This is a story I've had for awhile and only just now typed up. For those who are wondering, I'm still working on the next chapter for To Azkaban, but it shouldn't be much longer until it's done. I don't own Harry Potter or the Dresden Files (which I'm using for a few parts of the story, but not much els).

Harry Potter stared at the Gringotts letter in front of him with detached interest, much the way he'd been looking at everything nowadays. Ever since Sirius had died in the department of mysteries nothing had really affected him. The world, which had once been a beautiful and vibrant place, was now ugly and gray. Even the Dursley's scowling and cursing hadn't affected him. His friends were of no help either. Their notes had gotten shorter and shorter until they were really just notes saying they were alive.

Harry dropped the letter from Gringotts carelessly on his worn out desk, nest to his unfinished potions essay. The light from his lamp barely illuminated his room at the late hour, with a small bit more light coming from the street lights outside his window. Settling down on his too small bed he mulled over what the letter had said.

Dear mister Potter. My name Norsak and I was the account manager for your mother, the currently deceased Lily Evans Potter. Your mother was a very unique witch. Make no mistake, me and mine share no love for wizard kind, and no self-respecting goblin would ever admit to liking one of your kind. However, Miss Potter was more bearable than most and possessed a vicious streak towards those that wronged her that some times made me wonder if perhaps she had been a goblin in a past life.

Prior to the events that led to your own fame, as well as her death, your mother asked me to deliver the letter that I sent along with this note to you on two conditions. One of them being that she was dead and the other being that you were fifteen. I was rewarded handsomely in exchange for this service, though it has often puzzled me as to why. I am not one of the fae who are incapable of lying, but trust my word when I tell you that I never discovered the content of the missive that your mother entrusted to me. I will be honest once more and tell you that it was not for a lack of trying. Your matriarch was most gifted with charms.

Now that that diatribe is over, I would also like to provide to you my offer to act as your current account manager. Since you were born your Gringotts accounts have been under the direct control of one Albus Dumbledore. I am not sure if this was your decision, and to be quite frank, up until recently your opinion has not mattered. You have been one more wizard sprog who was both annoying and stupid. However, in my eyes at least, your recent, shall we say, escapade into the department of mysteries that your ministry is so fond of and your actions while you were there have proven that your are deserving of at least a modicum of respect. Only slightly more than the respect given to most wizards, which is to say none, but some respect all the same. This may confuse you, so please allow me to explain.

In your history class you have no doubt listened to your professor go on about the many goblin rebellions. You may have also, like many of your peers, ignored or dismissed all of what your teacher was instructing you in. let me point one thing out to you Mr. Potter. In a class that you have been taking for five years, all the teacher has talked about has been goblin rebellions. Rebellions, which is a term your ministry uses for every time the goblin nation declares war on wizard or muggle kind. We are a warrior people, and have been for generations. We respect those that fight, and fight well. You are one of these people Mr. Potter. You lead your troops into battle against a greater adversary. Your reasons do not matter, only that you emerged victorious. You have gained the attention of the goblin nation Mr. Potter. Do not disappoint us.

Norsak.

Account Manager

Gringotts Bank.

Harry continued staring at the letter with a slightly baffled look on his face, his mouth ajar and his eyes wide and glazed. He'd been told by many people that what he did at the DoM was a very immature, dangerous, and reckless idea. His friends hadn't been mad with him but his own guilt over everything that had happened that night had overridden any feelings of triumph that he may have had. Now, someone was saying that they respected him because of his reckless actions.

Harry sighed and looked down at the second letter that had been delivered by Gringotts. The parchment was old and yellowed, with his name addressed on the front in beautiful flowing handwriting, his mother's handwriting. His whole life he'd known next to nothing about his parents. Yeah, he looked a lot like his dad, yes, he had his mother's eyes, but never anything else! All he had of them was his dad's invisibility cloak and a photo album he'd gotten from Hagrid. No one ever told him any great stories about them, told him what their favorite color was, when they got married, absolutely nothing! This was the first real thing he'd gotten from his parents. Someone else had delivered the invisibility cloak and all the photos came from other people.

Harry's eyes burned with determination as he tore open the letter. Nothing was going to stop him from finding out what his mother's last words to him were. He carelessly tossed the envelope over his shoulder and opened the letter-and found nothing! The entire inside of the envelope was blank. No words of encouragement, no apologies for not being there for him as he grew up, nothing except for a small drawing of a Lily at the lower left corner of the parchment. Harry lightly ran his fingers over the drawing, hoping for something to make up for the disappointment he was feeling.

When the lily started glowing a light blue, Harry was too shocked to think about dropping it. The glow expanded until it had completely encompassed him. When the boy-who-lived finally managed to come back to his senses and tried to drop the letter he found that it was glued to his hand. He lept to his feet and started swinging his arm around wildly trying to dislodge the glowing parchment. Mid-swing there was a bright flash of light, and Harry Potter disappeared from Number Four Privet Drive.

The second the bright flash of light had been seen outside the house the Order member on guard had activated her Order Necklace and kicked in the back door. She could hear screams of fright coming from the Dursley's in their bedrooms, but paid them no mind. She ran up the stairs and sent a bludgeoning curse that Harry's door as she ran. The door exploded inwards in a shower of splintered wood, with Tonks following right behind it. She kept her wand at chest level and scanned the room-the now empty room.

"Bugger!" she yelled. The metamorphagus stalked back out of the room and towards a shotgun wielding Vernon Dursley. A quick wave of her wand had disappeared the barrel of the walrus like mans gun. Tonks grabbed Vernon by the throat and swung him into the wall of the hallway, pinning him there. Her hair and eyes turned blood red in her rage. "Where is he Dursley?"

"Who," the fat muggle managed to choke out.

"Your nephew you pig! Where is Harry Potter!?"

"Y-You mean he's gone?" Vernon asked, hope gleaming in his beady eyes.

Tonks snorted in disgust and threw Vernon into the opposite wall of the hallway.

"Merlin's teeth Tonks," a voice said from the end of the hallway. Shaklebolt stood at the top of the stairs, staring at Tonks in horror. "How did you even do that?"

"People always seem to forget that I can transform my muscles along with everything else. Come on Shak. He isn't here," Tonks walked past the imposing Auror, her hair and eyes still blood red. Shaklebolt shook himself out of his stupor and followed his enraged partner.

"Dumbledore isn't going to like this," he muttered just before the two apparated to the new Order of the Phoenix Headquarters.

Harry stopped swinging his arm around when he realized that he was no longer in his room at privet drive. There was more light wherever he was, and he had to squint at the brightness. The Boy-Who-Lived looked around his current surroundings. He was in a cave of some sort, but someone had made it rather homey. There were tapestries covering the walls and rugs on the stone floor with torches lining the walls, lit with white fire. Two doors that probably led to other rooms. There was even an unlit fireplace against one wall with a couch and coffee table set up across from it.

Harry backed up, not noticing the blank letter slipping from his hand. Not seeing anyone around, he turned and walked towards what he assumed was the mouth of the cave. He could feel cool, salty air from that direction so it was probably the way out. With any luck the people who tried to kidnap him would be on the way. Harry's hands clenched and he scowled at the cave walls as he walked. It didn't matter if he didn't have his wand, whoever had set this up was going to pay.

"Leaving already?" a high-pitched voice said. Harry spun around looking for its owner. The person just giggled at him. "Up here silly mortal," Harry looked up and gaped. It was a fairy. At least that's what she looked like. The tiny woman was six inches tall, had a dress that looked like it was made out of tree leaves, and had four insect like wings sprouting from her back.

"Are you the one who brought me here?" Harry asked, still too shocked to be rude.

"Don't be stupid," the Fairy giggled, "your mother brought you here. I'm just supposed to guide you," as she spoke the Fairy began flying in circles and doing loop de loops around Harry.

"What's your name then?" Harry asked still looking confused. How was it possible for his mother to bring him here? It didn't make much sense.

"You don't know much about the sidhe, do you?" the small girl flew in front of the green-eyed boys face. "Never ask one of the Fae their name. Ask them what you may call them by," the small fae looked at Harry expectantly.

"What can I call you then?" Harry asked, looking slightly bemused.

"You can call me Hilda. Also, never give a Fae your entire name, only your first name or what you want to be called by," Harry nodded and started walking towards the exit again. "Hey, you didn't tell me your name?" the sprite whined, zipping in front of Harry again.

"If you knew my mother then you know who I am," the young wizard said, looking at Hilda suspiciously.

"Well, of course I know," the fairy huffed, "but it's impolite not to introduce yourself."

"Fine, I'm Harry, and now I'm leaving," he said starting towards the cave mouth again.

"Oh no you don't," Hilda said. With a high-pitched war cry that sounded similar to a squeaky toy she grabbed Harry's ear and started pulling him back into the cave. "Your mom told me to bring you to the potions room when you arrived, and that's what I'm gonna do."

"Fine, fine, just let go of my bloody ear!" Harry yelled, swatting at the annoying sprite. Hilda let go of his ear and zipped out of his reach, humming happily to herself.

"Follow me green eyes! The potions room is this way!" the fairy gave a shrieking laugh and flew down to the two doors at the end of the hallway. Harry grumbled to himself and followed after her. He knew it was probably a stupid idea, but the chance that all this had been set up by his mom was worth any risk in the young wizards opinion.

The overzealous fairy was flying in lazy circles in front of a black door, looking extremely bored. Harry walked over to the door and looked at Hilda questioningly. She sighed and flew away from the door. Then, with another squeaky war cry, she zoomed towards the door and kicked it. Harry felt a spark of something in the air, then watched as the door opened with a loud creak. He raised an eyebrow at Hilda who just grinned and flew through the open door.

Inside was a near exact replica of Snape's classroom, minus the windows. Bottles of various ingredients lined all three walls of the room with cabinets underneath them. In the center was a bronze circle that was spiting out a blue fire. Laid on top of it was a man-sized cauldron. Harry stopped short, horrifying flashbacks running through his mind.

The wrenching feeling of a portkey.

"Kill the Spare!"

A flash of green light.

Pain in his arm.

"First we bow. Come on Harry, bow,"

His parents coming out of HIS wand.

Cedric, lifeless on the ground.

"Hey, green-eyes! Are you in there? Hello-o-o?" Harry shook himself and looked into the tiny eyes of Hilda. The sprite was perched on his nose and centimeters away from his right eye. Harry yelped and jumped back in shock. Hilda shrieked and flew off his face, leaving the jumpy wizard to trip and fall on his butt arms pin wheeling and glasses flying through the air. Harry groaned and collapsed the rest of the way on to the floor.

"You're a really clumsy wizard green-eyes," the diminutive fairy said, hovering over Harry's face and holding his glasses. Harry just groaned in response. "Come boyo, we've got work to do, this is no time for a nap,"

"It was one in the morning when I got the letter so bugger off. M' sleepy," Harry mumbled.

"I don't care what time it was," Hilda shrieked, dropping the green eyes boy's glasses perfectly onto his face. "There, now would you kindly get up and finish the bloody potion!" The tiny fairy was sounding almost hysterical now, her minuscule face turning bright pink from yelling.

"Fine!" Harry yelled back, the force of his voice sending the Fae flying backwards clutching her ears.

"Not so loud you stupid mortal. By Morgana's tit, my poor ears!"

Harry ignored her and stood up, still rubbing his bruised posterior. He walked towards the giant cauldron, noticing a small table next to it that he had missed earlier. Someone had placed a silver dagger and a small locket on it. Ignoring them for the moment, the Boy-Who-Lived looked at the potion that was simmering in the man-sized cauldron. It was an almost steely gray, bubbling like a boiling pot of water.

"What am I supposed to do now?" Harry asked, giving the Fae hovering next to him a clueless look.

"Right, Lils was very specific with the instructions. First, drop the locket in the potion and say 'memory of a much loved witch, let this memento bring you life.' Then you need to cut your hand and put a few drops of blood into the potion and say 'blood of a relative, return to your family.' Then your done boyo," Hilda finished with a face-splitting grin.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Harry asked, this whole thing reminding him too much of the graveyard. "What if this is some big plot to try and kill me?"

"If you've ever heard anything about Fae then you know that we can't lie, and I'm telling you that the only pain you're gonna feel is from cutting your hand," Hilda said, for once not sounding mocking or silly.

"Fine," Harry said, picking up the locket. He paused for a second, holding the locket just over the surface of the potion. What if this was a trick? Harry pushed the thoughts away and dropped the small trinket. "Memory of a much loved witch, let this memento bring you life," The potion turned a light green and began bubbling even more ferociously. The Boy-Who-Lived then picked of the silver dagger and held it and his other hand above the cauldron. He closed his eyes and sliced open his palm with a soft cry of pain. "Blood of a relative, return to your family," the potion turned deep red and began steaming. The heat became too much for the green eyed hero and he stumbled back, falling on his bruised behind once more.

The steam became thicker and thicker until it exploded out, filling the entire room. Through the mist Harry saw a feminine figure standing up in the cauldron. He stood up and started walking towards it, waving steam out of his face as he walked. A few feet away from the cauldron the mist cleared enough for Harry to see the mysterious person. The first thing he noticed was that she was naked and had her back turned to him. The second was the bright red hair.

"Hello?" the woman spun around at the sound of his voice, causing Harry to feel faint. Green eyes, and a face he'd see in his photo albums so many times. "Mum?" Harry muttered before fainting.

Lily looked at her teenage son in shock for a moment before glaring accusingly at a giggling Hilda. She looked back at her unconscious son and sighed.

"Well, shit," she muttered quietly, "that wasn't the reunion I was hoping for,"

Zere ve go. Vonderful, Vonderful.

Peace,

Out.