Disclaimer: I don't own 'em; J.K. does.
Authors Notes: Thanks very much for your reviews. I always enjoy reading them. It feels like it has been a while, but my vaction to Ireland was amazing. Allegratree: Thanks for the email encouraging me to update soon. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 7

Number 10 Privet Drive

Harry sat at a metal-legged kitchen table, puzzling over an ancient leather bound volume, which detailed the properties of wandless magic. A plump, orange cat looked on with him, and every once in a while placed a big paw on the page. The boy had nicknamed her Hermione because she had taken up the habit of watching him while he studied. She would often meow critically, as though she disagreed with the comments he wrote on colorful Muggle post-its with a ball-point pen as opposed to a quill. He stuck these notes along the margins as he questioned the text as to what the devil it was on about. Harry stroked Hermione's fur absently as he reread a particular paragraph for the third time, slowly moving his lips as he struggled for comprehension.

Mrs. Arabella Figg, of Number 10 Privet Drive, called all of her little felines, Cat. Although she had a special tone for each, it still amazed Harry that the little animals seemed to know when they were being addressed.

"Down then, Cat," she told Hermione, and placed a plate of ginger biscuits on the table in front of Harry.

"There you are dear," Mrs. Figg said sweetly, and briefly lay and age worn hand on the boy's shoulder. Harry, the old woman, and her many cats had established a pleasant routine over the past week or so. The woman treating Harry as though he were a favorite nephew visiting for the summer.

Harry had taken to coming over each day after breakfast at the Dursley's to study at Mrs. Figg's table, under the watchful, hazel eyes of Hermione. At about half twelve or one o'clock, Mrs. Figg would serve him a lunch of sandwiches, and soup made primarily from the vegetables grown in her vast back garden. A bit after lunch, as he continued to study, she would serve him biscuits, of which ginger were fast becoming a favorite.

Harry would often offer to help her with a chore or two before heading home to the Dursley's, where he would sleep for a few hours before dinner. This was much to the irritation of his uncle and aunt, who Harry found it ever more simple to suffer in a calm, gracious silence because he went directly back to bed after having eaten. He would remain there until half eleven, when he would sneak out of the Dursley's and return to number 10 Privet Drive to practice spells and hexes till first light.

That first day, Mrs. Figg had been delighted when Harry had turned up at her door unannounced explaining he needed to do a bit of magic. Harry had decided that since Mrs. Figg was a Squib, any spells cast in her home could easily be blamed on a magical relative or friend. The boy recalled what Dumbledore had once mentioned about the Ministry not being able to tell which individual was performing magic in magical households. With this thought in mind, Harry had slipped his miniaturized books into the pocket of his jeans and paid a visit to his one time baby-sitter who lived down the street at Number 10.

Truth be told, Harry was extremely surprised to find out just how magical a household Mrs. Figg ran. For all intents and purposes, Number 10 seemed to be the Privet Drive headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry watched with great fascination, that first day,
as Order members flooed back and forth through the hearth in her kitchen. They were pulling shifts guarding the Dursley's home and surrounding neighborhood from Voldermort and his Death Eaters. Mrs. Figg confided to Harry that the Order seemed to have stepped up protection efforts, and the fireplace in her little kitchen was busier than it ever had been the previous summer.

As Harry had sat at the kitchen table with his books now transfigured but still untouched, he toyed with the idea of making Mrs. Figg's his headquarters as well. It would do no good to only read books if he couldn't practice what he learned, and he thought Mrs. Figg's house might be just the answer. He ran the idea past Mad Eye Moody, who flooed in at about noon and was preparing to disillusion himself near the front door, before taking up his post at the corner by the Coin-Op Laundry.

"I'm afraid not Potter," Moody vetoed the idea immediately. "It's all right for you to hang about here today and a bit now and then. But it would be dangerous to set up a schedule anyone could follow. This house just doesn't offer the protection of the wards Dumbledore placed around your aunt and uncle's home," Moody explained. "It would be safer with you moving around the neighborhood even. Here you'd be a stationary target with no protection in place."

Although it admittedly made sense, Harry wasn't quite ready to give in yet. He made himself comfortable at Mrs. Figg's kitchen table and tried to decide which book to begin with, as Order members came and went. That afternoon Harry saw Tonks, Lupin, the Weasley twins, and Headmistress McGonagall. They all, save Fred and George, seemed to agree with Moody's assessment about the dangers of spending too much time at Number 10. The twins advice had been to figure out a way to do it without anyone finding out. They promised to put there heads together over the problem.

McGonagall had spoken to Harry the longest when she flooed in for her shift. She admitted that his idea had merits, but still agreed with Moody. She also had a question or two regarding the books from which Harry was studying, being aware of the Librarian's edict regarding loaning books over the summer. The boy was forced to confess, under her ever so stern gaze, that he had nicked them from the library. He was quick to point out that Headmaster had requested he study hard until his official training began, but neglected to mention that it was after he had already taken the books. After extracting a promise that he return all the books in the condition he found them, and issuing a stern admonishment that he put the books to good use, the Headmistress let the issue drop.

That first day, however, Harry had not put the books to much use at all, good or otherwise. After scanning the various volumes, each more daunting than the next, Harry did little more than attempt to decide where to begin. Although it was rough going and getting late, Harry was loathe to give up before making more significant progress.

Despite the fact that the idea to study had initially been Harry's, it was evident that Dumbledore now expected it, and was apparently going to be asking after his progress. McGonagall probably would be after him as well now, Harry realized morosely. Also with so little to show after so many hours, Harry was doubtful of his ability to convince the Headmaster that he wouldn't need to train with Snape when the time came.

Harry picked a book at random. It was called, Emotion Perimeter Protection Wards and Wandless Magic. After deciding he might be able to concentrate better outside, he went to sit on the back garden steps. Mrs. Figg was kneeling on a cushion, pulling weeds. In a classic act of task avoidance, Harry placed the book on the steps and asked if he could help. Having been forced to do a great deal of gardening by Aunt Petunia over the years, Harry took obscene pleasure in banishing the green, stringy invaders with a flick of his wand.

One side effect of using magic in a garden was the appearance of the Gnomes. About an hour later as Harry sat on the porch reading, about ten of the stout, little people slipped under the fence and took up residence in the tomato patch. Unlike Mrs. Weasly, Mrs. Figg was pleased when theGnomes showed up, explaining that they reminded he happily of her girlhood, when her mum kept a large garden full of the little people who were known only to inhabit magical gardens. The woman walked through the back door singing pleasantly to herself after welcoming the Gnomes to her garden.

Harry turned his attention back his book. It detailed, in language Harry could surprisingly understand, how to construct perimeter wards around houses and buildings by concentrating on an emotion connected to certain person. These wards were more effective when you concentrated on positive emotions, the book explained. Despite the proven strength of such wards, the author stated, these sort of wards were traditionally undervalued due to there heavy reliance on emotions such as love.

They worked well for family homes, the text explained. One individual could create the wards, or several family members could do so by concentrating on how much they loved or respected someone. Only those who felt equal love or respect for the individual could enter the warded area. Harry wondered briefly if this was the type of protection the headmaster had created at his relatives house, but then dismissed the idea because it sounded too easy. The wards the book described, sounded like something Harry felt he could construct.

Extremely pleased to finally have read something he could understand, Harry decided to attempt to create an Emotion Perimeter Protection Ward on Mrs. Figg's property by concentrating on his love for Dumbledore.

Harry sat down cross-legged on the steps, and opened the book in his lap. The text wasn't particularly specific, but Harry followed his instincts and began by focusing on Dumbledore's face and then the perimeter of the property. After allowing himself a deep breath, he closed his eyes lightly, and spread his arms out to his sides. Harry could clearly see the Headmaster's face, eyes twinkling madly beneath half moon spectacles. The young wizard imagined himself harnessing the love he had for the old man, which somehow felt like it was housed deep in the center of his chest. The boy then focused on his magic, which he was surprised to sense as coming from roughly the same general area as his love. He imagined pushing both energies out of his body anddown the length of his outstretched arms. Harry felt the energies, rope-like, as they careened out toward the perimeter of the Figg property, weaving patterns and growing ever more intricate as they combined around the surrounding area.

Harry opened his eyes, and was momentarily taken aback to see the two combined energies glowing purple and gold. A euphoric laugh escaped him as he realized he knew instinctively that the love was purple and the magic gold. He wondered briefly if every wizard's magic was the same color. The boy smiled expansively. He couldn't tell how long he had been at it before the wards were complete, but felt and saw the disconnect in power between himself and what was now a separate living magical force that surrounded Number 10 Privet Drive.

The boy pushed himself off the ground and was awestruck to see the tightly woven ropes of gold and purple light that not only surrounded the perimeter, but appeared in a criss-cross pattern above it as well. The property was in essence encased in a tightly woven bubble of colorful light.

So taken was Harry with his handy work that he did not immediately notice a clearly distressed Mrs. Figg as the woman came out onto the back porch.

"Mr. Moody says your to run home this minute, Harry," the old woman ordered, looking around the yard as though the place were under attack.

"What's happened?" the boy asked, drawing his wand and following the woman's frantic gaze.

"He can't get through the floo!" she explained, taking Harry by the arm and urging him to go. "'Fraid You-Know-Who knows your here, and has done something to block the house. "Might be Death Eaters coming," she said a touch hysterically.

"Death Eaters?" Harry breathed, fearing he had placed the old woman in danger with his dawdling over his studies all day. Mad-Eye had been right. Oh would he never learn to listen and stop risking others lives. Just then, the boy heard many footfalls running hard and fast toward the house.

"Potter!" someone bellowed as they approached, and Harry pulled the old woman to the ground in an effort to protect her. Then he heard a voice that sounded like Remus Lupin's.

"Harry, are you all right?" the man called frantically. "We can't get through, Moody," Lupin told the ex-Auror unnecessarily. "The area has been warded."

"I can see that," Moody barked irritably. "I hope that old woman got him out in time. You two," the man ordered, indicating Fred and George. "Go around front and see what you can find out."

"The boy's just here, Moody," came a muffled voice from beneath Harry.

"Mr. Moody," Harry called tentatively, as he rolled off of Mrs. Figg and got to his feet. "What's going on?"

"Potter," Moody sighed, in some relief. "Are you all right, lad? Someone has warded the place and none of us can't get in through the floo or otherwise. There might be Death Eaters about. Look sharp boy, and get your hide back to your aunt's." the one-eye wizard ordered.

"Oh, Merlin. What if the wards won't let him out?" Lupin wanted to know.

"Give it a try, boy," Moody commanded. "Look at all the magical trace," Moody whistled, looking about. "Somebody bloody well knew what they were doing.

"What magical trace?" asked Fred from Moody's side as he followed the man's gaze. "I can't see a thing."

"Me neither," George put in.

"I thought I told you two to look around the front," Moody said in and exasperated tone.

"Oh," said Fred.

"Sorry," said George.

"Thought we were looking for 'arry," the twins said in unison, and rushed off to obey.

"Death Eaters! You young idiots!" Moody hissed. "And mind you don't get killed."

"Will do," Fred called over his shoulder.

"What the devil are you waiting for?" Moody addressed Harry in a sharp tone.

"Mr. Moody," began Harry in a horrified tone. "I-I constructed the wards."

"You what?" demanded Moody, incredulously.

"Yes sir," Harry continued, a bit sickened. "I was practicing a spell on perimeter protection wards I read about today," Harry refused to meet the man's gaze. "Thought if I built a proper one you might let me train here."

"You spelled protection wards to keep us out?" the man questioned in angry disbelief. "Who the bloody hell else are you protecting yourself from boy?" he asked sarcastically. "Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy, bleeding Easter Bunny?"

"Now, now, Moody," Lupin began in a soothing tone. "No harm done. These wards are actually quite impressive," he gave the boy an encouraging look. "I'm sure Harry can change them back."

Harry looked dubious. As he wasn't at all sure what he had done wrong, he lacked Lupin's confidence in his ability to right the situation. Harry was trying to figure out the best way to explain this and not have Moody try to hex him, when McGonagall arrived with Tonks and one Order member Harry didn't know.

"What is it Moody?" his former Transfiguration teacher queried, rushing forward. "Is Potter all right?"

"He's bloody well fine," Moody told her acidly. "Have a look for yourself," He pointed, indicating an embarrassed looking Harry from just beyond the wards. "Safe and sound behind wards he created to keep everyone who is trying to protect him out, and let in Merlin knows who."

The Headmistress looked around apparently just noticing the ropes of gold and purple light.

"Did you do construct this Harry?" she asked, in a somewhat hushed tone as she passed through the wards to stand in front of the stunned young man. "It is an Emotion Perimeter Ward isn't it?"

Though her tone sounded impressed, Harry wasn't quite sure whether a tongue lashing mightn't start soon. He was also completely at a loss as to why she could enter the warded area while others could not.

"Yes, Professor," Harry responded in a somewhat subdued voice.

"Ah," Lupin responded. "I've heard of these," he looked around appraisingly. "They are not supposed to be this effective."

"Effective," Moody growled in disgusted frustration. "It's a bloody disaster is what..."

McGonagall cut off the man's rant.

"I am assuming your focus was Dumbledore?" the old witch asked Harry kindly.

"Yes ma'am," Harry admitted quietly, still not sure she wouldn't team up with Moody and begin scolding him for making such a foolish mistake.

"I see," she continued. "And what was your purple strand? As I recall, the gold is your magic."

"Uh...yes," Harry stuttered, relief beginning to dawn, as he discovered she seemed to understand a bit of what was going on. "My purple is love," he explained. "I'm not sure what I did wrong, Professor..." he began apologetically.

"I don't believe you did anything wrong, Harry. And these wards are extremely well constructed."

"Well then why can't the others get in?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"You may find that though a great many people respected Albus Dumbledore, not everyone will define love for him in the same terms as yourself," she explained patiently. "This would make it difficult for them to transverse such wards," she continued, making no mention that she was able to enter the warded area with relative ease.

"Oh, I see Minerva," Lupin nodded his head, in dawning comprehension. "Would it work if Harry concentrated on loyalty instead."

"It might very well," the woman conceded. "Now, Harry," she spoke to the boy with far more patience than she ever had in Transfiguration class. "All you need do is focus as you did before. Only this time concentrate on you loyalty to Professor Dumbledore instead of your love."

"All right," Harry said feeling a bit more confident.

"Perhaps it might be less daunting if you test it out on a small section first," she suggested, pointing to where Moody stood with Lupin and Tonks. Fred and George had rejoined the group as well.

Harry raised his hand and focused briefly on his loyalty for Dumbledore, and a section of the ward about the size of a doorway changed from purple to blue.

Moody and Lupin took tentative steps forward and the others followed.

"That was quite impressive, Harry," Lupin approached smiling and giving the boy a one armed hug.

"Bloody brilliant," Fred echoed the sentiment, while others nodded.

"Impressive or no," began Moody sternly, still displeased with Harry. "In future you are to run it by me first before you pull a stunt like that again."

"Yes sir," Harry agreed quickly, a bit apprehensive at Moody's approach.

"Right then," Moody nodded. "Just trying to look out for you, lad," he told the boy. "Gave Albus my word I would," he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Can't if you don't cooperate though. Right?" he cuffed Harry affectionately on the back of the head, then smiled a bit.

Harry smiled in agreement, looking sheepish and relieved.

"Wards are actually a splendid idea Moody," McGonagall was saying. "It's a wonder we didn't think of it before."

Moody made a non-committal sound in his throat.

McGonagall and Lupin's support emboldened Harry to speak.

"Mr. Moody..." he began tentatively. "Now I've worked out how to make Mrs. Figg's house safe, I really would like to practice my magic here. That's if it's all right with Mrs. Figg," Harry indicated the old woman at his side.

"'Twood be fine with me," she responded kindly. "So there's some sort of protection here for Harry now is there?" she asked looking around as though puzzled by what the wizards were referring to.

Moody looked pensive for a moment.

"Reckon it would be safe now, Moody," Tonks put in. "'Specially if Harry just left the portal like bit open when he was here, and maybe spelled the floo the same way," she looked around for agreement. "He'd be perfectly safe that way."

"And when he isn't training he could switch the whole thing to loyalty," Lupin was truly warming to the subject. "We'd all be in much better shape than we ever were."

"Harry was ordered by Albus to train," McGonagall began, as though she expected to have the final word. "And I think he has come up with an excellent solution as to how to manage it." the Headmistress fixed her gaze on the ex-Auror. "And we were ordered to help."

Moody nodded grudgingly. "That we were, Minerva. That we were," the one-eyed man clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Well done then, lad."

Harry's face split into a broad grin.

"Excellent, Potter," McGonagall agreed, a smile gracing the usually stern face of the Headmistress.

Harry was unused to this level of praise from the normally stern witch and began to feel a bit self-conscious.

"Well I only read about these for the first time today," the boy said in a self effacing way. "Honestly, I'm not even sure how it worked," Harry looked at the colored ropes. "So these are magical trace are they?" Harry asked the Headmistress, who nodded. "Well how come I can see them? I couldn't before. And Fred, George and Mrs. Figg can't." The three nodded to confirm Harry's assessment.

"One must hone their focus to be able to notice magical trace," McGonagall began, in full lecture mode. "Not all wizards have trained in this area. Sometimes," the Headmistress speculated. "when one casts complex magic that is beyond their years and training, other magical concepts fall into place."

"But this was simple," Harry protested.

The Headmistress smiled indulgently. "Not many would consider a construction such as this simple, Harry," she assured the bewildered young wizard, who seemed to feel he might be getting more credit than he deserved.

He was very pleased about being able to see the magical trace, however, that was one of the skills he would need for the Horcruxes.

"Will I be able to see other trace too," he asked. "Or just my own?"

"Let's see," McGonagall flicked her wand and transfigured and unsuspecting Gnome into a rowanberry. "Now trace it is not readily noticeable, you must focus," she advised.

Harry stared at the rowanberry. After a moments contemplation he noticed a tiny silver glow surrounding it.

"Your trace is silver," the boy told her excitedly.

"Yes," McGonagall told him. "Most powerful witches and wizards leave gold or silver trace," she said without a hint of self-consciousness. "Some dark wizards leave red."

It was a very pleased Harry that left for home that evening. He'd discovered how to construct protection wards, and he could now see magical trace factors. This fact was proven beyond a shadow of a doubt when he realized that by focusing, he could now see the wards that surrounded his realative's house as well. The ropes of light were slender in their and graceful strength. The emerald and gold strands artfully woven into impossibly intricate patterns.

After stealthily mounting the stairs and defly avoiding his realatives, Harry crawled into bed exhausted and relieved that he would have something significant to report when the Headmaster next asked how his studies were going.

Coming soon:

Chapter 8

The Visit

"What in the seven hells are you doing here, Potter?" Snape exploded, causing Harry to toss the lid aside and crab walk backwards a few paces. "Protection wards were placed at your home for good reason. What possible motive could you have in that dunderheaded little brain of yours for wandering around this time of night?" the angry wizard did not pause for an answer. "Of all the idiotic, asinine, arrogant, behavior," he thundered on.

It had been a while since Harry had seen Snape encouraged to full rage. But little had varied in the man's performance. Even the adjectives were the same. Well...asinine might be a new one, Harry thought ruefully, but dunderhead was a classic staple.