A.N. Just a quick note to clear things up. Rosch is a faerie. They develop at approximately twice the rate of wizards.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, just Rosch. They belong to the god-like JKR.

Thanks to those who reviewed:

Harry'sgal8: I took the summary from this chapter. Hope you like it.

L.Spencer1153: Thanks, yes I did write that myself. Took me a bit, but I got there. Yeah, it will be a story. I will probably do the whole seven years. Haven't decided yet.

Dweem-angel: Thanks for reviewing.

O.K. here goes the next chapter. Enjoy.

Thoughts are in italics

The forest was dark and filled with a hoarse silence, frequently punctures by the howls and screams of its vicious inhabitants. Few dared to enter its treacherous depths, due to the tales of the bloodthirsty beasts who dwelt there. Undaunted by the rumours however, a sole person, a girl, made her solitary way through the trees; gliding over the roots and dead leaves with a grace that was inhuman. Reaching the edge of the trees, she reached her destination. Ahead of her, she beheld a tall castle, its walls gleaming in the pale silver light of the gibbous moon; its turrets touched by the finest sprinkling of fairy dust, the dust from the wings of her species.

Gazing upon one of the towers, her sharp eyes detected the outline of a small figure, sitting in the window. Her face breaking into the smallest of smiles, she said 'Merry Christmas Harry' and then she sang.

After hours of tossing and turning in his bed and having had sleep deprive him the blissful pleasure of slumber, Harry Potter through back his covers and went to sit in the window. Although wonderful his day had been, receiving his first ever Christmas presents, he couldn't help but feel as though the day, along with his joy had been tainted. Harry was by no means unaccustomed to his orphan status, yet he couldn't help but feel sick with bitter envy when he saw the gifts that had been bestowed upon the children by doting, loving parents. Harry also felt a sort of aching in his heart, as he wondered what it would have been like to have received those tokens himself. The longing and jealousy quickly changed to pain at the thought that he would never know. Sighing, Harry sat in the window. From his vantage point, he had a good view of the grounds. To his left, the golden hoops on the quidditch shone a dull dirty bronze and to his right the forbidden forest.

Turning to look back at the pitch, Harry did a double take. There at the edge of the trees was a figure, an angel, all in white. I must be hallucinating. Damned insomnia. At this Harry removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before replacing them but the visage hadn't shifted.

Harry's innate sense of insatiable curiosity was currently doing battle with the urge to run back to bed, pull the covers up to his ears and remain there until morning. Are they insane? Don't they know that they are on the edge of the dark forest? Don't they know what vicious creatures live there?The urge to hide was gaining the upper hand in his inner battle when a sound floated up to Harry's ears which tipped the victory of his mental battle in curiosity's favour.

Amidst the snuffles and snores of his slumbering dorm mates, came the angel's song; more beautiful than phoenix song, more intoxicating than the strongest potion and more alluring than the siren song. It quickly rode over all thoughts of the curfew and Hermione's sternly disapproving face was quickly forced from mind. All Harry wanted to do was to meet the stranger with the voice like the clearest honey. All conscious thought fled his mind as Harry left the Gryffindor Tower without even pausing for his cloak.

The song drew him to the edge of the forest and beyond. And there he saw her, yet before he caught a true glimpse of her, she turned and ran.

'Wait. Please wait.' Harry called as he gave chase. Stumbling over thorns and protruding tree roots, Harry became painfully aware that he had left his shoes back in his dorm and the piercing cold which raised goose bumps along his flesh reminded him of his absence of his cloak.

On the chase went until they reached a den, with the trees forming a circular barrier around them. Harry barely heard the charm muttered which would keep out the beasts, attracted to his human scent, as gasping for the breath which the chase deprived him of, Harry slumped to the ground. The dead leaves felt damp and clumpy to the touch and the sickly sweet smell of their decay, made him feel nauseous. Looking up, he saw that the angel had turned to face him and all oxygen he had recovered was dragged form him in a stunned gasp. Feeling slightly dizzy, he looked upon the girl, woman who was more beautiful than any he had ever seen or was ever likely to see.

Though he had seen pictures of Veela in various text books, those children of the moonlight looked vaguely pretty in comparison to the breath-taking person in front of him.

Where the Veela were pale and almost ghostly alabaster in their looks, she was a daughter of fire. Her hair was an indescribable red, each strand composed of every nuance and tone of the colour, which combined to form a crimson seen only in an autumn sunset. Her face was a perfect heart shape and yet at the remnants of puppy fat Harry estimated her to be around his age. Her eyes were the purest, finest cut emeralds which sparkled and danced as she smiled, yet beheld a wisdom gifted to few, many times her young age. Growing out of her shoulders were four slender wings, which were edged in gold though the main of them were snowy white, with gold threading through them. Clothed in a simple white gown, with a cloak fastened around her neck, she was innocence personified and yet possessed an aura of great inhuman power.

'Hello Harry'. She spoke in a voice of soft peaty velvet which soothed Harry, causing him instantly to forget the numbing cold and burn of his bleeding feet. The girl however did not. Pursing her lips and furrowing the perfect skin on her forehead in a frown, she took in his dishevelled shivering, and the bitter almond scent of his blood staining the dead leaves and soaking into the soil. Gesturing to a green moss and lichen covered boulder she commanded him to sit. Harry complied in a dazed obedience, where upon she took each foot, and gently stroked the soles. Harry felt his face burn at the contact, causing her smile to broaden. With each touch, the cut shallowed and eventually healed.

'Silly thing. Fancy going out without shoes on and without and cloak.' At this, she waved her hand and a thick heavy cloak appeared, which she draped around his now numb shoulders. Another wave and shoes appeared, which he promptly put on. Holding her palm out flat, the angel girl muttered something and a goblet of steaming liquid rose from her hand, which she presented to Harry.

With a satisfied nod, she folded her wings so that they lay flat along her back, shuddered and rolled her shoulders, at which they melted into her spine; natural protection for the delicate film. She then folded her legs and sat on the ground. Harry shifted under her smiling scrutiny, and feeling rather rude at having not spoken to the stranger who had brought him here. Intending to thank her, especially for the nectar sweet drink which was driving every bit of cold and discomfort from him, he was surprised at his question;

'Are you an Angel?' to which the stranger giggled 'No, but you are not the first to have asked me. I am Dearnesantehavaroschiana, princess of the faeries; but you can call me Rosch.

'Thank you Rosch' came the reply. 'I am...'

'I know who you are Harry. You're the boy who lived.'

Harry looked up, puzzled and hurt flashed through his eyes. So Rosch, this beautiful fairy girl hadn't wanted to see him, she wanted to see his scar. I hate this damned scar. That's all that everyone wants to se me for. My scar.yet it struck him as odd that her eyes hadn't performed the usual flicker up to the lightning bolt cut on his head, like so many others had done. maybe I just hadn't noticed.

His musings were cut short when she spoke again. 'You look so much like James you know, it's almost like seeing him again. But your eyes, Lily's eyes. Harry was confused with her using their first name. Had she known them? 'They were good people. Kind people. They didn't deserve what happened to them. Sadness flitted across her face, like a dark cloud across a full moon and she sighed.

'Why are you calling them by their first name? You should call them Mr. and Mrs Potter. Didn't your parents teach you respect for you elders?' Harry demanded. Who is she to talk about Mum and Dad like that?

'Don't you remember me at all?' her sadness was more pronounced now. 'You used to live in our town. They were friends of the family. I'm a year older than you. I remember them. I remember you. Always laughing, gurgling.'

'Really' all annoyance at her apparent disrespect had fled from Harry, leaving excitement in its wake. 'What were Mum and Dad like? What was I like?'

Rosch giggled again 'Like I said, you were always laughing, and you parents doted on you. But we are getting off the subject. Harry there is a reason I brought you here. There is a point to our meeting. Then Rosch began retching, deep racking coughs which shook her slender frame. Harry frantically looked around, panicking, searching for something to give Rosch to ease her fit, when Rosch coughed something up into her hand.

Holding it up, it proved to be a pearl. It was a dull pewter grey colour with threads of silver moving fluidly through it. All the while it was smoking, opaque grey smoke leaving its surface before tumbling to the ground. It held Harry's gaze transfixed on the patterns made by the silver threads.

'Harry'. Rosch's voice once more broke through his reverie. Yet now it was different. Its peaty tones were tinged with urgency and her eyes were serious.

'Harry. This is the Pearl of Frost. It carries a very special gift, or curse depending on your point of view', she said with an ironic smile.

'What does this have to do with me?'

'Everything. Harry the Pearl of Frost, providing the carrier has the will and strength of mind, can "Conquer death's grim barrier doors"'

'What?' Harry interjected 'What does that mean'.

'What it means, Harry is that I can bring people back from the dead.'

Following her words, Harry felt a kind of numb shock fill him completely.surely no one can come back from the dead. No one. Death is the end. If people could have come back, Mum and Dad would have done by now. They wouldn't have left me with the Dursleys.

'Harry' Rosch now looked worried; her frown was back in place. 'Harry are you o.k.? I'm sorry to have sprung this on you. It's just... It's just that... well... I thought that...'

'You thought what? Harry interjected angrily 'What kind of sick joke is this?' all previous feelings he had felt had vanished to be replaced by a cold fury. 'Do you think that it's funny to talk about someone's parents like that? To taunt someone like that. I bet you still have your parents, don't you?'

'Harry please'

'SHUT UP!' He was shouting now. 'I MISS THEM. A DAY DOESN'T GO BY WHEN I DON'T THINK OF THEM. MISS THEM. WONDER WHAT I WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE TO KNOW THEM. TO HAVE PARENTS WHO LOVED ME!'

'Harry please, listen to me'.

'Why should I' Harry wanted to continue his rant but the sight of her eyes, sad and sorrowful, Harry felt his anger dissipate.

'Because then I can explain. I'm doing this because I care. I... We used to be friends before Lily and James died. Before you had to leave.

'I don't remember you'

'You were one! Any way, I could never be so cold, so callous, and so cruel as to suggest such a thing, without being able to carry out my promise. Would you please let me try?'

Harry his throat too tight to speak nodded his assent.

'Good' Rosch said, smiling happily.

She stood, moved to the centre of the clearing and holding the Pearl out on the flat of her palm in front of her, she began to chant. The language she spoke was ancient and mystic and captivated his entire attention. The mist which had floated along the floor, previous to the commencing of her ritual, now coalesced at her feet, swirling around her ankles. Her eyes had closed, thick black lashes sweeping her cheeks and her voice deepened in pitch and grew hoarser.

Harry found his gaze riveted on her, willing her to carry out this feat of magic. All of the forest, answered her call, as she swayed, drawing energy and magic from herself, the trees, the beasts which inhabited the forest and even Harry himself.

Harry found himself growing hope that the spell would work, that he could see, would have his parents back. He let out a startled yell and the Pearl chipped and two fragments broke off; falling apart, on either side of the chanting girl. At this the mist swirled up, and a great wind swept through the trees, making Harry's hair stand on end. In the mist, two shadowy forms seemed to materialise. At this, the Pearl having performed its function, it sank back into its carriers hand and Rosch collapsed, drained of energy from the amount of magic needed to perform the spell, to overcome death's barrier. But Harry didn't notice. His eyes remained locked on the couple who had appeared as the misty columns had begun to dissipate. The man had hazel eyes and Harry's messy hair. The woman who stood by his side had long red hair and Harry's green eyes. They smiled at him. Harry gaped. James and Lily Potter had returned.