Chapter 2; Sealed in Blood

Tippy and Harry reappeared several hundred yards away in the poorly lit basement of Potter Manor. Everywhere was stacked boxes and trunks which housed everything from old tapestries and china to her Master and Mistress' old school books and papers.

Snapping her fingers, Tippy made the oil lamps flicker into life and a pile of sheets arrange themselves into a makeshift bed. Another snap and the boxes and crates were banished to the far walls and the tapestries were rolled up and marched into an unused corner. As the items flew about, one box managed to upend an oil painting that was pushed into the corner. It flipped over and landed on the floor.

The subject of the painting, a wizard of middle age with a mop of dark hair and a long, wild beard that was braided with colorful beads was wearing a green and gold doublet and stockings with a gold watch fob dangling from his jacket pocket. As the painting hit the ground , the image awoke as if from a deep sleep and looked around wildly.

"What all this then?" it exclaimed. "Back for another round, you cur! Show yourself, Black! I'll strip the hide off your mangy back and use your scalp to wipe me arse! Placing me down here in this foul, misbegotten dungeon…"

Looking around wildly with his wand aloft, the image in the painting spotted the house elf's look of alarm and the crying bundle at her feet. "What's this? You! Elf! What's happened? Is that James' spawn you have there? I admit he's not much to look at, but surely you should'na be throwing him out!"

Tippy gave him a severe look that might have been imposing if it didn't come from a dirty and bloodied house elf.

"Tippy is not for throwin' anthings out." She sniffed. "Master James and Miss Lilly's got killed and Tippy's got little master to care for now."

"What? James and Lilly dead? What the devil are you talking about, elf. They can't be dead. Why I know for a fact that they were under Fidelius. They're as safe and happy as a louse on a whore's cunny."

The figure seemed to have worked himself into a fit or righteous anger and indignation, until by leaning forward he seemed to finally realize the shape the elf was in. Leaning back in his frame, he took a sobering breath and shook his head. "What happened?"

So, Tippy told her tale. The painting listened patiently, quite against his nature, until she had finished with her rescue of the child. As a man, Charlus Potter was a bit of a rogue. However, his raucous and brazen temperament belied a cunning and powerful mind. He knew how the Fidelius was constructed. If the youngest Potter family was dead, that meant betrayal. While he had spent the better part of four months in this basement, he wasn't always so. Before his forced exile at the hands of Sirius Black, he had hung over the mantle in the study. He didn't know for sure who the secret keeper was, but knew a short list of likely candidates. Dumbledore, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew. He didn't think any of them were capable of this sort of treachery, but knew that every man, no matter how noble, could break. Torture, blackmail and coercion were the stock and trade of dark wizards. None were darker than the madman, Voldemort.

If James and Lilly were truly dead, and he could hardly doubt it after hearing the elf's tale, then the boy was in a pickle indeed. The last scion of a noble house, beset by enemies unknown, helpless and vulnerable. The house itself would soon be overrun with ministry officials and aurors, any of which could be in the dark lord's employ. Helpless and vulnerable were not positions that Charlus Potter was comfortable with. In life, he had once lobbied to replace the motto on the family crest, fortes fortuna adiuvat (fortune favors the bold) with Acta non verba (actions not words). He preferred decisive, unpredictable action. He was also scared for his young descendant.

As a painting, there was little to nothing he could do to protect him. Taking stock of the situation, he began to mentally list their assets and liabilities. Assets: One physically damaged and possibly mentally unhinged house-elf; One smashingly handsome, cunning oil painting; Numerous family friends and allies. Liabilities: One mentally unhinged uber-powerful dark lord and an unknown number of minions and allies; unknown numbers of allies subverted; No access to outside news or intelligence; Limited access to resources. It didn't paint a pretty picture. The first order of business was security.

"Elf!" he bellowed.

"Yes sir." Tippy replied.

"Go and fetch some essence of murtlap, and a bottle of blood replenisher and dreamless sleep from the potion stores and some clean cloths from upstairs. Also, bring down a cot and some bandages. Hurry!"

The elf stood there, wringing her hands in apparent anxiety.

"Well? Get moving!"

"Tippy mustn't leave Master Harry! Master Harry needs Tippy!" she cried.

"Of all the misbegotten gnome drippings…." He muttered. "Listen Elf. Young Harry there is fine for the moment. However, if you do not get me the things we need, we will soon be overrun by every would-be dark wizard and money-grubbing politician in England. If you value his life, get your flea-bitten sack of diseased goblin hide out of this cellar and do as I say! That's an order!"

"Yes Master Charlus, sir. Tippy is going right away!" And with that exclamation she popped away, only to return minutes later with a sack of clinking bottles under one arm and dragging a cot under the other. After they were situated, Charlus directed her to get the babe situated on the cot and applied essence of murtlap to the odd, lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead and to her own wounds. Luckily, the babe had quieted and was clearly on the verge of sleep. He also directed her to administer a small dose of blood replenisher and dreamless sleep to the boy. That done, he decided to move to step two of his plan. Security.

After much remonstration with the elf, he was able to convince her to return to the cottage. Since the death of James and Lilly, the Fidelius should have become unanchored and the charm's power should have diminished. He ordered her to remove the ward stones from the property and return with them, along with the Potter signet ring and whatever of Harry's possessions they would need. He also ordered her to move Lilly's and James' bodies out of the cottage and then set fire to the nursery. Hopefully, this would convince everyone that the young boy was killed in the attack.

The ward stones were a different matter, altogether. While Potter manor was heavily warded, it was not unbreachable. After the aurors discovered the death of James and Lilly, they would thoroughly search the property. If the Fidelius could be re-anchored before it fully dissipated, it would go a long way toward the security they needed. Although it required a fully capable and powerful wizard to cast a Fidelius, the anchoring required only a drop of the secret keepers blood on the runes inscribed on the ward stones. While it would be insufficient to ward the entirety of the manor, a small section, like the basement, could be warded until such a time as better arrangements could be made.

This they did. The elf, under Charlus' direction, placed the ward stones at the four corners of the basement, and anchored them with a drop of the elf's blood. The Fidelius, though weakened by its replacement, would hold for months, if not years. Tippy also used her magic to expand the basement until it was nearly quadrupled in size. The door leading to the upstairs was bricked over and sealed and the only method of ingress and egress was by elf. This was by no means ideal, as the child's safety was solely in Tippy's hands, but it made up for it by being utterly secure. A herd of aurors could dissect the house, but they would never be able to even detect the basement, let alone breach it.

The next few days proved to be busy ones for Tippy. With dedication only an elf could display, she transformed the basement quarters from a dark, damp basement to a large, well-lit, slightly damp basement. Walls had been erected that created a small bedroom for Harry and his toys, while a stove, some food, a dining table and chairs, place settings and utensils were liberated from the house upstairs. She even managed to transport a settee and a couple of wing backed chairs from the parlor.

All in all it was a very cozy arrangement. That's not to say that it was all sunshine and light. Both boy and elf were tramautized by the loss of James and Lilly. Both were prone to awake in the night, crying out for the deceased couple. But, at such times they had each other to cling to. Young Harry was blessed, if you can call it that, with youth. Memories of his parents would gradually fade. Cries of "mummy" and "daddy" or even "pa'foo" and "moony" were gradually replaced with "Tippy" and "unc'a."

For the elf's part, she had a young charge to care for. Harry became the width and breadth of her existence. Though she still mourned for the lost, she couldn't resist the ingrained joy that every house elf received from service to her master. The needs of a one year old were all-consuming. Diapers to be changed, meals to be prepared, and the general shepherding required by the curious hands and unsteady feet of a toddler filled her days and nights. All in all, they settled into a steady rhythm.