Well, you've all waited, wondered, and some have outright demanded... we find out the resolution of the last book's cliffhanger! (YAY!)... anyway... two quick things, REVIEW! OM NOM NOM! my inbox is drastically low right now, and it wearies me! secondly, don't get comfortable with weekly updates, I'm leaning towards every other week and cycling between stories for flavor and ease of mind as I write. Hopefully I'll put a nice buffer between where I'm writing and where I'm posting and then be able to bump it back to weekly, but right now I am not comfortable with that yet. We shall see. anyways, enjoy!

F.

Chapter One

Gifts

"Incendio!" Severus said, as his first tear in nearly thirteen years slipped down his face.

The wood on which Faykan Undol's casket was laid ignited, the flames spreading quickly over the oil coating the timber of Faykan's funeral pyre. The pair of House elves beside Severus burst into tears again, wailing as the flames crept over their master's coffin. The wooden coffin quickly burned away, revealing the boy's body, appearing to almost be sleeping amidst the raging inferno.

But…

Severus blinked, convinced he was seeing things. The fire that was charring the wood and singing the clothing around Undol was not consuming his body. If anything, it was weaving around him, forming a cocoon of red orange fire around the boy's corpse.

Then suddenly, several things happened at once. Firstly, a powerful burst of magic sounded from the north, back towards Britain, as strong as the Dark Lords, but different, lighter and sharper, but not quite as refined or focused as Dumbledore's. Then a bellowing bird cry came from the west. Severus whipped around so fast he felt a crick in his neck. Something massive was flying toward the tower upon which he stood. A trail of flames soared behind it, painting the sky in reds, yellows and oranges.

It was a Firebird, large as the muggle plane, with the same vivid plumage as a phoenix, which was natural, as they were near relations. The massive bird cried out again, strong and majestically. And Severus felt his heart lighten. Something nearly unheard of was happening. Firebirds were said to be extinct, their race hunted down for their feathers to be used in ancient wands.

As the Firebird swooped over the pinnacle of the tower, Severus saw it dig its golden beak into a wing, tearing out a huge golden feather, and release it. The feather drifted down upon a small breeze as the bird rose into the air, and with a screech, exploded into a torrent of ash and dust. Severus watched in awe and dismay as the feather drifted downward among the remains if the mighty bird. The feather touched down, directly over Faykan's now bare chest, amidst the magical flames and ashes. The fire swirled anew, and Severus gasped. Faykan stirred, drawing a deep intake of breath as life was suddenly poured back into him.

Currents of wind surged around, seemingly from nowhere, and lifted Undol from the pyre, billowing the tattered and charred remains of his robes around him and turning him in midair to land gently on his feet upon the tower in front of Severus, the Firebird feather clutched in his hands. The boy's eyes were burning with blinding white fire, and Severus could feel the warmth and depth of them, the pure understanding that poured from the orbs.

The pyre died, the flames diminished, but the radiance endured. It took Severus several moments to realize that the light was emanating from Faykan himself, an untainted light that removed all darkness, all sorrow, all pain. It was inspiring, it was enlightening, and Severus could no more stop the tears that poured from his face then command the sun to rise.

He knelt, bowing his head before the greatness and power that flowed from Faykan like sunlight. And then Faykan spoke, and his voice was deep as the mountain's roots, yet light as the highest cloud, "alkar a' i' valar i' kalina en' ron mool ten'oio putta i' du!" [1] Severus felt, more than heard the words, singing over the surrounding forest, hovering on the wind. "Ónen i-Estel Edain." [2]

"Faykan?" Severus asked in a hoarse whisper. Faykan looked down at him confused, as though eh only just noticed him.

"Faykan?" he asked in return, confusion on his face. Severus felt the boy press into his mind, bypassing every defense as he sought out the name and its meaning. Only after several seconds did recognition dawn on him, "That's what they used to call me," he said, more to himself than to Severus, "Faykan Undol…" he smiled at Severus, a warm smile that coursed through the air and enveloped Severus in the love that the boy felt for him.

The boy spread his arms wide, and Severus took no time springing to embrace the child, the child who seemed now to be older than time itself. "How can this be?" Severus said, stifling himself from weeping in joy any further. "I do not know Sev, the last I recall of my old memories was when darkness and death took me. I strayed out of thought and time afterward… The stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long as a life age of the earth… But it was not the end. I have been called back, called back by those whom I love, and I shall not leave you again… not until my task is finished."

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Albus felt the blast of magic as he sat in the Headmaster's study in Hogwarts, reading over several reports from Order members. The windows rocked with the force of the magic, and Albus leapt to his feet, wand in hand. Then he relaxed, it was only Harry. After seeing Harry break the final wards containing his magic, Albus knew it was only a matter of time before the boy became aware of his power, however, as long as Albus left him in the dark for now, and with Faykan Undol dead and out of the way, Harry would be simple to mould into the tool required to fight Voldemort.

Far more important right now was the protection of the two prophecies regarding the boy, and deflecting Voldemort's attempts to steal them out of the Department of Mysteries. Albus had organized the old crowd from the first war, and set them about several important tasks, watching Harry, guarding the prophecies, gathering allies and spying on the Death Eaters. It would not be an easy start to this second war, as before they had Ministry support. But Cornelius, ever the ignorant fool, was taking every step to prevent people from even considering the idea that Voldemort had returned, even to the point of slandering Albus and Harry, and dishonoring the death of Faykan as some sort of tragic accident.

Albus felt a twinge of regret at the boy's death; he would have been an incredibly powerful ally. But alas, he proved too wild to tame, and Voldemort got to him first, so Albus would have to simply do without the boy's brilliant mind and tremendous skills. He settled down to read Arabella's report on the preparations to watch Harry, when he was startled by a second, far more powerful resonating blast of magic, far from the south east, echoing and reverberating seeming from everywhere. Albus could sense the rise of a new Lord. Every powerful witch and wizard for miles could probably feel the magic, but only a select few, like Albus, could hear the voice of the new Lord within the magic, pledging their declaration, whether it be for their own devises, as Voldemort had, or to the welfare of all mankind, like Albus.

"Ónen i-Estel Edain!" [2]

'So... A new Light Lord had come forth.' Albus thought. Few still remembered the old words of the departed elves. Even the Lords and Ladies who understood and could speak them refused to, as the words were powerful, and if used liberally, could be dangerous for mortals. But every Lord spoke the words at least once, during the comming of their full power, which could either be at magical maturity, or in the face of trama. Albus' remembered his own, right on the edge of his great duel with Gellert. Shaking his head to free himself from his own memories, Albus pondered the new development.

Perhapes he could enlist this new Lord to assist him with Voldemort, Albus thought. He immediatly began drafting a letter, glancing up a few times at Fawks to think of how best to phrase his missive.

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Voldemort started at the blast of magic, heralding a new Lord attaining his power. The sound of his voice rang around the fortress cave he had prepared years ago, before his fall. "Ónen i-Estel Edain." [2] the voice roared, deafening Voldemort, as the Declaration to the Light poured forth from the magic. The Death Eaters stirred, feeling the magic but not hearing what had disturbed their Lord.

"My Lord?" Nott said hesitantly. Voldemort scowled at him, causing the man to quail backward. The Dark Lord Voldemort would deal with this new upstart in his own time, after he had ensured that he would live forever. Harry Potter must die before anything else. But to accomplish this, Voldemort needed the prophecy. He must know why the boy continued to survive after three different attempts on his life.

Severus, ever his faithful spy, had attested to the fact that Dumbledore's Order was working diligently to prevent him or his servants any access to the Department of Mysteries, as well as following those they suspected of being in his service, and attempting to thwart his gathering of allies, such as the werewolves and the giants. But their pitiful attempts would not hinder the Dark Lord. In the end, he would emerge victorious. Of this end Voldemort had little doubt.

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Severus struggled to keep up with Faykan's strides as the boy moved from room to room in the Tower, collecting items and talking aloud to himself as much as to Severus. "There is great many tasks now to be done, and precious little time to do them…" he paused, placing a hand to his head, and Severus was able to catch up to him, "Faykan, you must rest right now, I have no idea how much magic you've gained, but the amount you've used must have been enormous…"

"There's no time!" Faykan shouted, but even as he protested, he sank to his knees in exhaustion. Severus seized the boy by the upper arm and hefted him back to his feet, allowing Faykan to rest his weight on Severus as they walked back to the bedrooms. "Severus," Faykan said weakly as he was helped into the large black sheeted bed, "you must help me; I need to get back to Hogwarts this year, without Dumbledore realizing that I'm still alive. Harry needs me, now more than ever…"

"Of course Faykan, of course I'll help you. But for now, rest, you must regain your expended magic before we can do anything. You have the whole summer to plan and prepare." Severus said, placating the boy so that he would stop trying to overtax himself.

Faykan nodded finally, "Yes, of course your right, Severus, I'm no use to anyone if I allow magical exhaustion to take me." And he settled down, allowing Severus to guide him to his room and settle him against the pillows, pulling the covers up to his waist.

"I suppose writing letters isn't too strenuous for me right now?" he asked. Severus nodded, smiling at the boy's compliance, why couldn't more children be this accepting when their elders told them things to do for their own health. He retrieved parchment and a quill, and opened the window so the boy could call birds to take his messages to their recipients.

"Thank you Sev." Faykan replied after Severus had done this, and started scratching out a letter. Severus was about to start asking his desperate question, but he felt the burn of his Dark Mark, and took his leave, needing to arrive swiftly at the Dark Lord's side as to not arouse suspicion.

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Harry looked up at the tapping on his window. He had been studying day and night for weeks on end from the books he had Dobby cycle to and from the Hogwarts library, only returning them when he was completely finished with everything they could offer him. He raised an eyebrow as he saw a large eagle owl sitting on the window sill, looking regal and important as it tapped the glass with its beak.

Harry waved his hand at the window, and it sprang open. He had found that wandless magic came naturally to him now, and that even the simplest tasks could be accomplished by a mere thought and a gesture. The Ministry would never know, even if they were actively watching him, as they could only monitor wand-cast magic, or else they would have harassed him every time Dobby did anything. The owl soared in and dropped a small package with a letter on Harry's bed, circling once around the room before departing.

Mildly curious, Harry set the book on Animagus Transformations aside and strode to the package. The moment he touched it, it grew until it was the size of a cake box. Harry blinked, now intrigued, and took the letter that had come with the package.

'Dear Mr. Potter

We are sorry to hear of your friend Mr. Undol's passing. It is a loss that had affected us all deeply. We represent the interests of Mr. Undol's estate, and are sending you this letter to allot to you what Mr. Undol has left for you in his Will. We will now quote the last Will and testimony of Faykan Undol:

I Faykan Undol, in the event of my death, so set aside and delegate the following items.

To Mr. Harry Potter, What more can I give than hasn't already been given to you? I leave unto you, my greatest friend, a Pensieve, so you can review the world under a more critical eye.

I also leave you these words of advice: DO NOT TRUST ALBUS DUMBLEDORE.'

Harry blinked at the letter, taking in its information incredibly slowly. 'Why?'was his prevailing question, why not trust Professor Dumbledore?

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In the darkened kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Sirius sat with the Weasley family and Hermione, as the rest of the Order prepared to monitor and remove Harry from his relative's house at the slightest hint of trouble. Dumbledore had stressed the importance of leaving his godson there for as long as possible, and it maddened Sirius that he would be left with Lily's horrid muggle sister for nearly the entire summer.

But there was little to nothing he could do.

A rustle above them all made them look up. Not one but four owls swooped down to land on the long kitchen table, in front of himself, Hermione, Ron and the twins. "I wonder who these could be from." Molly said, looking at each of the birds, which each carried one letter and a small parcel.

As Sirius took hold of his letter, there was a gasp from Hermione. The owl in front of her at snapped menacingly with its beak when she tried to remove the package. The same happened with Ron's, while Fred took his and George's without any problems, and the package grew as he touched it.

"It's…" Fred said, but he stopped, as his eyes had jumped ahead down the letter, and they widened to the side of dinner plates. George took up for his twin, "its Faykan's will."

The entire room went silent. Sirius took his letter and package from the owl in front of him, and it soared off after the twins'. Ron's and Hermione's owls remained, guarding their letters and packages like nesting dragons.

"To Mr. Sirius Black, I leave a possession that should have been with you from the beginning, the Ring of Barahir, with the hope that you remembers that your family once did have honour." Sirius read aloud. He withdrew from the small package a silver ring, shaped to look like two twined serpents crowned with golden flowers. The serpents' eyes were made of emeralds. Despite every urge Sirius had to chuck the thing in a bin for the Slytherin references, he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was Faykan's last gift to him, and he would not dishonour the boy's memory by rejecting the gift. The ring fit snugly on his right middle ringer.

"What did you receive boys?" Molly asked the twins. They had opened the lid of the box they had received, and were staring opened mouthed at the contents. Before anyone could come close to look they had slammed the lid shut.

"Now Mum…" Fred said.

"We want you to not be angry when…" George picked up.

"We read you what we were given and for the reason it must be used." Fred finished.

Then they together read their letter, skipping over straight to Faykan's words for them, "To Misters Fred and George Weasley, I leave the sum total of three thousand Galleons, for your use toward you're joke shop. The world has need of more laughter and cheer in it, and you know what power a joke can have on people."

"Our question is…" Fred said after the room had been stunned into silence again.

"How did Faykan know we were working to making a joke shop?" George finished quietly.

They all pondered the mystery in silence for a few moments.

"Well, it doesn't matter," Molly said, and they all looked hesitantly at her. She had been against the whole idea of a Weasley joke shop from the beginning, then they received the third shock of the day, "You will use that gold and build the best damn joke shop ever, or so help me, I'll flay you both alive for wasting Faykan's last gift to you."

The twins beamed at her.

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Hermione gaped at the gifts that Sirius and the twins received from their departed friend. Turning to her and Ron's owls, she wondered why they would not allow them to have their gifts. Then it hit her. Faykan must have sent them gifts that were for their eyes only.

"Come on Ron, lets go up to your room," she said pointedly, tugging on his arm.

"But Hermione…" he whined, gesturing at the owls, who were still snapping at his attempts to remove their packages.

"Come on Ronald," she insisted, yanking him out of his chair. Thankfully everyone's attention was focused on Fred and George as they described the things they would do with the Galleons that Faykan had left for them.

The minute Ron and Hermione left, the owls soared up and followed. Only when they were locked inside Hermione and Ginny's room did the owls relinquish their packages. Touching them, they grew into long thin bundles. Hermione had two, one the size of a book, the other thin and slightly curved.

Ron opened his letter first, "To Mr. Ronald Weasley, I leave the spear Aiglos, weapon of the mighty Noldor elf warrior, Gil-Galad, with the sad knowledge that such weapons will be needed again far sooner than we all hope."

Slowly unwrapping the long package, Ron revealed the glistening silver shaft of a spear. The moonlight shining through the window gleamed on the leaf shaped blade, giving the weapon a bluish glow. Ron stared at it amazed, running his hands down the length of the ancient weapon.

Hermione eagerly opened her letter, wondering what Faykan had felt to leave her. 'To Miss Hermione Granger, I leave my book on the history of house elves, hoping that she will finally understand that they will never willingly accept freedom. I also leave to her a bow of the Galadrim, strung with the hair of the ancient elves of Lothlorien.'

Setting the book aside, Hermione lifted the wooden bow, and studied the fine golden string which was, as Faykan had wrote, woven from many long golden hairs. The bow was incredibly light, and tiny, golden designs were etched into the wood. She drew the string back to test the resilience, and was pleased to find the string taught, yet flexible in her hands.

It was only then that Hermione noticed that Ron was crying silently. "Ron?" she asked and he shook his head, struggling to contain himself and wipe the tears away.

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Draco blinked as a great grey owl swooped into his room, depositing a letter and a package on his bed before leaving. He had been confined to his room the entire summer because of his 'disgrace' of Lucius' reputation during the previous year. But both his mother and Professor Snape had come to see him multiple times, and reassured him that they were pleased that he had chosen to put his own self before any kind of blind loyalty to the Malfoy name.

Without thinking Draco scooped up the letter, brushing his hand on the package, which grew. Raising his eyebrows, Draco opened the letter and read slowly,

'Dear Mr. Malfoy

We am sorry to hear of your friend Mr. Undol's passing. It is a loss that had affected us all. We represent the interests of Mr. Undol's estate, and are sending you this letter to allot you what Mr. Undol has left to you in his Will. We will now quote the last Will and testimony of Faykan Undol:

I Faykan Undol, in the event of my death, so set aside and delegate the following items:

To Mr. Draco Malfoy, I leave a shirt of mirthril mail, an heirloom from the glory of old days, with the hope that he will wear it always, and guard it as it will guard his life. For no blade or spell may pierce this finest work from the realm of Khazad-dûm.

Draco dropped the letter as he took hold of the parcel, opening it and pulling aside several folds of old cloth, revealing the studded shirt of close-woven rings. As he lifted it out, he felt the chill of the metal, yet the lightness of it surprised him. The armor shone like moonlit silver in the torchlight, and he noticed pure diamonds woven into the metal.

Draco clutched the shirt to his chest, allowing himself to finally mourn openly for his friend, behind closed doors as a Slytherin should.

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Severus returned to Orthanc to find Faykan laughing, great golden sounds of amusement gliding out of the boy's mouth as he read the letter in his hand. "Dumbledore you old fool!" he roared, throwing the letter to Severus as he walked away. Severus looked at the letter, smirking as he read,

To the newest Light Lord,

Allow me to be among the first to welcome you into the larger world, and to send the greetings of Britain. Surely you know of my current plight with the Dark Lord that calls himself Voldemort, and I wish to request your newfound strength in combating this darkness in exchange for training in the ways of the Light. I would personally welcome you into Britain for the extent of this new war, and am eagerly awaiting your reply.

Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore, Light Lord.

'So, Dumbledore thinks that Faykan is a new risen Lord,' Severus thought. Apparently the range of the boy's magic was tremendous, therefore Voldemort must be aware of his power as well, but the Dark Lord was too consumed in discovering the prophecy and killing Potter to care what takes place beyond British soil. Severus placed the letter on a side table and followed Faykan out to the balcony near his bedroom. The boy was sitting there, chuckling merrily as he filled a clay pipe with some dried herb.

"So, do you intent to play Albus as the fool?" Severus asked, taking the seat next to Faykan, as the boy lit the pipe with a snap of his fingers. Faykan took a long draft, sending smoke rings sailing out into the sky as he thought, then smiled, "Of course Sev, I'll respond, I've pretended to be people for years now, what's a few more?"

Severus stared as Faykan blew more smoke from his pipe, wondering what on earth the boy could mean.

"Now then," Faykan said, pausing in his smoking to drink from an earthen cup, and turning to Severus, "What is Voldemort up to? What is his main goal right now, other than killing Harry?"

Hesitantly, Severus explained the prophecy, including how it was responsible for the first attack on Potter, and that the Dark Lord still desires to hear it in full. "We're you the one who heard it in the first place Sev?" Faykan asked, blue eyes boring into Severus, seeing deep into the dark places where Severus hid his greatest shame. "Yes…" he whispered, admitting it at last.

The boy took Severus' hand from across the table, "It is not your fault, you were full of anger, hatred, and resentment at your life, you had no idea that he would chase after her, or that she would willingly sacrifice herself to protect her son. Too long have you let this shadow hang over you my friend." He said sagely, "Let it go… live for the living, not the dead."

Severus turned away, jerking his hand back. How could this boy sound so youthful one second, then so old and wise the next? How could this child pretend to know how he, Severus, felt?

Thankfully, the discussion was interrupted by the loud squawking of birds as a pair of gulls flew down to the balcony, one carrying a long thin package, the other a small square one. "Ah, I was wondering if these would arrive today…" Faykan said, setting his cup and pipe aside and taking the packages. The gulls flew off, and Faykan turned back to the tower. "If you ever wish to discuss it, I am more than willing Sev…" he said before stepping back inside the tower.

Severus sat for a few moments, before curiosity about what the packages contained drove him to follow. Faykan had ascended to the pinnacle of the tower, and had opened the packages; one was a large shaft of wood, pure silver in color. The other was a massive sapphire, cut and shaped to resemble a pointed crystal. The gem was set in a silver mount that Severus guessed was for the top of the stave of wood.

Faykan drew from his robes the Firebird feather, and arranged the three objects around him in a triangle, as he stood in the center of the tower. Then, raising his arms to the heavens, he cried in a loud voice, "taur leuthil ar' quesse en' naur auta vee' er tehta en' poldora ar' val!" [3] The objects rose on an enchanted wind, fire blossoming around them, there was a blinding flash of light; Severus threw up a hand to shield his eyes. When the light had finally dissipated, Faykan stood, wielding the silver wood staff, crowned with the silver mounted sapphire. The staff rang with power of its own, and Severus could feel the fire of life within it, roaring like the Firebird whose feather was its core. Runes etched themselves down the silver wood, spiraling and twisting the entire length.

"A staff would be hard to pass under Albus' nose without gaining his attention…" Severus pointed out, causing Faykan to smile, "True, but it needs not remain as it is." He lifted the staff, and it shrank, collapsing upon itself until it only sixteen inches long, the sapphire the size of a human eye fixed into the handle of the silver wand. "Less noticeable?" Faykan said, grinning at Severus in that vulpine way that always irritated him.

"And now for my return to Britain, what is your plan to get me back into Hogwarts?"

"All in due time…" Severus said, "For now, write your letter to Albus, and then we shall see what can be done."

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Harry was becoming frustrated. He replayed the vision of his animagus form over and over in his head, but he could not make any sense of it. All he could see in his minds eye was the moonlit sky above, blocked by foliage and blackness as he pawed through the dense undergrowth. It was maddening, how quiet and slow he had to move, but he had known that he must not be seen. But apart from that he could not remember any significant details from the vision.

A new thought struck him, and he turned to look at the Pensieve on his desk. He had not used it since it had arrived; he had seen no reason to at the moment. But… could work for this? It was worth a try. He rose and walked over to the Pensieve, drawing his wand and pressing it to his temple. Focusing on his vision, he twisted the wand slightly. He felt something wind around the tip of his wand, and slowly he pulled the memory free of his skull. It was an odd feeling. The memory was still there, but a ghost of what it was before. Flicking his wand he dropped the vision memory into the basin, and then ducked his head into the silvery liquid.

Landing hard, Harry looked around, trying to orient himself in the near blackness. The moonlight gleamed off the foliage around him, and the forest was completely devoid of sound. But, it didn't look like any forest Harry remembered seeing, more wild and overgrown. It wasn't a forest, it was a jungle. If the memory hadn't been completely silent, Harry didn't think he would have heard his memory self padding slowly through the undergrowth. He was large, jet black and defiantly feline. The only recognizable features were the gleaming yellow eyes as the black jaguar crept past him.

Harry was ejected from the memory with the same jolt in which he had entered, and he quickly scooped the memory back into his head, thinking hard. His animagus was a panther. Now that he knew, the next step according to the book he read was to meditate upon transfiguring himself into that form. It would be easier if he understood the anatomy of the creature, in his case, jungle cats. He sat on his bed to think where he could get a book like that.

Someone knocked gently on his door. Harry spun around, surprised that any of the Dursleys even remembered that he existed. It had been several weeks since he arrived back and he hadn't left his room for anything except to use the bathroom. If not for Dobby, his room would probably be a disaster. Whoever was there knocked again, and Harry sighed, got up, and opened the door.

It was Dudley.

"What?" Harry said, irritated. Dudley shifted slightly, but didn't back down, "Are you okay, Harry?" he asked. Harry's surprise heightened, not only was Dudley talking to him, something he hadn't done for years now, but he had called Harry by his first name, something he had never done. "What?" he repeated, the irritation replaced by astonishment. "You… you've been moaning in your sleep…" Dudley said nervously, glancing past Harry at all the wizarding objects in his room, "sometimes almost yelling, something about 'he's dead,' and 'I'll kill him.' Mum and Dad don't care; cause their too scared of your friend. But, but I haven't seen him all summer. And I dunno… I was getting slightly worried about you staying in there day and night."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Dudley Dursley, the bully of his first eight years, was worried about him.

Dudley shifted nervously again, "Could I come in?" he asked, and Harry stepped aside to admit him, closing the door and returning to sit on his bed. Dudley stood in the middle of the room, gazing around apprehensively at Harry's things, from his Firebolt resting in the corner, to the stacks of books with moving pictures, to the large cauldron under the window, and finally to the pensieve resting on the desk.

"So…" Harry prompted, and that seemed to jerk Dudley out of his trance, "Um…" Dudley began, and Harry thought he must have been trying to find the right words, "Why hasn't your friend De Vries been around to get you, or those Weaseley people? You've never used to stay around this long."

Harry frowned; this was not something he wanted to talk about, least of all with Dudley. "I don't know why the Weasleys haven't come to get me yet." This was true, he didn't really know. Ron and Hermione's letters only said that it was going to be 'soon.' "And Fay…" he trailed off, not wanting to revisit old wounds so soon. The Dursleys never even learned that Faykan had given them a false name those seven years ago when they had met.

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts by Dudley stepping closer to him, "You talk in your sleep sometimes, I can hear you through the wall. Always something about some person named Faykan. And then you start to moan into your pillow, or something. Harry, did something happen when you were… at your school last month?"

Harry put his head in his hands. This had to be a bad dream, there was no way he was having this conversation with Dudley Dursley, there was just was no way. He felt one of Dudley's meaty hand settle on his shoulder. "Harry, did your friend… die?" he said with that same eerily compassionate voice. Harry felt the walls he had built over Faykan's memory come tumbling down again. Tears trickled down his face as his shoulders started to shudder in pain.

"Harry, I'm so sorry…" Dudley said, "I know I really wasn't that nice to either of you, but I'm very sorry that you're in so much pain. Hey, c'mon, lets go for a walk, you can tell me all about him, what'd'ya say?"

Harry felt himself being lifted to his feet and led out the bedroom door. Dudley shouted that he was going out and ushered Harry out the front door. It was a rather warm night. Dudley nudged Harry to get him walking then started to ask questions about Faykan. Harry did his best to answer, and surprisingly, he felt a warmness growing inside him as he spoke about his and Faykan's adventures during their first four years. Dudley made a surprisingly good audience, asking all the right questions and shouting at all the right points.

Harry was just talking about the hundred dementors he had fought off third year when they reached the alleyway between Magnolia Crescent and Wisteria Walk. "and then I dashed out from behind the bush and bellowed the Patronus Charm, and an enormous stag drove them all away…" Harry said. "No way!" Dudley exclaimed, releasing the breath he had been holding. "Yeah and then…"

Harry stopped. He felt something, cold and dark nearby, something familiar. "Dudley…" he said, gazing at the far end of the alley, "I think we need to head home now…" But Dudley had stopped too. He gave an odd shuddering gasp, as though doused in icy water.

"I c-can't see! Harry! Help!" he cried, waving his arms out in front of him blindly. Harry seized his hand, "I'm right here Dudley, don't worry, I'm not leaving you." The sky had gone dark, but Harry could still see, faint outlines of a dull wavering glow. He held up his free hand, conjuring a ball of light, as he had left his wand back at Privet Drive. It hung there, feebly glowing in the gloom, and Harry knew of only one creature that could dim magical lights like that.

"Dudley, when I shout, I want you to run as fast as you can back the other way." Harry said calmly, gathering his magic around him like a warm cloak. He had been practicing with his newfound power all summer, and could cast nearly any spell wandlessly now. But he wouldn't if he didn't have to, here where the Ministry could see, and where he didn't have Dobby as a convenient excuse to use magic freely.

"O-okay," Dudley stammered, edging behind Harry, feeling through the darkness. Harry stared into the gloom, waiting for any sight of movement, any sound of the rasping breathing. And then he saw it, "NOW!" Harry shouted, transfiguring his orb of light into a spear and thrusting it forward, stabbing into the cloak of a towering dementor. He heard Dudley blundering away, hitting the alley fence, stumbling as Harry held off the dementor.

Harry could feel the white fog surrounding his mind, but his pain and anger flared, giving him strength to fight, and the dementor could not take it because it was not happiness. The dementor drew its hand up, raising the blackened dagger to strike Harry. Concentrating, Harry wandlessly summoned fire, igniting the dementor's robe. It shrieked, dropping the dagger and flailing its arms to try and extinguish itself.

There was a horrible squealing yell and Dudley's footsteps stopped. At the same moment,

Harry felt a creeping chill behind him that could mean only one thing. There was more than one.

He wheeled around. Dudley was curled up on the ground, his arms clamped over his face. A second Dementor was crouching low over him, gripping his wrists in its slimy hands, prying them slowly almost lovingly apart, lowering its hooded head towards Dudley's face as though about to kiss him.

"NO!" Harry roared, but before he could react, the first dementor closed its cold, scabbed hands around his throat. Laughter burst inside his head, shrill and high-pitched… there was no happiness left in him, and the laughter grew louder and louder, and a voice spoke inside his head: "Bow to death, Harry… it might even be painless… I would not know … I have never died"

He was going to die… he was going to be worse than dead, soulless and empty… 'At least I'll see Faykan again…'

The surge of happiness that Faykan's memory brought gave Harry the strength to cry out, "Expecto Patronum!"

Silver light surrounded Harry and the dementor holding him, and the stag burst into existence, charging directly for the dementor, goring it with its massive antlers. The dementor flew back, shrieking into the night as Harry's Patronus chased away its fellow.

Harry ran to Dudley's side. He was still breathing, but was very cold and barely responding as Harry struggled to lift him to his feet.

He could not believe what had just happened. Dementors here, in Little Whinging.

~~Sina tea kirma : This is a line break~~

Albus was reeling. Dementors had attacked Harry in Little Whinging, according to Mundungus and Arabella. He had to act quickly to repair this, Petunia Dursley would probably realize the dangers of keeping Harry in her home, and he must stay there.

Pulling out parchment, he enchanted a howler and sent it off as quickly as he could to Privet Drive. Then he contacted Alastor to arrange bringing Harry to Grimmauld place. Harry was no longer safe for this summer, and they needed to keep a closer eye on him.

Albus was just thinking how best to rectify the Ministry's inevitable attempt to expel Harry from Hogwarts when a raven flew in the window, depositing a long expected letter, the reply from Albus' message to the new Lord in Germany.

Tearing the letter open, Albus drank in the message.

'To the Light Lord of Britain,

I feel that it would be ill-advised for me to depart my own land so soon in my ascendance to power, Lord Dumbledore. However I have indeed heard of your strife with the Dark Lord Voldemort, and would be more than happy to come if he strikes at you or your Ministry. Within this letter is a token which will allow you to call upon my assistance should the Dark Lord attack. I am also more than willing to keep the lines of communication open with you, and advising you on the efforts of the Light in this new war.

Yours in the Light,

Zemar, Light Lord of Germany

Albus turned the envelope over and a small stone with a white hand painted onto it fell into his open hand. Smiling at his good fortune, Albus pocketed the stone, turning his attention back to preventing Fudge from expelling Harry from his school.

[1] alkar a' i' valar i' kalina en' ron mool ten'oio putta i' du : glory to the valar the light of their servant forever combats the darkness

[2] Ónen i-Estel Edain : I give hope to the Dúnedain

[3] taur leuthil ar' quesse en' naur auta vee' er tehta en' poldora ar' val : wood, gem and feather of fire be as one, a sign of strength and power