The ride back to Number 4 Privet Drive was thankfully very quiet. Harry's Uncle Vernon was still fuming over the intimidation tactics used by members of the Order of the Phoenix at the train station. After Vernon's blustering attempt to tell them off, Harry had almost convulsed in laughter when Mad-Eye Moody turned his fake yet magical eye onto Vernon, sending him into the wall in terror. It was a memory worthy of a patronus.

Three days later Harry had sent off his "well-being" letter to let everyone know that his relatives were still letting him be. Harry was quite alright with being ignored; it was a far sight better than their usual haranguing.

His snowy owl Hedwig returned through the open window of his bedroom with a package.

"Hey there, girl," he said, stroking her beautiful feathers, "what did you bring me?"

She hooted as if to say, see for yourself .

"Fine, fine," he said, removing the package. "Here's a treat for you."

She affectionately nipped his finger, snatched the treat and flew to her perch.

Harry opened the attached note and smiled, seeing it was from Luna Lovegood, who always had a unique perspective on life, the universe and everything, almost as if she lived in some kind of parallel reality. He still reflected on her recent insights on death and the veil in the Department of Mysteries.

Dear Harry:

I wanted to say how sorry I was for the loss of your godfather, Stubby Boardman. Since he was a musician and music always makes me feel better, I am sending this record so that you might feel better too. It was a favorite of my mum's and we listened to it together a lot before she died.

Your friend, Luna.

Harry shook his head. This message, despite her continued insistence that Sirius was a famous singer in disguise, was remarkably straightforward for her.

Death, he mused, had a way of clarifying things.

He tore open the thin package revealing a muggle LP record album; the cover art appeared to be a barren landscape with a title floating in a gray sky:

Somewhat surprised that magicals would listen to muggle music, Harry thought about why she would send a recording from this particular band. He knew some of their songs and "Nights in White Satin" came to his mind immediately. He remembered it as a song of love despite loneliness and loss, and for some reason he always thought of his parents.

His relatives had a stereo sound system downstairs that he was normally not allowed to use, but he supposed that it was because he didn't have any records of his own.

That was no longer the case.

Uncle Vernon was at work, Aunt Petunia had gone to the market and his cousin Dudley was probably with his friends terrorizing the smaller kids at the playpark. There was no one to tell him he couldn't play his own record.

So he did.

Harry began to listen, and he enjoyed it as much as Luna predicted he would. Even more, several of the songs spoke to him. He certainly felt like he was "Lost in a Lost World" at times; the songs about desperation in the desire for freedom struck a chord deep in his soul that he wasn't even aware he had. What was freedom? Could he ever be free if he had a destiny with the darkest wizard of the age?

When he heard "I'm never gonna lose your precious gift, it will always be that way" in "New Horizons" he immediately thought of Sirius. That gift was hope - hope in a future that his parents would be proud of, that the sacrifices they all made for him would be worth it. As the song ended, "I know I'm gonna find my peace of mind, someday," he determined to make that peace a reality, not just for himself, but for his friends and everyone else as well.

The next song caught his breath - it sounded something like an accordion made of flutes with guitar accompaniment - and it was mesmerizing. Hermione could probably have told him of the keyboard instruments like the Chamberlin and the Mellotron that played recorded tapes of actual instruments, but to him it seemed like a beautiful dance. It was a love song contrasting the "stormy seas" of the singer's life with the safe port offered by his love, where he could release all his troubles, giving his life completely "For My Lady."

These weren't sappy pop lyrics; this song went far beyond teenage infatuation. There was a sense of tenderness and dedication between two persons that truly cared for each other and together could take on the world. He began to feel that this was a part of life that he was missing, and a longing for something began to ache in his chest. Was this what love - or the lack of love - did to someone? Was this what Dumbledore had spoken to him about; was this his unknown power?

The record ended with the driving "I'm Just a Singer in a Rock and Roll Band" which he knew as a really good rock and roll song. Listening closely, as he did with all the songs on the album, that somehow the lyrics related to some aspect of his life experience. People "frightened by the people who are scorching this earth" reminded him of the aftermath of the Quidditch World Cup when the Death Eaters decided to come out and play with the Muggles that owned the land. He suspected that there was much more and worse coming in the near future. The song seemed to be a call for action when it said "Don't tell me I'm just a singer in a rock and roll band." It made him even more determined to be ready for the coming storm, whatever shape it took.

He was well into his third listen of the album when he heard the front door opening and, unable to break out of his trance, his Aunt Petunia was standing beside him, grocery bags in hand, brows furrowed.

"Where did you get that record?" she insisted.

"A friend sent it to me," he said in a rush. "I waited until everyone was out so I didn't bother you."

She stood motionless for a long moment, listening.

"It was one of the few things Lily and I never disagreed on," she finally said, almost reverently. "Music, especially the Moody Blues, was something we enjoyed together."

Harry gaped at her. His aunt never said anything nice about his mum.

She indicated the cabinet next to the stereo. "I have almost the whole collection in there. I trust you know how to handle a record without fingerprints or scratches?"

Harry nodded.

"Don't let Vernon or Dudley see you. Vernon hates rock music and you know your cousin would tell him."

Harry nodded again. His aunt was actually giving him permission?

She started toward the kitchen, then hesitated. "The last letter I got from her, she said she sang one of their songs to you as a lullaby and you really liked it - 'Nights in White Satin.'"

Harry's eyes began to glaze over.

Just what the truth is, I can't say anymore. 'Cause I love you, yes I love you, oh how I love you.

"Days of Future Passed," she said.

"What?"

"That's the name of the album," she said, turning away.

Harry got the feeling her eyes were shining as well.

Professor Dumbledore picked Harry up at the end of two weeks, despite his doubts it would actually happen. After a frank discussion with Harry's relatives and establishing that Harry was indeed Sirius' true heir in everything - including the miserable house-elf Kreacher - he and the headmaster had an odd encounter with an old teacher named Horace Slughorn, successfully convincing him to come out of retirement and resume his position at Hogwarts.

Once that mission had been accomplished, Dumbledore side-along apparated Harry to the Burrow, the magically quaint home of the Weasleys. They ducked into the old broom shed for a quick private word before going their separate ways.

Dumbledore thanked Harry for his assistance with Slughorn and mentioned that he seemed to be doing well with the loss of his Godfather, all things considered.

"I know Sirius would be extremely proud of how you have handled yourself," he said.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry. "I've had a chance to think about what is coming and I know I have to be ready. It still hurts knowing that I won't be able to see him anymore, but he would probably tell me off if I spent a lot of time mourning what could have been. Life's too short - look at what's happened to Madame Bones and the others - the Death Eaters will be coming after me and I want to take down as many as I can, and Tom too, since I know he won't stop."

"Very well said, Harry, and you're probably correct about what Sirius would say. Now, I gather that you have been reading the Daily Prophet recently?"

"Yes, sir, and they can't stop talking about our trip to the Department of Mysteries and calling me 'The Chosen One' - everybody knows now -"

"Actually, Harry," Dumbledore said, "They do not. You and I are the only two people in the world that know the full contents of the prophecy. It has been speculated that Voldemort and his Death Eaters went to the Hall of Prophecy to attempt a theft of a prophecy that might have concerned you, but they have no specifics and we intend to keep it that way. I do expect, however, that you may want to share it with your closest friends; they deserve no less."

Harry hung his head. "I haven't yet, but Ginny . . . she sort of figured out the gist of it when we were talking a few days after. It was still pretty fresh on my mind and I couldn't . . ."

"Do not trouble yourself over it. Miss Weasley is a bright and observant individual, not unlike Miss Granger in that regard."

Dumbledore was thoughtful for a moment.

"Tell me, Harry, have you discussed events surrounding the Chamber of Secrets with Miss Weasley?"

"No, sir, not really. I guess it was something we both would rather forget."

"Yes, understandably so, but unfortunately some things are not so easily forgotten. How would you describe your encounters with Tom over the years?"

Harry frowned. "Mostly pretty traumatic. I always felt dirty afterward, yet glad to have survived."

"Yet they were brief, while Miss Weasley suffered his possession for several months."

Harry considered that as the discussion continued. She had reminded him, quite emphatically, when Mr. Weasley was in hospital after Nagini's attack, and he felt guilty of neglecting to do what Dumbledore was suggesting.

The headmaster closed by urging Harry to keep his invisibility cloak on hand at all times and informing him that he would be giving Harry special lessons the coming term, but was not forthcoming on exactly what would be included in those lessons.

Yet the lessons were not what Harry was thinking about as they approached the Burrow - it was something else that Dumbledore had said.

"Not all scars are visible on the surface, Harry."