Despite his unforgiving situation, Harry finally drifted off into a light sleep not too very long before a shaggy black dog sauntered into the room and curled up at his feet.

The sun was only just starting to peek over the distant hillside; as Sirius settled onto the couch he remembered the hexes cast onto it and quickly reversed them. At the newfound comfort, the boy mumbled incoherently as he drifted further into unconsciousness.

~*~

The sun climbed higher in the sky as Lucius Malfoy stumbled through his manor, with Ginny and Harry's dreams portraying his battered state and angry shouts ...

Robes torn, hair falling into his face, and carrying himself with none of the usual arrogance and holier-than-thou attitude, Lucius Malfoy was never himself when he returned from being ... disciplined ... by his dark and powerful master. He staggered down to his estate's dungeons and gasped in horror to see the door he had so carefully warded resting open on it's hinges. 

He screamed.

"What the bloody hell!"

"Now, now, father, such language is not very appropriate so early in the morning," drawled a very complacent Draco.

"Where is she?!?" the bastard roared.

"That muggle-loving excuse for a pureblood?" the younger Malfoy began innocently,  " I expected that you would be detained and took care of her myself, father.  Wouldn't want anyone to alert the ministry that their daughter wasn't at home this morning, now would we?"

Lucius scowled.  "No, we would not.  So tell me, boy, what did you learn from her?"

"Oh, some very interesting things, father.  Why don't we go upstairs and discuss the matter somewhere more comfortable.  You look like you could use a drink."

"Indeed."

Once they were tucked away in Master Malfoy's study, he sank into his armchair and waited while Draco prepared him a special "martini." It was actually just the vodka and two olives, but Lucius wasn't one to appear uncouth.  After taking a generous sip from the crystal glass, the weary Death Eater turned to his son with a look that said, "Talk. Now."

"The Weasley chit isn't a threat, Father.  In fact, I have convinced her that she can actually trust me."

"How in Slytherin's bloody name did you manage that, boy?"

"After slipping her some Veritaserum, I found out that she only has an occasional nightmare about the young Tom Riddle, revisiting the chamber and all that. After obliviating her of our ... conversation, and how she arrived at the Manor, I told her that we had just had a lovely discussion of family heirlooms, jewelry in particular, and how to care for them properly.  I added that she should keep me up to date on anything concerning Potter and his little band of do-gooders," he finished smugly.

Despite the onslaught his nerves had received that evening, Lucius's face broke into a very malicious grin.  "Well done, my son. This nigh has turned out much more productive than I had hoped.  Our Lord will be pleased with you; now leave me to my plotting.  I will let you know when your role has been decided."

"Thank you, Father.  I am happy to be of service to the Dark Lord." Draco managed his best 'I want to be evil' smirk and projected all the Malfoy arrogance he could as he headed towards the door.  In his mind he finished his message - 'happy to be of service as a spy.  I must speak with Snape and Dumbledore when I return to Hogwart's.'

~*~

If only Harry had been able to read minds, and Ginny able to prove she hadn't been obliviated, the next day at the Burrow would have run much more smoothly than it was fated to progress.

As the Weasleys awoke and made their ways down to the kitchen, thy were tempted to cast a curse or two at the sleeping boy-wizard.  The protective growls that 'Snuffles' sent them when they neared sufficiently changed their minds.

The day proceeded as any objective observer would have guessed.  Sirius and Harry had a long father-son type talk, wherein Sirius apologized for being a prat and Harry for acting recklessly cavalier. Ginny spoke with her family and gave hem a stretched version of the truth; afterwards the redheaded clan attacked Harry with hugs and apologies.

And Ron and Hermione were still avoiding each other out of embarrassment.

Later that afternoon the Weasley boys were playing a pick-up game of Quidditch that Harry skipped out on, saying he need to catch up on his sleep.  he opened the door at the tops of the stairs and blinked a few times to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Oh!" Ginny whirled around from her place at Ron's desk.  Blushing, she replied, "I was just borrowing a quill from Ron, I can't find mine.  Why aren't you out flying with everyone else?"

"Decided to take a nap to make up for last night."

"Oh, well ... I'll let you get to that then." Ginny tried to leave, but Harry was blocking the doorway.

"Since we're alone, could you tell me what happened last night - the whole story, not the one you fed to your parents." Ginny looked torn between whether she should stay or go, so Harry continued, "You promised you'd tell me, Gin.  The sooner we get it over with ..."

With a sigh of resignation, Ginny backtracked and lowered herself onto Ron' chair, and Harry settled himself on the bed, facing her.

"Where should I start?"

"How about why you left the party yesterday," Harry stated more than he asked.

"Well, I was in Dad's study when Justin walked in, and then ..."

~*~

"... The next thing I knew you came bursting into Draco's room." She finished nearly an hour later.

"So you did talk to him about an heirloom necklace?"

"Harry," Ginny said firmly as she answered the real question at hand, "I was not obliviated.  Draco is on our side."

"How can you be so sure?  I'd like to believe it, too, but until I see some evidence, I don't trust him.  If he was telling Mr. Malfoy the truth, then I don't know how much I can trust you either.  What if he has you under some spell that will make you tell him everything and not know it?"

"Harry, that's just silly.  If you can't trust me being around you, then I'll just save you the trouble and stay out of your way!" Ginny spat as she tramped out the door and down the stairs.

~*~

The next day Harry received a mysterious package i nthe mail.  He opened it to find a shimmering amulet on a golden chain, accompanied only by a note.  Clearly penned with a Dict-o-Quill (the letters were too perfectly similar to have been formed by hand), it read:

On the reverse side of the note was another dictated message, a set of instructions for magically clasping the chain.

Perplexed, Harry wasn't sure what he should do.  He thought back to previous gifts, such as the invisibility cloak first year, and his Firebolt the third, but this time his beneficiary's reluctance to identify his- or herself daunted him.  He acquiesced to the little voice inside his head (that sounded an rather like Hermione) and made his way to contact the one man he was sure could help him.

At the hearth in the Weasley's kitchen, the young Potter tossed in a pinch of blue powder and called out "Albus Dumbledore." Moments later the twinkle-eyed wizard's head loomed into view.

"Harry!  What brings me the pleasure of your floo?"

"Well, sir, you see ... I just received this package by owl, and it seems a little suspicious. I thought you would be able to help me."

"Certainly, Mr. Potter.  I'll be there straight away." The blue flames surged and shifted to an emerald green as Hogwarts' Headmaster stepped through.

Harry handed over the amulet and accompanying parchment as Dumbledore sat down at the kitchen table.  After carefully studying the two items, which included some wand-waving and muttering of diagnostic spells, the wizened wizard raised his head and looked deeply into Harry's eyes.

"It appears, Harry, that you are the benefactor of an Abracadabra amulet."

"Abracadabra?   Isn't that just some silly muggle version of a magic spell?"

"Yes ... and no. You see Harry, Abracadabra is actually very old magic.  This amulet is a talisman against anything wishing you harm.  They are very rare; in fact, I believe there is only one other such entity in existence at this time."

"Really?  What does it do exactly? Who has this other amulet? Can I speak with them?"

Dumbledore nodded before continuing, "Yes, really; it's powers are rather complicated but I think I can give you the basic gist of it.  As for the other amulet, its keeper is sitting right in front of you."

Harry stared in disbelief.  After allowing his admission to sink in, Albus resumed speaking.

"fundamentally, the amulet is a vessel for a rigorous amount of integrated magic.  Its production requires knowledge of potions, charms, transformation, and arithmancy. It would take not only skill, but a witch or wizard with a vested interest in you and your well being.  As for its powers, that parchment is rather modest in its declarations. Once you are wearing the amulet any curse sent your way should be deflected, or at the very least considerably less powerful."

"So it's safe, then.  How long have you had your amulet, sir?  If you don't mind me asking that is."

"Quite a few decades.  It's so much a part of me that at times I almost forget it's there.  Especially since - " Dumbledore's voice faltered as his shimmering eyes dulled to a haunted glow.  "Well, that's a story for another day," he finished, forcing the surfacing memories back into a corner of his mind. "I have to cut our visit short, Harry, but I must be getting back to Hogwart's.  I advise you to follow those instructions carefully, and soon.  Even if the maker of the amulet prefers to remain anonymous," the Headmaster's signature all-knowing sparkle returned, "we should not let an opportunity to gain advantage pass us by, now more than ever."

Harry nodded in understanding before Albus vanished from the Burrow with  an authoritative 'pop'.

That afternoon he performed the incantation and slipped the amulet under his clothes to avoid any questions from the Weasleys.  Even after Professor Dumbledore's assurances, or perhaps in reaction to the new questions that had been raised, he preferred to keep the amulet to himself for as long as possible.

~*~

A week came and went. Ginny kept her word and stayed out of Harry's way, despite his continuing effort to "accidentally" cross paths. (The amulets were more than sufficient in warning her of his presence.)  Today, however, she would have to face him.  Her best mate from school - a muggleborn, Hufflepuff fourth year named Star West - was coming to the Burrow so that she could do her Diagon Alley shopping (her mum didn't want her to be alone) and Mrs. Weasley insisted that (1) Ms. West stay with her for tea, and (2) that Ron, Harry, and Hermione accompany the girls.

That afternoon brought everyone waiting to greet the muggle woman and the young witch in the den, eyeing the fireplace regularly.  Sirius had assumed his dog form, just in case the image of him as a dangerous convict was still lurking in their guests' minds.  AS the hearth roared to life, "Snuffles" stirred from his slumber.  A girl with dark brown curls and bright blue eyes stepped from the ash covered stones and brushed herself free of the soot she had gathered on the way.  Ginny ran to hug the slightly taller girl and, surprisingly, the large black dog came to sniff at her, then licked her hand.

"Snuffles, leave Star alone, she's not a dog person," Ginny reprimanded. Sirius took a few steps back and contented himself with regarding the new arrival with interest.

"He's quite obedient, isn't he?" the brunette remarked.

"Man's best friend," Harry joked.  Ginny rolled her eyes.

Just then, another figure emerged from the hearth.  Tall and slim, with shoulder length blonde curls, the green-eyed woman was dressed in the latest muggle fashion. Mrs. Weasley came forward to shake her hand.

"Oh, I'm so glad you didn't take a wrong turn in the floo, dear."

"Thank you, Molly, it was quite an interesting ... " her voice trailed off as her eyes fell upon the dog that had turned from her daughter and was now staring at her. "Padfoot?" she whispered.

All eyes turned to her in disbelief.

When she turned towards the fireplace in retreat, Sirius changed back into his human form and Star let out a shriek.

"Pamela, wait!" the animagus pleaded.

Stopping dead in her tracks, the woman appeared as if she was about to turn back to the room full of confused spectators, but instead disappeared with a definite, yet feminine, pop. Sirius followed suit with a bit louder and more flustered sound.

"Um, Star," Ginny broke the thickening silence, "I thought your mum was a muggle?"

"So did I," was whispered before Star fainted onto the (luckily close by) Weasley couch.

As the brunette Hufflepuff was being tended to by Mrs. Weasley, her mother was miles away, trying to reconcile what she had just seen with the rumors that had made it to the muggle world about Sirius Black.  But nothing could have prepared Pamela "West" for an encounter with the famed (secretly animagus) wizard.  And Divination & Arithmancy combined couldn't have predicted what their argument at his arrival to her London flat would culminate in ...

~*~

The next day, a still shaken but well coddled Star was sitting with Ginny on the Weasley couch, talking in hushed tones about the possible reasons why Ms. West had refrained from using magic for so many years.  They fell silent as a double pop announced the return of the hastily departed Pamela West and Sirius Black.  The wizard mumbled an incoherent greeting, cast a searching glance at the brown-haired girl, and made it a point to use the nearest exit.  The witch, however, managed to maintain much more decorum when she announced that it was time for she and her daughter to return home.  After thanking thanking the Weasley's for their hospitality, the two flooed back home to have a discussion that neither would forget for a very, very long time.

*Incomplete*