Disclaimer: I am making no money from this, nor do I have the right to. That right belongs to JK Rowling and her chosen associates.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. To those of you who asked, no I haven't forgotten about Sirius. Unfortunately, he'll have to wait until there is an appropriate opportunity to expose Wormtail. But Harry will be meeting some more of his family in next couple of chapters.

Chapter 10

November 1986

Andromeda and Edward Tonks arrived on Sunday afternoon to escort the Grangers to Godric's Hollow. They noted that Harry was wearing a black baseball cap low on his forehead, covering up his scar and his characteristic hair. Even at his one-time residence, few people, if anyone, would be able to recognise the boy like that. Andi nodded in approval as she introduced her husband.

Cousin Ted was blond and heavyset, but, Harry noted, not nearly as large as Vernon Dursley, and his voice was far more pleasant. He shook the family's hands quickly, saying, "Pleased to meet you all." He was the first muggle-born any of them had met besides Hermione, and like his wife, he seemed to know his way around a muggle neighbourhood. Dan and Emma were quietly impressed by how he seemed to greet Harry as just one of the family. Knowing how muggle-borns had fared in the war, they wouldn't have been surprised if he had shown a particular reverence for the Boy-Who-Lived.

"The car's in the garage," Dan started to say as the Tonkses started to walk back toward the curb.

"If you don't mind, it'll be quicker to take some magical transport," Andi said. Taking the bus wouldn't be that much more risky than the visit itself, and she felt she might as well save them from what Ted guessed would be about six hours of driving for the round trip.

"What kind of magical transport?" Dan said, thinking of the floo and the broomsticks.

"You're wearing Anti-Anti-Muggle Charms, right?" Dan and Emma nodded. "You, uh, you haven't seen any really big magic yet, so you might want to brace yourselves—we'll be taking the Knight Bus." She stepped to the curb and drew her wand from her sleeve. "All you have to do is hold out your wand, and…"

BANG!

Behind Andi and Ted, zipping out of nowhere and screeching to a halt was an enormous triple-decker, bright purple bus. A moment later, a conductor in a purple uniform leapt out and spoke to her:

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Ernie Prang, and I will be your conductor—say, what's their problem?" he said, pointing at the family, who were now all four of them standing open-mouthed in shock.

"Mr. Prang, these are our friends, the Granger Family," Andi told him. The kids just found out they're muggle-borns last year, and I'm showing them around.

"Ah, starting early now, are we? So where to, then, ma'am?" Ernie Prang said.

She handed over some gold. "Will this do for a round trip to Godric's Hollow?"

"That it will, ma'am. All aboard, then," he called.

The Grangers looked considerably less at ease when they boarded the bus and saw that instead of normal seats, there were free-standing wooden chairs in only an approximate semblance of order. A handful of dishevelled-looking witches and wizards in anachronistic clothes were seated near the back.

"You might want to hold on tight," Ted warned them as they found six seats together.

"What was your first clue?" Emma muttered.

"All right, take it away, Lou," the conductor said.

"Mm hmm," the driver grunted, and with another tremendous BANG, they were off—and in a completely different city.

The Granger Family was thrown back in their seats with great force. The chairs seemed to slide freely, though somehow they didn't topple over. They might have questioned how they were suddenly in London had they not all been too busy screaming. After all, the Knight Bus not only drove at at least a hundred miles an hour, but also didn't even stay on the road.

It took five minutes and a couple more teleportation jumps for them to realise that any obstacles were simply leaping out of the bus's path. It took ten minutes to console Harry and Hermione that they weren't about to crash horribly. The bus made stops all over the country to drop people off and pick them up, but Andi was right about it being fast, as they pulled into Godric's Hollow in less than an hour, though it left them questioning if it was worth it.

"Why doesn't this bloody thing have seat belts?" Dan demanded when they finally got off. Emma didn't even make the effort to correct his language.

"Oh, it's not so bad," the conductor said. "No one's got hurt in about a month. Thanks for riding."

With a BANG, the Knight Bus zoomed off.

"Sorry," Andi said under Dan's and Emma's disapproving looks. "It's kind of hard to describe to someone who hasn't ridden it before."

"Don't you have any…better methods of travel?" Emma said.

"Not fast ones. Floo, portkey, apparition—they're all the same. All powerful magic has a price, and in this case, the price is that it's really uncomfortable."

Dan still thought it would be more comfortable with seat belts, but he kept the thought to himself. Hermione, holding his hand and now more or less recovered from the ordeal, looked thoughtful at that tidbit about the laws of magic as they crossed the street.

Godric's Hollow was a quiet country village, its muggle residents blissfully unaware of the relatively large amount of magic in their midst. A row of pleasant little cottages led down to a village square surrounded by a few shops, a post office, a pub, and a small church. Here, at the end of the row, was one cottage that didn't look so pleasant.

"This is where most people come on Halloween," Andi explained softly. "This was where they lived—where you lived, Harry."

Emma held him close to her as they approached. To muggles, it looked like a fenced-off vacant lot, but to those who were privy to the magical world, there was a cottage like the others, except that a large chunk of the top floor had been blown out by a horrific explosion, and rubble was scattered over the grass. The hedge clearly hadn't been trimmed in the past five years, and dark green ivy was creeping up the sides of the house. As they stood wondering at the neglected ruin, Andi strode closer and laid a hand on the rusting gate. A sign grew out of the ground in front of it. A description was written in gold letters, still clearly legible though surrounded by graffiti:

On this spot, on this night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family.

Emma read the words aloud for her children. Her voice broke as she choked back tears. It had been just shy of a year since Harry had first shown up on their porch, but the reality of what had happened to his birth family hit home when they saw the destroyed cottage. Forget the Killing Curse; how had he survived the explosion?

Harry stepped forward and laid his hands on the sign and stroked the grain of the wood. It took Emma a moment to realise that he was reading off the messages written around the epitaph: five years of magical graffiti, words written over words written over words that rose to the surface in glowing ink and sank down below other messages. Harry started reading aloud, skipping over the unfamiliar names and focusing on the longer messages.

Thank you, thank you, Harry Potter.

Goodbye, Lily and James. I wish we could have been closer—Victoria McKinnon.

Bless you, Harry Potter, wherever you are—Michael Dunbar.

I failed you, Lily. I am truly sorry. I swear you will be avenged.

We will forever be in the Potters' debt. Thank you for all you did for us—Dedalus Diggle.

Rest well, James and Lily. I only wish I could do more for Harry—Remus.

Harry's voice gave out, and he sank to the ground in tears with a whiny sort of cry that his family noticed sounded a lot like meowing.

Emma knelt down and held him in her arms. She was in tears, too, but partly for a different reason: after all the talk she had heard of the Boy-Who-Lived—the spurious things that were written about him in Modern Magical History, she found herself moved beyond words that finally someone had got it right. Someone in this messed-up magical world understood and properly memorialised Lily and James Potter instead of fawning over an infant whose fate was merely tragic circumstance.

Presently, a scruffy-looking long-haired cat walked up to the crying pair and meowed. Harry glanced up, blinking back tears to get a good look at it. He could tell it was middle-aged from the way it carried itself and from its yellowing teeth, and its brown coat that was going coarse and even a little grey around the nose. It eyed him warily, as if it had once had a bad experience with him, but it slowly came within arm's reach. He reached out a hand and half-heartedly scratched it behind the ears. The cat lay down and started purring softly.

For a few minutes, no one really spoke or knew what to say, but finally, Emma and Harry climbed to their feet and looked back. Ted and Andi were arm in arm. Dan was holding Hermione in front of him, but the little girl finally broke free when she saw the tears on her brother's face and ran over to hug him.

"Oh, Harry!" She cried. Emma laid a reassuring hand of support on each of their shoulders.

Harry sniffled a couple times and gave her a muttered, "Thanks."

"Come on, if you're ready…" Andi said. "The graveyard is this way." She led them down the lane. Only Harry noticed the cat following behind them.

When they reached the square, they noticed an obelisk standing in the centre, a war memorial like the ones set up in so many other villages. But as they approached, Ted said, "They wanted to keep the cottage the way it was…on that night, but some of us in London wanted there to be a proper memorial, so we chipped in and paid for a statue here. Sure enough, when they drew near, the obelisk changed and morphed into a statue of James, Lily, and baby Harry Potter, life-sized and happily smiling out at the square. The Grangers gasped when they saw it. It was clearly based on the picture from Harry's first birthday that he kept at his bedside.

"It's very nice," Emma whispered.

"It is," Dan repeated.

"Thank you, Cousin Ted," Harry said, giving the older man a tentative hug.

"I wonder, though…" Dan muttered. Reaching into his coat, he pulled off his Anti-Anti-Muggle Charm. "It's an actual war memorial, too," he said in surprise. "It has names and everything."

"Really?" Hermione said, grabbing the necklace from his hand.

He reached out to feel the granite. "You can even touch it." To everyone else, it looked like he was resting his hand on James Potter's knee. Emma started to take off her necklace to see the illusion for herself.

"Hey, it turned back into an obelisk," Hermione exclaimed. All eyes turned to her. She was wearing her father's Anti-Anti-Muggle Charm.

"You can see the obelisk?" Andi said.

"Uh huh, when I put on the necklace. I think it works backwards on magic people."

"It does? May I, Emma?" Andi took Emma's necklace and put it on. "How interesting. I didn't know they did that. Hermione, how did you know the charms would do that?"

"I didn't…but it does make sense, doesn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose so."

After everyone had had a turn with the necklaces, and more importantly, after Harry had taken his time to see the statue of the Potters, they continued over to the graveyard beside the church. Filing two by two through the kissing gate, they began to look over the headstones.

"Look!" Hermione exclaimed when they reached a few rows back. She pointed to a large, dark, lichen-spotted headstone that was inscribed at the top with Kendra Dumbledore and the dates 1851 and 1899. Below the initial carving, in smaller letters, were the words, and Her Daughter Ariana with the dates 1885 and 1899. At the bottom, was a quotation: Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

"Albus Dumbledore's mother and sister, I think." Ted said. "He's never talked much about his family."

Not without reason, they thought, seeing that his sister had apparently died at fourteen.

Dan quietly read off the names as they kept looking: "Williams…Knighton…P—? No, that says Peverell."

"Peverell?" Andi said. "That must be a really old one."

They looked closer at the weathered, cracked headstone. It was a tall one, with an odd, triangular symbol at the top that Harry thought looked a little like a cat's eye. Near the bottom, barely legible, was carved the name Ignotus Peverell along with birth and death dates: 12 July 1214 and 18 May 1291.

"1291? This is nearly seven hundred years old. That's got to be older than the church."

"This might have been their family graveyard a long time ago. They were one of the Most Ancient Houses. It's rumoured that the Potters were elected as their successors, but the records are incomplete…The new ones are probably in the back."

Harry kept looking with the others with growing apprehension. The deeper they went, the anticipation was growing too much for him, and his feet started dragging of their own accord, but Emma took his hand and led him on.

The headstone in the back row was white marble and obviously fairly new. It was also—they didn't know how they had failed to notice sooner—surrounded by flowers and tokens of remembrance. Apparently, visitors came back here more than it appeared at first glance. The inscription on the stone looked fresh-cut and was easy to read as Harry brushed trembling fingers across the letters:

JAMES POTTER

BORN 27 MARCH 1960

DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981

LILY POTTER

BORN 30 JANUARY 1960

DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death…" Harry repeated with a look of confusion.

"That's from the Bible, dear," Emma said gently. We can look it up later.

He continued tracing the letters uncertainly. "What…what do I say?" he asked.

"Whatever you want."

He sat down among the flowers and began speaking with a wavering voice, "H-h-hi…Mum…hi, Dad…" he thought he would feel a little uncomfortable saying that to the cold stone, but to his surprise, the words seemed to come naturally. "I…don't really remember you, but I'm Ha-Harry…your son. I…couldn't come here before because Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were really mean, and they didn't tell me what happened to you, and they didn't like magic. But…but I ran away from them," he said quickly, wiping some tears from his eyes. "I found a…a new Mum and Dad, and they're really nice to me. I've got a sister now too. She's a witch, too…She's a m-muggle-born witch, like you, Mum. H-Hermione…?" he called.

Hermione stepped forward and sat down beside him. "Um…Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Potter," she said uncertainly. "I'm Hermione. Uh…Harry's a really great brother. I'm glad he got to come live with us—you know, away from his aunt and uncle. We're going to go to Hogwarts together when we're old enough, but Harry's really good at magic already…"

Harry looked at Emma questioningly.

She got the message. "Could you…give us some time alone?" she said to Ted and Andi. The two of them retreated to the gate of the graveyard.

"It's alright, Harry, you can tell them," Emma said.

Harry smiled a little as he turned back to the white marble. "Guess what…" he whispered. "I can turn into a cat. Professor McGonagall can do it too, but she doesn't know how I can because I'm still a kid. Did you know anyone else who could do that?" There was an awkward pause as Harry left a gap for a response without thinking. "I, um…we met Cousin Andi and Cousin Ted…I like them, but they can't visit much…" He looked back at Emma again.

Emma knelt down to join the conversation and help him out. "Hello, James. Hello, Lily," she said, wrapping her arms around the children. "We all really love your son. I…I don't know how you saved him from Voldemort, but thank you. He's such a joy to have in our lives."

"And don't worry," Dan said, standing behind her, "we'll keep him safe for you and keep him out of trouble. I'm sure he'll be a great wizard when he grows up."

With his family's support, Harry sat there a while longer and told his birth parents about his friends and school and what he'd been doing for the past year. He guessed they probably didn't want to hear about his time at the Dursley's, but he found he had quite a bit to say about the time since then.

As he was talking, the scruffy tabby that had been following him walked up beside him and sat as if keeping watch. He exchanged blinks with it, and it let him pet it, but no one paid it much more mind.

When he felt he was done talking, despite all the tears, Harry was glad he had come. Like his mum had said, he did feel like he had got to meet his birth parents, in a way, but more than that, by coming here, his family seemed just a little bit more complete. As they all walked solemnly out of the graveyard, Ted and Andi began to lead them away, but they were interrupted.

"Well, hello, there," a raspy, creaking voice called. They turned to see a tiny, stooped old woman hobbling down the lane. "Don't often see visitors paying their respects after All Hallows' Eve."

Ted's and Andi's eyes went wide as they realised who this was and what she might know having lived in Godric's Hollow for so long. Best act casual, though. "Professor Bagshot, what a surprise," Andi said, trying to hide her nervousness. The Tonkses had met Bathilda Bagshot a couple of times before at Ministry functions, but she doubted the old woman would remember them.

As Dan and Emma whispered to each other, the old woman stepped closer to the Tonkses and met their eyes, though she barely came up to Andi's chin. "Andromeda…" she said when she'd had a good look. "Andromeda Tonks. No doubt about it—you have the Black eyes…"

So she did remember. Just her luck. "It's good to see you, Professor," she said. "These are our friends, the Granger Family. Dan, Emma, I'd like to introduce to to Bathilda Bagshot, author of A History of Magic."

"Really?" Hermione yelled, running up to her. "You wrote it? We've read all of it, haven't we, Daddy?"

"Uh, yeah, that's right," Dan said. Truthfully, Hermione had mostly listened to her parents reading excerpts, but close enough. "We're honoured to meet you, Professor." They didn't know much about the author other than the fact that they were surprised she was still alive. She looked quite old in her picture in A History of Magic from 1947, as old as Dumbledore now, who was supposedly a hundred and five. Dan and Emma could believe that she was a hundred and forty or so. She had sunken eyes with cataracts forming, skin spotted and streaked, nearly translucent, and badly thinning hair, and from the way she was acting, they weren't sure how sharp her mind still was.

"You're very kind," she said, hobbling closer to them. They caught a strange odour of old age and dust from her. It was too late that they noticed she seemed to be gravitating towards Harry. Harry took a step back.

"Come here, child, let me get a good look at you," she said.

"Professor, we really need to—" Andi started. Someone getting a good look at Harry was exactly what they didn't want.

Too late. "Bless my soul, it can't be Harry Potter, can it?" the ancient woman said, her voice trailing off.

"Professor, I told you this is the Granger Family," Andi said gently.

"But he must be. I'd know poor Lily's eyes anywhere." Bathilda grew misty eyed. "She was a good woman…"

"You knew her?" Harry said, then promptly clapped his hand over his mouth.

"Oh there's no need for that, young man. I knew your parents well. They had me over for tea most days while they were here. They were both very good people."

Harry was amazed—as amazed as he had been when Mr. Dumbledore first told him about his parents—that they had also known the woman who had written a book he'd read—or tried to read, anyway.

"Professor," Andi took charge before he could say anymore, "we were really hoping to keep this visit private. We'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone that Harry was here."

"Oh, of course," she said. "I can understand why the boy would want to keep a low profile. I do hope you might be able to come for tea sometime, though."

"Next time we're in town, we'll be sure to make the time," Andi said, after a glance at Dan and Emma. "Have a nice day."

"You too, Madam Tonks. Harry, it was very good to see you again."

Bathilda Bagshot hobbled on home, and Andi summoned the Knight Bus again. As they boarded, the brown tabby climbed aboard with them.

"I think that cat likes you, Harry," Emma said.

"Alright, let's go, Lou," the conductor called, and the bus took off with a bang. The cat was thrown to the back and probably scared out of one of its remaining lives. With no other recourse, it ran to Harry and leapt into his lap, staying there until they made it back to Crawley. Sure enough, it followed Harry off the bus again and eventually tried to follow him into the house.

"Can we keep it?" Harry asked.

"Harry…we already have one cat," Emma half-joked.

"But I wanna talk to it."

Emma looked to Dan and shrugged.

"Alright, you can bring it inside to talk to it," Dan said.

"Thanks, Dad." Harry pushed past them into the house an changed form.

The cat meowed in surprise and retreated to the far corner of the living room.

Harry almost laughed. Humans and cats, it seemed, reacted much the same way. He blinked at it and dipped his head submissively, and it began to approach cautiously, meowing to itself. He could smell so much more about it in cat form. The cat was female, spayed, and probably about eight years old. She was an ordinary house cat, he confirmed, not an animagus, as he had thought she might be. She had been living mostly outside for a long time, but had the smell of a number of humans on her, both magical and muggle. She must be good at scoring food from them.

A domestic cat's command of spoken language was even cruder than that of an animagus, but Harry could make out her meowing as roughly, Strange. Human changed to cat.

I can change with magic. Humans don't know how, he tried to explain, but the cat only seemed to partially understand.

Know your smell. Human-Servants' Kitten, she said when she got close enough.

You knew my old parents? he meowed back excitedly. Harry couldn't remember having a cat any more than he could remember his birth parents themselves, but he knew a lot of wizards did have them.

Human-Servants good, she said. Gone long time. Bad Man broke house.

Harry lowered his head. Bad Wizard hunted old parents. I found new parents. New parents are nice. They can be your human-servants. I will ask them.

The cat seemed to perk up. Like human-servants. Give food.

I like having old family here. Do you have family?

Dam and Litter-Mates gone long time. Lived with Human-Servants.

Harry supposed that's how it was for house cats when he thought about it. What is your name? he asked.

The cat meowed a name at him, but it wasn't any identifiable words. She might have still recognised her human name, but, of course, she had no way to tell it to him.

Harry repeated her cat name with partial success. I will introduce you to Teacher-Cat when she visits, he said, but the cat didn't seem to understand him. Without any ideas for further conversation, he changed back to human. "Mum, Dad, Hermione, guess what!"

On Hermione's recommendation, the Potter Family's cat was rechristened Rowena and moved into the Granger House, and while she never quite became great friends with Harry, they got along well enough. Harry claimed she was much happier being an indoor cat.