometime after she did but well before the end of the period, he allowed the weaves to form perfectly allowing him to get his done second.

With nothing left to do with the remaining time and not wanting to think, he studied Ron's attempts. The weaves left his friend's wand perfectly each time. The intricate web of threads formed nicely. That was until the very end. The last crucial knot failed to form. After repeated attempts, Harry realised how Ron's wand movements were affecting the outcome. "Ron, give your wand a slight flick to the right at the end. I think you will get it right then."

A small figure appeared alongside the pair. Hermione, too, came closer. "Um… that would be incorrect… Mr Damodred," Professor Flitwick said after glancing at his class list to confirm the name. The small man looked slightly indignant that Harry, of all people, would propose an idea so different from the norm.

Harry stared down at him, appearing to almost grow taller, "Try it, Ron," Harry said, not breaking eye contact. The professor huffed slightly, but looked at Ron. He shrugged, said the incantation while moving his wand and just like Harry advised, he flicked his wand to the right at the end. To his surprise the charm worked flawlessly. "See," Harry said a bit too coldly to Flitwick. "There is always more than one way to spin a web."

The professor looked resentful but moved away muttering to himself.

"How?" Hermione asked, her eyes considering.

"Oh... it's the way my mother always does it. I thought it might work for Ron," Harry replied before packing his things away hastily. "See you at lunch," he called over his shoulder to them.

"What was that about webs?" he heard Hermione ask Ron, just before Harry disappeared out of the class.

Running, he realised these meetings with Moiraine would have to lessen. He wanted to spend more time with Ron and Hermione during free periods — not to mention Ginny, when they had time off together. Though the time with Ginny would probably be spent with Moiraine teaching her as much as possible. Besides, his friends were growing suspicious. Hermione, he was sure, was halfway to discovering his true identity. That was a problem he would have to face soon.

Back at the house, he found Moiraine studying medicines and magical remedies. Her wand lay on the table next to her, a book before her. The ink smudges on the wand's handle confirmed that it had been in use. "Morning, Moiraine," Harry called out as he entered the room where she was working. "We need to talk," he continued before he sat down on a chair opposite her.

"Well good morning to you, Father," Moiraine said, using his honorific, getting to her feet to give him a bow. It was exaggerated slightly to show her annoyance. Harry cringed at the gesture.

"I am sorry, Moiraine Sedai," he said. The regret in his tone was accentuated by the slight bow of his head. "I was in a rush and busy thinking. Forgive me."

She nodded in acceptance. "About?" she asked before moving into the kitchen to pour two cups of tea.

"The three Hallows and Snape," he replied, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Professor Snape?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "What does he have to do with anything?"

Harry sat up a bit straighter as she handed him a cup of tea. "Thank you." Taking a sip he stared into the cup. "Snape seems to be in contact with Voldemort. It appears he is a spy for Dumbledore," Harry said this all very slowly, taking time to consider, not the words, but what he could do.

"Have you thought about placing a tracking charm on him?" she asked while stirring her tea.

"I have," he replied, with a shake of his head.

"Then your problem is solved for the time being. Place the weave on his wand or an item he always wears and then just wait to see where he goes. When he leaves again you will be able to locate the whereabouts of Voldemort."

"Yes," he muttered, still not entirely convinced. "I suppose that would be the best route to take." Leaning back, he stared out of the open window. The signs of the oncoming winter even more apparent than earlier that morning.

Tracking Snape was the best option to take, seeing as there was little else to be done. He had thought that it would take him at least a few months to get into the Order to learn more. It appeared as if the Pattern wanted him to find Voldemort quickly. Why, he did not know. Yet, it unnerved him, so he had tried to ignore simple solutions. However, a tracking weave on the professor would allow him to gain direct access to Voldemort. With the route open, things should end quickly. What did he have to lose? "There is only one problem with the plan," Harry said looking up at Moiraine.

"And that is?" she asked, placing her cup on the table. Her eyes fixed on Harry.

"I do not know the weave," he answered with a shy grin. Even his cheeks coloured. There had been so much he had not been able to learn.

"That does leave us with a problem," she chuckled. Getting to her feet, she joined Harry to stare out the window. "I could teach Ginny how to do it."

"No!" Harry said fiercely. "I will not involve her any more than necessary." The hollowness in his chest throbbed. Moiraine studied him for a brief moment before her eyes softened.

"I know," was the only reply she made. She knew better than to push.

They stood in silence for a while, neither making any suggestions. He knew it would be the easiest for Ginny to learn the weave in order to place it on Snape. The problem being that only she would be able to track him. The charm linked the object to the one who wove it. That entailed Ginny would have to go with them to Voldemort. Even if he were able to keep her out of a fight, the risk would be too great. Unconsciously his hand rubbed one side of his chest.

"Perhaps I could sneak into the school using that cloak of yours," Moiraine said finally. Her gaze still focused on the garden.

Harry shuddered at the thought of her using the cloak, but it was an alternative. Not an attractive one, but practical. Little harm came from wearing it for a short while. The years spent wearing it proved as much. "If you are willing to be so close to the True Power... to the Dark One?" he asked with a frown.

"It will only be for a short time." She did not look comfortable. Facing him again, Harry could see the worry in her eyes. "Besides, I could not have you risk her."

The two of them stood in silence. Her sacrifice was too great for words. "I have class with him in less than an hour," his voice was low, but firm. As much as he hated the plan, the decision had been made. There was little point in delaying.

"I am ready," she said, looking down at her rumpled clothes.

"You sure?" Harry asked again. Looking away, she nodded. Without replying, Harry stood as a gateway formed. "I will get the cloak," he said before stepping through.

Almost an hour later, the two of them were inside the Potions classroom, Moiraine hidden from view within the folds of the cloak. For all Harry's concerns, the journey to the class had been uneventful. Arriving, they found the potions class locked with no sign of Snape. Leaning against a wall, Harry studied the void that was Moiraine's location. There was little to do. Ron and Hermione were talking softly to each other — engrossed.

Harry embraced the void and took hold of saidin. His green eyes narrowed. The faint outline of the invisibility cloak became barely visible to his enhanced eyesight. Knowing it was woven by the True Power did not lessen his confusion. There had to be more to the cloak than invisibility.

Moiraine snorted softly inside the cloak, very un-Aes Sedai like. Harry looked up, distracted from his thoughts. He bit back a laugh. Coming down the corridor was Snape. His cloak wafted in the air behind him, neither Harry nor Moiraine were intimidated. The other students, however, went still. The only movements came from those shuffling to get out of the professor's way.

Snape glared at the Gryffindors, trying his usual best to unnerve them. With a dramatic wave of his wand the doors opened. Harry almost laughed. Still holding saidin, he could see the puny weaves, which were created by Snape's mad flourish. All he managed was the simplest weave of air. Harry entered the class, ensuring all the while that no one was around him or Moiraine. Having an ignorant person bump into her would be close to a disaster. Nothing happened.

The dark class was as he remembered it. It was damp, cold and gloomy. In short, the perfect place for Professor Snape. His long greasy black hair and his hooked nose made him appear the like a typical Death Eater. When his wand was out and held firmly in his pale hand, Moiraine began to attach the tracking weave on him. Harry could not see the threads she wove, but he could feel the saidar flowing about the room, the sign of a woman channelling. Abruptly the feeling was gone and small tap on his shoulder told him the deed was done. Only a few moments had passed.

With a slight nod, imperceptible to anyone not looking for it, he showed her his understanding. The class then began in earnest with Snape hurriedly telling them what they would be brewing, not bothering to add the customary explanations. In Potions, this was the norm. The potion was rather complex, but unlike previous years under the professor, Harry was not affected by Snape's sour temperament. Under the facade lay a man with a history. His past haunted him with every breath he took. Not being Harry Potter aided a great deal, however. Being Rand allowed him to see a softer, more normal side to Snape. For the first time in his life, Harry tried to think what the reasons behind all the bitterness could be. The answers were not forthcoming, so instead he focused on his potion until the period ended.

With the class at an end, the students hurriedly made their way into the corridor. Harry, on the other hand, began a slow walk towards the hallway he always used for travelling. Moiraine would need to find her own way out of the class. Alone, the soft scuffling of invisible feet told him Moiraine was close by.

"Harry," she called softly, coming to halt. "I would like to see more of the school while I am here," she said this time in a whisper. A few students who could have overheard were still around them.

A wall provided an ideal spot for them to stop. Harry leaned against the stone, considering her words. "Are you willing to spend more time under the cloak?" he asked finally, his voice low, filled with concern. "There is more to the cloak than..."

"I am fine," she cut him off. "I am an Aes Sedai." Knowing not to argue Harry merely walked away before turning down a small side corridor, a short cut to the main hallway that led to the Great Hall. "It is lunch now if you want to join us?" Harry said before she could ask.

"I would love to," she replied with mock sincerity. "I thought you would never ask." Her face was no doubt an image of childish innocence under the cloak.

His concerns could not be dismissed. "How does it feel under the cloak?" he asked worriedly.

"At the moment I am fine," she sighed, though there was a slight waver in her voice. "Do not worry. If it gets worse then I will find my own way home."

Entering the Great Hall, Harry moved towards his friends who were already sitting there. "You took your time getting here," Hermione said looking at him, the same curious look on her face. Turning away, he faced Ron. The knowing looks Hermione gave him had to make him wonder how close she was to discovering who he was.

"Got lost," he shrugged. Ginny glanced up at him and then straight at Moiraine. She tilted her head slightly to one side as if considering something. She shook her head confusedly before giving Harry a welcoming kiss. Leaning in close to her, he whispered, "You're not going mad. Moiraine is under the invisibility cloak."

Ginny's eyes widened, "Really!" she said aloud. Ron and Hermione glanced at Harry.

"What?" Ron demanded. His eyes scanned Harry for any inkling of what might have been said.

"That is between my girlfriend and myself," he replied curtly just as two simultaneous jabs struck his sides. Two whispered voices said something about manners. He ignored the blows and began to pile food onto his plate.

Lunch passed slowly. Hermione, always on the verge of saying something, remained quiet. Ron ate in ignorant bliss, or was he ignorant? Those eyes, always hinted something. The chess player in him was working. No doubt countless steps ahead. It was disconcerting for Harry. It was the first time he really looked at the new Ron. Yes, he had seen him, stared into his eyes. Yet, not until now had he seen such a calculated look. He did not press Harry with the questions that were so blatant in his expression. Those would come later. Harry studied him again.

With Ron unnerving him, and Moiraine sitting by the table, Harry a hard time relaxing. Ginny, by the looks of things, was having a similar problem, though her tension came solely from the Aes Sedai.

"What classes do you have after lunch?" Harry asked Ginny when the time came to leave the hall.

"A Potions study period," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. Harry laughed softly, it was obvious she meant something else, though with Moiraine hanging around she would probably have to spend the afternoon learning to channel saidar. The extra lessons with Moiraine were going to strain Ginny eventually, for the time being it was just a game to her.

Ginny needed more than Moiraine, she needed to go to the White Tower, a place where she could be around others who channelled. In the Tower she would learn to fully embrace all the facets of the One Power. Something he himself had not learned. Harry despised the man he was. He was a tool made to fight a war, nothing more.

Studying his girlfriend, he noticed that she was, in fact, already beginning to look tired. Though he could not blame her for being fatigued, so much had happened over the past week. "You can take a break if you want to," Harry said, keeping an eye on her. She looked weary, but eager all the same.

"I probably need a break," she replied, "but there is still so much to learn." Her gaze shifted to an empty corner where Moiraine probably stood waiting. The affinity between women who could channel was unsettling at times. Taking Ginny's hand in his he led her out onto the grounds. At least the list of worries was decreasing. Voldemort would be in his grasp soon enough.

Outside Harry, Ginny and Moiraine set a brisk pace towards a secluded area. "You have those images too," an airy voice wafted from some distance away towards the trio. They froze.

Ginny was the first to turn. "Luna!" she called out eagerly.

Harry followed, noticing the way Luna studied them. The look in her eyes was familiar. Her words already held meaning. Behind him, Moiraine gripped his arm. "Not now," Harry whispered.

"Hi Ginny, hi Harry," she greeted. Ginny choked, her eyes going wide.

He merely smiled, "Good to see you again, Luna."

"What, you're not surprised? Harry! This could ruin your disguise," Ginny rounded on him.

"I am sure Luna will not go telling the world," Harry replied not looking away from Luna. Her words far more important than her knowledge of him. "Tell me, Luna, what do you see now? A sword, a heron, perhaps..."

"Stop spouting nonsense," Ginny hissed back. Her outburst cutting off the rest of his words.

Luna remained silent, thinking, the edges of her mouth quirking up into a wider smile. "A sword with a heron engraved on the blade. You standing over a body," she replied, the smile waning. "A wand, an old man, a young man. They're not the same man. The wand is, however."

Ginny wanted to say something, but Luna faced her. "Ron, younger, holding you."

Harry interjected. "What does the last one mean?"

"I... I am not sure..." Luna replied. Her dreamy eyes, filled with confusion and panic. "I know the first means you will kill a man, something accomplished or thought to have at least." She sat back down on the grass, stricken. "What's happening to me? I have seen things before, but never like this," she shuddered visibly.

"It is okay, Luna. You have a gift, a very special gift," Harry replied softly.

Ginny pulled Harry to the side. "Harry, she is mental..."

"No, Ginny," he interrupted, turning back to face Luna.

Going down onto his knees before her, he focused on Luna's eyes. "Luna," he began slowly. "You have the ability to read the Pattern."

"You mean she can channel?" Ginny asked.

"Channel... Pattern? What's that," Luna asked wiping tears away from her cheeks. She looked fragile, the images over Harry's head no doubt frightening her.

"Forget about channelling for now. Reading the pattern means you can see glimpses of the future. Tell me, have you ever looked at a couple and knew, just knew they were going to marry?"

She looked up, her eyes darted between Harry and Ginny. "Um... yes, there have been things like that..."

"Such as you knowing the woman was going to have a boy or girl, or twins."

Luna's eyes brightened considerably. "Yes, yes!" she cried out.

Ginny breathed out audibly. "So what did you mean about Ron and me?" Ginny asked tentatively.

"I... not sure," Luna frowned looking down.

"She will not know the meaning of everything. Sometimes she will see and know, but mostly she will not. But when she knows, then she knows," Harry explained rising to his feet. "See anything else?" Harry asked, looking at a small patch of indented grass where Moiraine was sitting. He walked to stand next to her. Why had Luna not seen anything over Moiraine? Surely, the cloak could not hide her spirit as well.

"Not on Ginny, well nothing substantial," Luna answered. "On you..." she frowned, her face paled.

"Please tell, I have had some bad ones already." Harry turned his back on them. Facing the lake, his lips moved, "A black sword, blood spilled from a healed wound..." he stopped.

"A man wielding a dark object... looks like a sword. A lightning bolt dripping blood..." she stopped. "I cannot make out the rest, there are too many."

"That's alright." He closed his eyes tight, before opening them again. "You would have to spend hours with me to sift through half of what is floating above my head." His gaze, now fixed on the horizon. His finger brushed his forehead. She confirmed one of his fears at least. They had never been sure which wound would bleed again.

"Harry," Luna called out from behind him. "I need some time alone."

"Of course," Ginny answered in his place. "If you want, then we can talk tonight."

"Perhaps," she answered. Then the soft sound of her footfalls could be heard walking away.

"I guess we should get going," Harry said, suddenly walking away. Neither Moiraine nor Ginny replied. If they were too busy thinking or thrown off guard by his sudden movements, he did not know. Instead they followed him as he wandered further down the path to the Forbidden Forest.

With the three of them finally out of view, Moiraine emerged from under the cloak before throwing it down in disgust. No wonder she had walked so rapidly and been so silent. Her face was pale as she bent over as if to clear the contents of her stomach. "Never, never again, Harry," Moiraine said — begged — after she managed to straighten herself.

"I will not ask it of you again, Daughter," Harry said in a compassionate voice. Having to bear the Dark One's touch was not something he would wish on anyone.

"Daughter? What is the meaning of that?" Ginny asked, staring at the two of them incredulously. Moiraine straightened, regaining most of her Aes Sedai composure. Harry turned to Ginny to answer, but he was saved by Moiraine.

"I think that it is time for Ginny to learn a bit more about… things," she said, staring first at Harry and then at Ginny. "Especially after Luna's foretelling."

Harry's eyes grew wide, but then his face softened considerably. "If you think it best," Harry replied with a sigh. Ginny moved towards Harry.

"Thank you," she said excitedly before jumping into his arms.

Harry closed his eyes, Ginny had a right to know. She was involved with everything. He had no right to hide things from her. This had to be done. "Well, if you have nothing else planned then we best get back to the house." As soon as Harry had spoken, a gateway formed behind him and they stepped into the house.

Standing there, he watched Ginny turn to wait for him on the other side. With a shake of his head he said, "Tell her everything, Moiraine." With that, he let go of the weave while staring into her concerned brown eyes.

The view faded away, leaving him alone standing within the small clearing. He was not sure why he did not follow them. He was ready and then suddenly he could not go through with it any more. Turning around, he began to walk into the Forbidden Forest.

It would be best for Moiraine to tell Ginny everything. He would not know where to start or what to say. Some parts of his history he would never be able to talk about — well, at least not for some time. The mere thought made the scar on his back tingle and the hole in his chest become more distinct. Forming the void in his mind, he blocked away the pain.

The forest grew dark rapidly as the tall thick trees overhead shielded the ground from the sun. The place did not feel nearly as frightening as it had done in the past. The fact that he was holding onto saidin also helped to calm his fears. Few animals in this forest could harm him, perhaps none if he was careful enough.

The faint movement of hoofs told him that centaurs were moving about nearby. The sounds grew more faint indicating that they were moving away. Deeper he walked, uncaring about the dangers. The shadows began to lengthen, the sun was nearing the end of its journey for the day. Climbing a small hill, he could barely make out the school in the distance. For the first time he wondered how far he had walked.

Sitting, he suddenly remembered a viewing about him. His blood on a red haired girl, Ginny. A unnatural cold ran up his spine. What was the meaning of the all those viewings. They always came true, seeing as they read the pattern. Even the most unusual predictions came true at some point. Actually, they remained true as long as the Pattern remained intact. If the Dark One were to win the war, the viewings of his future would die with it.

There was little doubt what each meant now. Luna's wand was the Elder Wand, the men therefore existed. The wand itself would change owners, and he would not be the new master. His blood was the part that worried him, did it mean that he would die? He wrapped his cloak around his body tightly, an attempt to shield himself from his future – almost. Resting his forehead against his knees, he exhaled. Little could be done about the viewings. Luna, like Min, had never known what they meant, but both of them had seen the same. What must Moiraine be thinking?

His past, no matter how painful, was safer to dwell on. Would Ginny ever be able to look at him the same way again? Of course, she would not. Harry was lost in thought. The sound of approaching hooves made no impression on him. Within his mind, the only sounds were of screaming men, clashing swords and his own cries of agony.

_Thanks for reading. A lot to happen and only four chapters left!_


	16. Chapter 15

_A/N Just read Towers of Midnight, the 13 book of WoT, and I loved it. Can't wait for the final book. Until its release I'll finish my little HP version. _

_As far as the eye could see there were rolling hills and jagged mountain peaks. None of those peaks, save the one on which Harry and Rand stood, were covered in snow. A fierce wind blew Harry's cloak about while ruffling his tangled black hair. His face, by all appearances, seemed untouched by the icy air. Next to him, Rand's cloak danced about similarly with each gust. _

_Harry's cloak, black as night, was thinly embroidered with silver dragons. Rand's red cloak, was similar, but with golden dragons. His grey-blue eyes stared out over the land. Harry's own bright emerald green eyes never wavered from where he studied the horizon. Both their forearms were uncovered. The red and gold scales of each Dragon shone – a beacon of power and authority. A sword was attached to each man's hip – an extension to their bodies. Few men could glance at them and not notice the ease with which they walked, the perfect harmony in their balance. Some thought them mad, others, saviours. Yet, all knew them to be powerful._

"_It is time," Rand said in a calm voice. Harry nodded in solemn agreement. He could never appear so in control. Their eyes met. Rand had a look of a man who was hundreds of years old, though he was barely into his twenties. Those eyes held wisdom and confidence. Breaking eye contact, Harry glanced at the rising sun one last time. His stomach churned. Would this be the last time he saw a sunrise?_

_Sensing more than seeing, he could tell that Rand had seized the source. In confirmation, a gateway opened in front of them. No words were exchanged. None needed to be. Harry had saved Rand's life twice. The second time Harry not only saved Rand, but Min as well. A disguised darkfriend, impersonating the Seanchen Empress had tried to assassinate Rand. Quick thinking and well placed shields woven by Harry prevented certain death. _

_Stepping through the unnatural hole in the air, they emerged inside a small tent. Gateways were dangerous, and this tent was set aside for Rand's personal use. A few short strides took them to the tent's flap. Outside, they were on top a small grass-covered hill, much lower than the mountain they had just come from, but still higher than the surrounding terrain._

_The morning sun, still low on the horizon, warmed the air around them. Away from the extreme cold of the peak, the cool morning air felt stifling. The cold had been severe, but needed. The time away from it all was required to clear their minds. So much rested on the outcome of the day's events._

_A small presence in Harry's mind told him Illyandra was not far away. In fact she was somewhere ahead of him – coming closer. She would arrive in due time, he smiled. Her presence comforted him. The bond strengthened him. _

_The hilltop was a frenzy of activity. Soldiers on foot marched. Cavalrymen rode. Thankfully, plans had been made, and the orders sent. There was order to the chaos. Harry was only bothered by occasional messengers. They wore brightly coloured clothes, each different depending on their nationality. Arriving at odd intervals, they carried messages from various allies and commanders. Soldiers from Andor, Cairhien, Tear, Arad Doman and countless other smaller cities and towns had gathered. This day could seal the fate of the world, for good or for bad._

_Behind the rise, a few miles to the north, stood close to half a million armed darkfriends and trollocs. Among them were men and women who could touch the One Power. The actual number was unknown, but one was already too much. Unfortunately, he knew them to be nearly as numerous as those on his side. The playing field was even. The battle would be intense, the quarters close. The One Power would not be much of an advantage on the field of battle. By drawing too much, you became a shining beacon to the enemy – certain death. There were powerful channellers among them. He shivered at the thought. It would be a long day, a hard day._

_Instinctively, Harry followed Rand to the peak of a little hill. Lower than the one before, but closer to the actual field that would eventually become a battle field. Together they scanned the horizon. "My Lord Dragon, Lord Potter, would you like something to drink?" One of Rand's servants bowed deeply offering two goblets of water. Both gave a slight shake of the head and with another curtsy, the woman scurried away. _

"_This is not even the final battle, but it feels like it." Rand's voice was low. A tinge of strain could be heard coming from him. Harry's own heart was beating nervously. "So much has happened since I departed my home, yet only three years have passed." There was no mirth in his voice, just the cold acceptance of what life had thrown at him. _

"_Less than two years ago," Harry began, "I was standing in the halls of a school learning to change a pin into a button." He laughed at the mere thought of how ridiculous his schooling had been. Especially now, standing here, about to fight another battle. Not his first, multiple scars proved as much, and most definitely not his last. That is if he survived the day. Dumbledore had at least begun to teach him privately, but with Voldemort on the rise, he was not sure if it would have been enough. In this age, he had been granted the time and space to develop. It had been dangerous and rapid, but worth the risk. Absently he scratched the Dragon, imprinted onto his left forearm. It was a reminder of a prophecy. An unwanted reminder. When this war was over, he would still have other duties to fulfil. Would his life ever be peaceful? Harry doubted it. Min's viewing alone proved he would need to fight another war back home. Hogwarts was not safe._

"_I wish…" Rand sighed softly. "I wish the Wheel had not chosen us for these things," he said, his tone resigned. His voice was so low, Harry was sure he was not meant to have overheard. Rand's eyes narrowed and he shook his head again before laughing. Harry glanced away, the air around Rand seemed to warp. There was lightness to his surroundings. Rand, the farm boy was gone. Rand, the Dragon Reborn was in control. _

_How he knew, he never had been able to understand, but he knew Illyandra to be behind him – drawing nearer. He turned and smiled at the Aes Sedai who had saved his life. Her long black hair, matching his, hung in long tendrils past her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes stared at him as if she could read his mind. She could not, but she was able to feel his emotions. Her ageless face was passive. Yet, like everyone around them, she was uneasy. Striding purposefully, she stopped just behind him, forcing Harry to turn back around to view the distant hill. Standing a few feet apart, each studied the world before them in silence. Aes Sedai and Warder, a powerful pair._

_There was no need to say it, but it had to be said. "They are coming." Rand's unnaturally cold voice echoed the thoughts in Harry's mind. Both of them were holding onto saidin. Harry could not remember reaching for the source. Cries and shouts reverberated through the valley. Horses reared and snorted. Harry tensed. Saidin was being channelled behind the ridge – vast amounts. The slight tinge of nervousness coming from Illyandra told him what he already knew. _

"_Saidar," a tense Illyandra whispered softly. Harry would not have heard had he not taken hold of the One Power. He could feel something building up inside of her, the same as in him – fear. Her eyes alone indicated as much. Taking control of his own emotions, the fear within dissipated. That fear in her, however, began to trickle to him._

_Thinking back, Harry remembered a day long ago when he had flown around Hogwarts with Ginny. The days in between had been so numerous, so troubled, the memory had all but faded. Yet, two things remained. The joy of flying and the love he felt for Ginny. Beside him, Illyandra's body relaxed and a relieved smile reflected her change in mood. "You are supposed to be the Warder, Harry," she tried to tease, but her voice faltered. Her closed eyes and sigh conveyed her thanks._

_Before he could retort, Rand emerged in front of them. "It is time for you to take your command." His voice was firm and he gripped Harry's hands in his. "May the Light be with you." With that, he was gone, gliding down the hill effortlessly. A large entourage, mostly men and women who could channel, followed in his wake._

_They stood in silence until the last person disappeared. A part of him deliberately tried to delay the inevitable. "Shall we?" Harry gestured to the other side of the hill where his command waited. Illyandra made no reply. Instead, she ruffled his hair, like the older sister she was to him. Her smile was weak, a desperate effort to appear in control. "It will be alright," Harry whispered. _

_Her lips turned up in a genuine, though fear-filled, grin. "It always is."_

_Together, they walked to where a large group of soldiers stood ready, close to thirty thousand. They were part of his command, but not his concern at the moment. Today Harry would just initiate the charge. Like Rand, too much was at stake for his considerable power not to be used in battle. Other more experienced officers would ensure that the army remained coordinated. His concern was with the men and women standing near the rear – Aes Sedai and their Warders. The group was powerful, twenty-five pairs in all. Each Aes Sedai was bonded to a Warder and they were not ordinary Warders. Each man, like Harry, could channel the One Power. _

"_My Lord," a mounted captain said from his horse. Harry greeted him and strode on. The Aes Sedai with him were not the strongest. Those were with the main group that would ride into battle with Rand. Harry's orders were simple, if a bit mad. They would be a distraction – bait. His group would occupy the attention of the darkfriends while Rand could sweep around for a killing blow. He was the anvil and Rand the hammer. With some luck, he might survive the day._

_The green ridge in the distance began to lose its green. It was almost as if a million ants had crawled over the top. As far as the eye could see, dark creatures advanced. Taking a deep breath he ordered, "Sound the charge, Captain." _

"_Yes, My Lord," the man said with a bow._

"_May the light shine on your path." Apart from rising, the only indication that he had heard was a slight rise of his finger. A man to the Captain's left lifted a trumpet and sounded the charge. In an instant, the world around Harry began to move with the bodies of men and horses. _

_He paused by a tall black horse, a formidable animal. Mounting the beast in a single swift movement, he fell in next to the other Aes Sedai as they began to advance. Behind him, he could feel Illyandra, her fear had dissolved into steely resolve. He was sure she felt the same coming from him. Everyone fears death, the brave conquer those fears and use it to summon courage beyond compare._

"_All will be well," Harry said, leaning across to talk to Illyandra once she had come alongside him._

_She gave him a grateful, if forced smile. "Take care of yourself, Harry." _

"_I will." The reply would have made him appear confident. Yet, nothing could be further from the truth. He was sure she sensed as much._

_Her hand stretched out, but she pulled it back. Instead, she straightened her dress. He wanted to say more, there was so much to say. His mind held little room for reassuring words. Before them the army was advancing. With a small kick, he sped off to rejoin the group. Illyandra followed shortly after. _

_With a shake of his head, he cleared his mind. Taking hold of saidin, life poured into his body. The sound of the hooves on the soft ground became like beating drums. The panting of the horses assaulted his ears. He did not want to look up, but he had to. Hundreds upon thousands of men and trollocs stood before him. Their appearance darkened the once lush green hill. At this distance, he could barely make out individual figures. Swivelling slightly to look over his shoulder, partly to ease his own nerves, he could see the mass of cavalry following. Helmets and breastplates reflected the sun. Lances held upright by proud men. Despite the seeming chaos, tight ranks were being maintained. The army was disciplined. _

"_Light," Harry muttered under his breath, turning back. "Light have mercy on my soul!" he muttered repeatedly to himself. Images of a smiling girl, her freckled face and her hair a shade of red helped ease his mental state. "Ginny," he cried out to himself. How often had an image of her soothed him? He would give anything to see her again one day. Would he ever see her again? _

_With each lengthy stride the horse brought him closer to what was bound to be his death. He drew deeper upon the source. The foe neared. Four hundred paces. His breathing began to deepen in concentration. Trolloc war cries became distinct sounds. Three hundred paces, sweat begin to drip down his usual dry face. The perspiration had nothing to do with heat or the Power. Two hundred paces, he began to see individual faces. _

_A cry came from somewhere within his own ranks. Fire blossomed ahead. He could not see any weaves – saidar. As the flames began to grow, a weave of air and water quelled it. The battle had begun in earnest. He could have been blind and deaf, he still would have known that it had began. Within, his body screamed, huge torrents of saidin were being channelled. His eyes closed for a second, he knew what had to be done. _

_The void formed and was firm. Emotions got pushed aside. Fingers curled around a small figure of a man, an angreal, in his pocket. Saidin crashed down onto him. The power nearly made him lose his grip. Calm green eyes opened. The world was clear before him. With a weave of air and spirit, jets of multicoloured light flew towards the mass of men and Trollocs before him. Some matched the colour of his eyes. That fact did not register with him anymore. _

_All around him balls of flame, bolts of lightning, and various other weaves of death erupted amongst the horde of darkfriends. His horse reached the scorched earth from the first fire. The men behind followed even though their own ranks, being decimated by the One Power, grew thin. They knew what failure meant. The charge never wavered. The dark mass was mere feet away. _

_The battle was about to become personal. Letting go of the small angreal, it fell back into his pocket. He unsheathed the sword hanging from his hip. The blade would have to do most of the work now. Only so many could be destroyed with the One Power. With the cries of his men behind pushing him forward, he crashed into a wall of men and beasts. _

_The world descended into darkness and madness. His horse collapsed beneath him. He fell to the ground with a sickening crunch. The sword, already in hand, began to defend against countless blows from all sides. Oneness with sword and saidin alone kept the strikes from ending his life. Within the void, he moved with calm efficiency. Never stationary, never thinking, just acting. His back protected by pulsing wards of all five elements, a blazing beacon to any man who could channel. Still it was needed. A marked man like himself attracted a lot of attention from ordinary men, and like ordinary men, steel was lethal._

_The ground was soon littered with the dead and dying. The grass churned into the mud and grew soft. Struggling to find his footing, he stumbled, a mistake which earned him a cut to the shoulder. Using flows of air to clear some space around him, he continued the fight. Swords, spears and axes were crashing against his barrier. He had to release it. The ward would stop anything short of balefire, but it also drained him. He held on, the strain in him building._

_With firm footing, he began to move with effortless practiced grace again. Black Pebbles on Snow moved into Cutting the Clouds turned into The Heron Spreads its Wings as his blade carved a path around him. Occasional balls of flame or weaves of air flew past him knocking down opponents behind him or to his side. Illyandra was watching over him. _

_He berated himself, he should not have forgotten about her. She was his guardian angel, just as he was hers in return. Thankfully, she was alive and close. He would stay close._

_The strain of it all increased. He could feel his body beginning to tire as more men fell around him. Not all were darkfriends. The void alone was keeping him upright and yet the void was draining his body faster than a normal man. The vicious cycle continued to ravage his body. Blood streamed down his arm and back from the single cut to his shoulder. It was deep, it burned, but it was nothing that would hinder his movements – much._

_A quick turn confirmed Illyandra was right behind him and alive. He could feel no wounds on her. She was the source of countless weaves whose sole purpose was to protect and shield him from harm. She was doing a good job, as usual. The swarm of men began to dwindle, but he could sense more oncoming Trollocs._

_In confirmation, a large group of hideous beasts crested the ridge ahead of them. An eyeless creature stood in the centre and Harry had to fight down his fears. 'The look of the eyeless was fear.' It was an old saying, but true. Its black cloak did not stir with the air. They were not entirely in this world, only half affected by the elements. By its orders, the horde of Trollocs charged forwards. The earth vibrated with the force of their pounding feet. Faces ranged from goats to bears, but they were all immense and powerful. _

_Drawing slightly more power than before, Harry could feel his time beginning to run out. He fumbled in his pocket for the angreal. Just touching it almost made him faint. It was too much power for him to handle in his exhausted state. The One Power would kill him. Taking a deep breath with closed eyes, he braced himself. The wave of beasts came closer and he steadied himself against the blow, his eyes opened wide. A blast of power destroyed the front two ranks, thirty at least perished. Yet, as expected, they kept coming. Floating like a leaf carried by the wind sword and man moved into Lightning of Three Prongs, before crashing against a broad shouldered beast with a bull's face before moving into Parting the Silk. His blade struck against solid steel and a shock wave ran through his body. The myrddraal, was before him. Its eyeless face brought with it fear. This close, Harry almost froze in terror. He could feel fear taking hold, building inside, but he could not give in. His blade moved awkwardly, if rapidly, but each blow was parried. Exhausted, he began to feel weak. With each strike and counter attack his body cried out for rest. He could not give in, if he did, it would be his final resting place._

_Spinning around his blade passed through the defences of the myrddraal and the edge of his blade cut through its body. Motionless he stood staring down. The still thrashing form lay writhing on the floor. It was dead, it just would not die easily._

_The world around him seemed slightly less crowded. The shouts and banners of the Dragon Reborn were getting closer. The hammer and the anvil were not too far from each other. A sword flashed before him and he parried the movement before driving his sword through another Trolloc. He could not relax. Thinking would get him killed._

_Then the world went dark. Pain coursed through his body. His hand darted to his chest where it felt like a dagger had stabbed him. There was nothing, of course there was nothing. Panic filled him, there could only be one cause. Turning to where he knew she would be he watched as Illyandra collapsed to her knees, an arrow protruding from her shoulder. Even as she collapsed, her eyes grew dim. He moved towards her, running. He ran with as much speed as he could muster, but still it felt like an eternity before he reached her side. "Light, Illyandra!" he shouted. Falling to his knees by her side, he caught her around the waist before she could reach the floor._

_Her eyes were distant, the fire in them fast receding. Weaving flows of air, he removed the arrow from her body. Her dress was soaked in blood, most of it hers. Reaching out to her, he began to feel multiple deep cuts across her body. He moved as quickly as he could, weaving flows of water, earth and spirit – healing. But healing was not something he knew only witnessed. Looking at her, he cursed his inabilities. "Please, hold on. Illyandra, hold on!" Harry cried. He could feel the life slipping from her just as well as he could see it. The part of her in him began tugging at his spirit, tearing away at what was inside him. Blood still poured from multiple wounds as her eyes glazed over and her head fell limply to one side. Still he worked, pushing air through her lungs, he tried to get her heart beating again. Her chest rose and fell, but life eluded her. _

_The hollowness in his chest. The tears running down his cheeks. It was all lost in overpowering rage, and the unquenchable desire for revenge. He fought to restrain his actions._

_Dust turned to mud as tears poured down his cheeks. The part of her that had been inside Harry was ripped from him with as much brutality as any Trolloc could muster. A piece of him would forever be gone. He held onto her as men surrounded him, shielding him from the chaos. Wiping his face, he succumbed to the rage. The sound of battle faded. _

_Crying out, he pulled on as much saidin as he could hold. His palm bled from where he gripped the angreal. He did not thing, and made no plans. Death hummed in his ears. He thought back to better times. Saidin pulsed violently as he latched onto a memory — a life giving memory. Almost overwhelmed, he let go. A burst of white enveloped the land. Warmth flooded over him, the sun felt friendly and the air smelled fresh. The darkness lifted and around him grass began to grow. Large thick tufts of green._

_The battle moved further away from where he lay, the lifeless body of Illyandra still wrapped in his arms. Just before his eyes closed from exhaustion, he made out the form of giant stag walking with his men. Harry almost smiled._

_Time passed without meaning for him. His eyes were closed, but the power still churned in him. The battle ebbed and flowed as the Dragon Reborn kept pushing harder. By the time, the sun descended behind the horizon the victory had been complete._

_HGHGHG_

_In his tent Rand Al'Thor paced nervously around. His hand pressed firmly against his side, covering an old cursed cut. The wound had broken open again, leaving his clothes and hand bloodied. His mind was, however, elsewhere. Harry was still missing and so was Illyandra. He could not be dead, surely the man could not have died. He had to return to his own world, he had his own prophecy to fulfil. _

"_Send riders out, find them!" The tall mud-covered man shouted at his men. His nerves could take little more strain today. The throbbing wound reminded him that his body needed rest. Minutes turned to hours as he waited. Nobles and Aes Sedai came to report their losses. It had been a victory, but the losses were high. He wanted to shout out, each one of those lives were his responsibility. "Light, that boy better still be alive," he muttered once he was alone in his tent again._

_Staring down at a trampled, broken flower, he willed it grow. The day needed some beauty. And it did. _

_HGHGHG_

_The evening came and went and when the morning sun rose so did Harry. Blinking he began to come to his senses. His body was battered and bruised. Pain, it was all he felt. Every part of his body cried out in agony. Every muscle was tense, his jaw set. Blinking rapidly, he tried to determine where he was. As far as the eye could see, bodies littered the ground and he wondered how many people had lost their lives. Even one was too many. _

_The thought alone was enough. Something triggered. A horrible feeling welled up inside of him. It took time to develop and then a few more seconds to discover what it was. The hollow feeling in his soul was being filled. It was not pleasurable, instead it was pain indescribable. His eyes dropped to the ground and lying next to him was the cold pale body of Illyandra. He had felt every wound and cried out in agony as the arrow struck her. Even now, a tender sore pulsed in his chest. He did not have to look at her again to know the position mirrored her own mortal wound. His fingers traced her ice cold face, before he gently closed her eyelids. They had accomplished so much together and now she was gone. Her eyes would see no more. His soul might never be whole again._

_His exhausted body collapsed onto the muddy soil, and he wept. The Aes Sedai had warned this would not be pleasant. Words could never begin to describe the feeling of loss racking his body. He began to mutter to himself. His mind was too distant to listen to what was coming from his mouth. The words did not matter. Instead, he focused. A single thought, a reason to live. A Warder had only one way to survive. Grief would kill a man. Relief came from the sole source of so much joy. Slowly he curled up into a tight ball. Each breath a battle, loss versus love. With each breath, a pair of eyes, a soft brown he had not seen in two years, grew stronger. _

_He did not fight when two pairs of strong arms lifted him from the ground. He barely recognized the livery as the Queen's Guards. Another man bent down and carefully lifted Illyandra from the ground to place her on a small cart. The two men who carried him seated his limp body onto a horse and by some miracle he managed to stay upright as they moved slowly back towards the camp. The victorious banners of the Dragon Reborn and the Ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai were illuminated by the morning sun on the distant hill from where he led the charge the previous morning. He could not bring himself to celebrate._

_The rhythmic steps of the horse soothed his mind. The struggle to pull himself from his torment was overpowering. His mind could do little else but concentrate on the void he had formed. His bloodshot eyes looked straight ahead. His body felt weak. He tried to open himself to saidin, but he almost collapsed from the effort. It was some relief to know he could still channel. It would take rest to restore him. Perhaps Britain would see him again. Ginny might see him again. The thought of her allowed him to muster the energy to sigh in relief. There was little joy in that relief._

_The mood inside the camp was sombre. A victory was always hollow. There were always faces who would never return. A smile never seen again, a laugh never heard. He could see in the eyes of each man what he was thinking. Almost every soldier was thinking about a lost friend or loved ones back home who had unknowingly lost a son or brother or father. Somewhere there was a wife who would never see her husband. He bowed his head to every man he passed. They saluted him, a small bit of pride shone from each. Lord Potter had noticed them. One's own pain was always second to those around you. They had survived and won a great battle no matter how painful. For that they deserved his recognition._

_The guardsmen led him straight to Rand's tent and the senior officer announced, in a booming voice, he had found Lord Potter. The name still caused him to choke now and again, he was just Harry. All he ever wanted was to be just Harry – Harry with a family._

_Rand ran from his tent and so did Nynaeve and Eqwene. They wore bright smiles. Those smiles lasted only until they saw his hollow eyes. Those eyes told them what the body of Illyandra lying on a cart next to him did – perhaps even more so. With them around, life drained from Harry. He began to fall even before his eyes had closed. Thankfully, a cushion of air caught him just before he could strike the ground. He blinked and tried to get up but could not. Egwene was holding him with flows of air allowing Nynaeve to place her hands on his forehead. _

_Cold, he felt unbearable cold as she worked her healing. Then he was hot, as her hands left him and he began to tremble. He could tell most wounds were healed. Some energy had returned. He got to his feet gingerly, at least he could stand on his own two feet. His green eyes were focused on nothing at all. The world was too distorted, and he sighed. No healing would bring her back. He threw his arms around Nynaeve and began to cry again. He had not been there for Illyandra, he could have saved her had he only been more focused on her. _

_Nynaeve held on to him tightly as she led him into the tent and laid him down onto a bed. She retrieved a cup and mixed some herbs, making him swallow. It was bitter and warmed his stomach. All too soon thr mixture worked its purpose. He began to feel drowsy as he drifted off to sleep. In those last lucid moments, he made a decision. He would not allow Ginny near him until he fulfilled his prophecy. Neither she nor the Weasleys would see his face till the war ended._

_Rand had not said a word while Harry was awake. He could almost feel Harry's pain. Losing an Aes Sedai was rumoured to be the most dreadful experience a Warder could ever feel. It was not only the fact that someone you cared for had died. A piece of yourself, linked to them, died with them. The worst of all, Harry had bonded with her involuntarily. Rand took another gulp of his wine, not caring that it was already his third. He needed something to help him get through the last few hours of the day._

_Egwene had seen to the body of Illyandra as soon as Harry was inside. She would be returned home, where she could be buried among her family. She was a brave and rather remarkable woman. Strong in the power and strong willed. She would be sorely missed by the White Tower and by Harry most of all._

"You are alone, and deep within the Forbidden Forest. Not the place for a Hogwarts student," a deep familiar voice said from Harry's side. Lifting his head slowly, he stared at the large centaur looming over him.

"I felt like a walk," Harry said casually, not frightened by the muscular part-man part-horse, even though the bow, strapped across its chest, sat as warning.

"You are either very brave or a fool," the voice replied staring up at the sky.

"Neither, just one who knows what to fear," Harry replied, following the centaur's gaze up into the dark sky above him. Harry had not noticed the sun setting. The complete darkness surrounding him indicated that the sun was far below the horizon. The few stars were bright. Embracing the One Power, the sky brightened as small distant stars became visible. "And I know who you are."

"And what am I?" the centaur laughed mockingly. Its fingers stroking the bow's string.

"A friendly being, even if dangerous, who does not like to choose sides. But in the end you always chose the Light," Harry answered without really thinking about what he was saying. The words just coming to him. A single bright star caught his eyes. His body shivered.

"The Light!" the centaur scoffed, stamping its hooves onto the ground, "Is a matter of perspective."

"Indeed, but you are like me," Harry said looking the centaur in the eye. In turn, the intense eyes of the creature were staring down at him. "We are a darker shade of light. Maybe not always right, but we try."

The centaur remained silent, removing its gaze from Harry. Instead, the centaur stared up at the stars again. "Mars will be at its brightest in a few days." the voice was distant, as if not truly speaking to Harry.

The unnatural cold seeped through Harry's body again. "Really?" he scoffed. "I gathered it was always bright around me." Harry laughed, inside he could feel his stomach turning into a knot. Luna's words going through his mind. The centaur merely cocked his head to the side, as if trying to understand the enigma before him.

"You should not be here, young one," he said finally. "It is not safe this deep in the forest for someone like you."

"I can take care of myself, thank you," Harry said flatly, getting to his feet staring into the dark eyes of the centaur defiantly.

Drawing deeper on saidin Harry's eyes grew cold. The centaur flinched, sensing the power. Centaurs were creatures of the Power after all. Harry grinned and a gateway formed behind him. Stepping into the house, he was confronted by the loud sobs of Ginny in the living room. All thoughts of centaurs, Mars, Luna and his past were forgotten. Walking inside the living room, he saw Ginny crying while Moiraine held onto her. Ginny's eyes lifted towards Harry. Getting to her feet, she ran towards him throwing her arms around him to give him a loving kiss. "I am so sorry, Harry," she cried.

Cupping her face with his hands he wiped away a few more tears. "It is in the past now, Ginny. We have each other, and that in itself is more than I ever wished for." He just held onto her and let go of his own barriers. It was time to let go of Illyandra. He loved Ginny. He loved her more than anything. He always had and always would. With her love filling him, flooding the patches in his soul. His hold around her tightened as he felt his soul healing.

_A/N A bit of a sad chapter, I know. But I Hope it helped explain some of his problems and choices._

_Please take the time to leave a comment or rating. Thanks._


	17. Chapter 16

_A/N Sorry for taking so long to post this. Hope you enjoy the chapter._

Ginny needed no urging to walk through the gateway Harry created. About to receive answers regarding Harry's past, the meeting with Luna became a distant memory. Common decency won and Moiraine passed through first, but Ginny was close on her heels. Her heart thumped inside her chest in anticipation. Expecting him to follow, it took her by surprise when the gateway began to dissolve almost before she stepped through. Ginny spun around. Facing Harry, she saw only a haunted pair of green eyes staring back. Harry did not move. Ginny made to jump back through, but a firm hand around her wrist pulled her back. His gaze remained steady as the gateway dissipated

"A closing gateway will cut you in two, Ginny. You should know better by now," the woman told Ginny in a firm voice. She continued to struggle. Moiraine was, however, much stronger than Ginny would have expected from her small frame. Moiraine's fierce grip loosened only when the last vestiges of the gateway disappeared. Letting go, she joined Ginny in staring at nothing. Harry had been just a pace away. "I should have expected as much," was all Moiraine said before she walked towards the kitchen. Ginny remained, pondering. She wanted to be angry, but deep down she understood his reluctance, yet she waited.

A few long minutes later Ginny gave up waiting for Harry. Entering the kitchen, Ginny gave Moiraine a confused look. "Shouldn't we go back?" Ginny asked.

Moiraine shook her head subtly. "No," she replied. "He does not want to be here and honestly I don't blame him."

Ginny made to retort. With a sigh, she held back. She did not want to go through this without Harry. Yet, there were no means to return. "Why wouldn't he want to be here when you tell me about what happened?" Moiraine continued to work in silence, not answering the question. Handing Ginny a cup of tea, she moved to sit on the comfortable couches in the sitting room. They said nothing. The only sound came from Moiraine's occasional sip of tea.

"The answer to that question lies in the story," she replied finally, while studying the cup in her hands. Those dark eyes of hers were distant, in a world far away. Ginny could almost see the memories through the Aes Sedai's eyes. Flashes of joy and pain, but hurt most of all.

Breathing onto her steaming cup, Ginny tried to cool it enough to take a sip. It also provided her with something to do while considering those lifeless eyes of Harry. What could have happened to rob him so thoroughly of his youth and innocence? A single killing curse could not have done that to him. Two maybe, but not one, she thought to herself.

The tea refused to cool despite her repeated attempts. Frustrated, Ginny kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her body. Both her hands wrapped around the cup as if the heat would ward off the cold dread building in her chest. She said nothing, but sat fidgeting, waiting for Moiraine to begin.

Slow seconds ticked by. The clock on the wall was the only indication that time had even passed. Looking at it infuriated her even more. Each second seemed to drag on forever. Tired of waiting, Ginny thought of something to ask. "What was all that with my friend, Luna?"

Moiraine lifted her head slowly. Her eyes narrowed, first in confusion, then thought. "There is a young woman, Min, where we came from who is like Luna. The two of them have a rare gift." She took a sip of tea, appearing almost grateful for the question. "They see images, or auras, around people. Each image is a reflection of the future and their viewings always come true."

"But I do not even know what she meant," Ginny said loudly.

The woman nodded slowly. "They rarely know what the auras mean themselves. Sometimes they do... Sometimes we can determine the meaning with our knowledge of events. Mostly we just wait and see. In the end, the viewings are like prophecies, shrouded in mystery with various meanings. Luna is very young, she still needs to learn how to use her abilities to read the Pattern."

"But, that is not why we are sitting here without Harry." She took a slow deliberate breath. Ginny felt her anxiety increase again. "I did not see him when he first arrived, only a few days later. Once Harry and I were friends, he told me much about his thoughts during his first days in our world. At the time, I was told that he arrived one morning on the slopes of…"

_The world around went hazy, shimmered and then began to take shape slowly. Blinking rapidly he tried to focus on his surroundings. The chill that attacked his body ebbed away slowly. When the world around him came into focus he realized something had gone horribly wrong. He did not recognize the place. This was definitely not the inside of Hogwarts. Try as he might, he could not take in all of his surroundings._

_The sky above him seemed to hide behind a massive dome of fog. Huge buildings surrounded him, many of them were palaces made of marble, cut glass and what might even have been crystal. Streets stretched into the distance before fading away. Harry's mouth hung slightly open as he tried to digest his surroundings. He took a step forwards and fell stumbling over a small rock that was lying in the middle of the wide street. With a curse, he got to his feet, brushing away the dust from his robes._

_Immense columns rose into the air, each coloured differently: some blue, others red, and even more were white. Spiralling towers stretched almost as far as the eye could see, the further he looked the higher they appeared to rise. Yet they were unfinished and not a single soul appeared around him. Half-completed statues, each more than a story high, lined the streets. The only sign of recent activity was a rope hanging from a nearby tree — the only visible vegetation._

_Walking carefully he passed beneath the branches of the large tree. Immediately he felt calm and relaxed. He could imagine himself sitting under the tree with Ginny for years. Running his hand through his dark hair he tried to keep his wits about him, his movements never wavered. Upon reaching the rope, he noticed recent footprints. The ground was scraped as if a body had been dragged a short distance. Pulling a wand from a pocket, he felt his green eyes blaze with intensity while scanning the surrounding area. Nothing made a sound, even the air did not stir. The place felt unnatural, even the fog hanging above the city felt wrong._

_Scratching his forearm, which itched beneath his robes, he moved towards a fountain he had seen. The heat was bearing down upon him. His mouth felt very dry as he began to move away from the tree. Looking back, he knew a person had hung from the tree. Trying hard not to get paranoid, he tried desperately to determine alternate reasons for a rope and signs of something being dragged along the ground. It could have been a sack of food or… he could not think._

_The air was still, not even the hint of a breeze was in the air as he approached the fountain. He took a few refreshing sips of the cold water before his eyes fell once again on scattered footprints leading away from the fountain. Carefully taking a few more measured gulps of water, he began to follow the trail. The maker of the trail might be a threat, but seeing someone gave him the opportunity to learn something about this place or world. Beginning a slow jog, he moved his way through the abandoned streets in search of answers._

_After jogging for ten minutes he stopped, panting heavily. The world wobbled slightly and he felt like fainting. Fitness was not something magical people believed in. The luxury of being able to do most things with magic meant that people, including himself, became lazy about personal fitness. Gathering his breath and allowing his heart rate to settle, he began to walk along the trail at a much more subdued pace._

_Reaching the end of the city, he emerged through the barrier of fog. Outside the eerie city he could see that the mist stopped in a straight line, too perfect to be natural. Apart from that, it neither expanded nor diminished. It was ever constant. "Blimey," he muttered aloud when he realized he could find neither a beginning nor an end to the fog. The city had to be immense considering the extent of the fog bank._

_Turning to face the steep slope, he noticed that morning sun was rising above the peaks of a desert mountain. Sand and rocks were all the eye could see. Far ahead on the upper reaches of the slope the faint outlines of tents could be made out. People seemed to be gathering near the top. Two other people were visible halfway up the slope. He could not make them out, but he was sure they were the people who created the footprints. Both of them were walking and he had not found any traces of a body along the way. Perhaps it was just a sack or something. A nervous laugh escaped his lips when he began to clamber up after them. His wand, secure in his pocket comforted him somewhat. It did little to remove the tension from his chest, however._

_Halfway up the hill he noticed that the two people, whom he still could not make out, had stopped in front of a large crowd of people. Even from this distance the strain between the various groups was visible. Tightening his grip on a large rock that cut into his skin, he pulled himself ever higher up the slope. No matter who they were, he had to find out where he was._

_A cry came from the group and small black specks flew in the air towards the two men. In a flash of light something that burned like fire erupted from one of the two men's hands and it knocked what could only have been a spear away from his body. Crouching lower behind a rock Harry tried to remain hidden. His luck was holding, he supposed. It did not look like anyone had spotted him yet. Breathing heavily while he crouched, he wondered what had happened up there and what the fire-like light was. Could it be magic? He shook his head, he had never seen anything like it before. It reminded him more of Muggles._

_It felt like a pin had pricked his body. Whirling around he stared into the chest of a tall man. Harry's eyes moved up into the grey eyes of a red haired man. It was a much more muted red than the Weasley's, but the colour was vivid against his clothes, which were similar to the world around them. The man's face, hidden behind a black veil, made him seem even more intimidating. Those pale eyes scanned Harry for any signs of a threat. Seemingly satisfied, he grunted at Harry to move up the hill. The edge of the man's spear was never very far from Harry's back._

_Sighing in relief that the man had not seen fit to take the wand still safely tucked away in his pocket, he began to walk. Travelling faster since he was moving more openly, he and his guard reached the camp relatively quickly. The group, which had been at spear point with each other, began to split. The two men he followed withdrew into a tent. Eyeing the people moving about, he tried to come to grips with where he was. No civilization he knew about looked like them. He would have thought he was in Africa, except the people around him were pale with red or blond hair. All of them had light coloured eyes, which seemed to penetrate a person's soul with their gaze. Each face was as hard as stone and every pair of eyes had seen death before._

_Harry felt annoyed at the man with his spear behind him. He still had not said a word and he was obviously herding Harry towards the largest tent in the camp. There was little to do but walk. Arriving at the tent, they waited. To Harry's surprise the man spoke English. "We wait for the Wise Ones. They will know what to do with you." Harry gulped at the harsh tone in the man's voice. It held no room for comfort. He was a warrior and by the looks of him, he knew how to handle the spear, which lay comfortably on his palm._

_A few minutes later a group of women, who he assumed were Wise Ones, emerged from the tent. The man straightened to his full height and in a calm voice said, "I found this boy following Rand and Mat up the slopes from Rhuidean. He does not seem to be a threat and he has no weapons." The man finished and then turned to leave. Harry almost laughed. He would defiantly not classify his wand as not being a weapon. Living around Muggles in the summer taught him to keep his secrets well hidden._

_The eyes of the Wise Ones burned down upon him. Harry felt like laughing again. Not because of the strangeness of everything, but in fear. The woman leading the group out the tent was frightening to behold and had a strong presence about her. Her gray hair framed a thin grandmotherly face, but the stern type. Her eyes were a pale blue and penetrating. For all Snape's shows, the man would never be able to make Harry flinch again with any of his cold stares or threats. A few days with this woman would cure Harry, or any person, of such weakness._

_Her eyes narrowed even more and Harry recoiled losing the slightly nervous grin on his face. Stepping back a pace, he rubbed his itching arms again. He ducked his head, unable to maintain eye contact. His shoulders slumped forward, just like when Dumbledore admonished him. Steeling himself, he looked up again._

_For the briefest of seconds, her eyes glanced down at his hands before returning to study his face. "Who are you boy? And where did you come from?" Her voice, like that of the man who had just left, held no compassion. The words were hard and by her tone she expected to be answered truthfully. Harry knew she would be able to tell a lie from a fact, especially a lie coming from him. Scuffing his feet against the hard ground, he briefly considered his options. There were none._

_"My name is Harry Potter and I come from Great Britain," he said in the most confident voice he could muster. Considering his posture, it would not convey confidence. He had faced Voldemort, the darkest wizard, without stuttering. This woman, however, made him feel even more uneasy than Riddle. Perhaps that was because he did not know her intentions. She could rub his hair and give him some tea or put a knife through his chest before he could blink or draw his wand. She might even do both._

_She straightened before turning to her companions. A few quiet words passed between them before she turned to face him again. "Did you come from Rhuidean?"_

_Harry frowned, "You mean the large abandoned city down there with a large tree at its centre in what seems to be a square? Then yes, I came from Rhuidean." The muttering between the women increased rapidly. They seemed slightly unsettled by what he was telling them._

_The voices grew steadily louder and more agitated. The tension was palpable."Stop rubbing your arms like that!" One of the woman snapped, frowning at him. Harry let go, but immediately the itching began again. It felt as if something was burning into skin, but he dared not lift his sleeves to look._

_The sun bored down on him. Sweat began to drip down his face while the women discussed amongst themselves. The woman's outburst calmed the rest. His black Hogwarts robes were not helping him with the heat. He wished they would stop talking so he could find some shade and a place to rest. It was still morning. If time had moved similarly, he doubted as much, then it meant he had not slept in the past twenty-four hours. To scared to do anything without permission he dared to open his mouth. "May I remove this?" Harry asked one of the women. She glared at him, irritated, before nodding quickly._

_With a sigh, he pulled the robe over his head and placed it on the ground. What he saw made his heart stop. On each forearm, tattooed in red and seemingly alive, was a dragon. They ran from his elbow and stopped just before his palm. The tattoo wrapped around his arm. Bringing his hand nearer to his face, he studied the image closer before he started laughing. They looked like Hungarian Horntails. They were the fiercest and most aggressive dragons he knew about. He had flown against one. He was so busy studying the markings he did not notice the silence surrounding him. The scales on the Dragons glistened in the sunlight giving them the appearance of life. He got the impression that more than just the tattoos had been added._

"From there his story really began," Moiraine continued. "He studied the One Power with Rand Al'Thor, the man who had walked out of Rhuidean before him."

"So what is the significance of the Dragon tattoos?" Ginny asked leaning forward in interest.

"The Dragon tattoos form part of a prophecy that proclaims the arrival of the Car'a'carn. Like Harry, Rand also received two Dragon tattoos that day." Ginny just nodded her head dumbly as she listened. The names meant nothing to her. "This caused some problems seeing that Harry came out of Rhuidean at the same time as Rand, with equal claims to the title of Car'a'carn. Thankfully for all those present Harry did not want any titles to be placed on him."

Ginny snorted into her cup, which had cooled significantly. "That sounds like Harry. He never likes to be the centre of attention. He hates it when people give him credit for what he did."

"Yes, he is rather shy of praise." Moiraine smiled and Ginny grinned back at her knowingly. "Besides, Harry did not fulfil any of the other prophecies. He is just another man, extraordinary yes, but nothing special."

Ginny gave her a look which said otherwise. The grin on her face destroyed her supposed glare. "So what happened?" Ginny pushed for more information.

"Well, Harry grew rapidly in the use of the One Power. Men are like that, they jump quickly in strength. Unlike women, they are never sure when they will stop growing. Women, you see, grow more slowly and evenly, the end potential always in sight…"

"Is Harry strong ? How strong am I?" Ginny interjected, she at least had the decency to blush at her rude interruption.

Moiraine laughed, quietly. "Harry, oh, he is very strong. Only Rand is stronger and probably only due to being older." A strange look passed over her face. A gaze Ginny could not place. She was sure it meant something significant. "I wonder..." Moiraine began, but with a shake of her head she continued.

"As for you. I know of only one person stronger — Nynaeve Sedai. She is a close friend of Rand and wife to Lan Mandragoran the King of Malkier."

"Really!" Ginny squeaked excitedly, unable to believe she was being compared to royalty. "I am as powerful as a Queen."

"Yes," Moiraine said shaking her head. The smile on her face slid, however. Some of the tension returned to her features. "Quiet down, Ginny," Moiraine said in a soft voice. It was not angry nor firm, but Ginny felt the reprimand. She schooled her features and waited for the woman to continue. By the look in Moiraine's eyes, the topic was about to turn sombre.

"What happened next in Harry's life was not anticipated. In the short term it was good for him, but in the end it caused him much pain," the tone of her voice emphasized how serious she was with her statement. "It all began on very stressful morning. Rand was called down to the docks, I will not go into the whys. That in itself is a long story." Ginny got the feeling Moiraine was part of the reason but she did not ask. "Once there he was confronted by Lanfear, one of the darkest channellers alive. She was one of the Forsaken, the Dark Ones' champions, to put it plainly. Each Forsaken was like Voldemort, working independently for their own gain, each one powerful. Lanfear was obsessed with Rand, she wanted him all for herself. I am getting off topic. I was there that day, waiting behind ..."

_Leaving the confines of the castle, they left for the docks on horseback. The sun had not risen high into the sky yet and the shadow cast by the city wall was still long. Arriving at the docks they found the carts that awaited them abandoned. Inside one of them was a treasure trove of ter'angreal and perhaps even a few angreal. Moiraine had been looking over it like a hawk._

_Harry was riding alongside Rand casually, resting his hand on the sword Lan had given him, which was attached to his hip. Nynaeve and Egwene followed, chatting with each other._

_"What is going…" the words did not have time to leave Harry's lips before a tremendous blast erupted from one of the wagons. Fire leapt out in all directions. Debris flew about. Harry fought to control his horse while studying the dock. The world began to turn black as something struck him against the back of the head. With the world fading rapidly, the ground approached._

_Slowly the images around him began to take shape again. The world was still ablaze from the countless fires that had sprouted from the initial explosion. He could feel the heat against his skin. With his head throbbing and his body sore from the fall, he tried to get to his feet. Collapsing back onto his knees, he noticed the dried blood on the floor where he had fallen. His hand quickly found the back of his head. There was a deep cut. Looking down, he saw blood covered his hands, not too much thankfully. He had bled worse._

_Looking up, he found a chaotic and disturbing scene in front of him. Rand was kneeling on the floor in front of Lanfear. Harry could feel the Power being held by Rand and Harry knew Rand was embracing as much of the One Power as he could hold, yet he did nothing._

_Lying unmoving on the floor behind Rand were Egwene and Nynaeve. Seizing saidin, he felt relief at seeing them breathe. Leaving them for the time being he began to think about Rand again. The prickling on his skin told him that a woman was channelling, it was no surprise considering the presence of Lanfear. Harry kept looking around, he could not find Moiraine. She had told them to meet her here._

_Ash drifted down onto him, the density of the smoke was beginning to obscure his vision. All hope seemed lost with Rand not doing anything. Forcing himself to his feet Harry began to run towards Rand. Everything began to happen at once. Lanfear, spotting Harry, blasted fire at Rand, who managed to block the attack. It was, however, only a distraction. _

Moiraine mouth stopped working. Her eyes grew distant. The Aes Sedai was in a world far from Hogsmeade and the little room, in a place filled with pain. When she finally began to speak again, Ginny could barely hear her voice. The words were faint. "I had been watching from my hiding place. When I noticed Lanfear drawing a deadly throwing knife, I launched myself at her, but I was too late." She shook her head, dispelling the images she was seeing. "I dove into her just as the blade left her hand."

Ginny felt like urging her to continue. By this time she had learned to let Moiraine tell the story at her pace. There were parts Ginny might never understand, especially not the significance. This being one of those times. Whatever happened to Moiraine had not been pleasant. After a few minutes Moiraine began again

"Harry told me about the experience of that blade..."

_Dismayed, Harry watched as the pair tumbled out of sight. With his body crying out in agony he launched himself in front of a still-kneeling and motionless Rand. Hitting him hard, Harry tried to save the man from the knife on its way towards his heart. With a loud thud, the knife embedded itself in Harry's back._

_The world darkened, but he fought to hang on to the light of the morning sun. Within he knew he could not let his eyes close. The pain went from white-hot to ice cold and his body began to tremble. Rand was moving beneath him. Even if he was still alive, Rand could not heal the wounds Harry had suffered. Lying there, he knew the two of them should work on their healing. Moving his head as far as he could he found Nynaeve, the only one who could save him. She lay unconscious. What little hope there had been drained out of him. He could feel his life slipping away. There was little doubt left that the blade had been poisoned._

_Lying on the cold hard ground, he could only imagine what would become of the Weasleys now that he was not going to be returning. What would become of Ginny, his Ginny? Would Ron ever grow up and support his relationship with Ginny and would he ever stop supporting the Canons? Would Hermione learn that books do not always hold the answers? Would she end up marrying Ron? With Voldemort alive and no one there to stop him what will become of their futures?_

_Consciousness began to slip and the fires around him began to darken. He had to hold on, he was the only hope left for the people of Britain. With sheer will and determination, he fought. He was fighting for much more than just his own life. The blade in his back was burning his skin, he fought harder to distance himself from the pain, but the void kept slipping. Movement, he noticed shadows moving over him and voices speaking. He could make out Rand's, but the other voice was unknown._

_He needed to survive. That was all he cared about and so he let the conversation above him go. He did not have the energy left to listen. He had to hang on until Nynaeve woke, she could heal nearly anything. A knife in his back would be a trifle for her. How long would he have to wait?_

_"There is only one option," the unfamiliar voice said to Rand. Harry felt like muttering to her, but he did not have energy left to think. He was even too weak to hold onto saidin anymore. With the void slipping further the pain grew worse, the full impact of his weakened state attacked his mind. The image of the flame began to flicker weakly._

_"Help me!" Harry croaked out weakly. His body was crying out for help, he knew he only had moments before all the life in him would ebb away._

_"Ok," Rand said to her. Harry's eyes opened wide but the world was a blur. A mass of red on top of a person's head was the only indication that it was Rand._

_A pair of cool, unfamiliar, hands touched Harry's cheeks and his skin crawled as a woman embraced saidar next to him. A sudden cold erupted throughout his body and a surge of energy flooded through him. His eyes opened wide and the world came into focus. The pain was still there and the knife wound had not been healed, but he felt more alive. The faint flame, which had almost died began to brighten and the pain receded._

_Rand was kneeling next to Harry and the worried frown in his face lightened considerably. Turning to his other side, Harry noticed a young woman. She had a smooth face, ageless like most Aes Sedai, she could not be more than thirty. He blinked, no she was not that young, perhaps forty. He groaned, judging age was hard enough without the woman being Aes Sedai. The knife in his back was not helping his thought process, either. She had long, straight, black hair that hung well past her shoulders and her eyes were a striking blue. She wore a tight smile, but he could feel her anxiousness. His eyes widened, he could feel her!_

_Closing his eyes he knew what he would find. He could not see her but even if he had not known her to be sitting there he would have been able to point straight at her. Opening his eyes again he looked at her. He could feel her concern for him. She looked weary, her face going paler._

_"I am Harry Potter," he said not breaking his eyes away from hers._

_"Illyandra Sedai," she replied with a worried smile. "I...I am sorry." Her voice sounded weak._

_"There is no need to apologise, I should be thanking you," he replied, and he was sure she could feel his honesty if not hear it. The sudden excitement and joy that he felt flooding through towards him confirmed it. The feelings vanished quickly. The sense of tiredness began to dominate._

_He needed healing. He could draw only so much from strength from Illyandra. Anxious, Harry glanced at Nynaeve. Thankfully, she moved._

They were already well past their second cup of tea by the time Moiraine finished the story. Ginny began to feel anxious about the implications of what she had heard. "What did she do to him?" she asked, looking at Moiraine. "She obviously did not heal him."

"Harry became her Warder," Moiraine replied before scowling at her lukewarm tea.

"Her Warder?" Ginny asked, her forehead creasing.

"She bonded him. It is something a woman who can channel can do to any man. That man will then gain abilities, the most notable of which is increased endurance. That increased endurance is what saved Harry's life."

"So why would that be such a bad thing? He became her Warder and he gained abilities and increased stamina," Ginny muttered, looking at her incredulously. As the words left her mouth anger and jealousy began to build up inside her. Harry had gone and gotten himself bonded to another woman! Angrily she fingered the wand in her pocket, his near death forgotten.

Moiraine face became as haunted as Harry's had the day when he had cut his hands. A small bit of Ginny's anger dissipated at seeing her face. "It's okay if you do not want to answer the question. I was just curious," Ginny said taken aback at how sorrowful Moiraine looked.

"You need to know," Moiraine replied, reheating her tea with saidar until it steamed. Ginny studied her. Ginny had noticed before how Moiraine often did small things to delay giving an answer. "The Aes Sedai Warder bond is a wonderful gift to both. They can feel each other's presence and gain stamina. A loyalty is created that cannot be broken. Having someone who always guards your back is a luxury few ever have."

"Yet, the gifts come at a price. A bond broken is like ripping one's soul." A small tear slipped down her cheek and Ginny could only imagine that she had lost a Warder. "A Warder that dies brings despair to any Aes Sedai," she could not hold back her suffering now and her usual calm was shattered as she began to weep.

Ginny immediately got to her feet to sit down by her side. Placing an arm around her shoulder, Ginny held onto her. "How long has it been?" Ginny asked softly.

"More than a year since my bond with Lan was broken. It happened the same day that Harry was bonded," she cried. Above Moiraine's head Ginny's eyes widened, wasn't Lan married to Nynaeve? She dared not ask. Trying to compose herself, Moiraine spoke again. "I know, Lan married Nynaeve and I am happy for him. He loved her while we were still bonded and I had to walk around with his feelings for her burning in my chest." She sighed angrily with herself. "I never loved him in that way," she fussed wiping her cheeks. "I mean, I loved him as a dear friend. It's just, when a bond breaks... it leaves you feeling empty."

Ginny jolted at that, what did the bond mean then? "How can you be bonded while you love someone else?" she asked perplexed.

Moiraine laughed wiping away a few more stray tears. "The bond has nothing to do with marriage or love, even though some Aes Sedai marry their warders. Marriage is not common though. A man that is bonded is still free to do, as he wants." Something in her tone made Ginny believe there was more to the statement than Moiraine would let on. "Though doing something that would hurt his Aes Sedai would in turn hurt him, so the acts of both become mutually beneficial. In the fight against the Dark an Aes Sedai and Warder become a formidable team."

Hope sparked in Ginny again, but it was still faint. The idea too foreign. In her magical world, a bond constituted marriage. "But..."

"Do not worry about Harry and Illyandra," Moiraine said, patting Ginny's arm softy. "There was never anything between them except the love of an older sister for a brother... like Harry and Hermione, if what I saw earlier was something to go by," she added, the back of her hand still trying to dry her face.

"But," Ginny began, before remaining quiet. Could Moiraine be right in saying that Harry did not love Illyandra? Pushing down the surge of envy towards a woman she had never met was not easy. The grief she saw in Harry's eyes was too great for the Illyandra to have just been a sister, surely.

"Do you know what happens to a Warder when his Aes Sedai dies?" It was not really a question, as she knew that Ginny would not know the answer. The question as intended made Ginny think about it. What happened when a bond was broken? Removing her arm from under Moiraine's hand Ginny stood and walked away slowly towards the window. Her hands folded across her chest and her hands rubbed her arms, fighting an unknown chill.

The weather outside had begun to turn dark and cold. She wondered where Harry had gone. Is this why he did not want to talk about his past? Did he feel guilty about betraying her? Ginny fought valiantly to keep her tears and anger in check, she would not let herself cry now, not after having Harry back. It was suddenly very cold around her and a shiver ran up her body. Her brown eyes stared unmoving, unblinking, out the back window.

"When an Aes Sedai dies the Warder changes. A violent urge to revenge her death overcomes them," Moiraine began.

The words did not help to comfort Ginny. What did it mean to her that Harry had violent urges to avenge the death of someone he loved? She remained standing giving no indication she had heard.

"The urge becomes so strong it eventually leads to suicidal deeds..." she paused again thinking. The tone of her voice made Ginny turn. "Nearly all Warders die within minutes or hours of their Aes Sedai," her dark eyes bored into Ginny's as if to emphasise her point.

Ginny's breath hitched slightly at the thought of Harry trying to kill himself. "Did, did he... you know?" she stuttered uncertainly.

"Harry... No," she said, shaking her head. "No, he did not try to avenge her death fighting against impossible odds," she said slowly and deliberately.

Ginny's eyes softened before she returned her gaze to the garden. She could not hold Moiraine's gaze. This made little sense to her: bonds, love, death, revenge, more death; what was the point of it all? "Why?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I think you know the answer to that question better than I do," Moiraine replied before getting to her feet to move into the kitchen, leaving Ginny alone with her thoughts.

Her hands rubbed furiously at her arms, trying to ward her against the unknown. How could the woman say Ginny knew the answer better than herself. Try as she might, all Ginny could think of was the soft tender way in which Harry looked at her. There was a usual hardness to him, but every time he caught her gaze, his gray or green eyes would soften and then brighten.

Was that the simple answer, could she really be all that saved him from fighting his way to a certain death? Was it his love for her that kept him sane when anyone else would have gone mad with despair? Unnoticed, a stray tear rolled down her cheeks, even her arms were not moving any more.

Ginny knew she loved him, but knowing what Moiraine had told her, could Harry really be in love with her? There were too many unanswered questions, too many whys and what ifs. Nevertheless, his soft expressions and the way he held her in his arms, those could not be faked, could they?

The almost imperceptible sound of Moiraine's feet entering the room made her turn around. Ginny's cheeks were tinged red, but they were nowhere near the colour of Moiraine's. Crossing the room, she threw her arms around the Ginny. "He loves you, he always loved you," she said with conviction. "The two of them always talked about coming back to Hogwarts so that you could meet and..." she stopped.

"And?" Ginny asked pulling away to stare into her eyes.

"That is for him to tell you, not me," she said with a faint smile. The backs of both their hands working overtime to rid them of the dampness on their cheeks as they sat down on the couch again.

Just as they pulled apart, the sound of Harry entering refocused their attention. Getting to her feet, she ran towards him and threw her arms around him to give him a loving kiss. "I am so sorry, Harry," she cried.

His hands gently came up to her face, feeling like ice against her warm skin. "It is in the past now, Ginny. We have each other, and that in itself is more than I ever wished for." With his words washing over her, she relaxed in his presence. She just let him hold onto her. In his arms, she knew what Moiraine meant and what she felt was true. Harry did love her. His hold around her tightened as if in response to her thoughts. She sighed, resting her head against his chest.

_A/N And that concludes another chapter. Thanks for reading. Please take the time to leave your thoughts. Constructive critiscm is always appreciated._


	18. Chapter 17

With the air rushing through his hair, Harry sped after the Snitch fluttering in the air below him. It was Thursday afternoon and the flight was the first opportunity to unwind since the past two years of his life had been revealed to Ginny.

A part of him was relieved to have the secret of Illyandra out and in the open, to Ginny at least. She was honestly the only one to whom the bonding would have mattered. The evening after returning to the house had been both wonderful and painful. With Ginny there to comfort him, he finally managed to let go of Illyandra. He was able to lay to rest the memory of a sister.

He could still see the somewhat lost look on Ginny's face. The internal struggle within her had been great. Blaming her was not an option, he himself would have been more than a little confused if Ginny had disappeared and while away bonded someone. In wizarding terms, a bonding constituted marriage, though he did not know of any bonds that duplicated what he had.

The ground was coming nearer, but the Snitch suddenly vanished. Pulling back on his broom, he levelled out only to fly high up into the sky again to began his regular search pattern. His route took him ever higher into the sky allowing more of the sky to be visible to him. Not having glasses on improved his ability to spot the Snitch, which had already been good. Being able to use his peripheral vision to a much greater extent coupled with his extensive sword training made him much more adept at seeing and reacting to movement.

Far below, he could see Ginny's bright red hair flying about, ducking and diving around various other Gryffindor players. Only Ron's long arms and a keen understanding of Ginny's tactics ensured that she did not score more often. Harry sat up a little and allowed himself a smile. The Gryffindor Quidditch team was back up to strength again. It was still a few months until the first game of the season and already they looked more formidable than any team he had seen before.

A flash of gold caught his eye and instinctively his body flattened against the shaft of his Nimbus 2000. The cool high altitude air warmed rapidly as he raced down to towards the Snitch. Without another Seeker to fly against it was only a matter of time before his hand encircled the Snitch. He could feel his mouth stretching into a wide smile, it felt good to be flying again.

When the practise finally ended, Harry landed as gracefully as he walked. Ginny came running from where she had landed a short distance away, and leapt into his arms. "That felt good," he breathed in deeply with a grin.

"Me or the flying?" she asked with a cheeky grin.

"Hmm... well I would have said you, but come to think of it I preferred the flying," he replied, still holding her up in the air.

Ginny snorted. "As if I am going to believe you."

He lowered her slightly, allowing his lips to meet hers. "I definitely prefer you over Seeking."

Ginny beamed back at him, "Of course I am better. Being a Chaser is so much better than looking for that stupid little golden thingy," she said, laughing at Harry.

"If you say so, dear. But Seeking is for me," he boasted proudly. Regretfully he lowered her back down to the ground. Taking his hand in hers, they walked together to the changing rooms. "Light, it felt good to practise Quidditch again. I can't tell you how much I missed it!" Harry smiled from ear to ear.

"It's good to see you smiling like that again," she said to him, avoiding his name. A few younger players were still around them and close enough to overhear. Ginny had gotten into the habit of not calling him by any name.

"I could say much the same about you," he replied. She grinned and he returned it with a warm smile. He could tell she knew there to be more to his smile than Quidditch. "Well, with more than one thing off my chest and you back in my life, how can I not smile?" he continued, stating the obvious. He pulled her into his arms and held onto her, savouring the way touching her made him feel good. His entire body relaxed. Within her arms he felt at home. He had thought of Hogwarts as his home before. The idea had been wrong. Hogwarts was not what made this place feel like a home. No, the feeling came from the people he loved who walked the halls with him — Ginny most of all.

"Wait up, Rand!" Ron bellowed from behind them.

Releasing Ginny and with a deft pivot Harry turned to face the oncoming Ron. "Yes," he said with a chuckle.

"You were incredible, mate," the tall boy shouted throwing an arm across Harry's shoulder. "With you chasing that Snitch and Ginny handling the Quaffle... I am telling you we will be unbeatable this year!" Ron proclaimed confidently. If Harry had not seen Ron practise for the past two hours then Harry would have been sure that his friend was drunk.

"Don't forget yourself as Keeper," Harry added and they both roared with laughter. Ginny standing beside them just shook her head before disappearing into the girls changing rooms. Harry barely noticed her departure. Laughing with Ron was something he needed, not nearly as much as Ginny, but needed nevertheless. Ron had a habit of bringing Harry back down to earth and away from his troubles. Ron was too uncomplicated for the world's troubles to get him down. Then again, Harry had sensed there to be more in Ron than he had allowed himself to notice before. Nevertheless, Harry was not about to complain. For someone as confused and tightly wound as him it was a much needed relief.

"So what about next week? You better start getting those Snitches sooner. I saw you staring at Ginny a few too many times while you were up there," Ron said, shaking a mocking finger at Harry. The grin behind his warning made Harry break down laughing again. He felt like a boy again. Years of misery faded.

"Yes, sir," Harry said giving Ron a flamboyant bow. "No more watching the attractive backside of your sister," he laughed. "Or the way the sun rays bounce of her flaming red hair, the way her eyes turn my..."

"Rand!" Ron shouted placing his hands over his ears. "Please, no more... have mercy on me," his tone was pleading behind his laughter.

"Really? What if I were to say that..."

A hand clapped over Harry's mouth and bubbly red haired boy stared back at him, grinning like mad. "I know you like my little sis, but remember she is my little sister," Ron said in a low voice, trying to suppress his grin. Ron really was euphoric after the Quidditch practise. Harry made a mental note only to talk seriously with Ron after a good Quidditch practise, from the sound of things he could tell him anything now.

"So you never look at Hermione?" Harry said raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"What... of course... but... agh... Rand!" Ron shouted in despair. "Scarred," he cried. "Scarred for life!" he wailed placing his hands over his eyes. "How could you, mate, how could you!" he cried out again but by the time the words left his mouth they were both lying on the ground laughing themselves hoarse.

When they gathered themselves Harry found a bushy brown haired girl and flaming red haired girl staring down at them with bemused expressions. Hermione was tapping one foot, waiting for an answer. "May I ask what the two of you are doing rolling about in the mud?" Hermione demanded. She did a terrible job of hiding her amusement. The twinkle in her eye told him more than she could ever put in words.

"Well," Harry began, trying to sound as if he was completely in control, his voice level. "We were discussing the various positive attributes of our girlfriends," his voice remained monotonous, almost as if he was commenting on the way paint dried.

Hermione's mouth worked furiously, reminding him of a fish, while Ginny's eyes widened in horror. Ron by this time was cracking up again and Harry tried his best to keep his laugh in, but it came out in various snorts. The two girls' faces turned a deep scarlet as they tried to determine how to reply.

"Ron!" Hermione finally shouted. "What did you tell him?" This time the demand was clear.

"Wouldn't... you... like... to know," Ron said between breaths. Hermione's eyes rolled and she huffed in annoyance, while her blush deepened. Even Ginny couldn't help but laugh at Ron's comment. Harry just slapped him on the back, in doing so he almost missed the dangerous glint in his girlfriend's eyes.

Hermione's hair whipped around her neck as she turned back towards the school. Getting to his feet Harry approached Ginny. He only managed two steps before a stunning spell crashed into his chest. His feet left the ground as he soared backwards. The world dimmed to darkness around him, by the time he hit the ground he barely felt the impact against his back.

"Rand!" Ginny's anxious voice came from the other side of the darkness. "Rand!" he could feel her hands shaking him frantically, he wanted to call back but his mouth remained shut. The voice was then much closer. "Wake up, Harry, please wake up." A few minutes later, his eyes flickered a few times before opening. The world was a bit blurred, but it did not feel like anything was broken. A flash of red was all he managed to make out before a pair of arms encircled him. "I was so worried," she said between kisses. The moans of Ron behind her told him that he did not appreciate the show of affection.

"I am fine," came the slurred response from Harry. Sitting up he worked his hand through his hair in thought. "That was quite the powerful little stunner," Harry muttered glancing up at Ginny.

She blushed spectacularly while she bit down on her lower lip. To him she looked adorable. Leaning in closer she whispered. "I channelled saidar directly," she confessed.

"That explains it," Harry groaned, getting to his feet carefully, not overly pleased with his girlfriend at the moment. It felt like a Bludger had rammed repeatedly into his chest. "Thank goodness it was not a Bat-Bogey hex," Harry laughed nervously.

Ginny froze giving him a guilty look. "I wanted to, but I was not sure about the weave." Harry tripped over his own feet falling down hard. The implication of that statement was almost enough to make him sick.

"Light!" he muttered with closed eyes. Imagining the effects of that hex, if conjured directly from saidar, was enough to make a grown man go pale. Harry could feel his own nose twitching nervously. Finding the strength to stand, he leaned against Ginny for support. "Ginny," he sighed, "I hope that you learned how powerful you are today."

She nodded frantically looking incredibly guilty. "I... I don't think a person can really comprehend the difference before you see it for yourself," she whispered so that Hermione and Ron could not overhear. "That was supposed to be a light stinging hex meant to tickle you into submission."

"What are you two gossiping about?" Ron called from behind them.

"Just apologising," Ginny replied over her shoulder. Harry wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her in close to him.

"And I wanted to know what spell she used," Harry replied.

"What was it?" Hermione asked, and both Harry and Ginny rolled their eyes and decided not to reply. Hermione was asking a few too many questions.

"Well just be careful from now on, Ginny," Harry said to her before kissing the top of her head, which was still damp from her post-practise shower.

Skipping the changing room showers. Harry and Ron cleaned up inside Gryffindor Tower. It was almost time for dinner, so Harry hurried to get dry and dressed. Leaving the boys section of the dorms he found Ginny and Hermione waiting for them in the common room discussing something. Ginny beamed at her friend. They were so engrossed in their conversation that they did not notice Harry approaching until he came close enough to overhear.

"Ready?" Harry asked and Ginny leapt to her feat with an enthusiastic nod. Harry grinned, it appeared that everything was going to be alright between him and Ginny. He might even consider his original plan again, but that was still somewhere in the distant future.

After dinner the four of them sat in the common room by the fire studying. Harry was having a difficult time catching up with all the required work, but he was doing an admirable job of trying, though he was actually used to working much harder. Hogwarts actually felt peaceful and the pace slow compared with the rate at which he had needed to learn. Not only had the rate been more rapid, but the punishment for failure or disobedience harsher. A reprimand was not the deduction of a few measly house points but a switching or extra physical exercise. The exercise was exhausting but at least it had the aim of improving one's discipline and strength.

Hermione, as intelligent as she was, looked completely flustered by the amount of work the professors expected of them. She was working furiously, turning pages at a rapid rate, yet she somehow always managed to be last when it came to finishing her work. Harry had learned a more methodical approach to learning over the past two years. He started to work slower but in doing so ensured that he only needed to go over it once. Hermione, in her frantic state, was reading each passage about three or four times.

Ginny worked much the same way as Harry, appearing much more relaxed and in control than Hermione. She even had time to help Harry with some of the finer aspects of Potions. His potion abilities had deteriorated over the past two years, Aes Sedai did not believe in herbs and potions, they had a firm believe that the One Power could be used to cure anything and everything. The belief was mostly true, they just forgot that not all people had access to someone who could channel, seeing as they were more rare than wizards in Britain.

Sitting on the couch looking at the fire, Harry still could not shrug the feeling of being exposed. His sword was not lying in his dorm but in the house with Moiraine. He knew it was stupid of him since he could protect himself far better with saidin. It was like a fence around a Muggle home, it could not really keep a burglar out but it made sleeping easier at night. His hand still dropped to his side from habit, it surprised him each time when there was no sword hilt to hold.

"What you thinking about?" Ginny asked from next to him and Harry turned his gray eyes to hers. "You have been staring at the fire for awhile now," she continued, taking his hand in hers.

"Just thinking about everything, really. My education over the past two years and other comforts I had grown used to," he replied, allowing the image of her fire lit face to fill his mind.

"Like a glass of wine," she muttered, staring back at her textbook with a mischievous grin.

Harry sighed. "That would actually be nice sitting here by the fire." Placing a hand around her shoulder he gave her a reassuring squeeze. "You should try it sometime."

"What!" she almost shouted, looking scandalised, it still came out loud enough for Hermione and Ron to look up. Finding nothing odd they returned to their studies. "You want to me to drink?" she exclaimed looking shocked.

"There is drinking and drinking," Harry said. "A glass of red wine is actually good for you. Just keep it to a glass or two and you will be fine, but don't drink on an empty stomach." Ginny still did not look convinced and he let it go. Mrs Weasley would no doubt have drilled that into her head.

The rest of the evening passed without much happening. His Potions reading for the week was done as well as the essays for Defence and Transfiguration the next day. Animagus transformations were rather boring for him. Defence on the other hand was disconcerting as it taught the students a Ministry approved view of the world of the Dark Arts. It portrayed everything in black and white, which for school children probably was not bad, it just ensured that they left the school just as naive as when they entered.

"Night, Ron, Hermione," Harry and Ginny said together as the other pair packed their things to go to bed.

"Don't stay up to late," Ron said just before he left. There were still a few scattered students about so he did not look overly concerned.

"Harry," Ginny began closing her books before rolling onto her back to rest her head on his lap.

"Yes," he replied stroking his fingers through her long red hair.

"What is it like to be bonded to someone?" she asked and his fingers froze for a fraction of a second before continuing.

That was a difficult question to answer. "Firstly, I am sure Moiraine told you, it gives you much greater strength and endurance..."

"And that is why you survived on the day when... she bonded you," Ginny interjected. She struggled with the sentence, finding it difficult calling Illyandra by name.

"Yes, Illyandra saved my life that day." His voice was soft, but thankfully the usual pain associated with her name was not there. It hurt but it was far less than it had been a few weeks ago. His eyes had even lost some of their haunted appearance when his thoughts were on her. "That endurance goes a long way in helping a person. I could train for longer and harder, both physically and mentally," he said gesturing towards his arms. "My strength didn't come overnight without work, you know." He grinned and she laughed softly.

"Then there is the more personal part of the bond." He could feel Ginny tense beneath him, anxious and fearful of what he was about to say. His hand moved down, allowing the backs of his fingers to gently stroke her cheek. "I could feel Illyandra. She could be a thousand miles away and I would be able to point a finger straight at her. When she was near I was able to feel her emotions and if they were particularly strong they would flood over into me." His fingers never stopped their motions across her face. They were moving by their own accord and comforted not only him but Ginny as well. Her body was unwinding slightly.

"Apart from that, there was not much really," he continued. "When I wanted to be alone I could mask my emotions from her and she could do the same."

"And..." she said taking a deep breath. Her eyes closed involuntarily. "Was there ever anything between you?" Her brown eyes opened and he could see how fragile and vulnerable she was.

"No," Harry replied gently. "She always knew that you were the one I loved." A small breath Ginny held escaped, but he could still feel the barriers she had formed. "We used to talk at length about coming back to Hogwarts. She was adamant that she wanted to meet you so that she could..."

"She could what?" Ginny prodded gently when Harry did not continue.

"Illyandra wanted to..." He paused. "She wanted to transfer her bond with me to you," he finally managed to say. Ginny sat upright her eyes shifting from lost to hurt to desire in the blink of an eye.

"Do you still want to... you know?" she asked hesitantly, averting her eyes to stare at the fire.

"Yes," he said hoarsely. He did not want to admit as much, yet he could not to lie to her. "But not now, there is too much uncertainty," he continued, his voice more normal, but still strained.

"When?" she said facing him again. Her face bright with anticipation.

"We will know when," Harry replied, giving her a kiss. It deepened gradually as their mutual desires poured into each other. Alone now in the common room, they allowed themselves to relax in each other's embrace. The warmth of the fire crackling beside them and the dancing shadows only increased their passion.

Breaking apart panting for breath, Harry rested his forehead against hers and whispered, "Besides, you still need to learn the weave from Moiraine." Ginny's smile stretched wide, her eyes alight with the dancing flames of the fire.

"I love you," she said, giving him another kiss.

"Love you too," he replied. With her head resting against his shoulder they sat in silence, watching the last embers of the fire die. The entire room was dark before they separated to go to their own beds.

After climbing into bed, Harry not could help but feel good about his future. The joy began to slip as the minutes ticked by. He had come no nearer to his objective of killing Voldemort. In fact, he had moved away from it, with his focus now on finding the Elder Wand. How he was supposed to do that he was not sure, it could be anywhere. With his mind racing but finding no answers, he eventually fell asleep, exhausted.

Transfiguration the next morning involved the same lessons in concentration and feeling of power which would eventually allow a person to become an Animagus. Those processes had already been refined and honed while learning to channel saidin. The fact that he could already transform did not help his boredom.

Contrary to his usual self, Harry actually spent some time with Ron and Hermione during the free period between Transfiguration and Defence. Ginny was still in Ancient Runes so she could not join them. Sitting in the common room, due to the unnaturally cold weather outside, Harry and Ron found themselves in a heated game of chess.

Ron's abilities in chess boggled Harry's mind. His best friend could read a game countless moves ahead, a skill that would have been valuable to any officer in a war. Like always, when playing chess, his mind was elsewhere. The warmth provided by the common room could not ward off the chill he felt.

By force of will he thought of something else. With Ginny knowing about him being Harry, he could tell Ron and Hermione. He found himself lacking the courage, however. All through the remainder of the game his mind went through countless scenarios. Each one ended up at the same place, he had to tell them. With Ron's ability to plan and Hermione's natural flare for research, they would be important assets. The benefits did not even include the emotional support of having his friends there for him.

Unfortunately, he had learned to become patient while seeking guidance. By the time Ron had thrashed him, Harry had already decided to ask Moiraine's advice.

"Good game," Harry said with a smile, looking up at Ginny's brother.

"It was, but your mind was not fully on the game," Ron replied, shaking Harry's hand.

"Not really, but even if it was, I doubt I could match your prowess in chess." Glancing at his watch Harry saw that it was time to head off to Defence. "Ready for class?"

Ron held Harry's gaze as if expecting something. With a subtle shake of his head, he rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. Hermione's bags were already packed and she stood waiting anxiously by the door. Hurrying, they gathered their things before joining her. The trip to the classroom was spent in an in awkward silence. Harry could see the glances the pair beside him were giving each other. Making as if he did not see, he wondered again about their strange behaviour.

Professor Shacklebolt was late, so everyone settled down in their seats and removed their books while they waited. Harry sat lazily halfway into his own world when the back door opened. Looking up he was surprised to find Dumbledore walking into the class instead of Shacklebolt.

"Morning, everyone," Dumbledore greeted merrily and the class as a whole straightened in their seats. "Professor Shacklebolt is very busy today at the Ministry, so I have decided to substitute for him."

Harry studied the blue eyes of the Headmaster carefully. The old man had a way of captivating a crowd and then holding its attention. He commanded to be heard and obeyed, not nearly as much as Rand, but enough all the same. "I see you have covered a few of the more basic subjects. Today..." Dumbledore began to trail off into a lengthy explanation of a spell that Harry could already do. Nothing much had changed.

When Dumbledore demonstrated the spell, Harry was so lost in thought that he almost missed it. The reason for nearly missing it was not entirely the fault of his state of mind. The fact that there was nothing to see was more to blame.

Jerking upright Harry began to feel sweat dripping down his back. Tentatively he raised his hand. "Professor, would you mind demonstrating that again," his voice was firm and in control, in contrast his heart pounded in his chest. Did he really want him to do it again? Seizing saidin, he watched and waited. The void helped to settle some of his nerves.

"Of course," Dumbledore replied. He lifted his wand wove it around and... the room darkened ever so slightly... A shield erupted around Dumbledore, but there was nothing else. It was as if a woman had conjured the shield. Harry could feel his fingers trembling slightly beneath the desk. The void alone kept him calm.

"Thank you," Harry replied. Letting go of saidin, his outward serene appearance shattered and his hands began to shake. Not wanting anyone to see them shaking he pushed them into the pockets of his trousers. He thought of asking whether Dumbledore was actually a woman in disguise, but knew better than to ask.

"You alright?" Hermione asked. "You look very pale all of a sudden."

"I am fine. Just feeling a bit tired," he replied, giving her half a smile. "Thanks for asking." She accepted the answer and returned her focus to Dumbledore.

As the class began to practise the shield, Harry slipped into the void. His eyes glazed over as the coldness of the void shrouded him and his hands steadied again. Saidin felt like ice and fire mixed in with crumbling mountains as he fought with it for control. Even though it had become routine it was still a fight for dominance. His gray eyes remained fixed on one thing, a wand that could only be the Elder Wand.

It was lying on the teachers' table while Dumbledore sat on the edge next to it. All he needed was a small weave of air and then it was his. Destroying the wand was worth exposing himself. Threading a fine weave, he spun it around the wand. He was almost there, the small glow of the threads clearly visible to him as they wrapped around the wand. Sweat formed on his forehead, not from concentration but out of fear of what the wand channelled, and fell onto the dark wood of his desk.

He could feel and see the weaves closing in around the wand. As if sensing its impending destruction, the Elder Wand began to vibrate. The tremor started small but it grew rapidly into a desperate struggle as it broke free from the weaves surrounding it. Free, the wand flew into Dumbledore's hand by its own accord. Harry's eyes widened in horror for a fraction of a second. The Headmaster leapt to his feat. His eyes, distrustful, scanned the class. Harry could tell Dumbledore sensed the danger. The class, however, was too busy to notice what had happened.

Harry began practising the shield charm with the other students in an attempt at trying to act casual. Within the void, he showed nothing, Dumbledore's gaze passed over him before moving about the room, the Elder Wand now gripped firmly in his hand. Relief flooded over Harry. Forcing himself to remain composed, he wiped the uncharacteristic beads of sweat from his face. Focusing on the class requirements, he produced a nearly perfect shield.

"Ah... well done, Mr Damodred," Dumbledore said. His usual cheerful self had returned. Harry looked up. Being so near the ter'angreal shattered the calm he was trying to attain. Pouring his fears into the flame of the void, he just nodded and continued to improve his shield slowly. He could not muster a smile of gratitude, such an emotion was buried too deep within his mind, which was already overflowing with terror.

All he could think about were the black specks passing across Dumbledore's eyes. It was a mark that told Harry beyond doubt that Dumbledore was using the True Power, and not only using it but becoming addicted to it. He had never seen it in the man's eyes before. Perhaps the attempt to steal the wand had ignited some deeper emotion in the Headmaster.

Harry's own heart beat rapidly in his chest now and his breathing sounded hard to his acute hearing. His eyes continued to study Dumbledore as he moved about the room. Harry needed to get his hands on the wand. Whatever it took, he had to destroy it. He was not the hunted, he was the hunter and he would finish what he had started today.

There had been a small chance he was wrong or that the wand had been lost to mankind. Seeing it in action was frightening and he still did not know how powerful it was. Though, he was sure channelling saidin directly would be more than enough for any ter'angreal. He relaxed at the thought. He had just used a small trickle of saidin earlier to try to take the wand. Now he would simply overpower the Elder Wand or Dumbledore or both.

The bell rang indicating lunch had begun. The class emptied rapidly, the students eager to reach the Great Hall. Harry took his time packing his bag while people scurried about around him and out the back. He was determined and committed to ridding the world of the wand.

Letting saidin course through him, filling him with its ecstasy, he waited calmly. His breathing was calm and his heart began to settle in his chest. He was a mask of calm inside and out. He was Harry Potter and he was in control. With everyone out of the room he made his move. "Professor, might I have a word?" Harry said, walking towards Dumbledore, his voice strong and confident.

His skin burned as he channelled saidin, more than he had done in a long time. His gray eyes, cold as ice, radiated pleasure, an odd combination that could not go unnoticed by Dumbledore.

"You!" the man growled and he flourished his wand in the air. A bright orange jet of light filled the room. Acting fast, Harry wove a complex combination of earth, fire and air to form a barrier. Even with the shield taking shape rapidly, it was all that Harry could do to block the initial impact. His body was not prepared. The orange glow ignited against his shield and the resulting explosion blasted him off his feet. With a sickening crunch, he crashed into the back wall as the entire school trembled with the impact of the spell against his shield. Shattered desks and chairs lay smouldering and broken across the room. Splinters and larger pieces of wood lay everywhere.

Looking up he saw the tall shape of Dumbledore getting to his feet, multiple black dots flying across his eyes. Wiping away the soot from his face and eyes allowed Harry to see those once-bright blue eyes of Dumbledore looking murderous. The Elder Wand was in control now.

Harry could feel the pain in his back and head from where he had collided with the wall as he calmly got to his feet. There was no need to panic or flee yet. Pure, life-giving saidin raged inside him and he drew confidence from its presence around him. Clearing his mind, he focused on his opponent. His gray eyes stared unblinking at the man approaching, the crunching of splintered wood beneath Dumbledore's feet reverberated around the room. In the distance he could still hear the shockwaves of the blast echoing through the school.

Dumbledore's cloak and face were black and torn from the damage caused by the fires surrounding them. Sparing his arms and body a quick glance Harry noticed that he did not look much better. The wand he had been using lay broken in two by his feet. That was the least of his problems. Dumbledore sneered but his eyes sparkled, no doubt revelling in the True Power pulsing through his veins. Harry could tell the Headmaster had seen the broken wand.

Dumbledore's wand was moving about in complicated patterns when his eyes lifted again. Various hues of light flared and flew towards Harry. Better prepared this time, the shield was in place and firm long before the spell tore into it resulting in a blinding white light. More tables and chairs shattered, sending splinters flying across the room — some towards him. Another weave of air and the multitude of shards halted before they reach him. The small flames turned into raging fires that began to spread around the room. Waves of heat attacked his body.

Lashing out in force almost immediately, Harry sent blasts of air to towards Dumbledore, he needed to regain the upper hand. That is, if he ever had the upper hand. Not expecting wandless magic nor a living Harry, Dumbledore was caught unprepared. The weaves collided with his chest and he flew backwards until he was halted by the solid oak desk used by Professor Shacklebolt.

Even as Dumbledore soared through the air, Harry knew he was at a disadvantage. His training consisted mostly of lethal force. The world he had lived in was a dangerous place and thus held little place for stunners, an oversight he would have to correct. His other alternative consisted of conjuring a sword of flame. The problem there was that it would not stop any spells nor would he resort to killing Dumbledore. Albus was a good man and a friend. Having survived this long with the Elder Wand proved just how good a man he really was. Dumbledore had to survive this fight, Harry needed him.

Moving rapidly now, Harry threaded air and earth to encircle the struggling body of his opponent. If he could bind him then the wand would be useless, he hoped so at least. While he began to close the much stronger loops he allowed flows of spirit to go in search for the wand's connection to the True Power. This was like fighting against saidar, he was blind, yet he knew there to be a link somewhere. All knowledge known implied there to be a link. The connection to the True Power was bound to be like the link to the One Power. Feeling carefully he prodded and pried the air above Dumbledore for the link. If found, the connection could be cut, thus separating the wand and Dumbledore from the True Power. With that done, his job would be complete.

It was, however, like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Small sensations told him there was something there, but it felt like trying to catch water with a sieve. Dumbledore was beginning to stir, it felt like an eternity for his weaves to close but it was merely fractions of a second. "Light!" he shouted as Dumbledore's wand appeared to be moving by its own accord again. With a flick, the flows from Harry were shattered. The glow from them vanished, replaced only by the hard look on Dumbledore's face and a steadily growing darkness around him. The room itself had dimmed by an aura of blackness surrounding the old man.

Frantic, Harry searched for the link, it had to be there somewhere. Combining more powerful flows of all five elements he attacked Dumbledore again. The resulting weave glowed brightly to his eyes, saidin surged and his skin burned with the power. He was holding nearly as much saidin as he could. It felt euphoric and terrifying at the same time. The never-ending chaos that was saidin raged within him.

The light from his weaves was swallowed, not by a shield but the growing impenetrable darkness. An orb of dense dark filled the air around the professor. His gray beard swayed in the air as he pushed himself upright. Harry began a rapid retreat, he did not have to see any flows to be able to know that a vast amount of power was at Dumbledore's command, or the Elder Wand's. It did not matter, the ter'angreal was more powerful than he had bargained on.

Keeping his eyes on the Dumbledore, he began a smooth dance around the rubble and flames scattered about the room. His body alert and his senses working overtime he ducked and dived to avoid various spells flying in his directions. The resulting explosions and debris stung his eyes. The visible affects were not needed to tell him that death awaited him if he were to touch any one of those spells.

Beginning the weaves of a gateway, he felt an oncoming void of darkness approaching rapidly. Dropping his flows, he rolled over his shoulder and into the corridor. Cool fresh air, free from smoke, filled his lungs. Thankfully, the hallway seemed abandoned. Lunch had already begun. He did not want to risk students. Finishing his roll across the hard stone floor, he was back on his feet and running. He needed support, linking with Moiraine might give him the power to defeat the Elder Wand. Though the sense of power he felt and the ease with which Dumbledore broke through Harry's shields made him reconsider. More than Moiraine's aid might be needed.

Jumping down a flight of stairs he landed on his feet, the blow cushioned by air, but he still hit the floor hard before crashing into the wall. A surprised student shrieked, but Harry ignored the girl, his mind fixed on getting away from the school. A vague impression of pain in his legs surfaced but with no time to worry about injuries, he descended the next staircase. Light from the front door was shining into the entrance hall down below. The cold breeze wafted into the school, he just needed to get outside. Once there he would be able to get away.

He was running as hard as possible with a battered body. His breathing rapid. His legs began to scream in agony from the impact of the first landing while he ran. The few students around forced him to keep moving. The slim chance he had of forming a gateway inside vanished. He could not risk a gateway in front of them, especially not where someone could get in the way of one. There were no sounds of anyone following him.

Reaching the entrance hall Harry barely had time to react to the oncoming surge of power. The world around him grew dark moments before a spell impacted against the shield he had conjured in front of himself instinctively at the last moment. The shockwave from the impact crashed into his body flinging him backwards. The ensuing explosion ripped the hinges off the doors to the Great Hall where Harry knew the entire school to be sitting having lunch. Everything seemed to slow down and he could feel every cut being formed across his chest and back from various shards of timber.

Soaring through the air, flames rushed passed him before he hit the ground halfway into the hall, only cool flows of water around his body spared him from the flames torment. Cries echoed around the hall as his body scraped along the floor ripping into his skin before he slammed painfully against one of the long house tables. Blood flowed freely now from various wounds. The most notable being a slash across his chest. He shouted something incoherent at the pain. The Elder Wand was indeed much more powerful than he had anticipated. It did not make sense.

Shakily he pushed himself to his feet wondering how Dumbledore had made it downstairs so quickly. Apparating was said to be impossible. A flash of anger roared to life inside Harry. He had never tried to Apparate inside the grounds using saidin. With his nostrils flaring, he tried to inhale fresh air into his burning lungs. With his legs weak beneath him, he clawed desperately with his hands in an attempt to find a grip on the Ravenclaw table, which had stopped his flight abruptly, so he could get to his feet.

Finding support, he glanced up into time to see the dark blue eyes of Dumbledore striding through the flames. A dark halo still dimmed the area around him. His eyes were ablaze with fury and hate, fuelled by the wand in his hand. Multiple dark specks continuously crossed his eyes. Only the void stopped Harry from shivering. This was not happening, he was supposed to be here to end Voldemort's life not to fight Dumbledore over a stupid wand.

The Elder Wand kept moving. The shouts of the students around him were drained out by the incessant throbbing of his head. Pulling on more of saidin, Harry lashed out with flows of fire himself. The decision had been made, there was no time left for games. Massive pillars of fire formed out of thin air around the ceiling before diving down at the crazed old man. Victory was a certainty, Harry was sure, moving to his most powerful flows he knew the ter'angreal would be overpowered. It had to be overpowered, his gray eyes were open wide and shone with intensity as he deftly wove the giant threads in the air.

The bright light from Harry's blazing red, white and orange columns of fire illuminated the entire hall as the heat washed over him. As they plummeted the flames grew in strength while Harry poured more of the One Power into them. The attempt proved futile as the quick movements of Dumbledore's wand stopped the flows with barriers invisible to Harry. Gasping in disbelief, he watched as his threads dissolved upon reaching Dumbledore. Undeterred, Harry continued the onslaught. More of his weaves pounded down onto the invisible shield pushing it back slowly. With each one that dissolved, he created another. It was combination of ecstasy and agony wielding so much of the One Power. Death was not far away and yet he wanted to hold onto more. He needed more to stop Dumbledore.

The effort was draining him rapidly of energy. He would not be able to sustain this much longer. Sweat poured down his face and back, mingling with the blood from his own wounds. From within the void he could feel each cut burning in the distance, he could feel his fatigue. Grinding his teeth in desperation, he pried at the barriers around Dumbledore, frantically trying to find a way through.

Harry was almost upright again, but the pain in his side and legs grew worse with every movement and his face was turning pale from the loss of blood. With his flames battering Dumbledore, he was taken by surprise when a sickly gray spell came his way. Embracing more than he ever had unaided, Harry created a glowing barrier to his eyes while he let his flames dissolve. The spell came closer and bludgeoned into his shield resulting in a bright flash of multi-coloured light that flared and a sound similar to thunder echoed around the hall. A shockwave rammed into his chest forcing him to his knees.

Coughing from the pain he fell forwards. An outstretched arm alone managed to keep him from slamming into the floor. Closing his eyes he bit back the pain that wracked his body. Weaving a final thread, he lashed out at Dumbledore with lightning. He did not want to look, but he did. Too exhausted, he barely noticed the resounding crack echoing around the room as the white hot bolt of lightning roared towards the Headmaster. Again the bolt, like his spirals of flame, fizzled away before reaching its target. With that the fight drained from him, this was the time to retreat. He had to survive to fight another day, dying now would serve no purpose.

Harry could feel his body losing the fight to stay conscious, only the void was keeping him upright. His vision began to grow dark. He had failed. The Dark One had left the world a gift far more devastating than he had imagined. Mere minutes after initiating the fight with Dumbledore in the classroom above Harry wove the only weave that would end this. He should have done it earlier, to his side a feeble gateway formed. The inside of the house in Hogsmeade came into view and he rolled through just before another spell came flying towards him.

HGHGHGHGHG

Sitting in the Great Hall, Ron, Hermione and Ginny shared quizzical looks when the entire school shook slightly.

"What was that?" Ginny asked, suddenly very anxious about the whereabouts of Harry.

"No idea," Ron said, taking a bite from his sandwich.

"It sounded like a bomb," Hermione replied, looking up at the ceiling.

"A what?" Ron asked. Ginny thanked her brother silently for asking.

"A bomb, Ron," Hermione began, trying her best to remain calm, "is a muggle contraption that explodes."

"What's the point of that?" Hermione glared at him and Ron fell silent.

Ginny could feel her insides turning. The shockwave still reverberated through the building. She knew this had something to do with Harry, but what would he be up to that would cause an explosion? While thinking, she absently piled food onto her plate. She would ask him the moment they had time alone.

The cold feeling of dread kept growing and she found herself unable to eat the food on her plate. Instead she poked at it. "Didn't Rand have class with you?" Ginny asked. She was sure they had come from Defence.

"Yes, Dumbledore taught us today and I think Rand went to ask him a question," Hermione answered after placing a book onto the table. "He did look rather odd and uncomfortable all period. It looked like something was really bothering him," the girl added, keeping her eyes on Ginny.

"Bothering him? I can't think of anything that could be bothering him," Ginny replied honestly. "He was in a good mood this morning."

"He was fine until, Dumbledore began his demonstrations," Ron chipped in. Ginny turned to study her brother, but she said nothing. What would Dumbledore's demonstrations have to do with Harry becoming distracted? There was no logical answer to the question.

"And he kept eyeing the Headmaster throughout the period," Ron continued. "It was real odd, part of the time it was like he was a deer watching a prowling lion and then in a blink of an eye he was the cat stalking its prey."

"Exactly," Hermione interjected. The dread in Ginny grew, she knew for a certainty now that the explosions had come from the Defence class. "Dumbledore, looked furious at one point. The way he was holding onto his wand you would have sworn someone tried to nick it."

Wand? Why would Harry try to take Dumbledore's wand? Absently she took a bite. The chewing helped her think. Slowly pieces began to fall into place. She recalled the strange reaction of Moiraine by the lake when she removed Harry's cloak — Harry's Invisibility Cloak! The tale of the three brothers! Harry's cloak had been handed down from father to son for generations. No, it couldn't be! But if it was, then Dumbledore could have the...

The entire hall shook as the main doors to the hall blasted from their hinges. Flames poured into the hall, hiding from view a small figure. The loud crash against the Ravenclaw table drew the attention of the Gryffindors. Lying there with his back against the table was Harry. Ginny's heart began pounding. What was happening?

Embracing saidar, she nearly shouted when she saw the deep cuts that crisscrossed his body. His dark clothes were already damp from the loss of blood. He began to move and his hands grabbed at the table for grip as Dumbledore strode into the hall.

Immediately, towering infernos of flame erupted surrounding Dumbledore. The heat from the columns burned her skin, instinctively she channelled flows of air that blew the heat away from her.  
Under the onslaught most of the students began crawling to the outer edges of the hall trying to find safety behind the thick wooden house tables. The other professors too, had cowered behind their chairs. The whole hall was crackling with the amount of power being wielded. She felt nothing except the overpowering presence of Power.

Ginny almost screamed when she noticed the dark halo around Dumbledore. That was definitely not natural. Looking back at Harry, she could see him fighting with everything he had. There was no darkness surrounding him. Dumbledore looked murderous and unusual dark specks flew across his eyes.

Ginny flinched when a powerful bolt of light soared towards Harry. The fires woven by Harry dissipated just as a blinding explosion rocked the room from where she could only deduce the beam had struck a shield. Almost immediately, thunder roared inside the hall as a molten white bolt of lightning struck out towards Dumbledore. Ginny gasped as it dissipated.

When her eyes had readjusted to the interior of the hall, she noticed the beginnings of a gateway near Harry. Getting to her feet, she ran. She would not let him get away from her again. He had already rolled through before a spell crashed into the ground where he had been, leaving a long gash in the floor.

Her entire body flared in anger as she ran towards the gateway. Distracting Dumbledore, she drew saidar as deeply as she could manage before expelling it in a simple weave of fire and something else. The resulting flame, erupting from her fingers, scorched the stone floor as it raced towards Dumbledore. She did not bother to look, her eyes were fixed on the diminishing gateway.

Light flared to her left where flames collided with an unseen barrier. Ignoring both the cries from behind and closing gateway, she dove. Her elbows slammed into the ground in an ungraceful fall before she tumbled through the now very small hole in the air. The sounds of destruction and chaos died away as the weaves connecting the house and the hall dissolved behind her.

As the world stilled around her, a question formed in her mind, one she should have considered more than a week ago. Was Harry Potter still the boy she had known? Was he honestly still good?

"Moiraine," a feeble voice cried from beside Ginny.

Turning, she faced Harry. His red hair was gone and green eyes stared vacantly up at the ceiling. Her breath caught. Just as quickly as her doubts formed, they vanished. Seeing Harry's broken body lying on the floor and remembering the darkness around Dumbledore, she knew Harry to be the boy he had always been.

"Hang on Harry," she whispered, cradling his head on her lap while she waited anxiously for Moiraine.

_A/N Ok, one chapter to go in this story. Thanks to all those who keep reading and commenting, your support really helps._


	19. Chapter 18

Crashing down onto the floor, Harry's cut body bled onto the wooden floors, his breathing shallow and laboured as every fibre of his being cried out in agony. Saidin pummelled him, barely under control. "Moiraine!" His hoarse voice, weak from exhaustion attempted to shout. He could not muster the strength to say her name louder. He winced, pain shot through his body, even in the void it overwhelmed him. A soft voice, Ginny's voice, whispered from beside him — a dream. The world spun, as his head moved. Then it stilled, warmth comforted him. "Moiraine!" he tried a little louder. The effort made him cough, and a red trickle ran down his cheek. Expelling the last of his energy, he pushed himself upright.

A soft patter of feet finally reached his ears. He could not see her, his eyes already closed and his breathing staggered as he fought to stay alive. "Harry!" Moiraine cried out, when the sound reached the room in which he lay, trying to remain calm.

"Powerful, too powerful," Harry whispered repeatedly. His consciousness began to ebb away. Moiraine's soft hands barely registered when they touched his cheeks. The world grew dark. Coldness surged through his body. With a gasp his eyes opened wide in surprise. Then the pain receded. Blinking, he tried to focus on Moiraine before him. She remained an indistinct blur. The healing drained all his reserves. "Thanks," he mumbled. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. Then the ever-increasing darkness overtook him.

_"Are you sure, Harry?" Egwene asked with concern._

_"You can save your parents!" Nynaeve interjected, tugging at the long braid hanging over her shoulders. "Think, Harry! Your parents, alive!"_

_Rand looked up from where he sat, but said nothing._

_"Fool Boy!" Nynaeve grumbled._

_Harry moved towards her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I..." words failed him._

_"Leave him," Rand finally spoke, his voice soft. Harry turned to face the tall man. Rand's gray eyes held understanding._

_"But!" Egwene shouted. A single glance from Rand quieted her. If Harry had not been so distraught, Egwene's reaction would have surprised him more._

_Harry gritted his teeth. The decision weighed down upon him. Still the choice was the right one._

Consciousness returned slowly, his eyelids heavy from weariness. Concentrating, he tried to force his eyes open, they would not respond. Even though his eyelids would not react he knew he was outside. A cold dampness seeped through his clothes and a gentle breeze blew across exposed skin. He shivered, but the wind did cause his skin to prickle. Moiraine had to be nearby embracing saidar. Willing himself to move he found that his eyes were not the only part of his body refusing to budge. There were no bonds holding him. At least none he was aware of, his body just refused to move.

"He is awake... barely," a person whispered to someone close. Still too exhausted to do any more he lay still hoping to learn more. No one spoke again. His mind slowly began working again. Had he been captured? Did he really get through his gateway before it closed? The answers were not forthcoming. Losing the fight against fatigue, he drifted back to sleep.

_Harry sat alone. The trees above swayed with the wind. The birds chirping were his only companions. "You have a choice," he muttered the words softly to himself._

_"Save my parents." He looked down at his one hand. He placed it over his knee "Be with my adopted family." He turned his other hand over. Both palms now rested on his knees — two options. Decisions were difficult at the best of times._

_"You don't have to decide today." Moiraine's voice called from behind. Harry did not respond, nor did he turn to look at her. "Neither choice is wrong."_

The next few hours went by as he slipped in and out of consciousness. Every time he woke, he felt something hard pressing into his back. A pebble or root, he surmised considering that he was outside lying on the ground. A small bit of life entered him and with a slight flicker, his eyes began to open. It was dark. The only light came from the moon high above in the sky. The pale light illuminated branches overhead.

"Where?" he croaked, trying to prop himself up with his elbows. The ability to move had at least returned. His throat and mouth were dry and his entire body felt numb as he rolled onto his side. The searing pain was gone, thankfully.

Moiraine sat with her back against a tree stump, her dark eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Next to her, asleep lay a small figure. Blinking rapidly numerous times, he tried to determine who the person could be. Thinking proved difficult. A splitting headache formed. Pressing his one hand against the side of his head, he groaned before collapsing. A rock against his side went unnoticed.

_It was late evening. A fire crackled in the hearth. Harry sat staring at the dancing flames. The fire reminded him of his time with Ginny. "I love her," Harry whispered to Rand._

_"I know," he replied. The flames made his red hair appear alive. Much like Ginny's, though her long red hair was a flame in itself._

_"I would love to see my parents again. To speak with them. For them to grow old together knowing their son. But..." Harry sighed. His face fell into his hands. His body shook._

_Moiraine moved closer wrapping an arm around Harry. He leaned against her, unable to control his shaking._

_"But... it is best to let the past rest. What is done is done," Moiraine whispered in understanding._

_Harry nodded. Straightening, he felt ashamed at his apparent weakness. "When I was younger, I sat staring at a mirror. Do you know what I saw?"_

_Both Moiraine and Rand shook their heads. Harry leaned back against the seat. Moiraine stood from where she sat to sit on a seat opposite him._

_"It was no ordinary mirror, no," he chuckled softly. "The mirror showed not a reflection of oneself, but instead reflected your heart's greatest desire. No two people would see the same." He paused to study Moiraine and Rand. They sat perfectly still, taking in every word._

_"The mirror showed me a world, one where I stood alongside my parents. They moved and ruffled my hair." Harry's eyes glazed over in memory. "It was as if I could feel them standing next to me." Silence filled the room. "You see, being with my family had always been my hearts greatest desire."_

_"But now..." Rand began slowly, urging Harry to continue._

_"Nothing's changed." Harry forced another laugh. "Nothing has. Being with my family is still my greatest desire."_

_"Ah" Moiraine said with a nod. Rand still looked oddly confused._

_"You never knew your parents," Harry spoke directly to Rand. The man agreed._

_"Would you trade them for the man who loved and nurtured you?"_

_"No!" Rand said vehemently. His mouth opened to say more, but it closed. His eyes brightened in understanding. Rand stared intently at Harry before he spoke again. "You see them as your parents, but your family has changed."_

_"As much as I love my parents, the Weasleys are my family. Ginny is my family."_

_"You would give that much to be with her?" Moiraine asked raising an eyebrow._

_"Yes," was Harry's only reply._

When his eyes finally opened again the sun was nearly halfway to its zenith. Surprisingly, he felt rather good after a night's rest. His headache was gone and he could move about. Coming to his senses, he noticed a flash of red that could only mean one thing.

"Ginny!" He shouted at her where she was sitting busy talking to Moiraine. The exertion caused the world to spin and blur around him. Frowning he stared at the fuzzy figures before him, "But… how?" His green eyes moved about rapidly in confusion as the world began to steady itself again.

"Good morning to you too, Harry," Ginny said getting to her feet to walk over to him. "Nice to see you on this fine day." She laughed, yet the smile did not reach her eyes. The bags underneath them told of a sleepless night.

"Sorry." He shook his head. "I was not expecting to find you," he replied standing to face her. Her shoulders relaxed with relief. Pulling her into a tight hug, he kissed the top of her head while savouring the feeling of being held.

"It's good to see you moving again, Harry," Ginny muttered into his chest where her head rested. Placing his chin on the top of her red hair, he studied Moiraine. Lines of worry creased the older woman's face.

"What happened?" Moiraine asked finally. With the question asked, Harry let go of Ginny and moved to join the Aes Sedai where she sat.

Harry glanced about, more intent on his surroundings than the question asked. They were somewhere deep within the Forbidden Forest. In the distance stood a small tower of Hogwarts. The angle told him little of where they were. The scale, however, confirmed that they were far from the school. His head swivelled around again as he scanned the surrounding forest. Eventually he was satisfied that they were alone. Only then did he began to explain the events leading up to the previous day's disaster. There were no nice ways to put it. He had made a mistake. Harry prayed that none of the students were hurt or killed during the duel. The Light alone knows how much power he used inside the hall, and that was not even taking Dumbledore into account. Even while retelling the story, his mind worked. He did not say what concerned him most. Where did all the power come from? The ter'angreal alone could not have been sufficient.

With each passing minute of Harry's tale Moiraine grew paler. "So what is so bad about the True Power?" Ginny asked innocently from next to him. Both Harry and Moiraine remained silent for a while, any other time they might have laughed, but the topic was neither joke nor fairy tale. Drawing on so much power had been dangerous and having it beaten off so easily was difficult to comprehend. The True Power was not a force to be taken lightly, though no more powerful than the One Power.

"The True Power…" Moiraine began and she explained the nature and difference between it and the One Power. Ginny's eyes grew wider as the explanation continued and Harry wrapped a comforting arm around her. Her dazed expression indicated that some of the explanation had sunk in.

"So Death really did give those things to the three brothers," Ginny said in awe, a tinge of horror laced her words , her teeth chattered.

"I am afraid so," Harry said breathing out heavily, "though it was not Death but the Dark One. I had hoped that it was only a story… The cloak and now the wand confirmed it, unfortunately." Nervously his hands worked through his hair. Sitting back he looked at a stray red hair from Ginny in his hand. He laughed bitterly, thinking of his own shade of red. "Not much use for a disguise now, is there?"

"But surely, with you channelling saidin directly... it must have been enough!" Ginny sounded desperate, ignoring Harry's statement. Her entire posture pleaded for him to say it was so.

"I am afraid not." Harry looked directly at Moiraine. His voice grew soft, the tone ominous. "I used everything I had and more and still I barely managed to push back his shields." Moiraine held his gaze.

Sitting still without uttering a word, each contemplated the events. The only noise came from rustling leaves moving about on the forest floor. Moiraine's even breathing contrasted with Ginny's unsteady anxious gasps. Harry, like Moiraine, had calmed himself enough to be at ease. Aes Sedai learned to control their emotions and exterior expressions. He was learning, but as yet was nowhere near as good as most Aes Sedai. While studying the area around them again, he noticed a trunk lying beside Moiraine. "What's in there?" he asked, irritated for not having noticed it earlier.

"Clothes and a few other priceless belongings," she replied glancing at the chest. "I decided it would be best to leave the house as quickly as possible before someone came in search of us… I assumed that if you had trouble with Dumbledore then it would be too great a fight for me."

"That was a wise decision." Harry nodded. Straightening his back, he forced himself to be more positive. "At least we know what we are up against now. Maybe not exactly how powerful, but we know more than we did." Getting to his feet, he managed to exude confidence and control. When he spoke, his voice was firm and strong. "Moiraine."

"Yes," she replied instantly to the tone of his voice.

"We will need to return. The White Tower might have knowledge we require." there was no doubt in his voice. "I fear we need some things we left behind." Knowledge being the high up on the list, but not the only thing. Moiraine's eyes dimmed sadly. Still she gave the faintest of nods in understanding.

"But," Ginny cried out leaping to feet. "What about me, you can't leave me here!" She did not look angry or sulky. Instead, her whole body radiated defiance. Her eyes and attitude implied she would be going with them, no matter what either of them said. Harry paused, staring into her blazing eyes. He felt her holding onto saidar. Moiraine stood impassive. The growing tingle on his arms told him she had embraced the source as well. No doubt, she saw the glow around Ginny.

Moiraine studied Ginny for a few moments. The way Ginny stood declared her unwavering attitude. Moiraine turned to face Harry, her gaze searching. A choice needed to be made and only one future would hold Ginny. They both knew what needed to be done. Too much had been sacrificed for Ginny. Eventually with a nod from Moiraine, Harry conceded. "Fine, but you will enrol at the White Tower as a Novice." Harry sighed with the weight of the decision. He spoke to Ginny, but he still studied the Aes Sedai. "It will be a delay, but probably worth it in the end."

Moiraine came up behind Ginny and placed a hand on her back. "If you become a Novice you will not be able to leave the Tower until you become a full Sister, an Aes Sedai," she said softly.

"So," Ginny snorted while turning rapidly, allowing her brown eyes to bore into Moiraine's. "I can learn, I can become an Aes Sedai." Her jaw was set and stray rays of sunlight glinted off her red hair. She seemed alive with fury.

Trivial things like a furious teenager did not bother Moiraine. She could handle more than one at a time, even if they were ta'veren, which Ginny was not by his reckoning. "It might take years," Moiraine pointed out.

Ginny's voice cooled, though it still came out forceful. "Even if it takes years, I want to learn everything." The fact that her studies would delay their return did not seem to register. She reminded Harry of Egwene, the Amyrlin Seat of the White Tower, a strong determined woman. Harry prayed the two never became friends.

"Very well," Harry said settling the matter. Honestly, it might take years just to learn enough about the True Power for him to return with confidence. In any case, time was not really a concern. Time could be bent to some degree within the Portal. He turned away. The Portal could control time, but it had its rules — odd rules, but rules nevertheless.

He fought to control his emotions. Images of a small boy sitting in front of a mirror crept up on him. Moiraine stepped back and gave him a slight curtsy. Her actions cleared his reverie. Walking to the trunk, she removed a dark blue dress, the one she had worn when they came to England. "I shall see you in a few minutes," she replied.

"She does not look too pleased," Ginny said breaking his concentration. "I mean, if I cannot go to the White Tower then it's fine."

Harry slipped and arm around her waist and leaned down to give her a light kiss. Holding on to her he walked to the open trunk. "No, it is not you…" he replied at finally with a sigh. "She came here to escape her past... for a new life. Now I am taking her back again."

"Oh…"

Kneeling in front of the trunk Harry removed his own set of clothes. After giving Ginny a kiss on her cheek, he went in search of a place to change. Removing his Hogwarts robes, he dressed in his all black uniform. The Golden Dragon pins returned and sat neatly on his collar. The seven coloured stripes beside the dragons indicated his position. The last addition was his sword. Attaching it to his back, he hid it from view. With its weight resting on his back, he felt unusually comfortable for the first time since he had stopped wearing it.

Walking back he found Moiraine waiting for him behind a row of bushes. "I have something to show you," she whispered, ensuring that Ginny could not hear. A gateway flared to life and they stepped through.

When Harry returned sometime later, he kept his distance from where Moiraine and Ginny were talking. He could feel his blood pumping through his veins from what he had done while he allowed the illusions around him to dissipate again revealing his black hair and green eyes. His hand rubbed his forehead, which was still sensitive. The sword on his back weighed down heavily on him with what he had done with it.

"The life of Novice is very difficult."

"I understand," replied Ginny. "Well... I think I do."

"You will be bound to the Tower till you are either an Aes Sedai or you are released due to insufficient strength in the Power. You are strong, so the second will not be a concern. Are you sure you want to make this commitment?"

Ginny shifted her weight uncomfortably. The full realisation of her choice beginning to dawn on her. Turning away from Moiraine, she studied the distant towers of Hogwarts. "You say it is dangerous to learn using the One Power?"

"Very," Moiraine agreed.

"Then my best chance of survival lies at the White Tower." Ginny turned to face Moiraine again. The Aes Sedai's face was impassive. "Then I have little choice but to go."

"There are always choices," Moiraine replied.

"I have made mine."

"Very well, Ginny."

Harry took a deep breath before emerging from the bushes. He needed one thing before he returned. "There is one more thing," Harry said joining them after they had finished. "Two actually..."

Moiraine wanted to say something. Before she could, he already stood before Ginny. Both his hands took hold of hers and he stared into her deep brown eyes. "Ginny," he whispered. "I would like you to bond me as your Warder." His tone gentle and soft. He willed his green eyes to convey his desire and love to Ginny.

"Harry, Novices aren't allowed Warders!" Moiraine exclaimed over Ginny's excited squeals. He rolled his eyes.

"No one needs to know," he replied. "Besides I would feel much better knowing where she is and how she is while we are away from here."

"Harry!" Moiraine breathed through her clenched teeth. "Are you sure about this?" When he nodded, she breathed out heavily in resignation. "I should have known this would happen sooner rather than later." The only other sign of acceptance came when Moiraine began to explain the weave to Ginny. Her eyes glowed with anticipation. "Ginny," the woman said, "Remember there is a price to pay for this. Are you sure about this?"

Ginny gave Harry a quick look and then she nodded. Harry shared a look with Moiraine. He could tell she knew just as well as him that Ginny did not comprehend the decision she made. Harry did not like it, but it was the only way for him to really protect her. Nothing else, save being alongside her everyday, would grant her as much safety.

With them sitting to one side practising the weave, Harry decided he had one more thing he needed to do. Seizing saidin, he wove a gateway and stepped out into relative safety of the bushes outside the Burrow. Looking around he found Mrs Weasley busy in the kitchen, cooking away nervously. Her face contorted in pain. The news about Ginny must have reached her already.

Shimmering out of existence, he Apparated silently into Ginny's room where he knew he would find what he was looking for. There on her table lay ink and parchment. Conjuring a quill, he began to compose a letter.

When he finished, he accidentally bumped a small book, which toppled to the ground. The sound was not loud but enough to be heard downstairs. In a house, supposedly empty, it was bound to attract attention. Waiting for a few seconds, he finally heard feet coming up the staircase. Filled with the One Power he moved himself down to the kitchen, which he knew to be empty.

With everything done, he wavered. His conscience was weighing heavily on him, the letter he had written felt heavy in his hand. With a resigned sigh, he made his decision. Then instead of leaving he hid himself in a corner that would not be visible to the oncoming Mrs Weasley. As the wait continued he replaced the illusions around him turning himself back into Rand. The sound of her approaching feet was the only means by which to monitor her approach.

With each step closer he doubted his decision even more. The seconds felt like hours, then almost in relief she entered the kitchen. Still oblivious to Harry's presence she moved to her cooking pots and began to stir again. Making his decision he stalked quietly behind her, in the blink of an eye he grabbed her, wove a gateway and pulled her through.

Stumbling out of the kitchen and into the forest he had to fight to keep her subdued. Ginny and Moiraine bolted upright from where they sat in front of the now dissipating gateway. The frantic struggling ceased almost as quickly as it began when Mrs Weasley realised that it was Ginny standing in front of her. Harry let go and Molly sprinted desperately towards her only daughter.

"Ginny," she cried out. Ginny's brown eyes widened in surprise as Mrs Weasley came running towards her. Left behind, Harry's skin prickled intensely. He had not let go of saidin himself, Mrs Weasley had a temper as strong as Ginny's. With that in mind there was little doubt that this could turn into a fight.

"Mum," she replied nervously just before her mother turned around to face Harry again. Her wand held firmly in her hand. "I am alright," Ginny cried out desperately before things could turn ugly. "They are friends," she tried to explain further. It was no use considering that Mrs Weasley saw only a red haired boy and not Harry standing before her.

"Be quiet," Mrs Weasley demanded as her fiery eyes, much like Ginny's, blazed at Harry and Moiraine. Her other hand gripped Ginny's wrist holding her close to her body protectively. Harry had to admire Mrs Weasley's bravery. Facing near impossible odds, the woman stood before her daughter, shielding her.

Images of his own mother lying down her life for him flashed through his mind. The sudden wave of emotion coupled with images of a green flash of light and a shrill cry almost caused him collapse. Reigning in his emotions, he poised himself. Lifting his hands in the air, Harry tried to convey his desire for peace. "Mrs Weasley," Harry began slowly, his voice calm and even, belying his inner struggle, as he tried to take control of the situation. A jet of light burst from the tip of Mrs Weasley's wand and flew straight at Harry. It only got halfway before it impacted against a shield he had conjured instinctively. To Mrs Weasley's credit, she did not flinch or back down. The only sign she noticed the power came from a faint flicker of fear in her eyes. Harry had suspected, but now he knew from who Ginny received her courage.

"Mum, let him explain," Ginny tried again from behind, placing a soothing hand on her mother's shoulder.

Ginny's gentle touch affected her more than Harry's power. "How..." Mrs Weasley muttered to herself.

Taking a deliberate step forward Harry still held his hands in the air. Moiraine, who was never far behind, followed him. The gesture was meaningless considering his abilities but it still conveyed his intentions. "Please, let me explain," Harry spoke again calmly. "You might have heard of the events that happened at the school yesterday..."

"You attacked the headmaster and kidnapped Ginny," came her forceful interjection. "And to think that she actually trusted you!"

"Mum," came Ginny's frantic voice, but again she was cut off. This time by Harry.

"Yes, I did have a fight with the Headmaster and Ginny did come with me..." he paused, placing his hands behind his back thoughtfully. "I did however not start the fight nor did I kidnap Ginny," his gray eyes never moving from Mrs Weasley's. Well he might have started things, but not the fight itself.

She remained quiet, and Ginny found it within herself not to interrupt this time. It was his mess to sort out. "First, I think it would be best if I were to properly introduce myself," he said with a grin. Mrs Weasley's eyes narrowed and her firm grip around her wand tightened.

"I was lost to the world sometime ago. I travelled to a time where I learned many things," while he was talking the weaves around his body began to dissolve, revealing his raven black hair and his green eyes. Even his scar became visible. "I returned a few weeks ago in secret in order to fulfil my destiny," the wide-eyed stunned expression on Mrs Weasley's face did not deter him. "I ran into an unexpected problem... Dumbledore," he continued to explain. "And yesterday there was a misunderstanding that led to the events that you heard about."

The world around them went silent, not even the forest dared to utter a sound. Molly Weasley was staring dumbfounded into the penetrating green eyes of Harry Potter. Her hands began to tremble and her grip on her wand began to slip, allowing the wooden stick to fall to the ground.

"It really is him, mum," Ginny whispered into her mother's ear. Mrs Weasley's only response was a slight nod. The fear in her eyes vanished, she believed. There were a million reasons for her not to trust him, but she did. Moiraine for some reason chuckled, and Harry could think of only one reason.

He was ta'veren, not a very strong one presently, but he still influenced people around him. Coming ever closer Harry eventually wrapped his arms around the only woman who had ever loved him as a mother. The mother for whom he sacrificed his own. Her body felt tense in his embrace, but as the seconds ticked by she began to relax. Her stiff arms began to bend and eventually found their way around his back.

A large comfortable smile graced his face as he stared down at Ginny who still stood behind her mother. That all too familiar and comforting Mrs Weasley hug filled him now and he could feel his shirt becoming damp as she let go of two years worth of suffering.

Ginny too joined the two of them by enveloping her arms around both of them. Together they stood for a long time until Mrs Weasley finally managed to come to terms with the boy standing in front of her.

Pulling away she smiled before her eyes narrowed in anger again. "That still does not give you the right to fight Dumbledore!" Her hands settled onto her hips and her voice boomed around them. "Nor to lie!"

Harry stared at her indulgently before he began to laugh. He had missed the scoldings of his adopted family. "I love you too, Mrs Weasley," Harry replied, meaning every word pulling her back into his arms.

A fresh bout of tears leaked down her cheeks as she allowed herself a small laugh. "We all love you, Harry." Came her slurred response.

When everyone settled down again Harry began to explain the basics of what had happened over the past few weeks. He skipped around his past, just like he had done with Ginny. His explanations were craftily designed to lead up to a crucial point. The fact that they needed to leave and that Ginny was to go with them.

Along the way he was careful to constantly explain the dangers of learning to channel unaided, especially the fact that only one in four people who could channel survived if not taught. Harry could see the knowing smiles on the faces of Moiraine and Ginny as his plans became clearer.

"Ginny can channel," Harry said finally and Mrs Weasley's eyes widened in surprise and then understanding.

Her motherly tenderness returned as she remembered things from the past. "Ginny has always been a special girl," she said softly touching her daughter's cheek with an outstretched palm.

"I cannot hope to defeat the Elder Wand wielded by Dumbledore," Harry began while mother and daughter shared a special moment. "Moiraine and I will have to return in order to learn more about the possible strength of the wand," Harry continued while observing Mrs Weasley's every reaction.

Her hand jerked away from Ginny and her gaze darted back to Harry. "But... Ginny, you can't just leave her here without anyone to help her, to guide her like you said a person needed to be!" her tone was desperate.

"We have little choice," Moiraine interjected. "We have to return to find answers."

"You can take her with you," she burst out her eyes pleading.

"We considered that, but taking her could be dangerous," Moiraine replied, having taken over the conversation. "Ginny would not be able to remain with us at all times. Your daughter would be enrolled into the White Tower, the place where all young girls learn to channel."

"Harry, you would never let any harm come to her," Mrs Weasley said again.

Harry turned to face Ginny. He hated the manipulation, but in the end it would all be for the best. With Mrs Weasley's blessing, the entire trip away would be much less stressful.

"On one condition," Harry said, his face serious.

"What condition?" Mrs Weasley and Ginny said together, the one with apprehension and other with curiosity.

"I would like your blessing for Ginny to bond with me," he said with all sincerity, his green eyes locked onto Mrs Weasley's. Ginny sat wide-eyed in surprise. Mrs Weasley seemed taken aback. He had not planned on asking for this. Sitting here, with her, it just felt right.

A few minutes later the stunned Weasley women were finally able to speak. "She is young," Mrs Weasley's voice replied tentatively. She remained quiet for a long time, looking at Harry then Ginny and finally out into the forest. Her eyes seemed distant as a million thoughts were processed. "But... a marriage bond. Is that necessary?" she asked questioningly. She did not refuse outright, it was a good sign.

"It is not a marriage bond, but it offers much more. It will allow me to know where she is and if she is safe," Harry explained. "It is not ideal, I know, but given the circumstances I am sure all of us would feel better in the knowledge that I can look after her."

Mrs Weasley took the time to consider his words. Little of what he said would be making sense to her right now, but he hoped that the fundamentals had sunk in. Finally, she turned to face her only daughter, but spoke to Harry. "If you are to leave this time for who knows how long, then I can see no better way for you to care for her."

Harry moved to stand before Ginny. Her brown eyes were wide with uncertainty and joy.

"Are you sure, mum?," came her broken voice, too excited to get the words out of her mouth properly. Looking into her eyes he could see the world spinning around inside her head. The radiant smile on her face and the light in her eyes told him there was nothing in the world she wanted more than to bond with him.

"I am sure," her mother replied hesitantly, her trust placed completely in Harry. Her eyes came to rest on him and a wordless conversation passed between them — a promise made. Harry would do everything in his power to ensure Ginny came to no harm. "Yes, I am sure," she said with more determination and confidence.

This was all happening very fast and not at all the way Harry had wanted to bond Ginny, but he could not deny that this was what he wanted. The joy of having someone inside you, and this time around he would have a woman inside him who loved him as much, if not more, than he loved her.

"Are you ready?" came the now-anxious voice of Ginny.

"If you are," Harry replied pulling her into his arms. When she pulled back his skin tingled and goosebumps formed on his forearms. Ginny's eyes glazed over a bit as she concentrated within her own void. The weave, though simple for an Aes Sedai, would take all of her skill and more. A few times Moiraine stopped her, each time correcting a slight flaw in the weave.

Through it all, he did not feel anything except the tenderness of her hands on his cheeks. His eyes were closed — waiting. The knowledge of what was to come calmed him. The predictable cold of the One Power enveloped him as the various threads of spirit he knew she wove settled on him.

Gasping for air his eyes flew upon in ecstasy. Most of his weariness disappeared and deep within him a small bud, which was Ginny, began to grow. A feeling of anxiousness began to emanate from the budding flower. The feelings were not his own. The link with her began to take root within him, allowing the feelings filtering through to become almost as strong as his own. The most powerful emotion being love and when their eyes met again the feeling flared with even greater intensity.

A wide smile spread onto his lips, "I love you, Ginny," he proclaimed. She did not respond. Her eyes were wide in an attempt to control the flood of information swamping her from him. "Relax and just let it fill you." He coaxed her and the change in her appearance was profound. The look of panic and strain left her eyes and they became distant as she drank in every part of him.

An audible sigh of relief and pleasure escaped her lips. "It… no… words," she muttered almost incoherently. None save those who experienced a Warder Bond would ever be able to comprehend the enormity of it. Few words existed to explain what passed between a Warder and his Aes Sedai and even fewer for a couple that loved each other.

"Are they bonded now?" Mrs Weasley asked Moiraine who was standing next to her with a comforting arm around her shoulders.

Moiraine took a moment to study them before she nodded. Tears rimmed her eyes and she dabbed them away. Mrs Weasley was not far behind. She hurried towards them and flung her arms around both Harry and Ginny.

When the time came to leave this world, Harry stood alongside Moiraine and Ginny. Things might not have worked out as planned, but he could leave with Ginny by his side to comfort him and with the knowledge that a prophecy had been fulfilled.

Walking through the gateway within Hogwarts, Mrs Weasley's words to Ginny echoed in his mind. "To me you will now always be Mrs Potter."

An hour later Moiraine turned to Harry. "What was the second thing you wanted to mention earlier?"

"Ah, yes. I was thinking..."

HGHGHGHGH

The sun, an orange ball of light, hung low over the horizon by the time Snape managed to get away from Hogwarts and Dumbledore. The events of the previous night haunted every stride. The warmth of the day did little to comfort him. The whole day was spent locked inside the Headmaster's office. He along with a very confused and agitated Dumbledore replayed the events of the past few weeks inside a Pensieve.

Every encounter either of them had with Rand had been viewed and studied and yet after countless hours they had nothing. The boy along with his supposed mother, Moiraine, proved to be a mystery greater than either suspected. There were no records of them anywhere. Not even in the states where they claimed to have lived. The fact that they were using aliases disturbed Dumbledore even more, since Rand signed into the school registry with a blood sampling quill. In itself the signing was the most distressing. It begged the question, how many others have signed with false names?

The path wound its way towards a small gate. The one Snape always used when meeting Voldemort. It screeched as it swung. He spared it no thought. Outside the wards, he did not remove his wand. With a small twist of his hand, Snape closed his eyes and Apparated away from the school. The world tightened around him as he travelled. When the sensation vanished, his eyes opened reluctantly. He despised this place. His wand remained hidden as he strode to the large building not far from where he stood. There would be little need of a wand. Schooling his features he continued the arduous walk up to the house that was now the headquarters of Voldemort's movement. Almost a week had passed since his last visit.

The news Snape brought with him was difficult to classify. It was not necessarily bad news nor was particularly good. The lack of distinction made him more nervous than usual. Systematically, he closed the distance to the house before calmly walking through the front door. A few minor Death Eaters were standing outside, supposed guards, and Snape gave them his usual sneer. They were brainless thugs and nothing more.

Inside he made his way up to the second floor where the Dark Lord himself waited specifically for him. Snape had been summoned a few hours ago and his arm still burned with agony. He grimaced. Keeping the Voldemort waiting never went unrewarded. Still it was one of the things he endured for the greater cause.

With a deep calming breath Snape pushed open large doors, which led into what had become the official office of the Dark Lord. It appeared more like a gathering hall. Death Eaters stood around the room, each trying to look more impressive than those around them. It was absurd to be honest. There would be no winners in this room, each was a tool that would expire at some point. Dreams of power and authority were mere illusions.

"Severus," came the high pitched voice of a snake like man.

"My Lord," Snape replied giving a deep ungraceful bow, his cloak moving in attempted grandeur. He had never been good at acting humble.

"You are late," the Dark Lords voice was low and held a tinge of excitement. Rising, Snape finally took in the man before him. Voldemort was gaunt as usual and his eyes burned with hate. So much that a man would have thought they were red, but it was just a trick of the eye. Voldemort was just a man. Powerful, yes, but just a man. Snape smiled inwardly.

"My deepest apologies, my Lord. I was detained by Professor Dumbledore trying to determine the identity of the boy," the answer came smoothly as it held no lie. There would be no need to fake replies today. Nothing he knew could jeopardise him.

"The boy, yes," Voldemort said slowly rising to his feet to stand before Snape. "Tell me, what happened yesterday?"

Snape gave him a quick recount of events and the snake like eyes of Voldemort flared in surprise and then in anticipation. Voldemort, the fool, was probably seeing Rand as a new powerful dark ally, a friend that could stand up against Dumbledore. Snape dared not tell him what Dumbledore thought about Rand. The boy was an enigma, but probably a greater threat to Voldemort. Snape played this game carefully, sides were never to be chosen lightly.

"So this little child used wandless magic?" Voldemort's face contorted in confusion. "At such a young age it should be impossible and never with such power," his voice low so that only Snape could hear. A hint of awe and possibly fear crossed the Dark Lord's face before it disappeared into an arrogant sneer. Arrogance would cost the man, of that Snape was sure. "That matters little..."

Snape twitched. A loud explosion rocked the building. "What was that?" demanded Voldemort. Every wand had already been withdrawn and was being held firmly. Groups of twos and threes began to move out the back by Voldemort's orders. This was the inner circle and the men and women in it were not fools when it came to combat — . Wweak, but not fools.

Unlike the Order they were well trained in various manoeuvres and team work played a large role in it. A man alone was an easy target, groups working together were always more effective. With more than half the room empty Voldemort began to relax again, the tension barely visible, but to one as observant as Snape, it was clear. Reading people had allowed him to thrive so long in this game. With everyone occupied scanning the room for any intruders, Snape allowed himself to settle down. Death was a certainty. Snape moved quietly to one corner. There was no need to hasten his decision.

Every man save Voldemort and Snape jumped into the air as numerous loud cracks echoed around the room from outside, though Voldemort's eyes twitched slightly. The sound was familiar, The power accompanying it as well. Snape slouched casually against the wall, his wand gripped loosely in his hand. Whoever the boy was, Snape would see more clearly after today. There was still a chance the boy had been misguided when he fought Dumbledore — a lack of communication perhaps.

Snape's vision blurred. With care he used his wand to shield debris. The room settled, he alone still stood. With a fake groan, he lay down on the soot-covered floor. The entire front part of the room burned with white hot flames. Pushing himself up onto his knees with mumbled cries of agony, he surveyed the damage. Nearly every person in the room lay dead. Only those near the back of the room like himself had been spared. Another quick glance... or had they survived? None moved. Voldemort alone appeared unhurt. The glow of a shield surrounded him. Muttering a soft curse, Snape wished for such reflexes. Despite it all, Snape felt around under his cloak. He was relieved to find no wounds. A small scratch to his forehead was the worst of his injuries. Madame Pomfrey would patch the cut quickly once he returned to Hogwarts.

With the smoke almost gone a tall figure in a black cloak strode into the room. He had red hair and piercing gray eyes. On his collar were two golden pins that Snape could not make out. He refrained from looking closer, though the seven bands of colour next to them were clear. What was Rand doing in some sort of uniform? What Snape saw, just added more questions to the ever-growing list. He frowned. The boy was not acting alone but appeared to be part of some sort of organisation.

"My apologies for arriving unannounced," Rand said calmly. Snape ogled him, the boy had been half dead or so it had appeared inside the Pensieve. Snape eyed him calmly, death did not come. Rand stared straight at him. Despite Snape's calm, he shivered at the penetrating gaze.

"How dare you!" Voldemort screamed for all his worth at Rand, sounding like a little boy whose toys had been taken. Snape snorted. "Crucio!" the furious Voldemort howled. It took Snape a moment to realise the curse was aimed at him. Crouching he waited. No pain accompanied the words. "Crucio, Crucio!" Voldemort shouted with more venom each time, still nothing. "No..." came a cry before it was cut-off abruptly by a soft gurgling.

Standing up again, Snape turned to face a grimacing, red-faced Voldemort and laughed at the horrifying scene before him. Standing up against the Dark Lord was Rand, a sword buried through Voldemort up to the hilt. Ripping the blade out, Rand stepped back and let the man fall. With Voldemort on his knees Rand bent down and whispered something into his ear.

Words struggled to come out of the Voldemort's lips, but no sound made it. The Dark Lord's wide eyes told enough of a story. Stepping back again, Rand turned his attention to Snape before a green jet of light struck Voldemort. Snape's wide eyes widened even more as the Dark Lord slumped. Snape was not disgusted. He merely felt surprised at the hardness in the man before him. Unconsciously, Snape licked his lips lightly as a grin formed. It vanished quickly enough, however. The boy dropped to his knees, clutching his forehead. Snape had not seen the wounding blow. Debris, perhaps?

Snape stood, his mind and body at ease. "I hope you will tell Dumbledore of what happened today," Rand said, breaking through Snape's thoughts. Rand turned and before Snape could ask a question, the air shimmered and warped. Then Rand was gone.

For a long while Snape stood motionless. His mouth, hung open faintly. Concentrating the air before him changed similarly. A small familiar gate came into view. He considered his options. His lips turned up in a smile. Then he stepped through the hole in the air. "Oh, you can count on me telling."

He laughed, mirthlessly, before him stood the little gate leading up to Hogwarts. Gathering himself, he ran. His dusty, blood stained and torn cloak bellowed behind him in the wind. Ignoring the open mouthed stares of various students he eventually reached Dumbledore's office. Purposefully out of breath.

"I suppose Voldemort did not take it well," Dumbledore said quietly, his bright blue eyes looking at Snape with compassion.

"Rand... he..." Snape panted. "Voldemort is dead!" he finally managed between breaths.

"That is not possible!" Dumbledore shouted jumping to his feet. "The Horcruxes!"

Snape cocked his head to the side. He cursed inwardly, another puzzle. A puzzle which meant there were still three players. Four if he counted himself. He sat down with a frown. Potter was still somewhere unaccounted. Despite it all, that fact worried him most of all.

HGHGHGHG

_I was not proud of what I did that day. To my dying day I am sure images will haunt my mind. All those years ago when I was still a boy, Dumbledore had revealed to me a prophecy. A few words uttered by a woman in all but a few seconds. How those words changed not only my world, but the lives of every person to come near me. To this day, I still wish all the changes could have been for the good._

_The first blow in a long succession of pains had been the death of my parents, laying down their lives so I might live. Their actions were an unselfish act of love that I have carried with me in my heart ever since. The protection they offered saved me. It saved me from a killing curse, it saved me from myself and even to this day, their sacrifice guides my actions._

_The abuse and neglect I suffered at the hands of my mother's family almost had me believing a thing such as love never existed. I was sure love had to be a myth, invented to torture the souls of the living. How wrong I was, but it was a journey counted in years to learn. It took a red haired family, especially their daughter, the youngest of seven, to teach me that love is not only a myth but a power so strong that nothing can succeed against its onslaught._

_The family taught me the love of friends. Ginny showed me the love of a woman and eventually a wife, an emotion so raw it overcame the dark depths of my past. They became my family in whom I could feel my parents. Knowing their love, I have been able to come to terms with the loss of my parents and being an orphan. They adopted me as their son, their strange green-eyed black haired son._

_Just when my life seemed to be going well the prophecy became known to me. Those words: so few yet so dark and horrifying. They became my nightly companions, uttering them over and over again in my mind. I was the one with the power, yet lying in my bed I could not fathom what the power could have been. In those short moments after my world came crashing down, my hand was held by Ginny. The radiant red haired, brown eyed, fiery girl, whom I loved._

_Without her constant support and unwavering love, I would not be here. Even though we had barely dated a month, the piece of her heart she had given me warmed my body during my trials away from Britain. Time and distance were poor boundaries to the link I shared with her. Unyielding and undying, that natural love fuelled my existence._

_Each moment of suffering I lived through while away was endured in the knowledge that it would strengthen me in my fight against Voldemort. Whenever I felt like forsaking the world, images of Ginny would wash over me. With her brown eyes staring down at me, I laboured on. I had to live for her, I had to be strong for her._

_Voldemort, a poor man driven along a path of no return. Destroying the only part of a man that was worth anything, his soul. What for? Eternal life? What is a life without end if there is no one to love? Why live if not to feel the warmth of another's affection?_

_In his final moments, my sword driven through his chest, his snake-like eyes softened and the boy that had once been shone through. He was but a man, confused and alone in a world that had not loved him. How close had I been to becoming like him?_

_I had a saving grace, parents that not only loved me, but also each other. It felt as if he was conceived with the aid of a potion, by a man that did not love the woman. Without love he had been born, without love he had lived, and without love he had died, of this I am sure. No one to mourn the passing of what could have been a great man. He lived by the only lesson he learned, hate. Yet, those eyes that stared back at me when his life ebbed away seemed lost and frightened._

_Removing the blade from his body, I watched the last bit of life leave him and he slumped to the ground to join the countless number of his followers who were strewn about the room. I am still ashamed of those actions, killing men without a trial. In those moments I was almost as evil as the men I killed. My very soul cried out. I am sure if I were ever to see my eyes at that moment I would be frightened and disturbed by what I saw. My eyes would have been dark and cold as a winter's night. The sole purpose of my actions being to kill. I pray no one I love would ever see me like that._

_Revenge was bitter sweet. I had always thought while lying in my bed I would savour the moment when I destroyed the world's darkest wizard. I was sure it would be my greatest moment. I have never been more wrong in my life. To this day I despise myself, even with the countless lives I took before and after. All I see are those pitiful, frightened eyes of Tom Riddle, the eyes of the boy who was lost at such a tender age._

_That day had not been without joy. Being with Ginny since then and having her being called Mrs Potter lives on as the most incredible moment of my existence._

_Tonight ends another chapter. I have stepped down as Amyrlin. Tomorrow we journey back to Britain. My studies are complete, Ginny about to be raised to the shawl, a full Aes Sedai. Seven years, this journey has lasted away from home. Time, however, has little meaning any more. Light! I hope what little we have learned will be enough._

_Harry Potter_

_A/N And so ends the first part of my story. Hope you enjoyed, and that you are anxious to start reading the sequel. Thank you to all those who have read the story. Please take the time to leave a comment about the chapter and more importantly the story as a whole. I know the first few chapters weren't great, but I would love to know what you guys and girls thought of it all. Any ideas, hints or comments will help to improve the next part._

_Thanks again._


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