Author's Note: The prologue was merely to get the ball rolling with some form of an exposition. This chapter is when the characters we all hope will one day get together meet and begin their next year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Without further delay, I present…

o o o o o o o

The Melody of the Sphere

Chapter One: Enter Harry Potter

Perfect. It was all perfect. Harry Potter was celebrating being sixteen years old for approximately ten and a half hours. The Weasley family had invited him to spend the remainder of the summer with them the day before and were now crowded around him in their living room, watching him open his gifts. "Remind me to send Dobby an extra pair of socks this Christmas," Harry said, smiling at the bright red glasses case he had received from the house elf.

"It's even got a snitch drawn on it," the youngest Weasley, Ginny pointed out. Harry took a closer look and saw that the elf had made an attempt to paint the tiny golden ball, but had resulted in something like a circle with two triangles sticking out from either end.

"Who cares? Go on, Harry open the rest of 'em up," Ron exclaimed, handing him another box. Ron had always been impatient when it came to opening gifts. The two had been best friends since the moment they met on the Hogwarts Express nearly five years ago. Ron was significantly taller than Harry, standing a quarter of an inch under six feet. His pointy nose and notorious freckles still remained however. He added, "That one's from Charlie. Said he was sorry he couldn't take the day off."

Harry mumbled that it was all right and tried to appear mature as he somewhat slowed down opening it…somewhat. Ron was jumping up and down as Harry pulled out Quidditch pads from the box. Harry merely took to noticing that they were black and seemed to be made from… "Dragon scales! Harry, it's made from the skin of a Hungarian Horntail!" Ron took one and ran his hand over it. The arm bracers and shin guards were covered in what looked to be merely black leather. Fred and George proved the durability of the equipment by trying to set it on fire (much to the disappointment of Mrs. Weasley), but the spell was deflected and singed some hair off of Crookshanks who was napping in a corner.

"I guess we know how much this stuff can endure," George assessed throwing the bracer back to Harry. He smiled and tried it on his arm. It fit perfectly.

"I guess he thought it would encourage you since you're now allowed to play Quidditch," Hermione chirped in, plopping on the couch next to Harry as he adjusted the shin guard on his leg. It also fit perfectly.

"Me and mum helped him decide on what to get you, Harry," Ginny said, sitting up as if to challenge what Ron thought up in giving Harry. Ron ignored her and returning to gawking at the bracer.

"Thanks, Ginny," Harry said, "These will really come in handy after that bludger incident. Do you remember?"

"How could anyone forget?" Ron replied, "That bloke Lockhart accidentally removed your bones!" In his second year at Hogwarts, Harry had been chased by a tampered bludger and it had broken his arm in his attempt to catch the snitch.

"Here you go, dear," Mrs. Weasley said offering another Harry another gift, "Remus and Moody sent it this morning." Hermione nudged in to get a closer look. She had been a little edgy of Remus when she had found out he was a werewolf in their third year, but had grown to trust him last year in their discovery of the Order of the Phoenix. There was no wrapping. Fred came over and opened the taped down flaps (you try ripping open four layers of duct tape) with a small pocket knife, allowing Harry more ease in opening it. Moody really didn't take any chances, did he?

There was a letter. It read:

Harry,

Happy 16th birthday! Lupin and I spent forever looking for this. We hope all is going well for you today and wish you the best of luck at Hogwarts this year. Remember – constant vigilance!

Moody

Tossing aside the note, Harry dug around the styrofoam before pulling out a black satin robe trimmed with silver around the sleeves, neckline, and hem. Harry pulled it on, wincing slightly at the seemingly high collar and the weight the robe added to his shoulders. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley beamed, having that look in their eyes that read 'our-little-Harry-is-all-grown-up.' "I wonder how long it took them to find that!" Fred said as he and George made an escape to the kitchen.

"There's something in the pocket, Harry," Hermione suddenly said, taking a piece of parchment and handing it to him.

"It's from Lupin."

Dear Harry,

I've gotten word from McGonagall about your testing last year. Moody and I agreed that you've earned this and hope you'll seriously consider a profession in being an Auror. You should be getting your scores some time next week along with your courses. Dumbledore has also informed us that Hogwarts will be having a rather extravagant ball this year, although the time has not been revealed. Just think of this as a coming of age present from all of us here at the Order.

Remus Lupin

"They've all ready sent Ron and me robes, too," Hermione said. The room suddenly went dark and the twins came walking in with a large cake, decked with candles and a miniature seeker flying around the surface chasing a tiny golden ball. Harry saw that the seeker had black hair, glasses, and red robes just like him.

"Happy Birthday to you!" Fred and George started and everyone quickly followed suit. "Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday, dear Harry! Happy Birthday to you!" Harry closed his eyes for a moment and took out the 32 candles in two breaths.

"Do you think we put too many on?" George asked, fanning away all the smoke. Fred shot a spell at the seeker flying around, stopping him just centimeters away from the tiny ball and handed him to Harry.

Hermione counted and answered, "You really only needed seventeen – sixteen and one for good luck."

"Really?" Mr. Weasley piped in, "Why is that?" Arthur Weasley had always been fascinated with Muggles and their traditions.

Hermione giggled and began explaining to the family head the silly meaning of one candle for good luck. Mrs. Weasley had conjured up a knife that was cutting the cake up into squares. Harry noticed that the lettering on the cake read Sweet Sixteen and fought hard to contain his laughter. He knew that the phrase was actually for girls, but it would be rather rude to correct them for all their generosity.

"Open up this one, mate," Ron said, pushing a box into Harry's hands. "Hermione and I thought you would like it." Harry removed the lid from and saw a flash of gold dart to his right. He looked into the box and noticed it was empty. "It's a snitch. Thought you could use the practice after your lifetime ban was removed."

Harry followed the tiny winged ball until it was within his reach and quickly snatched it out of the air. He smiled and practically broke his two best friends in half with a hug. He recalled the memory of his father releasing and catching the snitch from observing one of Snape's memories during his last school year. Now he could really call himself his father's son.

After opening the last of his presents – a pitcher of butterbeer and tube of hair gel (he had also heard about the ball) from Hagrid, a sweater from Mrs. Weasley, and ten galleons worth of jokes from Fred and George's new shop – Harry was enjoying a round of chess with Ron. As usual, Ron was winning having taken all of Harry's pieces save for his queen, black square bishop, two rooks, and five pawns. "Boys, we'll be having lunch in twenty minutes!"

"All right, mum!" Ron triumphed after another seven moves. "Want to play again?"

"Nah, I know you'll just cream me," Harry replied, putting away the pieces.

"Excited about this year?" Ron asked, lying down on his bed and folding his arms under his head. "Just think, only two more years and we can do whatever we want!"

"No…I think I'm more scared than anything. I want to be an Auror, but I don't know if I have the grades to make it." Harry sighed and took out his snitch, letting it hover for a second or two, and catching it.

"Don't worry too much about it. Just think about that ball Lupin wrote about. I mean, it's got to be really something if he and Moody went out shopping for us!"

"I suppose, but who'll I go with?" Harry asked, grabbing the snitch in his hand again. "I've never really had much luck with girls in the first place."

Ron screwed up his face and started tapping his chin before asking, "What about Parvati? She seemed pretty nice at the Yule Ball."

"She ditched me for someone else, remember?" The tiny golden ball tried to fly away, but to no avail.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Even Padma left me." Sitting up on his arm, he asked, "Lavender?"

"Dating Seamus…" Harry released the snitch.

"Well, I'd never let you take Ginny."

Harry chuckled and caught the snitch again.

"If you like, I can ask Padma or Luna for you," Ron said, scratching his head.

"Padma's probably like her twin and Luna would want to try dancing upside down." Harry let the golden ball go again.

Ron hesitated for a moment and softly said, "…Cho Chang…?"

"…" The snitch began flying around Ron's attic bedroom. Harry's hand was extended in the place he had released it and didn't move. Ron watched as Harry continued staring out the window, swallowing the large lump in his throat. He didn't want to bring up the sensitive subject of the love triangle between Harry Potter, Cho Chang, and the late Cedric Diggory, but didn't want his best friend in denial when it came to girls.

Harry stared out of the attic window. The sky was so blue like the robes of the Ravenclaw House Quidditch team. Ron had certainly struck a chord when he had mentioned Cho Chang. She and Harry had a small romance during the last school year, but it had gone horribly wrong when they went on a date on Valentines' Day in Hogsmeade. Cho was still grieving over the loss of Cedric and it had irritated Harry every time she started crying over him. Of course, he knew that losing a loved one wasn't easy and recovering from such a loss could take many, many years.

"I'm sorry," Ron started, "maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Ginny went with you."

"It's okay, Ron," he replied, "I just hope she isn't such a big cry baby anymore." The snitch was caught a fraction of second later.

o o o o o o o

The days thread themselves into next week and Harry, Ron, and Hermione found each other staring at their Hogwarts letters. Inside contained their scores from last year's OWLs and a list of the NEWT level classes they qualified for. Hermione carefully opened her letter while Ron made a hasty retreat to his room with Fred and George hot on his tail. Harry broke the seal open:

Transfiguration: E

Potions: E

Herbology: A

History of Magic: A

Care of Magical Creatures: O

Divination: O

Charms: O

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

He blinked, looked over his scores, and blinked again. He could hear Hermione groaning next to him, but he paid no attention and tried rationalizing the reasons for actually passing potions. And with an Exceeds Expectations nonetheless. He proposed the Snape was forced to let him pass by Dumbledore or McGonagall and that he had gotten lucky with Trelawny. Bringing that to the back of his pile of letters, Harry read the second piece of parchment:

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have qualified for the following NEWT level courses for this upcoming school year.

Defense Against the Dark Arts

Charms

Divination

Transfiguration

Potions

Care of Magical Creatures

Due to a change in headmasters, your lifetime ban from Quidditch has been lifted and will be returning as the Gryffindor House Quidditch team captain. Congratulations and we wish you luck in further endeavors.

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

"Mum! Mum!" Fred and George were running at a neck-breaking speed with what looked to be Ron's letters into the kitchen. "Mum, Ron got into five NEWT classes! Five!"

"Hey, give those back!" Ron's face and tips of his ears were beat red. "I'm not done reading them!"

But Ron didn't need to finish reading them because his mother had engulfed him in a hug, practically crying tears of joy. Fred and George had only gotten three a piece, so it was no surprise that she was showering her youngest son with kisses and tears. "Oh, I'm so proud of you!"

"Good job, Ron," Hermione said in between giggles as she watched him recoil from being released.

"What?" Ron seemed dumbstruck. He had obviously not gotten to the part where McGonagall went on to list which classes he had qualified for and was then reading the rest. At once his eyes lit up and a smiled crept its way across his face.

"What are you doing next year, Ron?" Harry asked, approaching him. He scanned the paper and saw that they were in the same classes except Divination.

"Blimey, if I did this good…" Ron stared at the parchment before suddenly asking, "How'd you do, Hermione?"

"Yes, do tell us, Miss Granger," Fred asked in a mock-McGonagall tone.

"I'm in…" she started, but trailed off at the last bit.

"What?" George asked, stepping closer.

"I said I'm in…" Hermione repeated.

"Speak up will you?" Ron said rather forcefully.

"I SAID I'M IN TEN! HAPPY?" With that, she stormed off upstairs. The four boys traded looks with each other before silently going about their own business.

o o o o o o o

Diagon Alley never seemed so quiet before. Harry had always known it to be a bustling place of wizards and witches trying to make a living or battling the time to get their sons and daughters ready for school. After making amends with Hermione, Ron had promised her that he'd try to be more like a gentleman from then on. Hermione just huffed at the proposal and laughed. Ron had taken it pretty personal and was now very quiet.

Ginny, on the other hand, was beginning to show traits that she shared with her twin brothers. She took enjoyment in annoying Ron and embarrassing him when the opportunity presented itself.

School would be starting in a few days and Mrs. Weasley had insisted that the four of them – Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione – get going with picking up any books or supplies they might need, especially since the famous trio was about to start the NEWT classes.

They entered Flourish and Blotts never expecting to see such a long line. "Is it all right if I go pick up some ingredients for Potions?" Harry asked, growing impatient after ten minutes of standing in the same spot.

"Yeah, mum, can I go, too?" Ron broke in.

Mrs. Weasley nodded and as they were leaving, called out, "Just be back in half an hour!"

When they were outside, Ron asked, "Do you mind if I checked out the Quidditch stuff first? I want to see if they got any cheap models better than mine."

"Yeah, I'll get some ingredients for you." Harry watched as Ron's red head disappeared in the crowd before turning around and heading in the opposite direction. However, another store caught his attention. He could hear some strange music coming from it. Harry walked in and looked around. The shelves were littered with some instruments Harry had never seen. He could make out some familiar ones he had seen the Weird Sisters play at the last ball they had at Hogwarts.

On the other wall of shelves sat numerous spheres. Each one glowed a different color: yellow, green, blue, purple, red, or pink. Harry picked up a sphere. It fit in his hand like a jumbo marble or jawbreaker. Suddenly music wavered all around him. Emotions swirled through him, but they weren't his emotions. They belonged to someone else. It was full of happiness and joy. He wanted to cry because the jubilant feelings that filled him were so intense.

Putting it down and walking down the long aisle, he spotted one near the top that was broken in half. It was the only orange one, but it was dull and scratched. Harry tiptoed to reach it and instantly felt another connection. This one belonged to a girl. She was crying. Someone had died. Someone who was very, very dear to her. He could hear the song in his mind, feeling its melancholy tone course through him like a cold wind. He sensed it was a love song, but a sad one at that. Not even two minutes had gone by when it abruptly stopped.

"You might want to put that one back, darlin'." Harry spun around to come face to face with an old witch. She was tall as Harry, her long silvery hair falling straight past her hips. She had deep brown eyes, but despite the crow's feet at their corners, they seemed jovial and full of life. She had the eyes of a child.

"Why?" Harry asked, curious as to why such a sphere would even exist.

"Did you hear it?" she questioned, looking up at him intensely.

"What if I did?"

She smiled. "Then you'll be startin' a journey quite soon."

"What do you mean?" Harry was officially freaked out.

"This sphere has a very long history behind it. One filled with passion and an undying love. I've never met anyone who actually heard its song."

"Can you hear it?" he asked quickly.

"Sadly, I do not have the necessary requirements needed to hear its tune. It's reserved for those of great power or those of great loss." She summoned an instrument to her, with the flick of a wrist and quick mumble of words. The instrument looked like a thin, silver funnel. It was about two feet in length and only a couple centimeters in diameter. She held it out for Harry to take.

"What's that?"

"Don't you know? It's a flute, dear," she said, stepping closer.

"So, who cares? I want to know about this sphere. Why can I hear it?" Harry saw the smile quickly fade from her face and immediately regretted his words.

"Take it," she said shoving the flute toward him. Harry backed away, terrified as her eyes quickly to on the look of an old woman. "Take it and the sphere!"

"Why?" Harry was up against a shelf. He could hear all the spheres rustle from their cushions and drop to the stone floor, shattering as they made contact.

"You have been destined for great things," she said, placing the flute in his hands, "…now the time has come for war. YOU MUST TAKE IT!" The old woman's voice echoed throughout the room, shaking the shelves and shattering spheres along the wall. Was he terrified? Terrified would be an understatement. He found himself drawing nearer reaching out to take the silver instrument. Its feel around his hands felt familiar, in an unorthodox way. He knew where his hands needed to be placed, he felt his lips drawn to the embouchure hole, and soon his eyes had closed and a tune filled the air. It was the melody of the sphere.

o o o o o o o

"There you are, Harry," Hermione exclaimed spotting Harry as she, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley exited Flourish and Blotts with armfuls of books, "Where were you?"

Ron came up behind him, panting as he leaned on Harry trying to catch his breath. "Sorry…got distracted. Here, let me help you." Ron relieved Hermione of half of her pile, ignoring Ginny who had raised her eyebrows at his gesture.

"Oh – um – a merchant distracted me on the way," he quickly lied.

"They probably just noticed your scar or something," Ginny said, "Let's rest up at the Leaky Cauldron." Before heading over, Harry repaid Mrs. Weasley for his books (with some refusal on her part). He hardly remembered what had happened since he had sub-consciously played the flute. The flute! He nonchalantly searched his pockets and felt it in the back pocket of his jeans. That old woman must've used a Shrinking Spell on it. But how did he get out?

"What's that you got there, Harry?" Ron asked, inquiring about the half-sphere he had pulled out of his robes.

"I was rushing to get back and – uh – broke this. That merchant I was talking about wanted me to pay for it." Ron took in his hands and examined it. Harry read his question, "It's a music sphere."

"Never seen one so small before…" Ron handed it to Ginny as they entered the Leaky Cauldron.

"It's probably over a thousand years old," Hermione stated matter-of-factly, "I read about musical devices in the library a couple years ago for a History paper. It works like a tape recorder (Ron cocked an eyebrow at the unfamiliar muggle object) and stores music that wizards wanted to save as a gift or something."

"I wonder how much it cost?" Ron blurted out.

"I only paid a sickle for it," Harry fibbed, not wanting to tell them some witch had practically declared him some hero on a quest, "Is that a lot?"

"No, not at all." Hermione took the broken sphere in her hands. "Perhaps it belonged to some peasant or contained unpopular music." Harry inwardly huffed at the idea. The melody he had heard was enchanting, almost heart-breaking. "Why not just throw it away?"

"Huh?" Harry snapped out of his thoughts and answered, "I don't know. I like it. It sort of reminds me of my own life."

"What do you mean?" Ginny spoke up, closing one of her new books for her fifth year.

Harry bit his lip lightly, trying to think of a explanation. "The sphere was broken, but remains half intact. Look at me – I'm the only surviving wizard in my family." They all nodded, but still had confused looks on their faces. Harry continued, "Hagrid is another example. He's unwelcome to many people, yet there's a part of him that the four of us here can see through that gigantic appearance to the big, loving man he really is. Even your family, the Weasley's – no matter how many trials and tribulations come your way, you'll always have one another to pick up somebody that is about to fall short."

Ron lowered his head and mumbled, "Except Percy."

"Oh, Ron," Ginny gasped. "Don't sulk. After all, you still have Harry, Hermione, and…me," she finished, draping an arm around her brother's shoulders. Hermione made a move to comfort him, but Ginny cast pleading eyes at them. They took the hint and left the Leaky Cauldron into the rain with Ron's sobbing following them out the door.

There was an awkward moment of silence between them. The streets of Diagon Alley seemed less crowded now that the school rush was slowing. Harry glanced down at Hermione who seemed content to explore her thoughts. He remembered the events that had transpired – the Order, Umbridge, his short-lived relationship with Cho, the pensieve, his battle with Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries, and…his godfather…Sirius. Tears threatened to fall at any instigation. Recalling his name was enough for young Potter to go into weeks of depression, but he could not let it get the better of him. Sirius would have wanted him to go on with his life. He would have wanted him to live up to the prophecy and destroy the man, or rather the creature, that had haunted the wizarding world for far too long.

"You're right, Harry," Hermione said. She looked up at him and smiled oddly, "I mean, I'm a muggle-born witch, but that hasn't stopped me from learning magic." She grew quiet and her eyes misted over, "I just hope that one day, all this – this chaos and unhappiness – will end." She hugged him, hiding her face in his robes, and Harry felt dampness through his shirt indicating that she was crying.

Placing his arms around her and resting his chin on her hair (which was surprisingly soft), he whispered, "I'll end it, Hermione. You'll see. I'll see that prophecy through to the very end."

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes red from tears. "Just make sure you're the one we see when it does end."

Across the street, a pair of chocolate-brown eyes belonging to a young Ravenclaw watched as the young man and woman embraced each other. The rain never ceased in its assault.

o o o o o o o

Being in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express with Neville, Dean, and Seamus never so enjoyable to Harry before. His usual companions were at a Prefect meeting, which would probably last a good two to three hours. Seamus excused himself ten minutes into the conversation about Quidditch, which he never did, claiming that he was supposed to meet a friend in another compartment. Dean mouthed the name 'Lavender' as the Irish boy left. As soon as he was out of earshot, the remaining three burst out with laughter. "Is he always like that?" Neville asked five minutes later.

"He's been that way the whole summer," Dean said, wiping tears from his eyes. "I tried writing to him a couple of times, but he never replies."

"Well, he's got Lavender to think about now." Harry was leaning against the soft cushions of the train, gazing out the window. The simple, nature scenes before him seemed so calming. It was a natural remedy for him when things were a little overwhelming, especially during his summers with the Dursley's when all he had to the outside world was his bedroom window.

"I want to go see what they're up to," Dean said getting up from his seat, "Wanna come?"

"Nah…I think I'll just stay. I want to get some rest before we arrive," Harry replied.

"What about you, Neville?" Dean asked.

Neville beamed and followed Dean, giving Harry a quick goodbye. Alone at last, he thought. Harry took out the small flute from his shirt pocket and returned it to its original size. Staring at it, he remembered the tune he had played and withdrew the sphere. The haunting melody filled the air again, lifting Harry up on another plateau. His emotions were carried away and were replaced by the sadness and longing that always came when he heard the tune. It abruptly stopped again. Placing it back in his pocket, Harry took up the flute and put it to his lips. However, this time when he blew, it resulted in a spitty sound. Harry blew and blew, but got no distinct sound. How was he going to try and play the sphere's melody if he couldn't even get a single note?

Outside his door a young woman watched as he attempted to play the muggle instrument. She watched him sigh and soon grow frustrated. Her black hair fell just below her shoulder line like a black cape. She jumped a little when the sound of thunder rumbled through the air and lightning split the ground outside in the distance. She recalled her brief romance with the boy she was gazing upon. He really was just a boy in comparison to another young man she had dated. Harry Potter knew really nothing when it came to girls, but then again, he had Hermione Granger. They seemed to be the couple that never fought or got torn apart. She exhaled slowly and crept back to her compartment just opposite his.

Harry Potter. The name seemed to hold more than sounds. It carried a legacy of trials and triumphs with it and emitted every possible emotion associated with those past events. More than a story, the name belonged to an extraordinary being that had lived sixteen years trying to find out who he truly was. Every one around him knew who he was and repeatedly reminded him: the Boy Who Lived. Harry had an amazing appearance to any person who could look past the image of the boy wonder. Under a messy mop of black hair and behind a pair of spectacles shined two green orbs. Standing three inches under six feet, Harry's five years of playing Quidditch and living all his life as a slave to his muggle relatives helped in giving him the definition of a well defined body.

She, on the other hand, was as normal as witches came. Cho Chang. Even her name sounded ordinary and boring…like that of many of her ancestors. The only significant burden the young woman shouldered was the death of her ex-boyfriend, Cedric Diggory. It had been a little over a year since his passing and only a couple months when she thought she was finally over him. However, her troubles were not washed away with her recent relationship with Michael Corner. He was everything she loathed in a boyfriend once she had gotten to really know him – arrogant, vain, pedantic, and forgetful. She had rightfully dumped him for some other poor girl to pick up. Cho was a very small young woman – just shy of five feet and three inches. Her delicate, brown almond-shaped eyes and raven-black hair gave away her Chinese heritage, which in turn was her reason for being a member of Ravenclaw House. It was the house that harbored those of quick wit and cleverness.

Cho would be completing her final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry within a few short hours. The ride would not last much longer. She could begin to see the last of her familiar urban world merge with the pastoral scene unfolding. Her usual clique was off somewhere, no doubt flirting with possible new boyfriends. It bored her with the way everyone seemed to be lingering on the dull subject of romance and petty love. She wanted a deep-seated relationship filled with the desire to constantly work and nurture that relationship. People were meant to progress and move forward to a higher plateau of understanding, although she was having a hard time moving on without Cedric at her side.

Her efforts to make her friends comprehend her philosophy were futile. They were all too busy to notice her staring across the corridor at another compartment housing the Gryffindor seeker. She had caught only two glimpses of him – one at Diagon Alley walking around with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, who he was probably dating, and another time just ten minutes ago, trying to play a flute – a muggle instrument. He seemed pretty well off with his friends and fame. Harry Potter was at the top of his game after fighting and escaping a number of Death Eaters. To him, Cho Chang was merely another face among the crowd of admirers. She was just one girl who thought she was in love with the Boy Who Lived. No more. No less.

The young woman rested her head against the window pane, listening to the pitter patter of raindrops falling on her already dark mood.

o o o o o o o