A.N.: Well, you all got lucky. I was able to sort out the problem by rewriting the entire second half of the chapter. I don't remember if I've told you, but this story will go rather slowly for the most part. I don't want to rush it; sometimes stories that get rushed don't come out as good.

Also, this chapter is un-beta'd. Any mistakes are my own.

Chapter 3

The next morning, Harry awoke to an unfamiliar sensation. Sunlight, streaming in from the window, was lying right across his face. For a long while, he just lay there, wondering when his cupboard had gotten a window. Then the memories hit him; the storm, Cameron, the house, crying in her arms. Now wide awake, he sat up, looking around his new room. A large bed with a quilt worn soft with time and love was in one corner. One wall was almost all window, with an equally long window seat, and a small wardrobe stood near the door. Two small stands, one near the bed, the other near the window, and a single round rug on the floor was it.

Blinking, Harry noticed something odd about the air. It smelled like… breakfast? Immediately his stomach growled, and the boy scrambled out of bed, intent on finding the source.

Out of the room he went; past the small landing with two other doors, down the stairs, and past the fire place. He paused, suddenly feeling shy, and peered around the corner to look into the kitchen. Cameron, already dressed for the day, stood over an old-fashioned wood-burning stove, clearly cooking something. A table in the corner already had several dishes on it, and two mismatched chairs pushed up to the edges. When Harry turned his gaze back to his aunt, he noticed that the kitchen was missing a fridge, and a proper oven. And it had none of the appliances that Petunia had loved to buy for her kitchen. Though there was a sink, but it had what looked like an ancient water pump next to it, instead of the shiny faucets common in the Dursleys house.

A small smile crossed his face; this really was a fairytale cottage!

Moving carefully, Cameron tilted the pan so the scrambled eggs in it would fall neatly onto the plate she had set nearby. She set the pan in the sink where she would get to it and the other dishes after they were done eating. Inside, Cameron was singing; she had her nephew with her, a breakfast fit for a king, and no summons to go out. It was looking like she would get to spend the whole day with her Harry.

As she was setting the plate on the last available spot on the table, she caught a shadow from the corner of her eye. She turned to look and gave her nephew a wide grin. "Good morning, sunshine!"

Harry blushed and ducked his head. "Good morning."

"I didn't know what you wanted for breakfast, so I made a little of everything." Cameron pulled out a chair and beckoned her nephew closer, then helped him scramble into it. His eyes went wide at the sight of all the food.

"Auntie…"

"Since I'm taller, why don't you tell me what you want and I'll put it on your plate, okay?"

"Okay. What are those?"

"Those? They're biscuits."

"Biscuits?! But they look like scones!"

Cameron laughed. "Sorry, I forgot. These are what Americans call biscuits. What the British call biscuits, we call cookies. Here," she said, picking one up and fixing it. "They're really good with butter and jam."

"Thanks." The rest of the meal passed with Cameron explaining the difference between American named food and British named food. Every so often, Cameron would say something that would make her nephew laugh, and each laugh made him shed a little bit of his shyness. By the end of breakfast Harry was comfortable enough with his aunt to ask her questions, his first being an offer to help with the dishes. Cameron just smiled at him.

"That won't be necessary, sweetie. Watch." After putting the dirty dishes in the sink, she went to the old pump and poured water in. For a moment, nothing was happening, then the water began to bubble and the dishes shifted and sank beneath the surface. A miniature tidal wave washed a plate onto the nearby countertop, and then receded, leaving the sparkling plate behind. Cameron calmly picked up the plate and put it in its proper cupboard. She turned to look at Harry who was staring at the sink, watching as another plate was pushed onto the counter.

"H-h-how-"

"Magic, sweetie." Cameron moved from the counter to her nephew and kneeled in front of him. "I was born with magic. So was your mother, and so were you."

"W-what?"

Cameron stood, looking deep into Harry's eyes as she did so. "You don't know, do you." It wasn't a question, so he didn't answer. She glanced about, as though expecting to see someone watching her, then looked back at Harry. "Wait here for a moment, dearie." Vanishing around the corner, her footsteps indicated that she had gone upstairs, rather quickly at that.

Bemused, Harry stood where he was in the kitchen, patiently waiting for his aunt to return downstairs. He didn't have long to wait, as she soon reappeared with an enormous book in her arms. When Cameron beckoned him to join her in the living room, he followed, his curiosity getting the better of him. Gently, she pulled Harry into the living room and sat on one of the armchairs near the fireplace. Tugging Harry onto her lap, she wiggled until they were both comfortable. The book was held over his lap, and when it was opened, Harry gasped at the photos inside.

On the very first page was a single large photograph, with a beautiful older woman standing behind two young girls and an even younger boy, all of them with the same red hair. It was obviously a family portrait, causing a small twinge in Harry's heart. He pushed the feeling away to listen to what his aunt was saying.

"This little girl," said Cameron, gesturing to the girl on the left, "was your mother. Her name was Lilith, but she hated being called that."

"She did?" asked Harry, surprised. Cameron nodded.

"Yup. She made everyone call her Lily. And I mean everyone. When she was little she would throw the most spectacular fits whenever someone called her by her full name. Once I asked her why we had to call her Lily. She told me that it fit her better than Lilith did. It turns out she was right."

"How?"

Cameron laughed. "Lilith means "of the night". Your mother seemed to exist for the sunlight-just like a flower would. Now this one," and she gestured to the boy, "is our brother, Arden. He's always been hot-tempered, even as a small child. Not to mention the prankster of the family. One of his favorite past-times was to sneak spiders and frogs into our coat pockets and listen to us scream when we found them. Lily finally got tired of it and got him back. I'm not quite sure what she did to him-" here she turned several pages in to show the boy running from Lily with an expression that could be nothing but terror on his face, "but from that day on, Arden was too afraid of spiders to ever get close to them again. Mother tried so hard not to laugh."

Harry turned his head to look at his aunt. The wistful tone her voice had taken on let him know that she was getting lost in her thoughts. It must have been a really good memory for her; Harry didn't want to bug her when she appeared so happy, so he amused himself with looking at the other pictures on the page while he waited. One was of Cameron reading a book with an intense expression of concentration on her face. The next was of Arden giving a wrapped gift to a girl his age with blond hair, both of them blushing. Last was of Lily leaning over a table, with metal scraps, and tools scattered over the surface. She was glancing at the camera in surprise.

"I remember that picture," it seemed that Cameron had returned to reality, and was giggling at the photo. "Lily was working on her project for Masago, and was so deep in concentration that she didn't notice me sneaking up on her with a camera until I called her name. She was mad at me for breaking her concentration, but I made it up to her later by bringing her dinner."

"What was she making?" Harry peered at the picture, but he couldn't make heads or tails of the metal scraps within.

"She was making a clock. I believe she started it when she was twelve. There seemed to be a large amount of expensive wood coming and going, and she spent a lot of time with the local metal-worker."

"Did she finish it?"

Cameron frowned. "I've never seen it, so I don't know. At one point she was upset with it, but she never told me why. She died a few months later, and I think that Masago must have it. He was her Master, after all."

"Master?" That confused Harry. Were Masters allowed here?

"Yes-oh, that's right, you wouldn't know. Masago's title is Master, but it just means that he's the best at what he does. After seeing Lily's power, he decided to teach her himself. She was the first student he had taken on in forty years; there was a lot of commotion over it, but Masago is a stubborn man and wouldn't let anyone sway him from his decision."

Harry opened his mouth to ask another question when a sharp knocking on the door interrupted him. Gently, Cameron set both the book and her nephew on the floor and went to answer it.

"Yes?"

A mans voice drifted in. "Madame Hydra, the village needs your help. A child has wandered into the woods, if you would please-"

"Of course. Harry," she called over her shoulder, and he came to her. Kneeling, she looked him in the eye. "I need to leave for a little while. You'll be good and stay inside until I get back, okay?" He nodded, making her smile at him as she pulled him in for a hug. "That's my boy. Oh, and don't open the door for anyone, even me. I'll tell you why when I get back." She kissed his head and left, shutting the door behind herself.

Cameron's departure left Harry with a load of questions. Why wasn't he supposed to open the door? How was she going to get back in if he didn't open the door? Why did that man call Auntie 'Madame Hydra'? And what did she mean when she said Lily had power? Was she talking about magic?

All these questions and more were bouncing around in Harry's head, giving him a horrible headache. He shuffled back to the chair and clambered back into it, ignoring the album on the floor. Maybe if he shut his eyes, the headache would go away. Slowly, the pain faded, and Harry was lulled to sleep by the first full stomach he could remember and the warm morning sunshine pouring in through the large window.

A.N.: Now while I am thankful to my eight reviewers, I am confused as to whether or not anyone else is interested in this fic, since no one else has reviewed. Is anyone aside from those eight actually reading this, or is it just so horrible that I should pull it down and just distribute it to my friends who are too polite to tell me it sucks?