Author's note: Sorry for the incredibly long silence. I have not dropped off the face of the earth, rather I have been working on an original novel of mine. I'm disappointed that no one ever gives me their predictions as to where the story will go when they review. I would love it if my reviewers could do that, as well as give literary reviews (you know on writing style, plot mechanisms, and the like). And PLEEEEEEEEESE will you all tell me your opinion on this chapter and the character (or maybe characters) who show up? Warning EXTREME OOC-NESS!

R&R. Enjoy:

The Road Not Taken Chapter Four- The Gift:

Several days later, after getting settled into Grimwald place, the Golden Trio found themselves standing on the doorstep of number four Privet Drive. It was a comfortable summer afternoon and luckily, it appeared that both Vernon and Dudley Dursley were out for the day, which was very unusual, but Harry wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he instead settled on thanking whatever deity existed for small blessings. Then he –who like his two friends was dressed in entirely normal muggle clothing-, reached up and rang the doorbell. Only an instant later, the door opened and the trio was met with a very surprised Petunia Dursley.

"What are you doing here, Harry," his aunt asked awkwardly. Strangely enough, she did not sound annoyed, merely confused. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but before he got the chance, his aunt cut him off. "Nevermind. Don't answer that out here. I know it has something to do with-," she looked around and lowered her voice- , "wizards, and I don't want the neighbors to hear." She paused again and Harry thought she was going to say something about how she didn't want the neighbors to associate her with anything abnormal, but he was in for quite a shock. "In times like these," she continued, "we can never be too careful." Harry, Ron, and Hermione all stared at her strangely. Harry was gaping at her as if she had grown a second head. "Come on now," she said in a normal voice and audible tone, "Why don't you three have a seat in the parlor." She ushered them inside ant shut the door tightly behind her, as if afraid the neighbors might overhear them if the door was left so much as a crack open.

It was not until they were all seated that Harry's brain registered that Petunia had actually called them 'wizards' instead of just saying 'your kind'. It took another moment for him to notice that the multitude of portraits of Dudley that had 'graced' the mantle for as long as he could remember were conspicuously absent. This being very suspicious, Harry took a look around the room and tried to see what else was different, if anything was. Since he was already looking at the mantle, the first thing he looked at was the fireplace, which to his surprise, was no longer electric, but had been restored to its proper state. Looking away from the fireplace, one of the few objects on the mantle caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. It was a small pot. That in itself was nothing unusual. It was what the pot was filled with that raised Harry's curiosity level to a height never before bestowed on anything even remotely connected to the Dursleys. For what the pot contained was not a plant, it was powder. Very familiar looking, very green powder. And it looked suspiciously like floo powder. Petunia finally took a seat herself and Harry snapped out of it. He turned to face his aunt and asked the first question that came to mind, "Aunt Petunia, what happened to all the pictures of Dudley and where are he and Uncle Vernon." At the mention of their names, Petunia made a face. It seemed from her expression that she and Vernon had had a falling out.

"They moved out of the house, or rather, I kicked them out of it –it is my house you know- just a week after you went back to Hogwarts in September." She sniffed in disdain at the memory of them.

"Why do I suddenly feel as if I'm in the middle of a Twilight Zone episode?" Harry muttered to himself. Every one in the room heard the comment and each of them had a different reaction. Hermione replied that it was because the so called natural order of the Dursley household had been turned completely upside down. Ron asked what the twilight zone was. Petunia just laughed. This startled Harry back into staring at her again. And that's when started to notice the subtle little things that were different about his aunt's appearance. First and foremost, she no longer resembled a horse in any way shape or form. Her hair was longer and had been died a pale auburn-brown color. She looked a little younger, though that was probably due to the fact that her former signature stiffness had apparently vanished. Something about the way she looked now was very familiar to Harry, though he was sure had not previously been associated with Petunia Dursley. In fact, now that he really thought about it, Harry realized that she looked more like his mother.

"Excuse me, Mrs. Dursley," Hermione asked, "what's so funny, and why did you kick your husband and your son out of the house?" Petunia stopped laughing and looked at each of them warily for a moment and then shook her head and muttered that she was beginning to act paranoid.

"First of all, Hermione –your name is Hermione, isn't it- Vernon," Petunia said his name with more than a little distaste, "is no longer my husband, I am very relieved to say, so my name is Evans, not Dursley. You may call me Ms. Evans or if you prefer, just Petunia. I'm still adjusting to re-entering our world you see. Being addressed by the name of a pigheaded, abusive muggle doesn't really help much." Now even Ron knew enough to stare at her.

"What do you mean our world," Harry demanded.

"I mean the ma- my word, my memory must be slipping. I completely forgot I'd invited Arabella to tea." The change of topic had been caused by the sound of the doorbell ringing. When Petunia left the room to answer the door the three teens exchanged very confused, very shocked looks. Either this woman was not Petunia Evans or none of them had ever known the real Petunia Evans. Oddly enough, all three of them seemed to agree upon the later possibility. Shortly there after, Petunia returned with none other than Arabella Figg in tow. Mrs. Figg seated herself and upon noticing the three teenagers, she greeted them each by name.

"Hello, Mrs. Figg," they chorused.

"As I was saying," Petunia recommenced after sitting down, "When I said a moment ago that I was still adjusting to reentering our world, I meant the magical world." Seeing their expressions of utter disbelief, she said in an almost offended tone, "What? You didn't honestly think that any daughter of Heather Evans could possibly be a squib, did you?" Apparently they had. "My mother's mother was Juliet Ravencal, for Merlin's sake. There are not squibs in the lines of the founders." Harry and Ron looked confused again. Mrs. Figg looked as if she had apparently already been aware of this piece of information. Hermione on the other hand, who -unlike Ron and Harry- actually knew who on earth Juliet Ravencal was, leapt out of her seat.

In a voice that was nearly a shriek, Hermione exclaimed, "You're RELATED to Juliet Ravencal? The Juliet Ravencal, as in the last person to have that name, as in the heir of Rowena Ravenclaw?" Petunia looked at her calmly.

"Yes, that Juliet Ravencal was my grandmother. And as for Terrence Evans, my father he was adopted, apparently he was a pureblood too, so my sister and I are purebloods, not muggleborns, which means you are a pureblood as well Harry." Going into a monologue now, Petunia continued on, oblivious to the fact that three shell-shocked teenagers were staring at her in bewilderment. "My aunt on the other hand, married a muggle, no he was a muggleborn, or maybe he was a halfblood. I never asked. Anyway, on the matter of Vernon and Dudley, Vernon became abusive toward me when you left, Harry and so I decided to defend myself. He didn't like the way I chose to do it and neither did Dudley. They tried to kick me out of the house, but as you've already heard, it's my house, so that didn't exactly work. It was more Mother's wards that forced them to leave than it was me. Though I believe Vernon's hair will be purple for another few months yet." The last sentence was said with satisfaction.

Very slowly, Harry's brain began to process the words his aunt had spoken and he abruptly realized the implications of her last statement. She had hexed Vernon. That would mean she had a wand and was able to use it. In other words, she was a witch. Upon this revelation, Harry found himself once more gaping at her before he managed to sputter, "You mean you're a witch?"

"Of course I'm a witch. Didn't I say that there are never squibs in the lines of the founders?"

"Then why did you call me and any other witch or wizard you came across a freak? Why did you treat me so horribly? Why did you seem to hate magic? Why wouldn't you acknowledge that my mum was your sister, that you had a sister at all?" By the end of his list of questions, Harry was shouting angrily at the auburn haired, well, witch who sat across the room from him. For a moment, Petunia looked incredibly sad and then she shook her head, as if to gather her wits. When she answered Harry, she did so truthfully and regretfully.

"I had to do it, to protect you, to protect myself. I didn't want to loose my son. I might have become disillusioned with Vernon years ago, but until this past fall, I still thought my son was halfway decent. Or at least, I thought that if I could get him away from his father I could change him. I was wrong. They're both wizard-haters, the same type of people that would have burned us all –excluding Arabella- at the stake several hundred years ago. I knew that if I acted any other way toward you that Vernon would leave me and take Dudley with him. Even though my son was not the kindest of people, he was still my son." She finished almost tearfully. For some reason, the trio actually felt compelled to believe her, though they were not sure if she were crying over the loss of her son or over the regret she held for the way she had shamed the name of wizard over the past sixteen years. None of the teenagers dared ask her though. Mrs. Figg didn't seem to have any such qualms.

"Now Petunia, I've known you since you were born and I saw what you were, what you became, and what you are returning to, but there's one thing I can't figure out. Are those tears for your son or for your nephew?"

Petunia dried her eyes with a handkerchief and answered. "I had all winter and spring to cry for my son. These tears are for Harry and for Lily and for my mother and father, all of whom I have betrayed and or disgraced by my behavior. I acted like the very sort of muggle that You-Know-Who tries to make a stereo-type of: worthless, cowardly, ignorant, and cruel." Harry was so shocked, he didn't think he could have said a word if his life depended on it. Ron was wearing that look of his, the one of perpetual and complete confusion. Hermione almost looked impressed. Mrs. Figg just smiled very slightly, clearly proud of the repentant witch's answer.

Just in time to head off the impending silence that would indubitably have been quite awkward, the sound of the doorbell was heard, followed by a knock on the door. Petunia got up again and went to the door. When she opened it, she gasped in shock. None of the people in the parlor could see who the visitor was but were all very eager to find out. There question was very soon answered as Petunia pulled the person into the front hall –this was obvious because the trio could now see a second shadow, standing next to Harry's aunt's- and slammed the door before rounding on who ever the other person was and beginning to give a yelling lecture that could nearly match one of Molly Weaseley's. "ROSANNE ELIZABETH EVANS, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN FOR THE PAST SEVENTEEN YEARS?" There was the slightest of pauses as Petunia drew in another breath. "YOU JUST UP AND VANISHED ONE NIGHT, LEAVING US ALL WORRIED THAT YOU HAD BEEN CAPTURED, OR WORSE KILLED! GRANDFATHER ACTUALLY THOUGHT –AND NEARLY CONVINCED US ALL- THAT YOU'D TURNED TRAITOR AND JOINED YOU- KNOW-WHO LIKE THAT HUSBAND OF YOURS! MOTHER WAS CONVINCED THAT DEATHEATERS HAD KILLED YOU! LILY OF COURSE BLAMED HERSELF, HAVING THE HERO-COMPLEX SHE DID, AND KEPT GOING ON ABOUT HOW IF SHE HAD JUST GONE INTO HIDING EARLIER, NONE OF IT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED! FATHER NEARLY HAD A HEART ATTACK WHEN YOU WENT MISSING!" Apparently, Petunia was just to upset to go on because she just grabbed the other woman's arm and dragged her into the parlor where everyone else stared at her as Petunia pushed her into one of the seats.

If Harry had thought Aunt Petunia resembled his mother, this woman, in comparison, could have been her twin but for the fact that her eyes were blue, not green. In addition to looking like his mother, Rosanne also looked a bit startlingly like Melanie had in his dreams with fiery red hair and bright royal blue eyes. Rosanne was a witch as well, judging from her clothing, which consisted of a deep lavender robe and a darker, plum colored cloak. Looking between her face and Petunia's, Rosanne seemed to be the younger one. No one said a word for a very long time. Then at last, the stranger found her tongue.

"I'm sorry Petunia, but my husband defected and for reasons I couldn't understand and he wouldn't tell me, You-Know-Who wanted him dead and we had to go into hiding. I didn't think you'd want to see me after I came out of hiding and heard that you'd disowned Lily. When I got the news from Blaire that you finally divorced that muggle, I knew I couldn't stay away from home any longer." When she finished, Rosanne looked up at her older sister, a pleading expression on her face. Petunia had calmed down during the course of the speech and finally joy overcame anger and she immediately pulled the younger woman into a tight embrace. When she let go, she turned to Harry and introduced the other woman formally as his Aunt Rose.

After staring at Harry for a moment, without once looking at his scar, Rose said something Harry had never, ever heard any one say before. "You look exactly like your mother. Except the hair, of course."

"Thank you, m'am," Harry said sincerely.

"You're welcome, Harry," she said with a little laugh, "but please don't call me m'am. Just call me Aunt Rose, or Aunt Rosanne if you feel like being formal.

"Okay," he said, his tongue tripping over the new name, "Aunt Rose." Both his aunts were smiling, as was Mrs. Figg. The aforementioned squib however had to leave because it was time for her to feed her cats. That left Harry, Hermione, Ron, Petunia, and Rose.

"Er, Aunt Petunia," Harry said hesitantly, "I would have told you earlier, but didn't really get the chance, with you and Aunt Rose having to do so much story telling and explaining, but there actually is a particular reason I came to visit you this afternoon."

Petunia looked at him for a moment and then said with resignation, "I suppose you won't be coming back here again." She actually sounded sad. "I remember the letter that Professor Dumbledore left me the night he brought you here. It said that the magic protecting you here will only last until you're a legal adult in the magical world. You would only be protected for another month." The second half of her comment answered the question he hadn't been given the opportunity to ask.

"Because your friends are here too, I take it you're not staying at all," Rose said with great disappointment. Harry nodded. There was a long awkward silence as the trio watched Petunia wordlessly leave the room and heard her climbing the staircase before disappearing up to the attic. "You'll write to us, won't you Harry," Rose asked. It was apparent that she both had no idea of Harry's former hatred of her older sister and very much wanted him to say yes. Harry thought about it for a while. He actually was beginning to like this new Aunt Petunia and he just had a feeling that he would come to like Aunt Rose a great deal. He had never had a family to write to. Now he had two aunts. It would be odd. But it was something he had always wanted. Looking back at her, he made up his mind.

"Of course I'll write to you, Aunt Rose," he promised. Just then he heard the creak on the stair that he had always had to avoid when sneaking out of the house. Aunt Petunia, it appeared, had returned from the attic. In her hands, she held two wooden boxes. One was long and thin. The other was a much shorter, somewhat wider, square box.

Coming to stand in front of Harry, she said plainly, but with great difficulty, "These belonged to your mother. The ministry sent them to me after- after she- after she was killed. She would have wanted you to have them." Awkwardly, like a puppet, she thrust the boxes into Harry's hands with tears in her eyes. Shocked –though he shouldn't have been, after the rest of the afternoon's revelations- that his aunt was crying over his mother, Harry could do nothing but stammer a shaky thank-you. Drying her eyes with the handkerchief again –which, Harry realized, bore the monogram P.M.E., his aunt's initials- and then, glancing at her watch, announced that it was almost dinner time and that they should probably be going home.

Petunia and Rose stood on the sidewalk with the three teenagers as they waited for the Knight Bus, which Harry had called a moment ago. When it arrived with its usual bang, Petunia remarked, "I've always thought that was a ridiculous color to paint a bus. I'd forgotten how ghastly it looked." Realizing that this was just a comment to herself, Ron and Hermione boarded the bus. Harry was surprised when Rose flung her arms around him and told him to take care of himself and not to forget to write. He assured her that he would do the best he could to look out for his own wellbeing and promised once again to write to both his aunts. Then to his further surprise, Petunia also gave him a hag and then he was shooed onto the bus, which promptly hurtled in the direction of the Burrow.

After walking up the road to the Burrow, where they ate dinner, the trio plus Ginny flooed to Grimwald place. Dusting themselves off, the quartet walked from the foyer to what they called the den, and sat down in a circle on the floor. "Well," demanded Ginny, who had been told the whole story over dinner, "what's in the boxes?"

"I don't know," Harry answered. "Actually, I'm pretty sure I know what's in this one," he amended, picking up the long thin box, "but as for the other one, I haven't got the foggiest."

"Go ahead and open them already Harry," Hermione insisted, unusually impatient. It really drove her crazy when someone knew something she didn't and at the moment Harry knew the contents of the box, where as she did not. +

"Yah, what are you waiting for?" Ron added, "It's not like the ministry is allowed to curse anything that they're sending to a house with two muggles living in it."

"Alright, alright," Harry surrendered. Opening the long, thin box, Harry proved himself correct when he pulled back the green velvet material that covered the object. It was a wand. Ten and a quarter inches long and made of willow. It was his mother's wand. Harry suddenly felt a surge of happiness. All his life he had been told that he looked exactly like his father except for his eyes and over his years at Hogwarts, he had seen and acquired several things that belonged to his father: the pictures, the cloak, the map. But he had never had anything of his mother's. Until now.

He didn't have time to ponder this for very much longer because several seconds later, there was a crash behind him and he jumped up and spun around to face the source of the noise. The scene they were met with would actually have been quite amusing, had the building not supposedly been unplottable. A man with long dark hair had just come tumbling out of the fire place and crashed right in to the chair directly in front of it, and had then been knocked to the ground, where he landed in a heap.

"Damn it," the man coughed as he pulled himself up from the floor, "when the hell did they rearrange the furniture?" Once he was standing, they could see that he was fairly tall and well built with long dark hair. His cloths and in fact his entire person were covered in a thick layer of soot. That particular fire place hadn't been used in decades. "Damn, these were good robes," he muttered, seemingly unaware that he had an audience, "Bloody floo system. I just had to get off at that grate instead of the one we normally used. I knew I should have used the foyer grate." Suddenly his voice went from a mildly annoyed mutter to a very aggravated shout, "Kreacher! You worthless excuse for a house elf! Get down here!" While waiting for the house elf to appear, the man –still focused completely on himself- used a cleaning charm to remove all the soot. His robes were indeed good ones, a dark blue color and a lightweight material tailored perfectly to fit him. After he finished straightening himself out, he yelled once more, "Kreacher, get down here!"

And then he looked up and saw four people, all of whom had their wands trained on him. None of them realized this of course. They had done it instinctively, not consciously. And that fact aside, they were all too transfixed with the man himself to view him as a threat. His features were startlingly familiar, though not as haggard or tired as the four remembered. His blue eyes were exactly the same color as his robes. Later, when the five were asked, no one was able to say who had been more surprised, him, or them. Finally after what seemed like forever, Harry voiced the name that the other three dared not even hope belonged to the man.

"Sirius?"

Yes, I'm quite afraid that really is the end of the chapter, but I already have the next chapter written for the most part, so you won't be in suspense for too long, providing I actually get a decent number of reviews for this chapter. Things to ponder: Where was Rose? Who was (or perhaps it's is) her husband? Did anyone notice the Ravenclaw theme in this story? What will Harry's reaction to the last scene be? Is it odd that Rose said that Harry looked exactly like Lily? Who is Blaire? And what is Terrence Evans real last name? Anybody know what's in the other box? Anybody have a clue as to what Melanie's riddle means? If any one decides to ponder these things, it would be incredibly useful if you were to put your conclusions in a review.