Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters unfortunately. But God- otherwise known as J.KRowling does. So please don't sue, since you can't sue someone who don't have no money in the first place.

Summary: Harry begins to get inklings of his real power, and finds out a few more things about himself. H/H shippiness. Starts off kind of dark, mentions child abuse, so if you don't like that kind of thing, give this fic a miss. If you don't mind, be prepared for an epic spanning the last three years of Harry's schooling. Some pretty big battles between Good and Evil to come. Next part of this fic will be called "Harry Potter and the Power of Gaia". Please R/R, constructive criticism welcome, ideas too, audience participation is welcome in my fic, but I have an overall story arc worked out, so I won't be going to far past it. Anyway, that's enough from me, just read and enjoy. *_*

Harry Potter and the Truth of Rumours.

Twilight heralded darkness, save for the softly glowing moon, that shone through the smothering clouds. Harry looked up at the moon, and the ever present clouds chasing it, threatening to block out the only form of light he had that night. The only thing making him feel faintly safe, apart from Hedwig, who was gently snoring from beneath her wing, two feathers fluffing, as her breath caught against them. Briefly Harry felt envy for the beautiful snowy white owl. At anytime, as long as Harry was there, she could be let out. She could fly away, high and above the clouds, to where the moon was still visible in all it's glory. What he wouldn't give to be that free. Or to just be a normal boy sometimes. As much as he loved being a wizard, most of the time it had only brought him heartache and suffering, what happened with Voldermort during the Triwizard cup was a prime example of that.

If it were possible, things were starting to get even worse at the Dursley's this summer. Though he had gotten used to either being ignored, or forced into household chores, they were now almost constantly making snide comments, and had increased the dosage of telling him how lucky he was to have been taken in by them at all, "after all, I would have sent you to the orphanage down the road, if it weren't for that idiot headmaster of yours, leaving a note to say he would be expecting to contact you about that school, when yer 11." Uncle Vernon, had rather proudly told him. And unfortunately, he had finally seen past Harry's helpful ruse about his godfather Sirius, being on the lookout for him. Now Harry was almost always locked in the house, all of his school supplies had been locked into the cupboard under the stairs. Though Harry had tried to tell him that this year, his summer homework was even more important, for his upcoming O.W.L's. But this news seemed to only please Uncle Vernon. He told him that if were any good at being a wizard at all, he wouldn't have to do his homework. This also meant, that he and Dudley had acquired an almost cocky attitude around him. Though they still hated his 'abnormality', they no longer cared about possibly invoking Harry's anger, having gotten the idea, that if he practised anymore magic outside of term-time-something not allowed for under-aged wizards, and for which Harry had already been told off about before-that Harry would almost certainly be expelled from Hogwarts. Dudley made obvious his glee, by trying to goad Harry into using magic as often as possible, usually by repeatedly punching him in the stomach, or ,as had happened last week, his face, breaking his glasses in two, causing a nose bleed, and then taunting him as Harry had to tape the two pieces together, not being able to use the spell Hermione had taught him to mend them. And unfortunately, Uncle Vernon, had become somewhat more physically aggressive too, he, being a fully grown man, could pack far more power into his punches. And now humiliatingly, they insisted on going through any mail he received from his friends. More than once this had incurred Uncle Vernon's wrath. As he read about Muggles, and his friends enquiries as to how they were treating him. Harry's Uncle had wanted to know just what he had told his wizarding friends about the Dursleys. That and they took any of the food supplies his friends normally sent, so he had nothing to fall back on, whenever they decided he shouldn't be fed. And he was made to watch as all those wonderful Cauldron cakes, pumpkin pies, chocolate frogs, and Bertie Botts every flavour beans, were all tipped into the kitchens bin.

So, if anything, Harry was having the worst year of his life, cruelty from the Dursley's was starting to become unbearable, he couldn't write to any of his friends about what was going on- Uncle Vernon insisted on checking that Hedwig was always in her cage by 8am, and didn't go out until past 10pm, he figured out that it would take her much longer than this to reach any of Harry's friends, or more importantly, Sirius or Dumbledore -and he was suffering from a lack of food, in fact, Aunt Petunia, was the only one of the Dursley's who tried to get him food. Perhaps she was scared of the consequences if Harry starved to death in the holidays. But Harry wondered if it was that. Though she still fawned over Dudley, being her pride and joy, there was something close to compassion registering in her eyes whenever they met Harry's gaze. Perhaps seeing the way Harry was now being repeatedly beaten, it was starting to register that treating another human being this way-even a wizard- was not acceptable behaviour. That and hearing Harry waking up screaming every night, from his nightmares, perhaps, if Harry could dare to wish, she was starting to feel something for him. If not as her nephew, then at least as a human being.

But Harry could only hope. And give a faint smile of gratitude, every few days when Petunia would sneak a plate of leftovers up to his room, always mumbling something about being on a diet. Clearly she didn't want to let him think she was starting to care, that or it was the only thing she could think of as a cover, if Uncle Vernon ever found her delivering leftovers to Harry's room. Tonight though, that lifeline had been intercepted. A giggling Dudley saying -rather loudly, for Harry's benefit- Thank you for his late-night snack. Harry had come to suspect that his Uncle had seen one of those documentaries on the human body. The ones where they have scientists that tell you that the human body can survive a few months without food, and three days without water. And that Uncle Vernon had signed him up for some experiment, to test this. And on account of not receiving Aunt Petunia's leftover late-night snack, it had now been four days since Harry had anything even approaching a normal meal. Hedwig had, somehow managed to get some fruit, something Harry had eaten very quickly, for it was already soft and wouldn't keep for long.

Hedwig's wing fluttered, and she removed her head gently from its resting place. Immediately, she looked at Harry, her gaze shifting from head to toe, as if to assess his condition. He smiled to reassure her, though he could do nothing to hide his limp, as he moved to open her cage. Uncle Vernon had hit him with Aunt Petunias rolling pin earlier that day, for not making the pastry for the pasties he was making, perfectly round.

When he opened her cage, Hedwig came forward, and nibbled affectionately on his ear. Harry noted, to his dismay, that even she seemed a little thinner than normal. He would always share any of the food the Dursley's saw fit to bestow on him, with her, but she had obviously had to fall back on hunting for food at night.

Hedwig took flight from the cage, flew across the room, and came to a landing on his bed, pointing a wing tip against the one possession, Uncle Vernon had allowed him to keep a hold of.

His photo album.

It was open on a page with a picture of Harry, Hermione and Ron, all smiling and waving up at him. The Photo Hermione blew a kiss at him, then blushed as Photo Ron, rather obviously made a crude joke. Even Photo Harry blushed, before smacking Ron in the head.

Harry was lucky that Hedwig was such an intelligent Owl, and that she could always find a way to communicate with him. Unfortunately he didn't speak Owl yet. At this moment, it was clear that Hedwig wanted to take a message to either of his friends.

He shook his head gently.

"No girl, you can't." he said softly.

"Uncle Vernon would be very angry if you weren't here when he checked in the morning. He'd probably..." he trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence, or the thought. Hedwig hooted softly and quietly. He stroked her favourite spot, just above the shoulder blade of her left wing, then opened the window, and watched as she reluctantly flew out of it. All the while he was berating himself for wishing she could fly just a little faster. He sighed, leaving the window open, the cool breeze necessary in the small, stuffy room. He limped back across to the bed, and stared wistfully at the photo album before him. Before he packed it away under his bed, slid himself between the thinning cotton sheets, and then tried, as he did every night, to get some sleep.

~o0o~

A soft clicking sound awoke Harry from a light and thankfully dreamless sleep. As his eyes flickered open, they registered the fact that it was barely daylight, and that Aunt Petunia had opened the door, and moving towards him. A plate of what looked like meatloaf and tomatoes in her hand. He sat up gently, so as not to aggravate his bruised ribs. Petunia settled the plate on his lap, and turned to leave. But Harry, finally decided he wanted to know why. He put a hand on her arm, gripping it gently, as she turned back to face him, he let go.

"Aunt Petunia........th...thank you."

Her face twitched. For a moment, it looked as though she might cry. And then she turned away, wordlessly, moving towards the shadows of the hallway.

"Aunt Petunia?" Harry whispered. She stopped and looked back at him.

"Why are you doing this for me?"

Her face twitched again. And again, before a single tear erupted from the duct of her left eye. And she stuttered out a reply.

"I......I.....No one, not even.......I.........not even wizards, d-deserve this."

And then cat-like, she crept from the room. He heard a soft click as she was obviously trying to padlock him in again, without making too much noise.

Harry looked down to his first meal in days. It was rather pathetic. Two cold slabs of old meatloaf, a tomato, and three smaller cherry tomatoes. It wasn't much, but Harry realised that Aunt Petunia was risking being found out, if she took much more. A risk, that in Harry's mind, elevated her to his favourite blood relative. Though considering the competition, it wasn't anything to boast about.

Putting a piece of meatloaf to one side for Hedwig, he tucked in. He savoured every last drop of juice from the tomatoes, rolling it around over his tongue, licking his lips.

A sudden flicker of feathers at his window caught his attention. Then there was a flash of white, then a wing tip before, finally three birds appeared before him. One was Pig, Ron's Owl, and another he didn't recognise, were holding up an exhausted looking Hedwig. They flew in, and Harry immediately laid Hedwig on his bed, noticing a letter strapped to her leg. Stroking her nervously, he untied the letter bound to her. Pig, was uncharacteristically quiet, normally he would be elated at having delivered , and would be flying at top speed around the room. But this time, it was almost as if he understood the need for quiet, at this time more than any other. The other Owl perched itself atop Harry's side cabinet, and had a Hogwarts crest strapped to it's wing.

Harry glanced nervously at the letter, half expecting Uncle Vernon to burst in and start hitting him now. But he realised that the Owl's had arrived soundlessly.

Turning the envelope over in his hands, he savoured the moment, being able to touch and read his own name, written in Ron's recognisable scrawl. He wasn't having to glance at it over Uncle Vernon's shoulder, answering many awkward questions about its contents. It felt like the most wonderful to have happened to him in months.

He opened it quickly, but quietly, and began to read.

*Dear Harry,

I'm sorry we didn't realise sooner that something must be wrong at your house. Me + Hermione were getting worried when you didn't write back. But a few days ago, Pig came flying back with a letter from Herm, and one of your school ties. We didn't know what was going on, so Dad got Pig to fly out again last night, and followed him. And he met Hedwig! This time she was carrying, and I hope to God your alright mate, a tissue with blood on it.

Dad went nuts when he got back, zooming all around the ministry, looking for Dumbledore to tell what had happened, that and convince a load of ministers that your worse off were you are. So we could get permission for you to stay. We only just found out about some of that magic that's supposed to be protecting your house from You-Know-Who.

But you can stay!

We're to come and get you at 11pm, on the night before your birthday. So tell those muggles where to go, your coming to live with us for the rest of the holidays!!

Don't worry, we're not expecting a reply, even if you never got to read this letter, we'd be coming anyway.

See you soon, and hope your safe.

Ron.*

Harry almost fell off his bad in excitement. Two more days? Two more days, was that it? Two more days and he would be free of the starvation, the humiliation, being beaten up every day. And most importantly, free of the Dursleys? Not only that but he would be able to celebrate his birthday with people who actually cared about him. Harry became more and more happy at the thought of leaving, but then one thing struck him. Was Aunt Petunia safe? It would have been incredibly dumb of Harry not to notice that Uncle Vernon was drinking more, the smell on his breath, was usually present whenever he was about to beat Harry to a pulp. From what he could tell, Uncle Vernon's business wasn't doing that well, something that naturally, he blamed on Harry.

But for now, Harry shared out the meatloaf between the Owl's, the Hogwarts fluffed out it's chest importantly, moved away from the proffered meal, and looked at him for a moment, as if waiting for something. It clicked in Harry's mind, she was waiting for return mail.

"I'm sorry. I don't have anything to write on."

At that moment, the Owl lifted it's leg, to reveal the end of a pointed quill. Pig- who had been busily devouring his meal- flew up and dropped a small vial of ink into his hand. Harry smiled softly. Trust Dumbledore, he thinks of everything. And he quickly got to work, writing out his reply, on the back of Ron's letter. Luckily it was a Saturday, and he had at least four hours before Uncle Vernon would be up and wanting any food.

He looked over his reply, satisfied that it wouldn't panic them by letting them know just how bad it really was. Though Hedwig had certainly already done that, by taking the bloody tissue, a leftover from his nose bleed.

*Ron,

I'll be waiting by my bedroom window, I hope you can find your way. If you can help it, try to find a way to get here without disturbing the muggles. It would be better if you could get to me without Uncle Vernon finding out. He won't be very happy if Wizards starting popping out of the fireplace again. Please bring some food for Hedwig.

And don't worry about me. I've spent the last three weeks here, another two days won't kill me -I hope. Harry*

Looking over the last part, he added 'just kidding', he didn't want to sound as desperate as he was.

Unfortunately when he saw them in a few days, he knew his appearance, would give it away. He knew that he'd lost a lot of weight. Normally when he came back form Hogwarts, he'd have a little pot belly, a testament to his spurt of over-eating, and no Quadditch. It was always enough to see him through the summer, but due to the events of last year, eating had been the last thing on his mind, so he'd lost weight, before he'd even arrived at the Dursley's. He wasn't sure, but ht thought he might be paler, but his skin was bound to look pale in comparison to the vast array of bruises and swellings that littered the rest of his body.

He hurriedly began tying the message to Pig's leg, when the sound of someone stirring in another room scared him. Making his apologies to the to other Owl's, for not allowing them to rest, he motioned for them to leave. Pig flew out, some of his excitement at delivering mail had returned. Harry quickly cleared the ink and quill away under the loose floorboard. He heard the shifting noise again. He could tell it was Uncle Vernon, moving his bulky frame into the hallway, the number of steps, told Harry that he'd bypassed the bathroom, and could only be heading to his or Dudley's room. Moving to close the window, he saw that the Hogwarts Owl was still there. An unmistakable look of sadness played out across its features. He shooed it out and shut the window.

"BOY"

Uncle Vernon slammed into the room.

"What's all this noise?"

Harry held back his initial retort of 'Why Uncle, it's you.'. And motioned to Hedwig, who had somehow gotten over to her cage, and was now perching tall and proudly within it.

"I had to let her in." he said quietly.

"That blasted bird again! I will take a shotgun to her one day." And he moved towards her cage. Hedwig's posture slumped, she looked afraid. Harry knew what was coming, the moment he had stepped protectively in front of her cage. Hedwig did too, and began squawking, and spread her wings, as if readying to attack. But he closed the door on her cage. No matter what, he wouldn't let her get hurt.

And so it began, Harry was being knocked around the room like a rag doll, unaware, that outside his window, an Owl, baring the Hogwarts crest, was watching angrily. After ten minutes it had seen enough, it turned, and flew to a nearby darkened alley.

It landed, and plucked the hidden wand from amongst its wing feathers. And began to change. A few moments later, Madam Hooch held out her wand, and flagged down the Nightbus. She got on, threw the fare to a startled Stan, shouted the Burrow at him, and wandered to find a seat, all the while cursing the name Dursley.

~o0o~

Later that day, Harry was disbelievingly being moved back into the cupboard under the stairs. It as definitely smaller than he remembered, then again he was about a foot and a half taller now. Despite being barely strong enough to walk, Uncle Vernon insisted that Harry take his things from the cupboard and put them into the attic, though once again he allowed Harry to keep his photo album. He had heard Uncle Vernon tell his wife that having those photos would probably make Harry feel worse, and he wasn't far wrong.

Then, along with Hedwig-not in her cage- he was shut in the dark, in the small cupboard where he couldn't even stretch his legs. His only hope, that in one night and two days, the Weasleys were coming to get him.

Far away in a small, mostly muggle inhabited village, the sound of angry, non-magical cursing filled the Weasley's house.

"We never should have let him go there. I don't care about You-Know-Who, anything is better than leaving Harry with that bloated b*****d one more moment!"

The Weasley children were all stood listening outside, ears pressed to the kitchen door, in shock at the progressively stronger muggle cursing their father was using. Though all of them Ron, Ginny, Fred and George could understand the need for it. Fred and George had, had to pull Ron back, from going in to voice his own colourfully-worded opinion at Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge, when Madam Hooch had returned. She had launched into a very graphic description of everything she'd seen, magically altering her lungs, so she wouldn't have to pause for breath. She particularly lingered over Harry's protectiveness of Hedwig, and Uncle Vernon's violent reaction to this. She had described in painful detail, every kick, punch and glancing blow delivered to his already frail-looking form.

Ron, now had to wait, along with the others for Dumbledore to defend his position, in the current argument. He had always known that life with the Dursleys had not been particularly pleasant for Harry, it was just one of the reasons he was keen for his friend to stay in the holidays. But he had never imagined from Harry's apparently toned down description, that it was outright physical abuse. It made him feel sick to think about everything Harry had been through in the past year. First that stupid tournament, and as Ron felt very guilty about this, his own petty jealousy. Then there was everything that had happened when Harry was kidnapped by Lord Voldermort, now risen and thanks to the rather gruesome ceremony, that necessitated the use of Harry's blood, he could touch Harry now without fear of going the way of Professor Quirrel. And now his Uncle was hurting him, and from what Madam Hooch had described, he had been doing so since Harry's return.

Once again a steam of muggle expletives exited their father's mouth. And finally Dumbledore responded.

"Arthur, I know as well as anyone here what Harry has faced for years, though I will admit I had not dared hope it would ever become so bad. But as I have already told you, we cannot remove Harry from the Dursley's before he turns fifteen, to do so would...I am sorry, I cannot tell you more. We must wait, as much as it pains me so, we must wait."

A chorus of objections came from Mr & Mrs Weasley, Madam Hooch, and Bill. It seemed that only Cornelius Fudge was on Dumbledore's side. Everyone was talking at once, Mrs Weasley sounded as though she were close to tears, and then finally, the loud sound of someone banging their fist on the table, and the talking ceased. Fudge, who up until this point had remained silent, began to speak.

"I have been a fool. A few months ago, I was witness to the events of the Triwizard Cup. I saw the aftermath of You-Know-Who's resurrection. Cedric Diggory dead, Bartimus Crouch, Bertha Jorkins, how many more? Harry almost died that night, and yet I refused to believe. I could not and did not want to believe, that those dark times were coming again.

But when muggles and wizards alike started to disappear, some turning up in ditches and ..."

There was a pause as, though unseen by the children, Fudge shook his head, as though trying to shake the images from his mind.

"A few weeks ago, there were Deatheater sightings, and then Markus Ravencast was found dead in his home, the Dark Mark above it."

There was a collective gasp from everyone listening.

"The ministry covered it up of course, but seeing him .... it forced me to deal with what I had been told months before. I have seen his new handiwork, I think that there is much worse to follow. But the one thing I am sure of when it comes to ... him. Is that there is one young man he would follow to the ends of the Earth, and into the pits of Hell if it meant getting his revenge.

I know how you all feel when you hear that Harry's only blood relatives could treat him so badly, but to be blunt about it, what he suffers there is nothing compared to what will happen to him, if You-Know-Who gets a hold of him.

Now as hard as this is, Dumbledore has, this very day told me a great secret involving our young Mr Potter, one which I am now bound by oath to keep, though I am sure that within a few days you shall all be aware of it too. But I now know the reason Harry must never be removed from that house so close to the day of his birth. And that is a very good reason indeed.

Now all of you can shout at us as loud as you like, but if one of you even so much as speaks of Harry coming to the Burrow, before the arranged time, I will have you thrown into Azkaban faster than you can apparate there. Is that understood?"

There was a protracted silence, followed by the sound of chairs being pushed back. The Weasley children all moved quickly from the door, though they could still hear when Fudge said.

"Good, that's settled, now if you will excuse me, I have some important ministry business to attend to."

As he exited the kitchen, he looked down at Ron, who had stepped into his path.

"What could be more important than Harry?"

Fudge placed a heavy hand on Ron's shoulder, he sagged slightly under the weight. Fudge gazed around the room at the others, as if making it clear what he was about to say was for all of them too.

"I promise you Ron, someday you will understand, why we have made the decisions we've made. But not today."

And with that, he left. There was a brief whispered conference between Dumbledore and Mr +Mrs Weasley and Madam Hooch, after which it was announced he would be staying until Harry's arrival. For the first time, Ron looked upon the old wizard with neither respect or that little hint of fear in his eyes.

"How could you do this to him?"

Before Dumbledore could respond, a squawking caught everyone's attention. Pig had returned.

Ron hurried forward and detached the hastily bound letter from Pig's leg. The rest of the group gathered around, listening as he read aloud.

When he had finished there was a brief sob from Mrs Weasley who said through the tears,

"Oh he's so brave."

followed by Madam Hooch, who whispered softly,

"Their starving him, and he asks you to bring food for Hedwig."

Ginny burst into tears at this, and ran upstairs, closely followed by Bill. Fred and George were seething, muttering about giving the Dursleys their just desserts. Mrs Weasley made no attempt to stop them as they too, bolted up the stairs. A few moments later the sounds of things exploding could be heard through the ceiling. Mr Weasley put an arm around his still sobbing wife, leading her back into the kitchen to comfort her. Madam Hooch made her excuses, and left. That left Ron and Dumbledore.

Ron was staring, quite coldly at the older wizard, anger spreading beneath his skin.

Before a loud crash startled them.

The door had been swung open with such ferocity that it had almost come off it's hinges.

There, framed in the doorway, stood Hermione. Hair wild, and cheeks stained with tears. She said just two words.

"Where's Harry?"

~o0o~

Life could be awfully harsh sometimes, thought Harry. Having spent all night cramped into the tiny space under the stairs, and most of the day beforehand in there as well. Uncle Vernon had finally cottoned on that he'd hurt Harry too much, to make use of him in household chores. He'd been allowed out once, when Aunt Petunia had persuaded Vernon that Harry should go to use the bathroom. After all, he would start to smell the place up, and that certainly wouldn't be normal, would it?

Harry had shot her a grateful look, before he was shut into the bathroom for his 10 minute shower. He'd spent most of it, hissing in pain, as the hot water hit the open wounds on his body, though after a while, it began to soothe his aching muscles. A single experience he had enjoyed though, was using some of Aunt Petunias shampoo. It had occurred to him that his hair probably didn't look very nice after twenty+ hours in the cupboard. It smelled of Apples and Honey. It was kind of pretty, in fact it reminded him of Hermione. Except she always had that smell of old books about her too. Which Harry found rather endearing.

Having finished in the bathroom, he didn't pause to look in the mirror, he didn't really want to know what he looked like, he could guess.

He found Aunt Petunia stood in the hallway waiting for him, and before he could say a word, she'd shoved a large red apple into his hands, muttering about Uncle Vernon not trusting Harry not to run off if he was on his own. Harry quietly asked where he was, and Petunia, motioned to outside the house. So he quickly told her that he would be leaving tonight, with Ron. Relief flooded her face, she wished him luck, and he did the same. Then she did something that she'd never done before, she dipped down an kissed him on the forehead. it was so light and quick, that he could've dreamt it.

Silently she helped him down the stairs, and ushered him into the cupboard. Harry plopped down onto the bed, exhausted from his short excursion, he could hear Uncle Vernon asking if 'the boy' had given Aunt Petunia any trouble. She quickly answered 'no', there was a brief pause, in which Harry could imagine Uncle Vernon face screwing up in confusion, since this didn't mix with his set ideas about Harry.

Aunt Petunia quickly salvaged the situation, by reporting that Harry had, perhaps taken too long in the shower. After all he was a skinny boy, not likely her two manly men. Harry stifled a snicker, if manly constituted being grossly overweight, they could keep it. But this answer seemed to satisfy Uncle Vernon, who instead chose to complain about Harry no longer contributing to the household chores, and how lazy he was being. He continued on about how the garden needed mowing, and the windows needed cleaning, and how he should be out there doing the cooking, to save Aunt Petunia's delicate hands from being burnt by the fat from the frying pan. Harry really felt like shouting, that if they wanted something doing, they should do it themselves, but Uncle Vernon would probably have an aneurysm, and make it his dying wish that Harry never be allowed out of his cupboard, so he kept quiet.

There was a loud

"BOY!"

that seemed to resonate throughout his entire body, before his cupboard door was yanked open, and he was pulled roughly out.

"Now you might be too scrawny to do any man's work, but you can do the cooking and save your Aunt the trouble. If you do well enough, I won't have to take my belt to you, understand?"

Harry nodded glumly, though he wished he had just said 'yes', because he now felt dizzy. He was pulled into the kitchen, and steered towards the kitchen worktops, where the food laid already prepared. *Thank goodness for small miracles*.

He spent the next 25 minutes trying to cook the rather large fry-up. Dudley had managed to lose half a stone in the year, and a proud Uncle Vernon insisted on giving him the odd treat, so in fact, Dudley now looked even larger than he had last year. Something that upgraded him from a baby killer whale to an adolescent elephant. Harry was rather amused to see that he now required a large cushion to be placed across the seat to accommodate his vast buttocks, only one cheek of which would fit across the buckling chair.

Harry noted the time on the clock, six 'o'clock, only a few more hours to go!

"Where's my food? Daddy, make Harry cook faster!" Dudley whined.

"You heard him boy, bring him his food."

Harry looked into the frying pan, the bacon hadn't yet started to crisp up, and years of experience had taught him that this was how his Uncle and cousin liked it best, so that they could eat the fat off it too. The eggs still had a runny semi-clear goo on them.

"Bring them here now boy!" Uncle Vernon's voice had become dangerously low.

He looked back into the pan, sighed, and put the food on the plates. Which he then struggled to pick up, and carry. He was a little disappointed, after all he couldn't play Quadditch if he couldn't hold the snitch.

Shuffling along, he put the plates on the table in front of an eager looking Dudley and Vernon. Dudley's face fell almost immediately.

"Daddy, Harry didn't cook mine properly, he's trying to give me food poisoning!"

Uncle Vernon knew full well this wasn't the case, but the glint in his eye told Harry that he didn't much care.

"Trying to poison my boy, eh?" his voice was still dangerously low. He looked at his own plate.

"And me too by the looks of it. Tell me boy, which belt would you prefer?"

~o0o~

The Weasley men gathered around the fireplace, all with Floo powder ready in their hands.

"Are you sure about this Arthur dear? He did say in his letter that you shouldn't come through the fireplace again. What if they've had it blocked up since last year?" Mrs Weasley asked nervously.

"I know, but this is the fastest way there, short of apparating. And the less time I spend in that ... man's presence, the better."

He nodded in Bill's direction, who blew Floo powder into the fire, and shouted 'Potter's fireplace'. Mr Weasley followed, as did Fred and George. Just as Ron was about to go through, Dumbledore came into the living room, he gave Ron a small nod, as if to say 'bring him back', then he too, tumbled through the fireplace.

When Ron arrived on the other side, the scene before him was complete pandemonium. Bill and his father were shouting loudly at a petrified-looking Vernon, and gesturing so wildly with their wands, that red sparks were shooting out the end. Petunia was standing protectively in front of Dudley, who had his hands placed alternately on his bottom and over his mouth. Fred and George came ploughing back into the room from where ever they had just gone.

"He's not there, but we found his stuff in the attic." Fred said, brandishing Harry's firebolt, George did likewise, only he held up a very dirty and rumpled Hedwig, who seemed somewhat dazed.

"What did you do with him?" his father shouted at Vernon, who, for all his fear of the wizards, managed to crack a smug-looking smile. This enraged Bill, who leapt forward, dropping his wand, and attempted to put his hands around what could be identified as Vernon's neck. Dudley cried out in horror, and ran from behind a protective Petunia, as if to defend his father. When Ron stepped forward, wand held high, Dudley stopped, and covered his buttocks again.

That was when he noticed Petunia, now unseen by both husband and son, was gesturing wildly to the hallway, and mouthing the word 'cupboard'. She looked terrified, but not of the wizard who seemed so intent on strangling her husband, but rather of being seen by her husband.

Ron didn't need telling twice, nor did he stop to ponder why Petunia was helping them.

He rushed into the hallway, his father a step behind, and wrenched open the cupboard door.

Ron bent away from the sight that greeted him, and promptly threw up on the floor. He could hear his father whisper softly behind him,

"Oh God"

There were gasps from Fred and George as they ploughed into the hallway to take a look.

There, lying on a bed, huddled into himself, was Harry. He did not appear to be conscious, nor could anyone blame him. His back was towards them, he looked so painfully skinny and pale. His shoulder blades jutted out tellingly, bruises covered much of his body. And, more disturbing than the bruises, were the angry red belt marks, that zig-zagged across his back, so recent that they still bled.

There was some sort of high-pitched squeal from the other room, Dudley screaming, as a popping noise indicated the arrival of another wizard.

Mr Weasley ignored all that, as he removed his outer cloak, bent down, and wrapped it around Harry's unconscious form. Gently, he removed him from the cupboard. Holding him, Mr Weasley was shocked at how light he was. He needed no help to carry him into the living room, his son's were trailing behind him. Ron's face was red and puffy from tears, and the fact he had just vomited.

Vernon looked sickeningly proud, as he noticed the bundle in Arthur Weasleys arms. That look did not stay long, though if it did, no-one would be able to tell. As there was a popping sound, and where Vernon had once stood, there was now a fat-looking dung beetle.

On the other side of the room, wand held aloft, was Dumbledore. Though for a moment, Ron wondered if he had been possessed by You-Know-who. He looked angrier than Ron had even thought it to be within his capability. He realised now, why Dumbledore was the only wizard that You-Know-Who had ever feared.

Dumbledore moved forward, the whole room still, except for the whimpering of Dudley. The older wizard bent down, and scooped the Vernon-beetle up, and placed him into a container that he just happened to have handy. He looked to Petunia.

"Mrs Dursley, your husband is to be placed on trial for his crimes against Harry. When he is found guilty." he paused, and Petunia noticed how much empathise he had placed on the word 'when'.

"...it is likely that he will face a spell in prison. Do you understand?"

Petunia looked at Harry, and in her eyes, for all those who were looking, could be seen, great sadness, regret and empathy. Her gaze shifted to the box which contained the Vernon-bug. And her eyes flashed with anger, and some fear. Before she simply nodded,

"Good" Dumbledore muttered.

"Now, perhaps you would be so good as to tell me the time."

Petunia picked up Dudley's fat wrist, and read the time off his state-of-the-art digital watch.

"11.53"

"hmm, seven minutes left ... Ron, you and your brothers can return to the burrow if you like. We must remain here until midnight."

Ron looked at his father, and the precious bundle in his arms. Harry's arm slipped from Arthur's grasp, and dangled limply. As well as the bruises and cuts to his arms, there was a still livid red scar in the crook of his elbow. The scar was a clear, all too terrifying reminder of the night Voldermort was resurrected, and made it clear that Harry was number one on his 'to kill' list. Strange really, amongst everything else, it was barely noticeable.

Dumbledore moved to put Harry's arm back on his chest. Harry shifted momentarily, moving his head, and moaning softly, as though someone had simply disturbed his sleep.

It was enough to draw a few nervous smiles from the Weasleys. But once again he became deathly still.

"Please Mr Dumbledore, can we go now? Madam Pomfrey is waiting."

"I know Ron, but we must wait. Now go with your brothers."

The quartet trudged back to the fireplace, and headed home.

Ron was sure he could see Hermione hand reaching out to grab him, before he'd even exited the fireplace, back at the Burrow.

"Well, where is he? Is he alright? Why isn't he here yet? Are they behind you?"

"One question at a time Herm. Their still back there. Dumbledore says they got to wait 'til twelve, before they can leave."

"But Harry's alright, isn't he?"

She looked expectantly to each of the brothers faces. Her own fell, tears welled at the corners. Ron gently pushed her to the nearest chair, and sat her down.

The next ten minutes seemed to take an eternity to pass. Hermione just stared blankly, oblivious to Madam Pomfrey's attempts to get ready for Harry's arrival, with the help of Mrs Weasley and Bill. Ron stared at Hermione and the fireplace. The twins paced up and down, unable to keep still.

Finally, at 12.04am, four minutes into Harry's birthday, the glowing fire turned green, and three people emerged from the centre of it. One was Dumbledore, who now held an old-looking Staff in his hand. The other was Mr Weasley, who was still holding Harry in his arms. There was a collective gasp from everyone in the room. But Bill, who had already seen Harry, instead appeared to be transfixed on the staff Dumbledore was holding. It was a long shiny wooden staff, which looked like oak, ending in a massive dull-grey crystal, which had a criss-crossing network of rough-looking gold and bronze running across it, holding it in like a cage. There was a soft-glowing light being emitted from the very centre of it. It looked like the wire of a light bulb does, still glowing hot after the light has been switched off. Though it was slighter brighter in intensity, it looked a little like a fairy light.

"My God! Is that? It can't be! Dumbledore it's not the Staff of Gaia is it?"

Dumbledore nodded an affirmative. Before Madam Pomfrey regained her composure, and started barking orders at Arthur Weasley, and the others, whether it be to help, or just to stay out of her way.

She kept muttering to herself, as she tended to Harry, now on the kitchen table, which had been transformed into a hospital bed. Ron could hear snippets, from the words, Quirrel, to disappearing arms, dragons, Dementors and Cruciatus curses, which were interrupted on occasion as she barked another order. Ron started to feel uneasy, Madam Pomfrey was starting to look flustered, her muttering now inaudible but definitely worse, before finally she looked at Dumbledore, keeping her voice low, she said.

"He's bleeding inside, Albus, and there's only so much I can do. I need help, even I can't cope with all of this..." she gestured at Harry, "on my own."

Dumbledore seemed to consider this for a moment, before he wondered into the next room. He reappeared a short while later, holding the Staff of Gaia. He moved to Harry's side.

"Can you wake him Poppy?"

"Yes, but I'd rather not. He's very weak, and I think that he would be in too much pain if I did."

"Very well, I'll just have to try this while he's sleeping."

"Try what?"

But Dumbledore had already closed his eyes, it looked as though he were trying to meditate. Those in the room wore questioning looks on their faces, except for Bill and Mr Weasley, who seemed fascinated. As one of the twins started to ask Bill a question, but he immediately motioned for them to be quiet.

After a few minutes, sweat began to appear on Dumbledore's brow, and the fairy light within the crystal, was no longer a flickering amber, but a hot and golden light, filling about half the crystal, about the size of a tennis ball.

And then, without warning a long pale pink light started being emitted in waves, before it gathered at a single point on the crystal, and a beam of the pink light shot out, expanding before it hit Harry's chest. The Weasleys watched, transfixed on the sight before them. Waves of a darker pink were being emitted in pulses along the beam, they heard a few, distinct cracking noises, of what could only be bones being forced back together.

Then the light beam stopped, and the crystal faded to back to dull grey, though it seemed darker somehow, than it had before. Dumbledore stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. The Weasley's and Poppy immediately rushed to his side to help him, asking questions as they did so. Dumbledore did not answer however, simply accepting there help, before rushing to Harry's side, leaving the Staff in Bill's hands.

"Poppy, he should be better now"

Madam Pomfrey hesitated, and then moved to Dumbledore's side, muttering a spell, and pointed her wand at Harry. In that moment, Ron learned more than he ever wanted to know about the inner workings of his friend's anatomy.

"Albus, you did this? He's not bleeding anymore. And his bones aren't broken, how?"

"I'm afraid I could do no better, some of his ribs are still cracked and I couldn't heal his skin. There was too much work on the inside."

"Still, Albus, it is better than it was, there is no question of his surviving now, though he will still need months to recover."

Dumbledore nodded at this, took the Staff of Gaia from a reluctant Bill's hands, and said he needed to rest, before he left and went to the room that had been set aside for him.

Over the next few hours, Madam Pomfrey fussed over Harry, healing the remaining fractured bones, and most of his recent cuts, though she could do nothing about those which had already started to heal on their own for at least two weeks.

By the time she had finished, Harry looked a little less worse for wear. Still painfully skinny, covered in dark bruises of varying sizes, and pink marks from older cuts, in Ron's opinion he still looked like hell.

But Madam Pomfrey noted cheerfully that he had a little more colour in his cheeks -where they weren't marred by bruises- and he was no longer bleeding inside or out.

And so, Harry was carefully taken upstairs on a stretcher to Ron's room, and laid out equally carefully on the bed. Mrs Weasley regained the use of her kitchen table. And everyone agreed to watch over Harry in one hour shifts, until he woke up.

Ginny was the first volunteer.

~o0o~

A few hours later, after Mrs Weasley had made her way up to Harry's bedside, Hermione could contain her curiosity no longer, and asked Bill the question that had been playing on everyone's minds.

"Bill, what is the Staff of Gaia?"

Bill's face suddenly lit up, excited at the prospect of sharing his knowledge, which at this point was superior to his fathers. And everyone seemed surprised that Hermione didn't know about it. Bill looked at Mr Weasley, who nodded, as if giving permission and prompting him at the same time.

"The Staff of Gaia is probably one of the oldest examples of wand known to have been created. It was discovered by a powerful wizard in Ancient China, who gave it it's name. Gaia refers to the belief in certain fields, lines and energy hotspots that exist all around the Earth, as well as the Earth's own living energy. It's because of this description that we, mere mortals in magic, have an idea of what it does.

Staffs are something that could only ever be used by the most powerful wizards, because they are normally forged by Elves, or Dwarves or other magical beings, though they were all wiped out long ago. But the crystal at the top of the staff is what focuses the wizards magical power, and it also acts of some sort of eye to help see what the world really looks like.

The point being is that it takes a certain kind of wizard with a certain level of magical ability to even start to activate the Staff. That's why it was active when Dumbledore held it, but not when I did." Bill looked momentarily embarrassed at this, before he continued.

"But, and I probably shouldn't be telling you this, wizards are not as strong as they once were, nobody knows why exactly, but we started getting a lot weaker a few hundred thousand years ago after the Elves were wiped out. That's why we need a wand to use magic. Around ten thousand years ago some wizards started to try and make Staffs again, in the hopes that the old powers would return, and a few of those still exist today, we think the Staff of Gaia may be one of them.

Anyway, only a strong wizard could even think about working the Staff. The last time the Staff was known to be active, and I mean really active, was in Merlin's presence. This was his Staff. Now I know that Dumbledore is a powerful wizard, but even his power can only make the Staff slightly active..."

"Something I do not begrudge it at all."

Bill turned at the interruption, Dumbledore was in the doorway, holding the Staff in one hand, Still looking tired.

Ron looked at the staff, somehow he almost expected to see 'property of Merlin' stamped across it somewhere.

As soon as Dumbledore's bottom reached his seat, Hermione began to bombard him with questions about the Staff, and why he had brought it back from Harry's families home. Dumbledore looked a little bemused, but said nothing until Hermione had run out of breath. Which, as anyone who has to study with her on a regular basis knows, is quite a long time.

"Now, now Miss Granger, I can answer some of your questions, but not all.

As William was saying, the last wizard whose presence that this Staff was active in, well considerably more than myself, was Merlin. Any documentation that we have about this Staff, tells us, that whenever Merlin touched the Staff, it would immediately glow a warm amber light. This light was throughout the entire crystal, not just the inner core. Now it used to be believe that any wizard who was quite strong, magically, could work a Staff, but what they did not realise was, that they also needed to be of the right mind. The Staff's true potential can only be unlocked by a witch or wizard that it chooses to be it's master. A normal wizard might be able to use the Staff like a wand, but nothing more. But those who have power, and the staff could choose to be it's master, it would help to bring all the magical energies together to flow through it, instead of around it. This is where it's power lies and why they are so highly sort after.

When Merlin died, the Staff disappeared, no one had any idea where it was, and it was considered to be one of the greatest losses of magical artefacts ever. But, around fifteen and a half years ago, James Potter found it. Found it in a muggle antique shop no less. He knew what it was, because as with any fairly powerful wizard, it glowed slightly when he touched it. Of course he contacted the ministry straight away, and a group, including myself, were despatched to collect it.

But in the time it took us to get there, Lilly, Harry's mother had become curious, and wanting to see if would glow slightly with her too, she touched it. When she did, it glowed a warm amber light, just how the history books tell us it did with Merlin.

When the ministry members and myself arrived, James asked us if he and Lilly could keep the Staff, due to what had just happened, he felt that his wife must be a pretty powerful witch. But, naturally the ministry members were sceptical, and asked to see it for themselves, but when Lilly touched it this time, it flickered only faintly, the officials thought that they had made it up, and where going to take it away, when I asked them to give her another chance, I knew they wouldn't lie about such a thing.

The second time she touched it, the same thing happened, just a flickering of light, until the wood of the Staff touched her stomach. It began to glow, just like they said it had, you see it was because at the time, Lilly was 5 months pregnant with Harry.

At once we realised that, Lilly and James son, would probably be the most powerful wizard born in almost two thousand years.

When Harry was born, and we got him to touch the Staff on his own for the first time .... well, lets just say that young Mr Potter, could probably flatten Merlin."

Mouths dropped at the last remark, well at all of it really. When Hermione asked her next question, for once, Dumbledore wished that she wasn't so clever.

"You-Know-Who found out didn't he? That's why he killed Harry's parents, and tried to kill Harry as well."

"Not entirely."

"Well, why else would he...?"

"Because Miss Granger, he believed that he could use the Staff. And though Harry is powerful, none of us could ever guess just how powerful Lord Voldermort really was. He heard that Harry, only a baby could activate the Staff, though he didn't know just how much, he automatically saw him as a threat, so he tried to kill him, I'm afraid that for him, Lilly and James were just a bonus. He never knew, that the Staff was only truly active in Harry's presence."

"Wow, does that mean that Harry's like, the most powerful wizard who ever lived?" Fred enquired.

"That must be why he could beat off You-Know-Who!" George added.

"Wait a minute, I hate to sound cynical..." all the men in the room rolled their eyes as Hermione spoke, "...but if Harry is so powerful, why couldn't he have flattened his Uncle every time he tried to hurt him? For that matter, why couldn't he just go beat You-Know-Who now?"

"Because Miss Granger, things are rarely as uncomplicated as they first appear. Now, Mrs Weasley, I was wondering if you had any of your delicious pumpkin pie left?"

~o0o~

The next morning, at breakfast, the Weasleys, joined by Hermione and Dumbledore discussed everything that had happened the night before. The twins wanted to know when the trial of Uncle Vernon would be, which reminded Dumbledore that he still had Vernon in a box, though he wasn't quite sure where he'd put the box. When Bill slipped downstairs from watching Harry, in order to get some breakfast, well more like a brunch now, he too, was soon drawn into the conversation. Half an hour later he was still there, discussing the theories about the Staff with Dumbledore, Hermione hanging on their every word.

Unfortunately, this meant that, the one thing they had been guarding against, ever since Harry's arrival at the Burrow, him waking up alone, had just happened.

~o0o~

Harry was dreaming. It was dark, but not so dark that a shadow could not be seen. He could only make out faint outlines of the room he was in, but it was enough to know that it wasn't his old room at the Dursleys or his cupboard. But something that he could see, and feel was wooden bars in front of him, penning him in like a cage. The bars were so big, that he could put is entire hand around them, but still not have a proper grip on it. There was a still silhouette of a bird high above him, wings out, and he was sure there was something the shape of a broom up there too.

He suddenly felt hungry, and for some reason that became his all consuming thought. And then even more bizarrely, he felt that the best course of action to rectify the situation, would be to cry. So he did.

As he opened his mouth, and started to cry, he became aware that he wasn't just crying tears, but emitting high-pitched wailing noises, he sounded a lot like a baby crying, and now that he was crying, he could not stop. He felt like a few minutes had passed, and then he could hear a familiar woman's voice, soft and low, saying quite sleepily 'Lumos'.

It was then that Harry saw a beautiful red headed woman in the room. It was his mother. And he also realised that he wasn't quite himself, he was trapped inside the body of a baby. His mother moved towards him, yawning and muttering,

"What is it Harry, you hungry?" he noticed that his wailing intensified, until she picked him up out of the cage that was actually a cot, and held him. Harry no longer felt the need to cry, as his mother rocked him gently, rubbing his back. The baby who's body he was trapped in closed his eyes for a moment, stifling a yawn. When he opened them again, and looked across Lilly's shoulder, into a mirror on the wall, he saw a baby with messy black hair and brilliant green eyes looking back at him. But in the corner of the room, just along from the mirror, there was a strange looking Staff leaning against a wall. It had a long and twisted piece of shiny wood, with a crystal mounted on the top. His little baby fist reached out towards it, and it began to glow.

Harry woke with a start, aware only, that at the moment he was in some pain. Though it was no longer the hot stabbing pains that it had been when he'd first got them, but rather a dull heavy ache, that differed in intensity across his body. He peaked an eye open, expecting to see nothing but the blackness of his cupboard in front of him, but instead, he saw a shocking montage of orange coloured posters, with little men on broomsticks flying around at a furious rate. He cracked his other eye open. One of the Picture Quadditch players, suddenly noticed he was awake. He stopped, mid-Wronski Feint, and pointed at Harry. All the other players stopped and looked at him too. A cheerful look on their faces. Then it clicked.

*I'm in Ron's room!*

Moving gingerly, he pulled back the bed sheets, and swung his legs over the edge. All the while thinking,

*Please don't let this be a dream.*

He was wearing some baggy pyjama bottoms that were a few inches too short, and one of the jumpers with a large 'H' on the front, that had been knitted by Mrs Weasley for a Christmas gift.

He noticed, quite quickly that he was hungrier than he'd ever been in his life. His stomach was growling loudly in protest, and like in his dream, Harry thought that he'd better do something about it, though crying wasn't it.

He went out the door of Ron's room, and set off down the stairs, all the while repeating his mantra,

*Please don't let this be a dream." to himself.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he could hear two voices distinctly through the door to the living room and kitchen. One was Bill and the other was Dumbledore. They were discussing something, and the words Merlin, Staff of Gaia and Harry were popping up frequently. Feeling that perhaps this was a conversation he should be present for, rather than listen to them talking about him, he opened the door, and was greeted with nine shocked faces. He was sure that if he understood the facial movements of owls and dogs, both Hedwig and 'Snuffles', would be looking shocked too.

"HARRY!" something squealed and flung itself at him, encircling him in a vice-like hug. His first instinct was to fight them off, but his second told him not to be so stupid, as it was only Hermione.

Then a third instinct kicked in, saying 'this is kinda nice, can we stay like this?' Harry tried to shake off this 3rd, clearly insane instinct, but gave up and hugged Hermione back. There was the sound of shuffling, as everyone in the room got up and moved to surround the hugging pair. Then a friendly voice said,

"Ger'off him Herm, you'll crush him to death!"

Hermione backed off, and immediately started wiping her face with her sleeves. Ron stared at Harry for a moment, before he too, rushed forward and pulled him into a hug, only for a moment, a kind of 'blink and you'll miss it' show of emotion. Then he stood back, blushing a furious red. In a few minutes Harry had been steered to the most comfortable seat in the kitchen, sat down, and had a large plate, piled high with pancakes, toast and fruit put in front of him. People were asking him how he felt, before they were admonished by Mrs Weasley, telling them not to ask such a stupid question. Harry noted, with some curiosity, that most of them were staring at him with a mixture of concern, compassion and awe on their faces. He was used to seeing these emotions when people looked at him, but not all together, and certainly not the latter on the faces of the Weasley family, well with the exception of Ginny.

Snuffles moved up beside him, there seemed to be a great deal of sadness in his eyes, which he then tried to show by placing his front paws on Harry's lap and whining slightly. Only to retract them, as though burned, when Harry hissed in pain.

"Someone take the dog outside" said Mr Weasley.

Snuffles backed off, and looked with determination at Dumbledore and barked. Dumbledore sighed.

"Very well, if you must."

And in an instant, in place of Snuffles, was a raggedly looking Sirius, Harry's godfather.

There was a scream from Ginny, when her father uttered 'Sirius Black' and pulled out his wand, closely followed by his sons, except for Ron. Harry quite quickly leapt to block the path of any curses that might be aimed in his godfather's direction, and said,

"Don't hurt him, he's my godfather!"

"But Harry, he killed..." Arthur Weasley began,

"No he didn't, Peter Pettigrew did that. Please if you don't believe me, ask your wife or Ron or Hermione, and Dumbledore, they know he didn't do it!"

The men lowered their wands, a little uncertainly. Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, and Mrs Weasley quickly took them to one side and began to explain.

Harry felt a hand drop onto his shoulder, which was quickly removed when he flinched. Sirius walked around to Harry's front, and knelt down slightly to face him. He looked him over for a minute, before saying, quite quietly,

"God Harry, if I'd have known ... if I'd had any idea just how ... if I ever see your Uncle again, I'll ..." he sighed "You don't look so good."

"Hey. Your not exactly going to win Witches Weekly award for the best looking man of the year, yourself!"

Then Sirius did something he didn't do that often. He laughed.

"No, I suppose your right."

The others finished their conversation. Mr Weasley and Bill still looked a little uneasy, battling against fourteen years of disinformation. Harry supposed it was a bit like asking them to believe that Voldermort was really the Easter Bunny. Harry snickered as the mental image of Voldermort with large Bunny ears, and buck teeth, came hopping into his head.

"What's so funny?" Sirius asked him softly.

"Nothing, doesn't matter."

Sirius stood up, and went to shake Mr Weasley's hand.

"I hear you've been taking good care of my godson."

"Well he's been like a part of the family, so we do our best."

"And I thank you for that."

At that moment the air was cleared and no longer hostile, people shuffled back to get a seat. Mrs Weasley started magicking up more food, mixing breakfast and lunch foods, since it was now about one in the afternoon. Harry ate so much, he felt like he might explode. Every time he managed to clear his plate, Mrs Weasley would put another in front of him, and he would realise that everyone was staring at him, so he tucked in again, clearly he was supposed to eat until he put a few stone on. When everyone else had finished eating, a happy chatter broke out, mostly about Quadditch. Though Hermione and Ginny were comparing notes on a muggle author called Janet Evanovich. Apparently Ginny was worried that the books were an accurate portrayal of muggle life.

After his fourth helping, Harry could eat no more, and tried to politely refuse the next plate full of food from Mrs Weasley. When that didn't work, Harry had to become slightly more forceful in his tone, making him worry that he'd hurt her feelings. But if he had, she recovered quickly, and offered him a coffee, which he quickly accepted. And was pleased to see a smile on her face once again.

The happy chatter, abruptly fell to silence however, when Harry turned to Dumbledore and asked what the Staff of Gaia was.

"It's just that ... I heard someone mention it as I came down the stairs."

Not for the first time since he arrived at the Weasley's, Dumbledore sighed. Taking out his wand, he muttered 'Accio' and turned to Harry.

"What I'm about to have you do will seem unusual, but don't be afraid, all will become clear in time."

And, with perfect timing, the Staff shot into the room, and lowered into a vertical position above the floor in the middle of the room, as though being held up by invisible string.

Harry stared in shock.

"I know that!" he exclaimed.

"I saw it in a dream, but the crystal was glowing."

Dumbledore smiled at him, while the others just stared.

"I'm sure it did."

"You remembered it in a dream?" Hermione enquired.

"Yeah. I was a baby, I remember crying, my ... my mum came into the room and put the light on. When she picked me up, I could see the Staff over her shoulder. I reached out my hand and the crystal started to glow."

There was a gasp from Ginny, while the twins exchanged knowing looks.

"What is it? What's going on?"

"Perhaps Harry, it would be best if I showed you." Dumbledore motioned for Harry to come forward. So he did. A little tired of the guessing games he'd been playing since his first year at Hogwarts though. He stood a little away from Dumbledore and the Staff, aware that everyone's eyes rested solely on him. It was like the first day of term, of a new year, and being introduced to all the new students.

"Now Harry, if you would pick up the Staff please."

Harry looked at the Staff, for no reason at all, he felt that to do what Dumbledore asked, would be to do something he could never go back on. But he didn't think that Dumbledore would ever ask him to do any thing dangerous, so tentatively, he reached a hand out. The moment he did so, he suddenly felt as though he were being pulled toward it, as though it were a magnet, and Harry were a pin. The world began to fall away, he felt like he was being pulled, not only to the Staff, but higher. As his hand got closer still, heat shot through his palm, sparks of blue flew between the Staff and his hand, like the Staff was waking from a long-dormant sleep, and then, the moment his skin brushed the surface of the oak Staff,

CRACK!!

The sound of lightening striking, sounded heavily in his ears, and he was blinded by a hot, bright, white light, that was emanating from the crystal. There was a distant sound of someone screaming, but Harry could barely hear it above the roar of the wind that rushed in his ears, and he was being pulled, higher and higher still. There was something out there, something in place he was being pulled to. Warmth and knowing, he could feel it. It began to fill his veins, his very blood, and he felt like he were burning, and the fire that lit him was magic. Magic in its purest form, whole and complete. He felt like a great gap in his life were suddenly being filled. No longer was he being blinded by white light, but he could see beams and funnels of shimmering lights, cutting and intersecting one another. Blues and pinks, yellows and greens, and mists of glowing amber/yellow light filled every space, the coloured ones travelling in lines. It was like a great map was being laid out inside his mind. Knowledge was being pushed, pulled and squeezed into every corner of his brain. Memories, long forgotten, and more recent, were being poured into him, laughter, smiling faces, Sirius, Lupin, his parents and a dozen others. The memory of being cradled by his father, high up in the air on a broomstick. A scream, then green light, and all was quiet for a little while. Then terrible pain.

Darkness, the cupboard, a belt, and laughter, low and cruel.

Then more laughter, only this time, it was soft and feminine, and happy. Hermione.

There was another great

CRACK!!

followed by a

SNAP!!

The colours and the lines, they were all flowing through him now. Into him, not just around him like they were supposed to. Heat surged into the palm of his free hand, it had to get out, the heat was almost unbearable, and Harry let it.

Then he felt nauseous, drained, the world pulling him back down, the colours and lights, memories and the knowledge were still up there, high, waiting for him to return. But now he was being pulled back down, being pulled back, because he thought numbly, as the world began to fade to black, he was about to lose consciousness.

~o0o~

As Harry and the Staff in his hand fell to the floor, every person in the room felt as though a great power had just brushed passed them. Looking open-mouthed, at the unconscious form of a fifteen year old boy, with rumpled black hair, and round glasses, he looked so terribly frail, like he might snap at any moment. It was hard to believe that he could have just done what he did, except the evidence was all around them.

Madam Pomfrey was the first to take the initiative, that even Dumbledore had forgotten, and checked Harry's pulse.

"He's weak. It was too soon Albus. I know he's a powerful wizard, but it was still too soon. He needs more time."

"I know Poppy, I'm sorry, but he had to know."

Then Dumbledore magicked a stretcher for Harry to be out on. Then took a large piece of cloth, and wrapped it around his hand, and pulled the still hot, smoking Staff from it's place beside Harry.

For a few minutes all anyone could think to do was find a seat. Dumbledore and Poppy left the room with Harry and the Staff.

The Weasleys, Hermione and Sirius looked around, noting the numerous changes in their environment, the most notable, was the fact that the light coming through the kitchen windows, was no longer a dull grey (a usual in British summertime.), but bright and warm, because the sun had come out, and it was no longer raining.

Every break, every line, every imperfection of the Weasley house was no longer present. Everything had a newly bought quality about it, including the way it gleamed as the light fell on it.

Fruit in the bowl on the kitchen table was once again fresh and plump. Even the clothes they wore were crisp and neat. Sirius had, had patches and frayed edges on his robes, and though the patches remained, the frayed edges had been neatened. And Sirius himself, looked like he'd finally had a decent shower.

Hermione kept touching her hair, now silky smooth, with waves, and a few ringlets falling about her face.

Bill was the first to speak, mentioning that an olds scar, a reminder of a less than co-operative Gringotts customer, had disappeared. This led to people checking for various scars of their own. Mr Weasley was the first to announce one of his own had disappeared, not only that, but a slight arthritis in his lower back was now gone.

The flowers in the vase looked as though they had been freshly picked, and were not the week and half old that they really were.

"Even I never realised. I'm his Godfather, and even I never realised just how powerful he is."

"That was ..." Fred started.

"... really cool." George finished.

As everyone began talking, reflecting upon what Harry had done, and discovered that all of them had felt the same presence of a great power, Hermione sat there, numb.

She replayed the scene in her mind. Harry had begun to reach out, blue sparks shooting between him and the Staff. When he had touched it, there was a loud sound, like a lightening strike. And then the crystal atop the Staff, seemed to almost explode with a brilliant white light, tendrils and wisps of light and energy swirled around the crystal, Harry's eyes glazed over, like he wasn't really there anymore. Ginny had screamed, and the air in the room began to move violently, and tornado-like around Harry.

Then his free-hand had shot out, the palm glowing as hot and as bright as the crystal. Harry blinked, as if aware of something else, and then the light had flown out of his hand, in a long beam, that expanded to fill the room, getting brighter and hotter still, until they were almost blinded by it. As the light began to subside, they noticed the changes almost immediately.

But from what Hermione could hear the others describing, no-one else seemed to be focusing on the memories of Harry's that had been flashed into her mind. Terrible, awful things, that nobody should see. Darkness, pain, but worst of all, was how Harry had been made to feel his whole life. Unwanted, unloved, worthless and without any kind of value, and then to suddenly find out, that you are something valuable indeed. But because of this, you need to be kept under lock and key, safely tucked away, because a psychotic, all-powerful wizard wants you dead.

Then a possibility occurred to Hermione.

"How do we tell Harry that we've seen his memories?"

Seven blank faces looked at her.

"What do you mean, seen his memories?" Sirius said, moving to sit more closely.

"His memories, you know, the part during all of ... that, when his memories got inside your head."

Sirius looked around at the others, and then back to Hermione.

"No Hermione, we don't know. Are you saying that you saw some of his memories?"

"Well yes. I thought that we all had."

"What did you see?" George interrupted.

"You didn't see him fight You-Know-Who? did you?" Fred added.

"Fred and George, don't you dare ask such a thing. It's bad enough that, that poor boy has to go through things like that, he doesn't need you two asking about it, just to full fill your own morbid fascination" Mrs Weasley scolded. The twins looked downcast.

But Sirius took her hand in his, and said.

"Can you tell me what you saw, Hermione? Harry might be my Godson, but there are things that ... things that, I think he doesn't tell even me. Please Hermione, what did you see?"

~o0o~

The rest of the summer holidays past by in a blur for Harry. Dumbledore had not allowed him anywhere near the Staff of Gaia again, and had asked him to keep the actual experience to himself for now. He had also promised, that the next year at school, he would be getting extra help, to work with the Staff, and build up his own strength as well.

This was something Mrs Weasley contributed to, by handing Harry vast portions at every sitting. And the minute he had some sign of strength, he was roped into Quadditch matches with the Weasley men. Hermione showed she cared by making him study whenever she bumped into him. And if he didn't know better, he could have sworn that she was blushing when she looked at him.

Ginny seemed even more star struck than usual around him. Though for the first time, Harry mused, there actually seemed like there was a good reason for Ginny's behaviour.

The day before Harry and the others were due to return to Hogwarts, Harry dared to look into the bathroom mirror for the first time since his arrival. He was still a little to skinny for his age, though he knew that he must have put on at least a stone since his arrival, thanks to Mrs Weasley's good cooking. His hair was still an unruly mess, and as usual, it never really grew beyond a certain length, past his scar, but above his eyes. And he was lucky, facially, not to have suffered a broken nose or jaw, instead he had only his lightening shaped scar, and a few fading bruises. But his eyes seemed to reflect a certain change in him.

To Harry they had acquired the look of someone who had been forced to grow up fast. Hermione had once started to say something about his eyes reflecting a certain aura of power, before she had blushed and left the room quickly.

One significant event though, was that, after being unconscious for about 37 hours after activating the Staff, when he'd woken up, Harry was told, by Sirius, that he'd made a few changes, during his venting of magic. Which was a surprise to him, as he'd barely given it a thought. But these changes had reverted back to their original state after about 26 hours, all except one. Hermione's hair.

Harry was at a loss to explain it, until Sirius had taken him gently into another room, and told him that Hermione had experienced some of Harry's memories. Once again, Harry was at a loss to explain it. Until Sirius, smiling, had said that maybe Harry had found his Lilly.

Though he had been quick to dismiss this theory, to the still smiling Sirius. Harry had found himself thinking about it. He couldn't feel that way about her, especially as he was pretty sure that Ron had a crush on her. And Sirius calling Hermione, Harry's Lilly, implied that the kind of feelings that had been between Harry's parents. Which was most definitely love. And well, Harry was fifteen, Love, marriage and all that stuff, wasn't something he'd given a great deal of thought about. Staying alive to reach his next birthday was usually his only goal, and that was proving difficult enough.

On the other hand, one thing Harry knew he felt about Hermione was embarrassment. She had after all, experienced some of his memories. Sirius had promised that she had described them only to him, but still, knowing that she was carrying a part of him in her head, and he didn't know which parts, he found somewhat unsettling. If anything he thought that he might be blushing around her now. And he was quite sure that Ron would start to notice soon. And after the last six months Harry had, had, he didn't want to go losing Ron's friendship again. So Harry had made up his mind to ignore anything other than friendly feelings for Hermione. And see how things played out between her and Ron.

With any luck, he'd see Cho Chang, the minute he got through Hogwarts gate, and wouldn't look twice at Hermione. Even with the absence of buck teeth, the now glossy hair, and the fact she was becoming a young woman.

Harry took another look in the mirror, faintly disgusted at the number of scars his body seemed to have acquired, luckily most of them were on his back, a part of his body that Harry didn't think was likely to get shown very often. Unless Hogwarts had added swimming lessons to the timetable. Maybe he should ask Hermione, she'd probably know.

He finished up in the bathroom, and returned to the living room, the whole house was buzzing, as people were readying to go to school. Harry had taken the precaution of packing yesterday in a spare hour, so he was avoiding the usual rush. Mrs Weasley then held him up as an example of how to do things.

Two things caught his attention as he entered the living room. One was Hermione, sitting in a patched and frayed old chair, reading 'Hogwart's - A history' for what must have been at least the eighth time. And the other was a long wooden box, it looked like a muggle briefcase, except for the fact that it was about 6ft long, wooden and had magical locks on it.

He still felt a strange buzzing whenever he was near it. He longed to hold the Staff in his hand once again. But he'd been told by Dumbledore and Madam Pofrey, that under no circumstances was he to touch the Staff until he got to Hogwarts. And even then, only under strict supervision. As they reminded him, he was to weak to use it, without making himself unconscious more permanantly.

Hermione glanced up at him, and as usual they both blushed.

"Packed?" he enquired. She nodded. Harry picked up the nearest book, sat down, opened it, and freinged an interest in it's contents.

It was only five minutes later, that the sound of someone trying to stifle their laughter, did he dare to look over the rim of the book.

Hermione quickly put 'Hogwart's - A history' in front of her face. But the book shook, as she tried, quite unsucessfully, to stop laughing.

"What?"

She lowered her book, and smirked at him.

"Good book?"

"Yeah it's very interesting."

Hermione exploded with laughter.

"What?"

Harry finally looked at the front cover of his book.

"Madam De La Fads' Guide to the perfect hemline & 101 ways to create a seamless cloak."

Harry burst into laughter himself.

"Well I was thinking of becoming a dress maker."

And they laughed again, strain and embarressment of the last few weeks forgotten. Just as well really, Harry would muse later that year. Because things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

~o0o~