Harry stood with his eyes closed. It taken some time, but he had been able to find a stream bed. This one had been dry for years. He held in his hands a hazel dowsing rod.

"It looks like you have formed a good image." Sophia said. From her perspective she could see a stone hanging in front of the dowsing rod. It was a smooth, round river stone. Going through the middle was a hole.

Harry forced himself not to show the impatience that he felt as she continued. "Slowly open your eyes, and maintain your concentration. Search the surrounds. Do you feel the rod being drawn in any particular direction?"

Harry's face remained emotionless and his eyes slightly defocused. For the past couple of weeks, he had spent an hour everyday practicing with the dowsing rod. He was now able to walk about without losing his focus. He would have to be careful of the treacherous footing in this creek bed. He felt he had also become better at constructing the dowsing rod. This was the third one he had constructed, though it might be his imagination, it seemed livelier in his hands.

Harry had been surprised when Sophia had suggested that they try searching for stones with holes in them. Tom was not very enthusiastic. But if there was a chance, no matter unlikely, that he would be able to see a little more magic, he would try. His closet now contained a small collection of minor magical effects. From the very moment he had felt the lover's berry radiate his own shame back at him; his desire for magic had been ignited.

Harry turned slightly to his right and felt a tug at the rod. He gave himself the luxury of a small grin. He had been practicing, and was becoming better at finding objects with which he was already familiar, however, finding objects by their qualities, not by his own previous familiarity was much more difficult and he had not been particularly successful yet.

Harry moved, and yes, he had a direction. He started forward, directed by the rod. Sophia and Tom followed at his side.

Harry carefully made his way along the creek bed, the rod tugging along, until he stopped. Harry looked down at the spot where had stopped and examined the stones. It was not long before had had found a black stone about the size and shape of an egg. There were layers or swirls of white and green. Slightly offset from the middle was a hole.

"Good job, Harry. You are becoming quite adept at dowsing," congratulated Sophia.

Tom spoke, "Hold that stone still, and look at it carefully. I want to get a better look at it."

Harry did as Tom asked, turning the stone in his hands when indicated.

Tom smiled at Harry, "This may have been worth your while. I do not have any experience with such things, however from my previous studies; this stone may be fairly strongly magical.

Harry answered Tom's smile with his own grin, clearly excited by the words. "What can I do with it?"

"We will have to figure that out."

--

When Harry returned home he found his aunt and cousin to be rushing about. "Harry. You are a mess and your chores are not done. Hurry quickly; your uncle has just called. Aunt Marge is visiting today."

Harry knew what this meant. He carefully stowed his dowsing rod and the stone in his closet. Then bathed and dressed in his cleanest clothing.

--

It was later that evening. Dinner was finished. Ripper was nosily and rather messily devouring the scraps that had been provided to him. Aunt Marge and Uncle Vernon were now eagerly attacking several bottles of sherry. Harry would have preferred returning to his closet rather than remain out with Aunt Marge. He had not had much time yet to examine the stone he'd found earlier in the day. Sophia and Tom were visible, but not speaking to him. Tom however, was making faces at the muggles. His antics became too much for Harry, and he let a small smile loose.

Marge may have seen the smile or his distracted look, but her face clouded with anger and her conversation now turned to Harry. "I see you haven't dropped the runt off at the orphanage yet. It really would be the best place for him you know. Vernon, it pains me to see you working so hard only to fritter your money away on such an unpromising boy."

Harry saw both Sophia and Tom react to these comments, but it was nothing new. As the level of the sherry bottle drew lower, he knew he would likely hear worse.

"Now Marge," spoke Harry's uncle Vernon, "He may not be much, but he is family, and we do owe some loyalty to that."

"Hardly, Vernon. Before he was left on your doorstep, had you ever seen the boy before? Did you even know of his existence?" His uncle tried to respond, but Marge continued speaking. "Really, what kind of family is that? You pay taxes. You already support the orphanage, what kind of justice is it, that you should be expected pay even more than you already do, to support this boy."

"Marge…"

"Let me tell you what the real injustice is. His parent's…" Marge was now wagging her finger unsteadily at Harry, "probably never paid taxes once in their lives…" Harry considered this, it might be true, he would have to ask Tom and Sophia latter, "yet now that they are dead we are expected to pick up the slack. That really is the problem with the world today. If there was justice in the world, when his drunken father managed to kill himself and your sister", Marge said speak towards Petunia," in that car crash, he should have had the decency to take his son with him."

Harry had not realized it, but he was now stand up, and loudly, even shouting said, "My Dad was not drunk, and my parents were not killed in a car crash. My parents were murdered."

Marge's already angry face now turned a shade of purple. Ripper, however, acted before she could speak. His muzzle still covered by the remains of dinner, he jumped up and lunged towards Harry. Harry tried to move out the way, and may have been able to avoid Ripper, but Tom chose that moment to start yelling rather angrily at Aunt Marge. This distracted Harry enough that Ripper was able to catch him.

Panic filled Harry as he felt the dog's teeth clench his leg. Suddenly, Harry felt a jolt run through him. Ripper gave a yelp, and Harry felt his leg come free. He tried to scramble to his feet, but the dog was back and had him by the arm. Harry felt the teeth start to break his skin, yet once more Harry felt a surge pass through him. Ripper let go of him with a yelp.

The room was in an uproar. Petunia, who was never comfortable around animals, was shrilly yelling at Marge to control the animal. She desperately clutched at Dudley and was working to drag him from the room. Dudley was crying and shying away from the scene.

"Stop this at once, boy," yelled Uncle Vernon.

Ripper was growling from deep in his throat. He lunged at the still prone Harry. This time he had barely touched him, when again felt a jolt like a park of static electricity. Ripper whimpered for a bit, but still eyed Harry crazily.

Aunt Marge was on her feet now and approached the snarling dog. Ripper tried to attack Harry again, but Marge was quick enough to grab his collar. The dog turned and bit her hand. She gave a startled yelp, and then using her other hand punched Ripper on the top of the head. He stumbled for moment, before collapsing unconscious to the ground.

What proceeded next happened quickly, and Harry in his shocked state, saw it through a blur. He ended up locked in his closet. That was a given, but sometime along the path, he remembered Aunt Petunia's shrieks of fear and outrage, chorused by Dudley's own sobbing. Aunt Marge had picked up Ripper and stormed theatrically from the house.

Harry was Uncle Vernon's outlet for his anger But Harry was locked in his closet. For some time Uncle Vernon remained pacing, muttering drunken. Whenever he passed Harry's closet door, he gave it a sharp kick.

This all passed Harry by. His attempts to sleep that night were harshly interrupted as he was seized by panic as the memory would not leave him of the raging dog attempting to tear at him.

He was able to sleep, but only as he used a recently harvested lover's berry to shunt away that panic. He used the berry many times that night.