Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Well it seems like everyone seems to be enjoying the story so far, even though I had to laugh at some of them. It's kind of a double edged complement when someone says your story was better than what they were expecting after all. Most of you guessed right at what Harry is, and while it's not explained in this chapter, it should be in the next one. If it's not clear in the writing, a majority of this chapter is a dream.

Standing in lush dark green grass, surrounded by tall majestic trees, Terry Boot knew that he could only be dreaming. He was confident that there had never been so much light in the Forbidden Forest in centuries, possibly not for thousands of years. The golden rays of the sun were almost blinding, making the forest just as treacherous as it was when it was as dark as a room full of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Terry could only stumble forward blindly, his hands out before him, shaking as he attempted to protect himself from possible low hanging branches and brush.

While his mind didn't seem to know where it was going, his feet certainly did. Every once in awhile Terry would get the idea to change direction, or go back the way he came, only to find that his feet wouldn't allow it. They seemed to have a mind of their own, and were very determined to take him deeper and deeper into the golden wood.

He wasn't sure what signaled the start of the music, it began as though he had stepped on a trigger, or possibly flipped some sort of switch; it was almost impossible to tell if the music was from an instrument, or from someone's angelic voice. It reminded Terry of soft ringing bells, of a delicate flute, and some kind of stringed instrument...possibly a harp.

Suddenly the forest seemed to fall back, stilling as though it dare not take one step further. The golden light seemed to fade, still ever there but settling from the blinding rays into a dim glow. The clearing was filled morning glories, bluebells, foxglove, irises, and marigold - flowers that would not naturally grow in the same place, nor bloom together while thriving in such splendor. In the center of the field that seemed to stretch further than could be possible, stood a majestic oak tree; an oak tree that towered over everything, and even though the height difference between the two was great, it reminded Terry strongly of the new tree that stood in the crater of the Forbidden Forest.

As he started across the clearing towards the tree, the music seemed to grow louder, the light filling the clearing seemed to flicker and fade to the point that it pained him. He felt as though something was pulling him back, hurting him and causing blinding tears to fill his eyes. The tree before him swam and blurred, only to sharpen again as visions passed before his mind; visions of sparkling deep green eyes, of hair darker than a raven's wing, and of skin so pale it seemed to glow with an inner light. He could tell now that the music was someone singing, singing with a voice so enchanting that a siren would hide her face in shame.

All at once Terry found himself at the base of the tree, not even two feet from where the trunk began. The trunk of the oak was just as amazing up close as it had been at a distance; it looked as though it had never been touched by man or creature, nothing marred it's rippling strong, and yet easily damaged skin.

"So you are the one who summoned us," Terry froze, not even taking a breath before he glanced up into the oak's thick branches, staring in awe at the deep green eyes that matched his vision...green eyes that had haunted his dreams for years.

"...Harry. Harry is that you?" Terry seemed to choke on his words, his voice far too harsh for the world his dream seemed to be in.

"We have not heard of this Harry, not if we remember correctly," The voice replied, before a body slipped down from the tree's high branches as though it were made of water. The body folded in upon itself as it landed bare inches from the tree's trunk, only unfolding as Terry seemed to breathe once more. It stood before Terry bare as the day it had been born, without any care for its visible flesh. "Nor is that our name."

The creature, for it couldn't possibly be human, was just a few inches over five feet tall. The being had long strands of dark hair tucked behind a slightly pointed ear, hair that looked as though it was silk, carefully woven in a loose braid that fell to caress the glowing bare skin of his back. A being, which was obviously male even with the almost feminine curve of his hips, and delicate legs that seemed to stretch on forever, a contradiction of his small frame. The thing that struck Terry (more than the male's nakedness) was the scar he could see on the being's forehead. The lightning bolt shaped scar was far lighter than he had ever seen it on Harry Potter, and Terry was a little surprised it even managed to catch his eye.

"...Our name?" Terry seemed to shake himself out of his bemusement, unable to take his eyes off the graceful creature.

"Yes. They have called me Rulynreth, and her Saelar," The being who was once the strongest wizard in the world smiled as he looked back at the enchanted oak. "Why did you call us here Tiabrarhel?"

"Ti-abra-rhel?" Terry stumbled over the name, his cheeks staining pink as the creature laughed at his attempt to say the name. "And I didn't call you...If I did it wasn't my intention."

"Are you sure? And yes, it fits you, Tia-brarh-el," The being-Harry-Rulynreth teased as it took a step towards Terry, causing his blush to deepen. "Even in this world we have heard your heart cry, its anguish over the loss of its love. It takes a powerful voice, and a powerful need to stretch from one world into another."

"We're in another world? What are you then?" Terry stopped, suddenly shamed of his brash questioning. "That is, if you don't mind my asking."

It was then that Rulynreth began to sing, his lilting voice far more beautiful than Terry had ever heard before that night, and clearly the source of the singing he heard earlier.

"Among ten thousand trees

She flies to cover

At step of a lover,

And where to find her lovely face

Only the woodland bees ever discover"

Rulynreth laughed in delight at the confusion that was easily read from Terry's tired face as he stepped forward to cup Terry's stubble laden cheek with delicate hands that had surely never seen a day's work.

"Come to me, Tiabrarhel. Come to me when you are ready to find me. My beloved."

Terry sat up from his sheets with a gasp and a sharp cry of despair, his body covered in a cold sweat that made the scratchy cotton of the blankets all the more uncomfortable. He could still feel the silken touch Har-Rulynreth's hand upon his cheek, the warmth from the lithe body that stood not even an inch from his own. Even though it was only a few seconds prior, Terry knew the ache in his heart, the longing he felt for Rulynreth was stronger than anything he had ever felt in his life. It was in that moment that he remembered another verse of the poem the being had quoted.

"Yet were there thrice ten thousand trees

To hide her face from me,
Not all her fleeing
Should 'scape my seeing,
Nor all her ambushed sorceries
Secure concealment be
For her bright being."

Somehow, Harry Potter, the savior of the Wizarding World…had become a dryad.

I love using flower symbolism. Oh yes, I certainly do.

The poem quoted in this chapter is called "The Dryad" and is written by Richard Le Gallienne

Name Meanings according to an Elvish name translator I found:

Rulynreth: Ru = Dream, Lyn = Bolt/Ray, Reth = Arcane

Saelar: Sae = Wood, Lar = Shine

Tiabrarhel: Tia = magic, Brar = Craft/Crafter, Hel = Brother/Sibling