After a minute at failing to speak because he couldn't really breathe (dust was all that Voldemort needed to properly murder Harry, screw the killing curse), Harry finally managed to speak a sentence without having to cough.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, his voice a bit ruff sounding, as he got up from the carpet that he inhaled the dust from along with painfully face planting in. Thankfully and somehow miraculously his glasses hadn't broke. They were smudged however.

Harry, without so much as thought, let go of his hold of his suitcase and Hedwig's bird cage. Both landed with a thud which caused the woman to only scream louder about mudblooded intruders but she'd yet to barge into the - well Harry didn't know what the dark and dusty room was for.

Harry with his recently freed hand, that's shoulder still had a book in his armpit, grabbed the hem of the oversized (no shocker than since it was once his cousin's) shirt and begun attempt to clean his glasses so the room wasn't a big dark blur that Harry kept squinting at as he cleaned his glasses. Eventually, Harry put them back on only to close his eyes in frustration and let out a groan. His shirt apparently had not been spared from the dust.

Harry was tired. His body seemed to weigh down on him even without carrying the birdcage and suitcase; more than it should considering Harry was scrawny and small for his age. And last but far worst than the previous two, he'd broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry so badly, he was surprised Ministry of Magic hadn't sent a letter (like before) to Privet Drive while he'd been grabbing his stuff and yelling for Dobby.

Perhaps, the letter or even a representative of the Ministry was there now. Inquiring to his relatives as for his whereabouts so he or she could snap Harry's wand like they had Hagrid's. Well except Hagrid hadn't been guilty. Harry was. Though admittedly he hadn't meant to blow his aunt it's just -

The very thought of the horrid things she uttered with her big and ugly smile that was all teeth and mockery. Her fat lips, a rather dark shade of red lipstick that was unpleasant against her face, wet from the alcohol she drank like Harry would water after a day weeding Aunt Petunia's garden. Though to be fair on the lipstick that was just a victim, anything would look ugly on the Uncle Vernon sister's face afterall she was Uncle Vernon sister.

Harry came back to reality and the shrill screams of a witch as Dobby tugged on his wrist to get his attention.

"Would Harry like to find a place to sleep?" Dobby asked him gently. Harry blinked. It was weird how that Dobby looked ready to murder his uncle (so much Harry could taste it in the air or rather the magic maybe...Hermione would know what it was Harry had felt) and be treating Harry as though he was a child.

Despite it being weird, Harry was tired. "Sure," he said though if he was heard over the women's screams of mudbloods was another thing. Why hadn't she bragged in and ripped him into a new one for just teleporting into her home without so much as a heads up? Wait-

Horror filled Harry before he immediately stiffened. "We're not at the Malfoy's are we," he whispered to Dobby. It was a genuine question since he only heard Draco say that word much to the twins and Ron's anger while he and Hermione's had just be left confused.

Forget the Ministry swooping down on them - their corpses would eventually be found by the Ministry if this was-

"Dobby is a good house elf! Dobby would never bring-" there was a pause and the sound of feet - not Harry's - shuffling.

"Dobby would never bring his friend to harm's way."

Harry was bloody knackered, his energy from anger and being in danger had left him. That and Harry had never been known for holding back his tongue.

"You promised to not to try and save my life again." It wasn't a compliant. Just a reminder.

Dobby had taken him away from Uncle Vernon who would've murdered Harry for not knowing how to fix Aunt Marge even if he had wanted to. Dobby cared. He'd always cared even before they were secretly roommates. Why was still beyond Harry.

Dobby instead of giving an answer led Harry out of the room. The bird cage and suit case still dumped on the floor and left there as they exited the room. The hallway was dark too. Perhaps it was because it was night time and there were no lights on. Or rather candles burning since this was a witch's house.

Yet, Harry couldn't help but think, there had been dust as they slowly but surely climbed the steps. The witch by now had stopped screaming off the top of her lungs. Harry appreciated it just like he'd appreciate being done climbing the stairs of whenever they were.

It turnt out that was one more minute. They reached topmost landing where- Harry squinted his eyes even though it was dark and his glasses were dirty. It looked like two doors but he wasn't sure and perfectly honest he didn't care. His feet ached, his body weighed down on him, and there was not much energy left in him. At this point he didn't care he was going to have to sleep in oversized dirty shirt and jeans that only fit because of a belt. He had no clothes besides his Hogwarts robes (normally Harry would have packed some of the clothes in his trunk before he left for the train station but that didn't happen) and they'd been left in some room that were at the bottom of the stairs.

Dobby choose a door and lead him towards it. His longer fingers still wrapped around Harry's wrist as he tugged Harry forward. Thankfully Harry didn't stumble as Dobby, who had to stand on his tip toes to reach the doorknob, opened the door to what was hopefully a bedroom.

Yes it was. Harry briefly closed his eyes and mumbled a thank you to someone - anyone - out there before opening them. He and Dobby made their way to what look like the outline of a large bed.

Harry, without any grace whatsoever, fell back on the mattress with a soft thud. Despite how comfy it was without any sheets or covers, Harry got up from laying on the mattress. He reached down to pick up Dobby only for what looked like the house elf shaking his head in the dark.

"Dobby has work to do then Dobby will go to sleep," Dobby told Harry. Despite being small Dobby made his way across the dark room rather quickly before shutting the door without banding it.

Harry stared at ceiling even though he couldn't see it in dark. He was shivering, he noted. Was it because there was no sheets or covers on the bed or because of fear of his future? His future without Ron and Hermione; without attending Hogwarts. With his wand just snapped. Despite having weeded Aunt Petunia's garden every summer since he was seven Harry doubted Dumbledore would let Hagrid take Harry on as an apprentice. That was if Harry wasn't arrested or outlawed from the wizarding world because he'd used such big magic on a muggle.

His heart felt heavier than his body. His hands slid under his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. His fingers were wet but Harry didn't cry even in this empty room. Perhaps he was too tired to cry.

Eventually, Harry fell asleep. His dream ending with him jumping out of a window and breaking his neck. Funnily the most memorable thing besides the ending was his hair. It had the been the same shade as Lockhart's instead of the sweaty black haired mess that it normally was.

Eventually Harry opened his eyes only to quickly shut them again with a groan. It was morning. While not very bright there was some light just beginning to stream in the room and that light had been enough for Harry to close his eyes. Warily, he did open them again to peer at the strange room. The first thing he noticed were the faded scarlet and gold banners; Gryffindor banners. For some reason that made Harry feel easier being here - wherever here was.

The second thing he noticed was furry grey cover that'd been draped over him sometime when he'd been a sleep. Dobby's work most certainly. The next thing was the fact his glasses were off his nose.

Despite the comfort of the bed Harry slipped out of it. Though he did grab the cover and wrap it around him since it was a bit frigid in the neglected room. He was still wearing sneakers so thankfully he couldn't feel if the floor.

Harry frowned. He could have sworn he'd heard a woman screaming her head off last night but the state of the dust covered chandelier and the rest of the house made Harry doubt it. Perhaps he dreamt it along with the bears and golden hair.

Besides the banners, the walls of the room were plastered with muggle motorcycles. Most with girls in bikinis. Like that one magazine Harry had seen his cousin once sneak in the house. The reason Harry could tell they were muggle girls and posters was because they remained frozen within their pictures. Their smiles were stationary and eyes unseeing unlike wizard photos and portraits Harry had came across during the times he spent in the wizarding world.

The only wizarding photo on the room was - Harry squinted his eyes and made his way farther from the door so he could see if he was right. It was a photo of Hogwarts students, all Gryffindors, standing arm in arm as they laughed at the camera.

But that wasn't had Harry feeling as though he'd been petrified.

His heart pounding in his chest, "Dad?" Harry croaked out as he stared at the messy haired teenager that, while older, looked just like him. Except his eyes. Harry had often been told he had his mother's eyes.

Harry lifted his hand. Fingers at the edge of the photo as he tried to gently tug it of the wall to no avail. It had to been spelled on there since Harry couldn't see any tape on it. The realization made Harry frown. A desperate part of him wanted to keep having a tug of war with the photo but Harry still didn't know where he was.

Eventually Harry removed his hand from the worn photo. His eyes lingering. Hoping. Silently pleading it might just fall off so Harry could keep it with him even though it wasn't his. The thought of perhaps there was more about his father in this room was what made Harry forget all about being in this strange house and Dobby.

There was a desk in the room near the door. Hurriedly Harry made his way towards it, the cover still wrapped around him. The desk had several books stacked together and a few papers. Harry sat down the chair and it made a sound of protest. The first paper was a ripped out page of an old edition of A History of Magic. The second being a small and thin muggle motorcycle maintenance manual. The third paper was handwritten and crumpled. Gently Harry smoothed it out before bringing it close to his face so he could read it.

Dear Padfoot,

Thank you, thank you, for Harry's birthday present! It was his favorite by far. One year old and already zooming along on a toy broomstick, he looked so pleased with himself. I'm enclosing a picture so you can see. You know it only rises about two feet off the ground but he nearly killed the cat and he smashed a horrible vase Petunia sent me for Christmas (no complaints there).

His mom, Harry realized. His hands holding ever so more tight on the letter that it was miracle it didn't rip. His mom had sent this letter. A letter Harry could keep. A letter not glued to its desk unlike the photo on the wall. Harry felt a sort of joy he hadn't ever experienced before in his life. He couldn't quite get over that his mom - a women standing right behind his reflection. She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes - her eyes had been just like his.

Bright green and she was crying but smiling at him and maybe he was crying too because his cheeks were wet from tears- Harry was brought back to the present as a tear fell on the aged letter. He dropped on the desk and grabbed the cover wrapped around him. Bringing it up to his eyes Harry wipped them before he went back to reading his mom's letter.

Of course James thought it was so funny, says he's going to be a great Quidditch player but we've had to pack away all the ornaments and make sure we don't take our eyes off him when he gets going. We had a very quiet birthday tea, just us and old Bathilda who has always been sweet to us and who dotes on Harry. We were so sorry you couldn't come, but the Order's got to come first, and Harry's not old enough to know it's his birthday anyway!

James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell – also Dumbledore's still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend. I thought he seemed down, but that was probably the next about the McKinnons; I cried all evening when I heard. Bathilda drops in most days, she's a fascinating old thing with the most amazing stories about Dumbledore. I'm not sure he'd be pleased if he knew! I don't know how much to believe, actually because it seems incredible that Dumbledore –

Harry felt quite numb and cold despite the cover wrapped around him as he finished the last of the miraculous paper that was treasured in his fingers. He leaned back on the chair and tried to breathe in the room's cold air in as all the information sunk in. Eventually he'll get up and leave the room. Find Dobby and learn where he was but that was eventually. Right now Harry could only think of how they had a cat. How he'd broken Aunt Petunia's vase. Last but not least what happened to the Sirius the letter mentioned. Maybe he could tell Harry about his parents besides Harry looking like his dad and having his mom's eyes.

If, Harry realized, he was still alive.