Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

The Spring Lullaby

Prologue

"Hey, stranger!"

Harry looked up from the book he was pretending to be reading.
Mr. Weasley was finally at home with his family and although everyone kept saying that Harry saved him and they were grateful for that, and that they owed him, the boy didn't feel very comfortable around the happy family.
The ugly and dark thought that it was actually his fault that Mr. Weasley was attacked in the first place never left his consciousness.
That was why she found him here, in the dark library, where he was hiding the past few days, pretending to be reading and writing his homework.
Harry looked at her inquiringly.
Her dark hair was into a thick braid that went down past her shoulder. Her pale blue dress and her cream-colored coat made her skin look even more beautiful with a strange radiance.
Mentally Harry agreed with what George had said the other day, that Dahlia Danvers was the most vividly beautiful witch he had ever seen. Her beauty was different than the beauty of Fleur or Cho or any other. It was enigmatic and somehow cold like the beauty of the winter.

"Your mother had a strange ardour for dark libraries and old dusty books" she said casually when she placed herself in the armchair in front of him.

"But I have the feeling you didn't derive her passion. Am I right?"

"My grades are proof that I didn't."said Harry coldly.

Harry didn't want to be rude, but he didn't want to spend the afternoon with that woman talking with her about his parents or his thoughts.
He didn't trust her and he wasn't even sure that he liked her. She was pretty and kind indeed but Harry felt something odd about her. It didn't help that his godfather wasn't on good terms with her. Neither helped the thought that it was partly her fault that he lived with Dursley's all those years.
Harry had decided that he would be civil with her for the sake of her friendship with his parents and the fact that she was a member of the Order. But that didn't mean that he would trust her and it didn't mean that he would want to spent his time chatting with her.

"The grades are not always a measure" she told him with a smile, pretending she didn't notice the coldness in his voice or just didn't care that the boy didn't want to talk.

"My grades at Potions were always perfect but I can't brew a simple sleep potion without making something explode."

Harry stayed silent. He really didn't want to make small talk with her.

"You on the other hand had made a Polyjuice Potion successfully." Dahlia told him after a few seconds of silence.

"It was Hermione actually" he answered coldly "I didn't participate much."

"It still counts…"

"Do you need something?" Harry asked annoyed "Because I'm a little busy right now."

Dahlia pressed her lips into a thin line. But she didn't looked annoyed or disappointed. She just stared blankly at him for a few seconds then she looked at her hands.
Following her look Harry saw the two items the woman was clutching to herself. He didn't remember seeing them when she came. But on the other hand he didn't really look at her much.
Dahlia was holding a big old book with brown leather cover and a small dark blue box.

"I brought you something." she said after a moment.

Her gold eyes met his green.

"A gift. For Christmas."

Harry bit back the comment about all the others holidays she had missed. Instead he took the book from her and looked at it closely. On the front cover was the shinning gold title. The boy traced the gold letters that spelt 'The Flowers of Evil'.

"It's an old album" Dahlia told him when their eyes met.

Harry stared at the album. He didn't dare to open it.

"'The flowers of evil'"she laughed softly. "A stupid name they had given us at school – well me, your mother and two other girls. Childish stuff, but at that time I thought that it's appropriate."

Harry felt her questioning look but he kept tracing the letters.

"Who gave it to you?" he asked after a few minutes that felt like ages.

"What?" asked Dahlia confused. "Oh, you mean the name? It was Sirius of course." She smiled sadly.
"It was during one of ours stupid quarrels. You know girls and boys fighting for every single stupid little thing. He was very proud of himself for concocting it. The whole school thought it was work of a genius. Your mother on the other hand was furious."

"I know you don't have many pictures of them" Dahlia told him a moment later while he kept staring at the album.

"I do know that these are hardly enough either and that nothing will be ever enough but…"

"I know." Harry stopped her. "Thank you."

Dahlia smiled and her pretty face gleamed. Harry thought that that was her first real smile, a smile that actually was touching her golden catlike eyes.
Although the boy kept saying to himself that he didn't like her, he felt warm on the inside seeing her smile.

"Won't you look through it?" she asked him.

"Of course." Harry nodded "It's just … It's always overwhelming."

"I understand" Dahlia told him and stood up "I'm gonna leave you to it. But first I want to give you one more thing."

She gave him the blue box and Harry opened it curiously.

"It's not exactly a gift." she told him "It a charm your father gave me a long time ago and I think it's time for me to give it to you."

Harry stared at the little gold charm in the box. He wondered why did his father had given it to her? What for? Did it have any powers like his cloak?

"It's a charm, a dragonfly. A symbol for the metamorphoses and the transfigurations in someones life. The dragonfly inspires us to change what needs to be changed in our life to achieve our full potential."
Harry looked at her. There was a strange dark shadow in her eyes. He wondered once again why his father gave her that dragonfly? But he didn't dare to ask, it wasn't really his place to ask and he also had a feeling she wouldn't tell him.

"Thank you, Dahlia." He told her sincerely.

The woman nodded and saying her goodbyes disappeared in the darkness of the old house.
Once again Harry was alone. The book he was pretending to be reading before was now lying forgotten on the dusty floor.
Harry opened the old album attentively, ready to lose himself in the memories of different time, places, people.
The pictures kept an intrigueing and unknown story that was just waiting to be unfold.