Think I've had more reviews for the last chapter than I've had for a while. Thank you very much to everyone who left them. Before I fire off some individual replies, here's a couple of notes that I forgot to include at the end of last chapter.

Despite his name sound like one of the zaniest Harry Potter characters, Isambard Kingdom Brunel was actually a real person. Among many other achievements, he was the Chief Engineer of the Great Western Railway. The Great Western Mainline is often referred to as Brunel's 'billiard table' because of how flat and straight it is, especially compared to other railways built in the nineteenth century.

The Paxman Valenta is a V12 diesel engine which originally powered the High Speed Train power cars, even if the surviving examples have all been replaced with more modern engines. Its screaming noise while powering through stations was iconic.

Now to the replies:

LifeIsAGreatAdventure: I'm glad you thought it works. I had established Ted to be quite independent over first year as well. Besides, he is a bit older than Harry, remember that the latter is at the younger extreme of his year.

Shae Vizla: I've deliberately tried to avoid fanon Daphne when writing her, while still showing her to be ambitious in her own way. Congratulations on guessing what was going to happen in this chapter, by the way. ;)

Sebastian Perseus Jason: Thank you for your long review. While there will be no 'parsel magic,' as I really dislike that fanon concept, look forward to Harry using his ability to speak it to increase his status in Slytherin. He's just going to have to get to taking advantage of something perceived as dark first, but it's definitely in my plans.

Luq707: What I mean by no pairings is that there is no OTP that will be apparent throughout the whole story. These are teenagers, though, and there will definitely be relationships! Maybe I should make this clear in the summary. I've already teased shippers quite a bit, if you look for it.

Peasant: Indeed, look forward to that being a very important character arc for Harry.

Pieter250: I hope you kept reading and realized that Hermione Granger does not play a very significant role in this story.

Some bits of Dobby's dialogue, and the writings on gravestones, signs, etc, have been culled from the books. Otherwise, I'm just playing in Rowling's sandbox.


"When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd,
And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night,
I mourn'd, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

Ever-returning spring, trinity sure to me you bring,
Lilac blooming perennial and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love. "
Walt Whitman

"So, this looks like a muggle village. How come my parents, and Ignotus Peverell, and Dumbledore's family, are buried here?" Harry asked as he finished his meal.

Ted had to finish chewing before replying.

"Godric's Hollow is one of a number of villages throughout the country that have had a few wizarding families living there for generations, even after the Statute of Secrecy was passed. As you guessed, this was Godric Gryffindor's place of origin. I'm sure it was named something else before, and they changed it when he became famous," he explained, adding the last bit with a grin.

As Ted finished his food too, they rose, and Harry stood looking at his friend expectantly.

"Well, you said you had something else in store," he said, looking around the village.

Ted nodded. "Follow me," he added, as he tugged at Harry to come down a narrow street, lined with ancient looking cottages. They walked in silence. Harry was just enjoying the sights of the countryside now, feeling mostly at peace as he determinedly shoved any thoughts of Quirrell away from his consciousness. It was only when they reached the end of the row of cottages that he noticed.

The last cottage lay surrounded by an overgrown hedge, and most of it was still standing, even if it was covered in ivy. However, a side of the top floor had been blown up, and rubble still lay on the garden below, testimony to its abandonment for a decade. Harry didn't need Ted to explain. He knew this had been his parents house.

He glanced at his friend. "Do you think we can go in?" he asked him, his voice almost breaking again.

Ted nodded. "It's your house, now. You own this. I should be asking your permission," he said with a small smile, trying to put Harry at ease.

Harry laughed. "I suppose it is, isn't it?" The idea of owning a piece of real estate was very strange to him, no matter how much he knew he was fairly well off. He touched the gate, looking for the lock, when a sign rose out of the ground, obviously by magic. It bore the following inscription, in golden letters:

On this spot, on the 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.

Harry frowned at this. Apparently, despite him owning the house, no one had bothered to ask him what he wanted. He'd just been a child, true, but it still didn't sit very right that someone had been making these decisions about his property. He didn't particularly want people to come traipsing around and gawking at his old bedroom.

Around the inscription, many witches and wizards had added their own testimonials, mostly just writing their names. Did this mean the site of his parents' murder had become some kind of tourist destination? He understood that people felt grateful, but he still didn't particularly like it. Maybe they should have shown their gratitude by giving him a proper childhood.

He sighted, shaking his head. There was no need to dwell on that again. He bid Ted follow him, and they passed through the gate and navigated the weeds and bushes colonizing the garden, until they made it to the front door. It was not locked, and they passed into the house without any trouble.

It didn't look like anyone had been in since that fateful night, when Hagrid had taken him away from the scene of the attack. The floor and any remaining furniture were covered in a decade's worth of dust. Ted pulled his wand out from goodness knows where, and cast a cleaning charm by muttering "Tergeo," before Harry could stop him.

"Won't that get us in trouble?" he asked, his eyes widening.

Ted shook his head. "No one has lived here for a long time. They'll chalk it down to people visiting." Indeed, no owls from the Improper Use of Magic Office appeared to disturb their exploration, and the place did look a lot better without all the dust covering every surface.

Harry and Ted first explored the ground floor, which looked relatively unscathed compared to the first floor, which is obviously where the big confrontation happened. Still, there were some scorch marks and broken furniture near the stairs, probably from spell damage.

As expected from a wizarding household, the living room contained a sofa but no telly. There was, however, a wizarding wireless, a few books, a small dining table, and a number of toys littered around. Harry felt his eyes water again, quickly turning his back and walking back into the hallway. He didn't know if he could stomach going upstairs.

"Are you alright?" Ted asked him.

Harry nodded. "Yeah… it's just a bit too much. This is like… the childhood I never had… That I would have had. Just give me a moment."

Nodding, Ted went a couple of steps into the Kitchen to give Harry some space. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he began to go up the stairs. "Alright," he called, at which Ted began to follow him again.

The first floor was, as predicted, in a much worse condition. What had obviously been Harry's room, judging from the wallpaper and what little furniture remained, had been entirely blown apart and left exposed to the elements for a decade. Now safe in the knowledge that they were safe from getting in trouble over casting spells unsupervised, both Harry and Ted got to work cleaning the place, removing the mould from the walls and furniture and the dust and cobwebs from everywhere.

"You should take a lot at your parents' bedroom," Ted suggested. "There may be family papers or heirlooms in there. I don't know if anything of value will have survived ten years without someone just stealing it, though. Not when you can just walk in."

Nodding sadly, Harry stepped into the master bedroom. This was not nearly as damaged as his bedroom had been. Not only had it not been destroyed by a curse, but it had not been exposed to the elements to nearly the same degree. The room was sparsely furnished, containing only a bed, a chest of drawers, and a wardrobe. Harry tried opening the wardrobe and the drawers, but the contents of the room had long since been removed.

"There's nothing here for me," Harry sighed as he shut the last drawer close. "I don't know what I was expecting, really. Some ancient book of secret spells only my family knew?" he gave Ted a wry grin.

Ted nodded. "Yeah, it makes sense. Everything of importance will have been taken by whoever executed your parents' estate. That'd usually have been you if you were an adult, but…" he trailed, as Harry nodded.

"I bet it was Dumbledore," Harry replied. "He had Ignotus' invisibility cloak, after all, and that was a family heirloom…"

"Well, you could ask him," Ted replied. He thought for a second. "But first, check your vault at Gringotts. He may have just dumped everything there. That's what I'd do, to be honest. Didn't you say he had your key?"

"Yeah, that makes sense. I'll hold off until we go to Diagon Alley, then," Harry replied, before turning around with a sigh. "Alright, let's go. This is really depressing me," he said. Nodding somberly, Ted followed him down the stairs and back outside. As they were about to leave the garden, Harry turned around for one last look at what could have been his childhood home, and sighed.

Ted squeezed his shoulder again. "You alright?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, but I'll be. Come on," he replied, pulling his friend by the arm. "Let's go for a walk. I need to clear my mind."

They made their way up the lane, back towards the High Street. They saw an ancient looking woman in the garden of one of the houses, and Harry briefly met eyes with her. She looked even older than Professor Dumbledore, and that was saying something.

He was slightly startled when he actually heard her voice speaking to him.

"Another Potter boy? Are you James' brother?" she asked, her eyes looking vaguely at him and Ted.

"Uh, no m'am," Harry replied. "I'm his son, Harry. Did you know my father?" Despite not being sure the old girl was all there, Harry was curious now, as she'd obviously known his father.

"Oh, of course, of course, James is an only child, isn't it? My, how old is he now?"

"Erm, he's dead, m'am. Died ten years ago. I'm just turning twelve in a few days," Harry replied, slightly less sure that he wanted to carry this conversation on now. He didn't have any obvious way out yet, though.

"Oh, that's right. You must excuse an old woman's memory. And who's your friend?" she asked, turning to Ted.

"Erm, I'm Theodore Nott, m'am," he replied, sounding as awkward as Harry felt.

"Nott? Are you Cantankerus' boy?" she asked, a spark of something flickering through her eyes for a second.

"Erm, that was my grandfather, m'am," Ted replied, looking slightly alarmed.

"Grandfather? My, how time flies. I suppose you two are on your holidays from Hogwarts," she said, confirming Harry's suspicions that she was a witch. "Is old Binns still teaching History of Magic?"

Just how long ago had Binns been dead for, anyway, Harry wondered as he nodded.

"Still using my textbook too?" she asked. Her textbook? Ted clearly had the same idea.

"Are you Professor Bagshot, m'am?" he asked, remembering the author's name before Harry.

"Bathilda Bagshot, that's my name," she replied curtly. "I guess that's a yes, then. I suppose I better offer you some tea. You can tell me if Cuthbert Binns has learned to talk about anything but Goblin Rebellions," she added, beginning to walk towards her house. "Well, come on, don't just stand there," she barked.

Ted and Harry looked at each other. She obviously wasn't going to take no for an answer, and while they could probably just ditch her and run away, not only was that contrary to both their upbringings, but, well, she had apparently known at least Harry's father, and he was curious about anything to do with his parents. So, by mutual, silent agreement, they opened the gate and followed her through the slightly unkempt garden into her house.

The house smelled a bit like old Mrs. Figg's had, even though there didn't seem to be a cat in sight. It was clean, but slightly disorganized, with what looked like many years' worth of trinkets, newspapers, and other odds and ends piled up at the corners.

She settled them in the living room and went into the kitchen to make tea. Harry leant from his place on the sofa to look through the threshold, checking that she wouldn't burn herself or forget what she was doing. Reassured that she wasn't about to burn the house down, he glanced aside at Ted.

"Let's just get this over with as soon as possible," his friend whispered, as Harry was looking around at the many wizarding photographs adorning the mantlepiece. He rose from the sofa and began admiring them. He assumed most of them to be the woman's relations, even if most looked really old-at least insofar as he understood fashion in wizard's clothing and hairstyles, which wasn't much.

He was so lost in contemplation that he heard neither Ted getting up to come beside him and check what he was looking at, nor the old crone arriving with the tea, which she was levitating in a tray ahead of her.

"Admiring my photos, are you?" she barked, startling Harry. He turned to look at her, slightly embarrassed at any perceived lack of decorum, but the old girl just cackled. "Clever. What house are you boys in?" she asked as she gestured with her wand to make the teapot pour tea into their cups.

"Slytherin," they both answered simultaneously.

"Figured. You both have that look about you. Bet your brother didn't like that very much, did he?" she asked, turning to Harry, who didn't bother to correct her again. "Was in Ravenclaw myself, so never had time for that nonsense. But you're not likely to see many photos like those anymore."

"Oh?" Harry asked, glancing at the pictures, as the old bat grabbed a specific one, depicting two young men with their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. One of them seemed very vaguely familiar, while Harry was positive he'd never seen the other, blond one before.

"Know who's in this picture, son?" she asked. "But let's all sit down, my legs can't take this anymore."

Nodding, Ted and Harry sat down either side of Bagshot's on the musty old sofa. "You wouldn't know it, of course, but that's your Albus Dumbledore in this picture," she finally explained, after taking a sip of her tea, which was being kept at just the right temperature by magic.

Harry and Ted's eyes widened at that. "Did you know Professor Dumbledore when he was young?" Harry asked. How old was this woman, after all.

"Oh yes, knew the whole family when they first moved here. They didn't live here for generations like your family," she said, facing Harry. "Only moved here after their father got in trouble for attacking some muggles."

Harry glanced at Ted with a raised eyebrow. Well, that was some interesting information.

"Yes, and always so haughty, never giving us the time of day. Of course, they were just too afraid anyone might find that squib child they kept locked inside the house."

Harry and Ted's eyes widened at that. As Harry quickly learned from his housemates, a Squib was someone born to wizard parents, yet without any magic, like the Hogwarts' janitor, Mr. Filch. "Would that have been Ariana?" Harry asked, taking the lead of the conversation. "We saw her grave at the cemetery," he explained.

"That's right son. That Kendra Dumbledore was thoroughly ashamed to have a Squib daughter. Very haughty woman, she was. Looking at her you'd never guess she was a Muggle born. Truth be told, if she hadn't died first, no one would have been surprised to hear she'd dispatched her daughter herself."

Harry was horrified by that. He felt a chill run through his spine at the thought of a parent doing such a horrible thing to a child. For something she had no choice in.

"Yes, back then squibs were considered a shame, people tried to hide them as much as they could. Send them to muggle school, the lot. In a way it was more merciful, rather than keeping them around as second class citizens like that poor Argus Filch. I daresay Dumbledore keeps him around Hogwarts to make himself feel better about his sister… But where was I?" She looked confused now, like she'd derailed her train of thought. She flicked her wand and poured them all some more tea.

"Erm, this picture," Ted reminded her, pointing at the photograph of young Dumbledore and his still nameless friend. "Oh, right, well, that's the thing, isn't it? When Kendra died, Dumbledore had to come back from Hogwarts to lead the family. Didn't suit the little prodigy. That is, until this boy showed up," she pointed at the blonde young man in the picture. "Do you know who that is? Bet you'd never guess."

Of course, neither of them had any idea. "Gellert Grindelwald. You'd never believe it, but they were best of friends. Thick as thieves since he showed up one day. They were both as brilliant as each other, you see. Some say they were more than friends, if you know what I mean. I never saw it myself, but of course, they wouldn't discuss that in polite company."

Harry had some vague memory of reading about Grindelwald being a dark wizard who'd been defeated by Dumbledore in 1945. Ted had a look of recognition in his eyes, so Harry just resolved to ask him later. Instead, he nudged the old girl on.

"But, didn't Dumbledore fight Grindelwald?" Harry asked, that being the only fact he knew about this person.

"Yes, even if it took him a while to do anything about it. Rather stay holed up at Hogwarts. That says a lot, doesn't it? Even after they fought, he still didn't want to go after his old friend. But what you won't know, is that that wasn't the first time they fought. One day, the whole three of them, Aberforth, Albus, and Gellert Grindelwald, got into a spell fight. And at the end, Ariana was dead," she announced ponderously.

"Who's Aberforth?" Harry blurted out, confused by Bagshot's incoherent storytelling.

"Dumbledore's brother. Bet he's not that proud of that association nowadays either. Caught performing inappropriate charms on goats. Kendra must have rolled in her grave at that," she cackled, and this time, both Harry and Ted had to suppress a laugh as well.

"Of course, the two were never on good terms after that duel. Why, they were almost at each other's throats at the wake. Aberforth all but accusing Albus of murder. Then he punched him in the face like a muggle. And Albus said nothing. Didn't even try to defend himself. Don't you think that's strange, boys?"

She was looking very triumphant at that revelation. Harry really didn't know what to think. Could it have been some sort of accident? But he wasn't about to voice any opinion now. The old woman probably hadn't talked to anyone in ages, and was enjoying listening to the sound of her own voice.

"Of course with the girl out of the way, Albus was free to go back to Hogwarts and be as brilliant as he'd always dreamed. He may have been in Gryffindor, but he was ambitious like a Slytherin. Grindelwald was never seen here again, of course. Rumour was they'd had a falling out. Maybe he was the one who actually killed the girl. We never knew what the reason for that duel was, either."

She was quiet for a few moments. Harry and Ted were looking at each other in puzzlement. "So how's old Cuthbert Binns doing at Hogwarts? Seems to me like no one coming out of Hogwarts nowadays cares one whit for History of Magic. Not like when I was teaching. Back in my day…"

She now looked to have forgotten everything about Dumbledore, and ranted about the declining standards of teaching History. Harry and Ted had no trouble giving their enthusiastic agreement to this, having had to suffer the torture of Binns' lectures.

After going on for quite a bit about the proper study of History of Magic, long after all tea had been drunk, the old woman finally seemed to lose energy. Her eyelids drooped and her speech became slurred, before she fell asleep mid-sentence, just as she was discussing sending a letter to Dumbledore. Harry hoped she'd forget about that too. He'd prefer if the Headmaster remained ignorant of this visit.

Slowly rising from the sofa, and moving silently to not wake Bagshot up, and possibly subject themselves to another repetitive diatribe, they left the house, remembering to return the picture of Dumbledore and Grindelwald to the mantlepiece and cast a locking charm as they closed the door. It wouldn't do for some muggle to wander in, trying to rob the house, and stumble upon all the magical artifacts laying about.

As they slammed the gate and walked back up the lane towards the High Street, Harry's mind was racing.

"That was very strange," Ted said calmly. "Before we even talk about what just happened, I need to tell you something before I forget."

Harry nodded at his friend, giving him an encouraging glance. "Do you remember when you saw the Peverell crest for the first time?" At Harry's further nod, Ted went on. "I told you I thought I'd seen that symbol somewhere before, but couldn't remember where. Well, I remember now. It was in a book I read about the wizarding war against Grindelwald. That was his symbol. The symbol he used for his movement."

Harry turned to stare at Ted. "What? But… that makes no sense. What does that have to do with the Peverells?"

"I have no idea," he replied. "It could be a coincidence… But it'd be a very strange one, if so. There's still more to this than meets the eye, I'd bet." He looked frustrated, but Harry shrugged.

"Well, nothing's ever simple when it comes to me, is it?" He gave his friend a sad smile. They had walked through the High Street and were now walking away from the village in a different direction, towards the moors. "We'll keep digging. We'll find something. What about that stuff about Dumbledore being Grindelwald's lover. Do you think she's making all of that up?"

"Well, now that I think about it, Dumbledore's robes have always been a little too flamboyant," Ted replied with a grin.

Harry shuddered. "If there is something I don't want to think about, it's Dumbledore being anyone's lover. I know he was young once, but I can barely convince myself that he's that man in the picture."

"I know what you mean. He just seems like he's always been one hundred years old."

"Anyway, while that was very interesting gossip, at the end of the day I don't really care what Dumbledore was going with Grindelwald last century, or who he likes to shag. I'm more interested in that symbol. What happened to Grindelwald anyway, after Dumbledore beat him?" Harry asked.

"Imprisoned in his own castle of Nurmengard. A bit ironic, that."

"Surprised they didn't hang him," Harry said, absentmindedly, remembering Uncle Vernon's rants whenever any story about crime came on the telly.

"Dumbledore probably asked them not to. He was his ex-boyfriend, after all," Ted replied with a grin. "Mind you, they wouldn't have hung him. In this country they used to execute criminals by throwing them through a veil in the ministry that supposedly leads to 'The Other Side.' Of course, no one has actually returned from going through it, so no one actually knows what happens to the people who go through. But apparently you can hear dead people whispering to you if you step too close," Ted added somberly. Harry could guess what was going through his friend's mind, but he shook himself out of it adding. "But I don't know how they'd've done it on the continent. Probably not hanging, though. That's too muggle."

"I should have figured," Harry replied. "But maybe in some cases that'd be appropriate. What could be more humiliating for someone who hated muggles?" Harry had a vision of hanging Voldemort. Or rather what he had built up as his vision of Voldemort, mostly from how he had looked like on the back of Quirrell's head. He didn't know what he looked like in his own body.

"Anyway, I don't suppose they let him have visitors, so it's not like we can go there and ask him. Besides, that'd be pretty suspicious anyway."

"Maybe Dumbledore goes to visit and takes him flowers," Ted replied with a grin. He was having too much fun with this.

"Are you channeling Daphne?" At Ted's confusion, Harry shook his head. "Nevermind. I can't thank you enough for bringing me here. But I kind of just want to clear my head now." He checked his watch. "Shall we go for a walk in the moors?"

"Sure. My shoes actually have a comfort charm in them." Ted glanced at Harry's second hand, but no longer ill-fitting, trainers. "Are those comfortable?"

They walked and talked about everything except Harry's parents, Voldemort, and anything that Professor Bagshot had told them. It really was a very nice day, and Ted, having been raised on a similar West Country moorland landscape, knew how to get around and find the best paths through the heather, moving with the same silent elegance he had when sneaking around Hogwarts.

As the sun was beginning to descend, they came to a road. Ted looked around, making sure there were no passing cars or any other signs of muggles in the area.

"This looks like a good place to summon the Knight Bus," he said in reply to Harry's quizzical look. He stuck out his wand arm, and after a couple of seconds, a triple decker bus popped into position in front of them, almost throwing them back. After another few seconds, the door opened, and a young man in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus.

"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 Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this afternoon."

He looked at the two of them, and Harry spoke. "Uh, can you take me to Taunton, please?" he asked.

Ted gave his address and paid for the two of them, after declining any refreshments.

"Hold on tight, Harry," Ted said as they took a seat.

"Hey, are you 'Arry Potter?" Shunpike had come closer once the bus was away with a bang.

"Yes," he replied. "Don't shout it from the rooftops." He handed a couple of coins to Shunpike to underline that point.

Ted was definitely right about the Knight Bus being a bit of a lively way to travel. Ted seemed pretty used to it, so Harry wondered why he had felt so green back in the muggle bus to Godric's Hollow. The Knight Bus itself seemed to combine driving around like a normal bus, and popping in and out of places, like apparition. Harry thought it must use the same spells as Mr. Greengrass' pick-up. Fortunately, they were soon in Taunton, and Harry could exit the contraption before he felt too ill.

"See you on Friday," he told Ted, clapping his back as he left. "And thanks again. This is the best birthday present I've ever had," he whispered, giving his friend a look of gratitude as he stepped out of the Knight Bus, which popped out of existence as quickly as it arrived.


Harry had a lot to think about on his journey home. He had even more time than usual to think about it, as his train back from Taunton was delayed by about an hour due to signalling problems at Reading. So he only arrived back at Number Four Privet Drive late in the evening. He was wondering how the Dursleys were going to react to his arrival when he noticed an extra car in the driveway. Did they have company for the evening?

Harry hung back, wondering what to do, when his guess was confirmed. Vernon and Petunia came out with this couple Harry didn't know, and bade their goodbyes as they entered the unfamiliar car and drove off.

With the coast clear, Harry strode to the door, arriving just before Vernon was about to close it.

"Ah, boy, good thing you made yourself scarce today. Changed the Masons' dinner invitation to today when I knew you wouldn't be around to cause trouble. The last thing I wanted was to have you creeping around with them here. Just sealed a very important deal." Uncle Vernon was clearly very happy with himself. He was even almost civil to Harry as he let him inside.

"What'd you do? Meet one of those freak friends of yours?" Harry nodded as he went upstairs.

"Sure did Uncle Vernon. Spent all day doing freak things, like visiting my parents' grave. Congratulations on your deal." Harry was just tired now. He'd dozed off on the train when they'd been stopped, but was woken up by the guard's announcement when it started off again. He just wanted to have a shower and go to sleep. So when he entered his room, it took him a few seconds to notice the slovenly looking creature standing on his bed.

"What the hell?" he almost shouted, shock making him forget to keep his voice down. "Why is there a house elf in here?" His wand had shot to his hand. He had never seen a house elf before, as the ones at Hogwarts were very good at not being seen. But he knew Daphne's family had one, as did a few others, and he'd heard enough about the creatures to recognize one. He didn't think he'd ever like to own one, as he found the way they needed to be owned and worked more than a little creepy.

"Harry Potter!" the creature squealed. "Such an honour for Dobby to meet you, sir!"

"Dobby," Harry began with a harsh voice, his wand still pointed at the grovelling creature. "Is that your name? Why are you in my room? Did someone send you here?"

"Send? Oh no, Dobby will have to punish himself later for even being here…"

Punish himself? He didn't know house elves had this much free agency, to do something they knew they'd have to punish themselves for later. Then again, even to Harry's lack of knowledge, this looked to be a particularly deranged example of his kind.

"No, Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter. To warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later…" Shut his ears in the oven door? The more Harry heard about these creatures, the less he wanted anything to do with them. "Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts…" the thing finished.

Harry rolled his eyes. Not go back to Hogwarts. Yeah, that was going to happen. Was this someone's idea of a practical joke?

"Why not?" Harry asked, hoping the thing would reveal who'd actually sent him here. If that was a he. Harry wasn't sure, and he certainly didn't want to find out for himself.

"Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"So what else is new?" Harry asked. He'd certainly been in mortal danger last year. And while Voldemort was still out there… he would be in mortal danger, wherever he was. But he wasn't about to share this with a house elf. "What's the danger?" he asked instead.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," the elf whispered, shaking and trembling like a nervous wreck. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"Terrible things? Worse than a teacher try to murder me? Because that's what happened last year, you know?" That was, after all, common knowledge back in school, at least. "Is it Voldemort?"

Dobby gagged at the mention of the name. "Don't say the name, Harry Potter, sir," he pleaded fearfully.

"Sure, whatever. The Dark Lord or whatever you prefer. Is it him?"

"No, not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry Potter, sir."

Was there someone else trying to kill him? Dobby looked to be struggling with himself. "Dobby cannot say," it finally whimpered. "But Harry Potter must promise! He must promise he will not be going back to Hogwarts!" The creature was sounding increasingly shrill, and if he didn't put a stop to this soon, Uncle Vernon or Petunia were bound to come knocking. He really wasn't in the mood for that.

So, he pretended to be thinking, struggling. "Alright, Dobby. I promise. I won't go back to Hogwarts. Thank you so much for the warning. I'd hate to think I could be going out there and someone would try to kill me."

"Oh, thank you, Harry Potter sir. It really is for the best," the creature squealed. Harry heard the noise of someone coming up the stairs.

"Yes, yes, now be quiet," he said nervously, glancing at the door. Nodding, Dobby disappeared with a pop, leaving behind an envelope.

"What the…" he mumbled. The noise having stopped, whoever was coming up the stairs didn't bother to check on him, so Harry just picked up the letter to find it had been sent by Morag. When he scanned it, he found its content to be similar to the one she had sent via Daphne and the muggle Post later. Had this thing been blocking his post?

"Son of a…" He muttered. If he'd ever had any inclination to follow through on his promise not to go back to Hogwarts, this would have quickly made him reverse his decision. Of course, it had all been a lie from the get go, as Harry had no more intentions of staying at the Dursleys than he did of trying to swim across the English Channel.

Harry showered, had some of the leftovers from the Durlseys' dinner, and then went to bed. He lay there in the dark, eyes open and face locked into a frown. What a strange day. He couldn't wait to discuss this house elf business with Ted and Daphne. It'd almost made him forget about the day's earlier events, even if now everything was coming back at once, overwhelming him with feelings he didn't know how to deal with.

One thing was for sure. He was going to find out who had sent this rotten creature his way, and make them regret it. Trying to keep him from going to Hogwarts… He fell asleep with that thought running through his mind, and had a night full of nightmares of being sent back to muggle secondary school wearing Dudley's hand-me-downs.


Thank you very much for reading. Please, review, review, and review. I love every single review, as long as it's not "Stop writing, you bastard."

I still need a beta.