Into the wood.

"Hoot."

"'n a min, Hed," he said groggily moving around to make himself more comfortable and bumping lightly into feathers.

"Hoot."

"I sa, 'n a minute, girl. 'm sleepy."

"Hoot!"

"Wha? Oh, oww! What was that for?" Harry cried, becoming full awake now that Hedwig had made her urgency known in the form of a painful ear nipping.

He swiftly sat up, grabbing both his ear and his glasses in the process, with a scowl on his face. He shoved his round, wire-framed glasses up his nose, glaring at the end of the bed where his perturbed snowy owl sat looking at him as if to say, 'You know better than to oversleep!'

Which Harry knew was entirely true, though at the moment with his vision waving in front of him even with his glasses on, he had a hard time admitting it. The last three days had been busy, often with late nights, which while productive and interesting had Harry, for once in more times than he could remember, longing for his bed each night.

Hedwig gave him a shill little hoot and turned her back on Harry, ruffling her tail feathers in the process. This had always made Harry soften. He truly did not like upsetting his feathered companion and he was more than sure she knew it.

The pain in his ear subsiding, he rubbed his eyes under his glasses and cooed, "I'm sorry girl, thanks for waking me."

In return, she stuck her beak up in the air, and shifted her feathers as if to shake off his apologies.

Harry sighed, picked himself off his bed, and headed for his trunk, only half noticing that Dreia was not in her normal meditative position on the opposite bed. He opened his trunk and dug out some owl treats, hoping to appease the irritated owl.

"Would you like one of these, girl?" he asked, returning to her. She eyed the bag for a moment, stuck her beak in the air, and turned her back on him once more.

"Come on girl, I'm sorry," he said, reaching out to stroke her back. She ruffled her feathers but did not otherwise move from her position. Harry grinned lopsidedly, palmed one of the treats leaning over the end of the bed placing it in front of her.

She eyed the treat and Harry suspiciously for a moment, but in the end gave in and quickly nipped the beloved treat out of his hand, eating it quickly.

Harry sighed; his task accomplished, and sat down on the bed next to her, noticing the scroll attached to her leg.

"Did you have something for me then?" The snowy owl automatically stuck out her leg, allowing him to untie her burden, nipping him a little too affectionately on the fingers to let him know that her irritation with him was gone but not forgotten.

Harry glared at her for a second, sucking on the offended finger, and unraveled the note:

Harry.

I have some matters to attend to this morning, so I won't be with you for your exercises, but I have little doubt you know what to do. I'll be back around breakfast.

Dreia

P.S. Your owl is one of the smartest I've ever met. Where ever did you find her?

Harry smiled briefly at the compliment, folded up the note, and tossed it on the bedside table.

'Little doubt,' Harry thought to himself as he rolled his eyes, shifting himself into the required position. As though she could mean anything else?

He remembered on the first night Dreia had said that one of the very first steps in order to work with the elements was to connect with your spiritual-self. And in order to do that, one of the first steps was to learn how to properly clear your mind by meditating and focusing.". Harry thought that was all well and good because he was in desperate need to learn this skill anyway in order to acquire the skill of Occlumency.

Even though Dumbledore had said that in the end, it did not matter that he didn't have the skill, with the dream he still couldn't quite remember lingering around the edges of his mind and Dreia making it clear that the lessons were still not quite over as far as the Professor was concerned, Harry wanted to learn all he could about clearing his mind before he let Snape's greasy hooks back into his head. He just knew the git was going to teach him again regardless of what Dumbledore had said about teaching Harry himself. He was so certain that it made his head ache and his fists clench just thinking about it.

So, she had taught him to meditate, and with the frequency in which he was practicing these new skills, Harry figured he would have to finally get it whether he liked it or not.

In the mornings as dawn approached, the sun showing its first glorious rays of the new day, Dreia woke Harry and they concentrated on clearing his head. She taught him breathing techniques and sitting positions that would allow him to alleviate his mind of all thought, and put him in, as she had said, a "better place to defend your mind."

But despite the fact that these exercises were intended to be a relaxing experience, they often left Harry feeling frustrated. He could maintain a thought-free mind for no more than half a minute before random reflections would pop into his head from seemingly nowhere and his unusually curious nature would have him sorting out full-blown scenarios before he could stop himself.

"I don't understand!" he'd said, throwing his arms up in frustration that third morning. "What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied plainly. "The human mind is not meant to be idle. Even in sleep, our subconscious engages us in little one-person plays meant to educate and inform us. You are struggling against the natural course in order to keep your mind free of thought. There is a reason it is called a 'discipline,' Harry. You have to teach your mind to do something that it naturally does not do. You'll get it, you'll see."

After two hours of this every morning, producing only nominal improvement day after day, Harry was still skeptical, though much less so than he was before they began. He often wished that clearing his mind was one of those things that came easy for him, like Quidditch, or defense. But it wasn't, so with the worry that he would have to repeat the same excruciating mind violations that Snape had put him through last year, he resolved to practice and get it right.

Midmornings and afternoons were far more enjoyable as far as Harry was concerned. In the company of Dreia, Winston, and the younger two boys he learned about the element of earth; the beings, colors, and a bit about the spells associated with the element.

Though the spells themselves were simple, they were a challenge in that in order to use the connection to amplify the effect of the spell, you had to keep absolute control and, your emotions in check, lest you end up with a beanstalk worthy of Jack as Harry found out to his utter horror the first day they tried the growing spell.

"That thing must be 30 feet high!" Jeremiah cried, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Harry, you're –I-," Dreia mumbled, clearly stunned before dropping her head into her hands.

"Can we climb it, Winston?" Eden asked excitedly, bouncing from one foot to the other.

"Yes! Oh please, can't we?" Jeremiah begged.

"No, but I think now would be a good time for that flying lesson... Harry, I do believe you have that spell down. Now we just have to worry about how much power you give it."

"Sorry, I didn't mean... I was just…" Harry said, choking on his words, looking up at the tall stalk, and not knowing what to say.

"Frustrated that you couldn't complete a simple spell?" Winston asked.

"Yeah," Harry said dropping his eyes to the ground. "Bloody irritating…" he muttered under his breath.

"Right, flying and then your first lesson in grounding," Dreia said decidedly, glancing warily up at the giant beanstalk once more.

Dreia told him later that it wasn't how you did the spell, but how much power you put behind it. "Emotions, plus use of the help of elements, can greatly improve the power behind the spell you are trying to cast. That is why this type of magic is guarded closely. I'm sure I don't have to explain to you what kind of a disaster it would be if everyone could do it; especially for a wizard like you, with your power and feeling. You will learn how to control how much help you ask of the elements, tempered with your own power and emotions."

Though he understood it, the concept was so different from what he'd been taught at Hogwarts that wrapping his mind around it was difficult. It was like understanding that the sky was blue, but not being able to perceive the tiny little molecules that reflected the light to make it blue.

She then had taught him to ground. Something she told him would help in all aspects of his life. "Grounding will help you focus, will help you rid yourself of excess energy and frustration that can impede your spell work and concentration on the task at hand. And, it will probably help you with your other meditations as well.

"It's a simple a visualization. One that can be done quickly and silently once you've mastered it."

"How do we start?" Harry asked.

"Take off your shoes and socks and stand with your arms straight out and your feet shoulder width and a half apart touching the ground, like this-" she instructed, taking to the position herself.

"Close your eyes and practice your breathing techniques for a moment."

"Now, seek out the excess energy in your body."

Harry was not quite sure how to take this or what she meant. "Er..."

"Do you ever feel like you are overwhelmed? Like you have all this excess feeling running around inside you that you don't know how to get rid of?"

"All the time – it feels like it's going to eat through my skin," Harry admitted.

"That's what we are looking for. Extra energy often makes us cranky because we don't know how to rid ourselves of it or it is too negative. Seek that out in yourself and focus it down; from the tip of your head and down through your body."

Harry was surprised at first; having been frustrated and angry for over a year, it was easy to seek it out within himself. To his mind's eye, it looked like a swirling grey fog that encompassed him and strangled all his vital organs. It was thick and palpable, moving slowly and lethargically throughout him. He shuddered at the sight of his own visualization, but it couldn't be helped. Instead of concentrating on the alarming look of his own emotions, Harry concentrated on shifting the mist away from his brain, his lungs, and his liver—pushing it down—in through his arms and down through his chest, down into his legs and feet.

"Now see your feet open up and roots of a tree grow from your feet into the soil," Dreia said smoothly. "Empty that energy into the ground – push it all the way in and bury it."

Harry felt the energy leave his body and felt surprisingly light, if not a bit disoriented. It was freeing – like being on a broom. He swayed to and fro but did not falter. It truly was like being anchored to the ground.

"Pull up your roots," Dreia said. "Feel them slink back into your body. Good – now, pull what remains into the point right above your stomach and breathe."

Harry decided that he very much liked the feeling he was left with; calm, collected, and more readily able to focus on whatever he was doing. He could more easily apply himself to the spells that they taught him and, while they were still very off in one direction or the other, it was nowhere near the calamity of that first afternoon. And as she had pointed out, it had helped him with the clearing of his mind, but only a little.

In addition to the spell lessons, there were trips around the meadow and walks through the outer part of the wood. He was pointed to naturally occurring things and explanations of the grandeur of nature. Fantastic tales of old were recited for him as they related to this tree or that shrub, slowly learning why it was so important for the Druids to be in touch with nature.

The area was an interesting combination of magical and non-magical plants and herbs. Seeing potion ingredients in their natural environment intrigued Harry; somehow it brought it home for him and gave him a better understanding of the plants that he'd failed to comprehend in his potion books and the greenhouses over the years. Not that the comprehension was total, but he surprised himself by knowing more about them than he thought he did.

He was introduced briefly to the beautiful ring of tall grey standing stones upon the knoll in front of the wood. Though he was not permitted to enter until the night of his initiation, standing just outside of it he could feel the magic that radiated throughout the circle. It was a different sort of feeling than what he felt when walking the halls of Hogwarts, where magic seemed to seep from the walls. Still it was there, more concentrated and vibrant. It had an old sort of feel, a serenity that he had come to associate with the company of the Druids.

He also spent some time in the evening hours before dusk in the middle of the meadow in a bare patch of red earth with Gio and a pail of water. He showed Harry how to mix the water and dig the right amount of clay in order to form a large ball in which he would then create a basin. Harry had asked why the first time they started but Gio simply looked him, smiled mischievously, and said, "You're a Potter, are you not?"

As it turned out, Harry was to fashion this basin of his own device that Gio said was commonly used in Druidic rituals and that was a representative for the element of earth. Though most you encountered were stone or metal, the earthen ones gave the Druid a chance to enjoy the simplicity of working with the elements physically and to know the results first hand.

"And nothing works better for a Wizard than a magical tool of his own devices," Gio said. "Your own magic is interred into the object you are working with, and magic recognizes it's own."

After three days, the basin was finally looking like it might be something more than a hollowed out mud-pie and Gio assured him that by the time they were through, it would be one of his stronger magical items.

When the sessions with Gio were through, he was required to spend some time in the middle of the meadow. Harry was not quite sure why this was so, only that Dreia has often called it evening meditation, and that he should spend time practicing his breathing exercises, grounding before hand if he should need too, and to simply lay there and think about nothing in particular.

Of course, with the exception of being idle, this, Harry thought, was something he could handle with little difficultly. Letting his mind wander through anything and everything was something he seemed to be particularly adept at.

Dinner was served shortly after his time in the field among the grasses, and his own musings. Amongst the Druids and their chatter on things of the day, theories and stories he barely understood and the general friendship the permeated the air in the kitchen, Harry felt at ease. It was only upon seeing Regulus that he was reminded of the harsh reality of why he was in their company. It made him feel guilty, but he brushed it aside for another day and resolved to work harder during his time among them.

Hedwig gave a final derisive hoot before she settled herself down for her morning nap. He smiled at her recalling that last few days once more before breathing deeply and practiced clearing his head.

"We're going in a bit further today," Winston said that hot afternoon as they made their way into the wood. "We have someone we would like you to meet."

Harry was a little startled by this, having only met creatures and beings in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts that truthfully he'd wished he had not.

"Who?"

"You will see. Meeting her is somewhat of an experience," Winston said, as Dreia walked farther ahead of them.

Harry's widened for a moment, but it was enough for Winston to take notice.

"Problems with creatures in the wood?" Winston asked.

Harry raised a hand and began counting off the wild and bizarre creatures he'd met. "Acromantulas, centaurs, unicorns, giants-"

"Giants!" Winston exclaimed.

"Yeah, oh and once, a werewolf," Harry said, knowing full well who the werewolf was but was enjoying the way Winston's eyebrows rose with each new creature too much to make mention of it.

Winston stared blankly at him for a moment but then shook his head. "Luckily, you will find none of those things in this wood, but I would certainly like to take a walk through the ones you've been in."

They followed a well-trodden, earthen path covered in dead and decaying foliage. The wood, though silent to eyes, was a myriad of activity to the ears. Birds of every sort filled the air with their song. Small creatures skirted along the path in the underbrush rustling the leaves and insects hummed a high-pitched tune at every direction. Harry, for the better part, was oblivious to all this. With his eyes sharp and intent on searching around corners and scanning the canopy for signs of whatever creature he was likely to encounter, he dismissed these little things as soon as he discovered that they were no more threatening than they would be in an average wood, despite Winston's insistence that that was the case.

Soon, much sooner than he'd expected given his previous experience, Dreia and Winston stood before an old and beautiful Silver Birch. Three main branches spread from its thick trunk and its mossy green leaves danced and swayed to some unknown tune the light breeze created as it filtered though its top.

Dreia turned and looked at Harry expectantly. "What do you know of tree guardians?"

Tree guardians. Now here was something he thought he could handle. "You mean those little stick creatures?" he replied.

Dreia and Winston shared a quick, startled look.

"What do you mean, stick creatures?" Dreia asked.

"Stick creatures, you know… they eat woodlice and live in wand trees. I was bitten by one of the little buggers last year while we studying them at Hogwarts. They've got sharp little fingers and sharp, nasty little teeth?" Harry said, describing the creatures with his hands for emphasis. "You know, bowtruckles…"

Dreia looked at him incredulously. She narrowed her eyes, folded her arms across her chest, and tapped her foot on the forest floor. Winston stood still, his mouth slightly open as he looked between Dreia and Harry, before he finally said in a low strangled whisper, "You mean to tell me, that they are teaching you that bowtruckles are tree guardians?"

"Er… well yeah. Aren't they?"

"No, Harry, they are not. They are cousin to the nargles. They simply live in wand trees and claim the trees as they own and will not let anyone near them," Dreia said almost growling.

It was now Harry's turn stand still and drop his mouth open slightly, the awkward conversation with Luna last Christmas under the mistletoe in the Room of Requirement unfolding itself before his eyes even as they widened before the two Druids. "Nargles aren't real. They're a myth!"

"Of course they are. Almost exactly as you just described, but smaller… they also live in mistletoe and are an incredible pain to get out!" Dreia nearly spit. She unfolded her arms and placed one against the tree, lowering her head, breathing deeply, which Harry saw as distinct sign to control her anger, something he certainly couldn't comprehend. Why get upset about some misrepresentation? And if this was true, what had the mystical and loopy Ravenclaw known?

Winston threw up his hands in a defeated manner, waving off the entire conversation, walking away and mumbling about the state of the Wizarding world and nargles.

Harry shrugged defensively, bewildered by their behavior. "It's just what I've been taught."

"Yes, well, I suppose its time to properly educate you then. This is a true tree guardian- a Dryad." She turned to the old Silver Birch, and closed her eyes and placed her palms flush with its surface. "Mother Penelope, if it pleases you, will you show yourself?"

The air around the trunk of the tree shifted and swirled, as if the surface suddenly radiated large waves of heat. White fog slowly began spiraling around the tree until it was completely engulfed from the roots to lower most leaves. Both Dreia and Winston – who had walked back by now – had lowered their heads in some sort of reverence as the fog parted down the middle, and out of the center of the Silver Birch, a woman Harry could only describe as made of light appeared.

Harry almost gasped looking upon the radiance of the creature before him. He likened her appearance to that of a Patronus, shimmering white and light silver from head to toe. Her silver-white hair and pale skin didn't seem to reflect any of the sunlight filtering in through the canopy above, yet they reradiated a glow of their own, and the mist of a robe she wore clung to her skin like morning dew to the moss on the northern side of a tree.

A smile graced her thin, colorless eyes and lips as she looked upon Winston and Dreia. She bent her head slightly in a show of mutual respect and then turned her attention toward Harry.

"Hoi," the Dryad said in a voice that carried lightly on the wind. "Kanys ta shiu?"

Harry narrowed his eyebrows and looked furtively at the smiling Druids. "What did she say?"

"In English, if you would, Mother," Winston said. "Young Harry does not know how to speak Gaelic."

"But he is from the other land, no?" she asked curiously.

"He is indeed, but not many speak the language of the old peoples, mother. Harry, meet Mother Penelope. Mother Penelope, Harry Potter."

The Dryad sized Harry up and down, and seemed to be studying him the space around him with great intent. "How long have you had the black?" she asked Harry through a thick accent that he couldn't quite place.

Harry's breath caught a bit in the back of his throat. "The… The Black?"

She seemed to realize that that was not the right choice of words to use, and said, "The black, the mourning? The sadness? It is all around you. It is… interspersed? Or…

"Intertwined," Winston put in.

"Yes, intertwined; in your aura. You are sad, right?"

'So much for small talk,' Harry thought, taken aback by her directness, but still very much in awe of the creature before him. "Yes - I mean, I'll be all right," he said automatically, plastering a semi-fake smile on his face.

"Yes, I can see," she said unconvincingly. "You also have trouble. More trouble than is good. You have a great magic too, Harry Potter. But you have not seen it yet. You will. Soon, I see," she said studying the area slightly to the left, and slightly to right of him. "You know little of nature, but you fly with the wind. You will protect it, and we will protect you. You are a good almost man, Harry Potter."

Harry cocked an eyebrow and looked back and forth between the Dryad and Winston and Dreia. "It's good to meet you too," he said, slowly.

The Dryad laughed almost quirkily, sounding a bit more like a cackling bird than a human. "You know all this, yes?"

Harry nodded his head. It was quite startling for him to be read like an open book.

The Dryad looked almost affronted, but then her colorless eyes began scanning the area around him, as if searching for something it seemed she could not find.

Harry looked around himself trying to figure out exactly what it was that she was looking for, but saw nothing but earth and tarnished leaves.

The Dryad cocked her head to the side as if deciding something and said, "You have no future. The fates have given you the thread. Come, we go to the river."

She picked up her skirts that seemed to meld into her hand and then floated off to the west, while Harry watched her go, completely perplexed. "That's a Dryad."

"Mother Penelope, never one to mince words," Dreia said watching the retreating figure of the Dryad. "Well, are we going?"

Harry started moving forward with the others, trailing slightly behind the swiftly moving and determined Dryad. The path that she had chosen was more overgrown than the path leading to her Silver Birch had been, and Harry was having difficulty keeping up with her pace. Random twigs and leaves brushed against his clothing and snagged at his shoes, hindering his movements.

The Dryad had no such trouble, however. She seemed to float over the forest floor like a ghost, weaving in and out of the trees as if she'd tread these ground a thousand times before. Dreia and Winston seemed to be having little trouble either. He could tell by the side-glances they were giving and the shifting of their positions that they had not gone this way before, yet in searching the ground they missed every root, every vine and every bramble that seemed to cross their course. It was as if they knew exactly the right places to step, as if the forest was guiding them down a clear path that the Dryad had laid out for them.

Harry's feet, which seemed to him to have grown roughly four sizes too big to tread through the thick underbrush kept him moving forward with some difficulty. He had to find a way to catch up, he thought to himself, but how?

Just then a feral summer wind broke through the tight knit canopy above, and smoothly sailed across Harry's face, cooling the sweat that had accumulated on his brow and somehow giving him a brief clarity of thought.

'The connection. Of course, they are asking for help!'

While carefully navigating the unforgiving ground, Harry retreated into the back of his mind seeking out the string that would help him follow the others more easily. 'Elements of earth, help guide me on the path of the Dryad…'

Harry opened his eyes and was not surprised to find the now recognizable hues of green and browns shading his vision. He was, however, in awe of the pale golden and red leaved spots of earth laid out before him in perfect harmony with the trail the Dryad was leading them down toward the river for what even purpose it held. It was not strong, but strong enough he could tell to navigate the rough terrain much easier than he had been.

Not wasting a moment longer, Harry jogged easily down the lit course bobbing through the thicket and caught up with his human companions.

"'Bout time you caught up, young Harry. Thought for a moment we'd have to come back and carry you like a babe," Winston said with a small smirk.

Harry frowned and loftily replied, "You could have just told me."

"Do you like being spoon-fed the answers?"

"No, but…"

"I thought not," Winston smiled, narrowly avoiding stumbling over a tree trunk, obviously too absorbed in his own sarcastic remarks to pay heed to the path.

Harry chuckled lightly, and continued on, paying the nettling little thought. By now he knew that Winston liked to get to the point through his sarcasm and taunting, and there was no way around his chosen method of teaching. He could be like Snape in that way, but it was friendlier and jovial. It wasn't meant to berate or to hurt, merely to point out a fact and tease a bit.

As they rounded a bend in the trail, Harry saw the faint whips of the Dryad's hair as she skirted deftly between two large Oak trees and seemed to disappear and blend in between them. Harry squinted his eyes darting between the path and the place where she'd vanished trying to make out what she was up to. He nearly lost his balance as the sound of tinkling laughter sounded off from afar, and the same swirling that he'd witnessed from the Silver Birch rounded Oaks in a green haze before twin green heads popped out of the mighty Oaks and giggled at him and his companions before disappearing in to the bark.

"There are more?" Harry asked astounded. 'Of course there are more,' he thought, chastising himself. "Why are those two green?"

"Because they are from the Oak, of course," Winston said as if it were common knowledge.

Dreia rolled her eyes. "As with the garden, trees each have their own spirit too, that is what a Dryad is; they are the spirits and guardians of the trees. But unlike the spirits of the plants, they can live for hundreds of years, some have been living longer than that!" She laughed with a glint of madness that Hermione often had when she was truly enveloped in her subject. "They become more like animals and humans do, taking the shape and form of that which they inhabit. Environment!" she stressed. "Mother Penelope appears silver because she inhabits the Silver Birch Tree. 'Beth' in the Ogham."

"And so the Oak would be green because they are from the Oak?"

Winston laughed and Dreia smiled. "Actually they are that color because they are young, look-" she said, pointing to the two trees the Dryads of the Oak had poked their heads through, "Very young," she said, grasping the trunk of one tree, wrapping her arms around it. "These two are probably no more than 20 years old. Babies in the land of trees…"

"Oh," Harry mumbled trying to fit all of the pieces together, "so all saplings start out green?"

"Yes, which leads to another common misconception about the little guys, Muggles and Wizards alike call them elves, or fae –"

Harry stumbled on a root as he looked up a Dreia. "I've always wondered about that," he said recovering his balance. "The fairies that you see at Hogwarts around Christmas don't match all of the legends you hear about in the Muggle world."

"Those are different kind of fairy. The fae of old have been lost to the human world. They live now only in other realms of existence like the Crone does."

Harry thought about this. He had small talks with Dreia and other members of the group in limited forms about his unusual journey to visit the old Crone. The concept of different planes of existence parallel and similar in size and shape to our own was a hard pill to swallow. Harry listened with both astonishment and wonder to hear them speak of these places as if they were no further away than a neighbor's house.

"Different beings live there, of course," Gio had said while he and Harry had worked away at their bowls. "Creatures and beings that are rarely seen in this world. Some can cross the barriers into our world, as we do into theirs."

They continued on for sometime, the silvery-white essence of the Dryad flittering and flying to and fro a stretch or two in front of them. But with the aid of the connection helping them, the denseness of the trees and unevenness did not impede their path.

It was shortly over a half an hour later when the Dryad finally slowed to a stop a short distance in front of them, and Harry could just make out the bend of a small river.

Slightly out of breath, Dreia commented, "I had no idea it was this far out."

Harry frowned. "She's never taken you this far before?"

"No, she rarely vacates her tree," Winston said.

Harry raised an eyebrow. Blind faith in magical creatures of any sort was not something he was accustomed too. "And you just followed her?"

"I doubt she'd lead us astray, Harry. It's not like she's Fae from the old tales. Dryads are always honest and true, it's their nature."

Harry felt his gut twist slightly. "Ok, but what do you think she's going to do at that river? What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'd assume she's going to scry. Not that I've had any luck in the art," Dreia muttered under her breath, causing a good-natured smirk to cross Winston's face. "Dryads are known for the gifts in divination."

Harry scrunched his eyebrows together and continued moving forward without another word. Although he hadn't studied it in Divination class, he knew from over hearing Lavender and Parvati that scrying was a form of Divination that involved water, or a mirror. And it was the thought of Divination and mirrors that made his stomach twist in even larger knots, causing him to be completely unaware of the brilliance of the place. That is, until the sharp intake of air from his right made him take pause.

Harry's gaze moved from the forest floor and his own thoughts to a completely gob smacked Dreia. Her mouth was hanging open, revealing her tiny teeth, and her eyes were as large and round as Dobby's when Harry paid him a compliment.

Looking for himself, Harry was sure his own face took on a similar size and shape. The beauty of nature was something that, under the usual circumstances, he would pay little heed to. What nearly 16-year-old boy paid attention to these details? But these circumstances were unusual, and so he did.

A scene not unlike what Harry would imagine in a Muggle fairy-tale book unfolded before them. A small, crystal clear river ran swiftly through a severe parting in the trees, that you could just tell if you were in the mind to take a drink, would fill your mouth with cool, crisp water that would trickle down the back of your throat, quenching your thirst and reviving your soul. Mighty oaks, whispering willows, and pine mixed with other trees Harry could not recognize formed intricate and dark green patterns on the other side proudly, and the white afternoon sun at their backs bounced playfully off the river and irradiated the mists coming off of it, giving the entire scene an otherworldly feel.

Harry took a sharp intake of air, which in and of itself was a surprise. It was cool, clean, and had the smell of natural pleasant things that left him feeling relaxed, but very much aware of the wonder of such a place. In a word, it was simply stunning.

"Mother, this … I… wow…" Dreia breathed. "This place…"

The Dryad smiled and beckoned the three of them to her and turning her attention to a beautiful, still pool that sat beside the river. How it was fed, Harry couldn't tell, but what he did see was that it possessed the same clean water as the river. When they'd gathered around the pool, the Dryad stirred the pool three times in a clockwise fashion and leaned over it seemingly searching for something.

The search for whatever it seemed took much longer than Harry thought necessary. The pool had long since stilled to a perfect piece of glass despite the cool breeze that lifted their hair and played around their robes. Harry was acutely aware of the fact that his knees felt like they'd been permanently locked in Muggle vice grips for the last half century. But with only the occasional shifting of weight from his human companions, no one moved and all stared directly into the pool, waiting.

"Two years," the Dryad pronounced finally, much to Harry's initial relief before he let sink in what she has said. "You have two years before the hands of fate take the thread once more."

"Two years?" Winston asked, disbelievingly. "Is there is nothing more than…"

"There is much more, but it is …shadowed. Clouded… I can not see."

Dreia spared a glance for Harry, and said, "Thank you mother, you have been a tremendous help."

"Wait…"

"But…"

"Two more years until wha-"

"It is good to know this," Dreia stated firmly giving Harry and Winston each a stern look in turn, effectively cutting off their arguments. "You have shown us much."

The Dryad's pale eyes shown brightly as she presented them with a wicked grin and announced, "There is something other."

"And what would that be?" Harry asked warily, running a hand over his face.

"Him."

The three looked across the river in the direction her magnificent hand was pointing and there, between two trees, stood a proud and mighty stag.

"Wow-" Harry said, "I've not seen one that wasn't silver before…"

"Silver?" Winston asked behind him as Harry drew as close as possible to the edge of the river slowly and quietly, the worry and confusion erased from his thought.

"Yea… my Patronus… It's a stag. Prongs," he added as an after-thought.

"Why Prongs?" Winston asked curiously, coming up beside him.

Harry scrunched up his eyebrows, hesitating with slight irritation at all the questioning. He just couldn't keep his eyes off the shape his father was said to have taken so many times, so long ago. By now, he was used to the look of his Patronus, of course, but this was different. He felt a sort of link drawing him closer to the creature across the water that was unlike what he felt for the silvery beast that erupted from his wand to protect him from the Dementors. It was primal, instinctive, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from those of the great stag before him.

"He honors you," the voice of the Dryad whispered close to his ear, the soft smell of earth and leaves and sweet things of the forest, filling his senses. "And soon, you will know why."

"Right," was about the only thing Harry could reply with, eyes still locked with the beast. He felt certain sadness when the stag inclined his head without breaking his gaze with Harry and then disappeared back into the darkness of the forest beyond the river.

Harry stared at the spot for a moment more, and then shook his head to clear it, remembering what Winston had asked. "Prongs was the name of my father's Animagus form," he said, smiling sadly and then turning back to the spot where the stag has been and then back again.

"Your father was a stag…" Dreia repeated dumbly.

"Right, him and his friends were Animagi. Hey, er…Mother Penelope? Why did you say he was honoring me?" Harry asked now that all his gears were working in an orderly fashion.

She gave him wry smile and said through the noise of Dreia falling to her knees, "You will learn in enough time – Oh, small one, are you hurt?"

Harry turned to see Dreia shakily waving off Winston's advances as he offered to pull her upright. "It's fine, it's fine. I'm- Mother, could you lead us back through the forest? I – I'm fine! I just need water." She sighed heavily and closed her eyes for a moment. "I just need to get back for a moment, and Harry you need rest. You have a big day tomorrow."

Winston pursed his lips – something he'd so far not seen the older man do, he was more likely to make a jest of the whole thing- and left a hand out for Dreia to grab anyway. There was a flicker of a glare but Dreia took it, dusting her robes off, and plastering a translucent smile on her face.

"That was most enlightening," she said with mock cheer, "shall we return?" and turned on her heel, marching purposely forward, leaving the rest in her wake.

The Dryad smiled knowingly and then flittered along behind Dreia, back into the trees while Winston had his eyebrow cocked and his eyes narrowed, glancing between Harry and Dreia's wake. "Any idea what that was all about?" he asked Harry.

"Sorry, sir, I don't."

"That would make two of us...Come young Harry, women wait for no man," he said cheerfully, grabbing Harry round the shoulders and walking him forward.

A short while later, much shorter in fact than the trip had taken into the deeper parts of the woods, they walked back into the meadow. Harry barely remembered saying goodbye to the Dryad and placing an offering of berries and silvery coins before the old Silver Birch as Winston had instructed. He was too wrapped up in all the events of the afternoon to pay much heed to where he was going.

"Evening meditation and then it should be dinner," Dreia called over her shoulder, marching on directly to the cabin. "We'll see you then," she said as she waved a hand at him over her shoulder.

"Right, see you later," Harry called to her distractedly, and since Winston was following, him as well.

Harry took his place in the middle of the meadow, laying flat on his back, with his long arms crossed beneath his head, his eyes wide at the gray, darkening sky and his mind racing with visions of the afternoon. The stag had pulled something from within him that he had not felt since the previous spring after taking a walk through Snape's thoughts. Pride. Amazement. Wonder. Feelings that he'd associated with his father and his ability to turn into such a proud and majestic animal. Feelings that he thought were forever tainted having seen his father's poor treatment of Snape in the pensieve.

There was something else too; something complexly separate and distinguishable from his father's form. At first, Harry was unsure of how to put into words what his feelings were; it felt like a bit of nausea combined with excitement and longing. It was a little while before it hit him, before it sunk it's deep penetrating teeth into him and he realized exactly how he felt.

'It feels like I am looking at the door to the Department of Mysteries.'

Later, Harry could have sworn it was like the great cong of a bell going off in his head, and just as it did the words the Dryad had spoken before the appearance of the stag flittered through his ears just as they had the forest. "Two years. "You have two years before the hands of fate take the thread once more."

He understood. He understood and he was running. Running through the meadow under the dark slate sky, pounding his way up the stairs and through the kitchen. He was almost to kitchen door when he stopped short at the sound of raised voices coming from the living room.

"Where are you going?"

"London," Dreia replied curtly as the sound of slamming doors and other things Harry couldn't distinguish filled the space under the door.

"What - Why? What's going on?" Regulus asked sounding confused. "We've only got two days-"

"His father was stag, Reggie. A stag! I can't let that kind of thing wait. I need answers now."

"Whoa, calm down pip-squeak… I don't understand…."

"Of course, you don't…. never took the time to learn that which surrounds you!" she growled as the sound of something else slammed shut, or open, Harry couldn't tell.

"Winston?" Regulus asked.

"Let's get her off first," he said quietly. "There's been some development…"

"Development?" she said laughing mechanically. "Development is strictly the wrong word… Catastrophe of monumental proportions is more like."

"Don't you think you're getting a bit carried away?"

"You know perfectly well what all this means, Winston Townsend, and don't you dare tell me to calm down! I'll be back by tomorrow morning -" There was a muffled sound of clinking metal and then a bellowed, "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

The rushing sound of a blazing fire reached Harry's ears, and he knew that she'd gone.

"What did she just yell into the fire?" Harry heard Winston ask.

"Headquarters, I'd imagine. There's a Fidelius charm on the building, she told me. Effective too, I can't even remember my own parents address."

"Ah."

There was some scraping of chairs and general movement around the room that Harry could just make out.

"So what's got her knickers in a twist?" Regulus' muffled voice asked.

There was a moment of pause in which Winston did not reply, and then…

"Do you remember the legends of the Stag?"

"Yes."

"Apparently Harry's dad was an Animagus. A stag."

"James was an Animagus?" Regulus asked. There was yet another moment of silence and then Regulus inquired, "But what does that have to do with Harry?"

There was another pause and then Regulus sputtered, "Oh… Oh! And… Dear Merlin…"

"Exactly."

Regulus swore something that Harry wouldn't dare repeat in front of Mrs. Weasley, and said, "But, isn't this good news though? I'm sure if she'd –"

Winston replied morosely, "I'd think so… There is more to it that she won't tell me – says it's something to do with the Order – but she put two and three together and nearly fainted out there in the wood."

More silence echoed from the room beyond the door while Harry's heartbeat steadily increased.

"I still say you should come with us," Regulus put in. "The offer has been extended to all of you."

"I know, I know. We may not have much choice after this," Winston sighed. "Supper should be ready and I should tell young Harry out there that he's sleeping with someone else this night."

Harry slipped away from the library as quickly and quietly as his legs would carry him while the weight of the world settled in his knees. The house flew by in a blur and before he knew it he was in the middle of the meadow, the rising storm bubbling and brewing over his head. He kicked off his shoes and planted his feet in the grass hoping some of the grounding techniques he had been taught would help him to quell the rising bile in his throat. He looked to the heavens, taking in a deep breath raising his arms parallel with his body just as it started to rain.

It's been awhile, and one crazy spring. But finally I have managed to finish this chapter, and hope you enjoy it! And thank you to those who have reviewed so far. I really wish I could answer your review here at the bottom, but as it is against the rules, I will try to answer them on my profile page.

As always, I own nothing, Please read and review!