Harry caught sight of the counselor when she appeared just outside the protective wards surrounding the Burrow. Wanting to get a look at her, he had been watching from a hidden spot high up in a tree, but from this distance he couldn't make out any details.

When she walked through the front gate, he sighed then made his own way toward the house.

In the two days since Dumbledore's visit Harry had remained aloof, withdrawing even further inside himself. With his retina now completely healed, he had begun biding his time out in the orchard. From beneath the camouflage of tree branches, he could watch Ron and Ginny play one on one Quidditch or just sit and worry about the upcoming discussions of his emotions with a complete stranger.

Mrs. Weasley walked out onto the porch just as he reached the back steps. "Oh, there you are," she said with relief. “I was just coming to look for you; the counselor is here."

He walked up the steps then stopped and stared silently at her, his anxiety was clearly evident in his expression.

"Harry dear, I know this is terribly difficult, but you must do this. You cannot go on the way you've been." She reached out and took hold his hand and without saying a word, he followed Mrs. Weasley into the house.

~~~~~SH~~~~~

Harry had imagined this counselor would be old and dreary, somber and austere. But when he saw her, his breath caught — for she wasn't anything like he'd imagined.

Her eyes were blue, bluer than even Dumbledore's. Her hair was white, but cut short and styled in a modern fashion. Her creamy skin seemed almost translucent, but it was her expression which captured Harry most forshe looked at him as if she already knew him and seemed to radiate a sense of calm. Her serene expression reached out to him, abating his anxiety.

"Hello Harry. My name is Helena, Helena Swanson." She stood and walked over to him.

He managed a feeble “Hello," and shook her hand. He didn't know why, but this person whom he’d only just met made him feel at ease and at peace.

Helena suggested that they take a walk in the garden. As they strolled along, she chatted about this and that, but it was the tone of her voice and her easy manner that eased Harry's nerves.

When theyreached the cool shade of a large Mulberry tree, Helena conjured two comfortable chairs where they could sit. Then after a few moments and with a calm voice, Helena initiated what would become a journey of healing and self-discovery.

“I am told Harry, that you have been rather sad this summer."

Here we go. Helowered his head and gave a tiny nod.

"Tell me, what do you feel when you are sad?"

Confused by her question, he looked back up. "What do you mean?"

"Well, when we are sad our sadness can also make us feel other things."

"Alone." He answered flatly.

"You feel alone?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, I always feel alone. Or maybe..."

She waited a moment. "Isolated?"

"Yeah ... isolated." He thought about this word — isolated.It hadn't occurred to him before, but that described perfectly the way he’d felt all summer long.

"Can you share with me what you're thinking right now?"

He bit his lip and for some reason, the back of his hand was suddenly quite itchy.

"Harry?"she pressed.

"I don't know what to say. I'm just thinking about feeling isolated."

"Try to describe how this isolation feels to you."

He knew this was going to be hard, but not this hard. "Um ... I guess it feels kind of like there's a wall around me."

Helena pondered his words. "Is the wall made up of anything in particular?"

Harry found all her questions so confusing. "What do you mean, 'made up of'? You mean like stones and stuff?"

"Mmm … no. Even though your wall is quite real, it isn't something you can physically touch. Let me rephrase my question." She tried again. "Can you decipher what it is that makes up this wall, or perhaps what madethe wall?"

Harry thought and thought about his wall, about what had made it and how it had been made. As he began to realize the answer, his expression became more and more despondent.

He choked down a swallow. "Sadness.The wall is my sadness."

~~~~~

At the same time this young wizard sat speaking with his counselor; a much older wizard sat reclining in a chair a continent apart and a lifetime away. Unlike the green eyes haunted with sadness, his werered and slitted, like those of a snake.

He watched the beautiful young Geisha as she made her way back to the Shinden, taking little footsteps along the lantern lit path. She wore a silk Kimono of sugary pinks with a pattern of rose colored cherry blossoms woven into the fabric. Aside from her beautiful features and delicate manner, she was also very talented and had just serviced the Dark Lord to his utmost satisfaction.

As she made a turn, disappearing behind an old and sculptured Japanese Black Pine, Voldemort lowered his gaze to the water before him.

One of the Shinden's large ponds was situated just in front of the palatial Tainoya where he had been residing these past two months. Bathing in the tranquility of these surroundings and that of his own contentment, he further indulged his serenity by sipping on warm Saki and drinking in the sight of the resting Koi as they floated near the top of the water. These shimmery individuals, Kohakus to Chagois, had all enjoyed their day. But now, as was this most feared wizard, they too were relishing the stillness of the summer night.

After his fierce and draining battle with Dumbledore earlier that summer, Voldemort had retreated to the Far East to renew his energy and restore his powers. It was a land he’d grown fond of during his early adulthood, and a placehe often visited.

During his employment to Borgin and Burkes, Tom Riddle had traveled extensively, searching for yet undiscovered dark treasures that his employer could sell for profit. On these trips, he made numerous acquaintances and developed associations with those he found intriguing or useful. One such acquaintance,an aristocratic Asian wizard, owned a magnificent estate located in the mountainous Niigata region of Japan. Aside from his wealth and willingness to accommodate the Dark Lord, this devoted acquaintance was also a gifted strategist and Voldemort took advantage of his insight to advance his cause.

The two spent much time discussing military strategy, both historical and tactical.Voldemort’splan was to first gain control of Europe, then Asia. When both sides of the continent were under his control, he would focus his intent onRussia, eventually conquering the entire north eastern hemisphere and ultimately the entire planet.

It would be a long and arduous process, but he was determined to succeed. There was however, one minor thing standing in his way. A sole individual, confirmed by prophecy as someone capable of not only impeding the Dark Lord's plan, but of actually destroying him. And so this individual had to be removed, but accomplishing thistask had thus far proven elusive.

His previous failures to rid himself of this nemesis, a mere boy, only added fervor to his intent so that now, even in his weakened state, he determinately continued to send painful reminders of his presence and ultimate threat.

Voldemort had devised a new strategy and soon he would return to Europe to implement this plot. He was fixed on succeeding this time; to that end he would devote his total efforts.

You have thwarted me far too long Harry Potter. It is time for all of this to end. I shall rid myself of you, then there will be no one to stand in my way.

~~~~~

For nearly two weeks solid, Helena came to the Burrow on a daily basis to work with Harry. She believed that a consistent series of sessions would get him to the point where he'd be able to cope with returning to Hogwarts.

The sessions took place every afternoon just after lunch;some were harder than others, some more confusing. Often Harry would become frustrated, not understanding where Helena was leading him with her difficult questions. At first he kept hoping that she would just tell him how to make sense of everything, or say something that would ease his guilt; but eventually he realized these sessions would never provide a magical cure, only lots of questions, lots of soul searching and always the dreaded act of talking. And it was he, Harry, who had to do most of the talking.

He spoke about his childhood and the Dursleys, the cupboard under the stairs and his wanting to be loved and accepted. Helena pressed him to recall each memory and every hurt feeling.

It took hours and hours. Often when a session ended, he felt completely drained and could do nothing more than go to his bedroom to sleep for the remainder of the afternoon. He would come dragging out of his room at suppertime looking as though he hadn't slept in a week. Then after dinner he would retreat to the back porch swing, quiet and sullen.

Helena assured Molly, Arthur, and their worried children that this was not unusual; that indeed, the difficult emotional work Harry was undertaking was physically taxing. Her advice was to offer love and support, and for Molly to cook the most appealing foods possible in an attempt to get Harry to eat more and hopefully regain some of the weight he’d lost over the summer.

During the second week of sessions Harry's reactions began to change. He gradually started exhibiting minute yet genuine interest in the goings-on and activities within thegentle foldof the Burrow.

It was just after dinner, about eight days before the beginning of classes. Harry headed out to his regular spot on the porch swing only to find it already occupied by his long time best friend. "Hey, Ron."

"Hey, Harry."

"What are you looking at?"

Ron was surprised by Harry's interest and the fact that he even noticed the letter. "These are my OWL results. They came this afternoon while you were with Helena."

"They did?"

"Yeah, we were all talking about it at dinner. Weren't you listening?"

Harry was baffled that somehow he’d missed the entire discussion. "Um ... I guess not." He ran his hand through his messy mop of hair. "So, how did you do?"

"Okay, I guess. Here, look for yourself." Ron handed Harry the letter then rose from the swing. "I'll be right back."

Harry studied the results as he moved to sit down on the swing, noting that Ron had passed everything but Divination and History of Magic. He was genuinely surprised to see the Acceptable grade in Potions. He also noted that Ron had been made Captain of the Quidditch Team for their sixth year. Reading that sentence brought back many painful memories. Dolores Umbridge, Harry's lifelong ban from Quidditch, Sirius, the Veil ...

The sounds of the Weasleys pouring out of the house roused Harry from his sinking thoughts. He looked over to the approaching sea of redheads and noticed that Ron was holding another envelope.

Wrapping her arm around Harry, Molly handed him the envelope. "Go on dear, open it. These are your OWL scores."

Even though he took hold of the envelope, Harry couldn't bring himself to open it. It was Molly's whispered words that gave him the assurance he needed. "Dear, we all love you. Whatever is written on that parchment would never change how we feel about you."

"Come on, Harry!" chimed Ron. "We've waited all afternoon."

"Yeah, just open it. It'll be fine," encouraged Ginny.

Hesitantly, Harry opened the envelope,unfolded the missive and read aloud his OWL scores:

Charms: Exceeds Expectations

Transfiguration: Exceeds Expectations

Divination: Dreadful

History of Magic: Dreadful

Astronomy: Poor

Care of Magical Creatures: Exceeds Expectations

Defense Against the Dark Arts: Outstanding

Potions: Acceptable

"Brilliant! We both got the scores we need to become Aurors!"

"No we didn't. We didn’t pass Potions."

"You really weren't listening, were you," replied Ron. "Go on Dad, tell him."

"You see Harry, with all the chaos casused by Madame Umbridge last term, and the fact that only a handful of students received an Outstanding on their potions score, the Headmaster” Arthur quirked his face, deciding what word to use, “encouraged Professor Snape to take students with Acceptable grades and higher.”

"See Harry, I told you," smirked Ron.

Harry was stunned. "I don't believe it."

"Well done, dear," cooed Mrs. Weasley.

"You should be very proud of those scores," offered Arthur.

"Thanks." Harry looked at everyone surrounding him. "Thanks, all of you. You've been so great to me, taking me in and all."

"You don't have to thank us, dear."

"No Mrs. Weasley, I do. I want you to know how much I appreciate it. And I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused..."

"Now you listen to me, Harry." Arthur said adamantly. "We'll have no apologies. You are a member of this family. It may not be in writing, but it is within our hearts. We are here to support each other, in good times and bad."

A bit overwhelmed at Mr. Weasley's sincere declaration, Harry lowered his head. "Thanks Mr. Weasley."

"Go on Harry, open the other letter."

"What other letter?"

"That one, silly," she said smirking as she pointed toward his lap.

Sure enough, there was indeed another letter, but this one was from the Ministry.Harry inhaled sharply, feeling a sudden sense of panic.

"Everything is fine," Arthur assured him. "Go ahead and open it."

Holding his breath, Harry opened the letter and read it silently.

"Well? What does it say?" asked Ron.

"The Ministry lifted the ban," he looked up with amazement, "I'm allowed to play Quidditch again."

Excited over Harry's news, Ronthrew both arms into the air and whooped with glee. Unfortunately, he also fell backward off the railing and landed in Molly's treasured Hydrangea bushes.

"Ronald Weasley! How many times do I have to tell you to act your age?"

Ron stood up, rubbing his sore behind and looked at the now squashed bushes. "Sorry, Mum."

But the sound emanating from her left quelled Molly’s anger. At first it was just a small chuckle, but when Ron stood up in full view with Hydrangea flowers protruding from his shirt and hair; Harry broke out in laughter.

Seeing Harry so happy spurred the others to join him and soon a regale of laughter filled the back porch. Mollywrapped her arm around Harry and held him tightly to her. She sighed in relief and offered a silent thank you to Merlin. It had been a long stressful summer, but this first glimmer of happines from Harry gave her hope: hope that he was coming out of his depression, hope that he was indeed healing and hope that someday he might find joy in life.