The first impression that Harry got of the new structure was that he wasn't very impressed with it at all. He ambled up to his father's side with his nose scrunched in an expression of derision.

"Is this it?" Harry asked, dismissively.

"Almost. I just have to add a few final touches," James replied.

Then he drew his wand.

"Dad! What are you doing?!" Harry shrieked. "You know you can't do you-know-what down here! The Muggles will find out and come and get you!"

"Relax, Harry, we've got that covered," Lily soothed as she came up on Harry's shoulder with a cup of tea in hand. "We've told the Muggles that we are conducting an experiment here today, setting up what they call a Zero-Point Energy Field to test how it negates the effect of Rusakov Particles."

"Yes. Essentially, we've told them that we are going to use a bit of magic to see if we can stop or diminish it using the Field," James added in a deep growl.

"But you aren't going to do that … are you?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"Of course not," Lily replied, brightly. "But it provides handy cover for your Dad. He never was much for DIY."

Lily winked teasingly at James who simply shrugged in response. There was no arguing against the truth, after all.

"Alright. But now explain this to me … why are you building an owl coop in the garden? I thought you said you were making a way to communicate with me for when I go to the surface?"

"I am," James grinned. "And this is it."

"And owl coop?" Harry asked, doubtingly.

"Exactly."

"Not a digital communications array? Not a massive parabolic dish? Not a good, old fashioned telegraph pole?"

"Nope. Just an owl coop."

Harry blinked in his skepticism. "Mum? Can you explain this, or had Dad finally become a Muggle who's lost his wump?"

Lily looked over fondly. "Owls are one of the major forms of communication in the Magical World. Your father has built a twin coop on the surface so that any owl post delivered there will be immediately transferred to this coop by magic. That way we can stay easily in touch with you."

"But wont the Muggles notice that?"

"The magic is fairly low intensity," James explained. "We are confident that it will go unnoticed by our Muggle friends. In any case, we've decided that it's worth the risk to be able to stay in contact with you."

"Well, if you're sure," Harry muttered, slightly anxious at the peril his parents were putting themselves into for him. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just stand back and watch," James replied, smugly. He drew his wand once more, turning it to the roof of the owl coop that was at his feet, the large wooden dome being the last component to be added. Before he cast the spell to levitate it into place, he called over to Harry.

"Now, son, do you remember the wand movement I told you for this spell?" James queried. "It's the Levitation Charm."

"Yes, Dad," Harry replied with a child-like grin of zeal. "Swish and flick."

"And the incantation?"

"Wingardium Leviosa," Harry returned, proudly.

"That's almost right," Lily corrected. "But remember, perfect pronunciation is key to effective spell casting. You have to elongate the 'gar' part of Win-gar-dium. Make it nice and long when you say it. And put the stress on the 'o' in 'Leviosa'. It's pronounced levi-O-sa, not levi-o-SAAAA. Try it again."

"Yes, Dad," Harry replied with a child-like grin of zeal. "Swish and flick."

"And the incantation?"

"Wingardium Leviosa," Harry returned proudly.

"That's almost right," Lily corrected from the mine entrance. "But remember, perfect pronunciation is key to effective spell casting. You have to elongate the 'gar' part of Win-gar-dium. Make it nice and long when you say it. And put the stress on the 'o' in 'Leviosa'. It's pronounced levi-O-sa, not levi-o-SAAAA. Try it again."

"Win-gaaar-diumlevi-o-sa, Win-gaaar-diumlevi-o-sa," Harry practised.

"One more time, Harry, and with real feeling," Lily encouraged. "If you say a spell three times you'll never forget it."

"Win-gaaar-diumlevi-o-sa!" Harry cried with all his might.

And, to all of their astonishments, the owl coop dome lifted clean off the ground for a few seconds, before falling back to the Earth with a hollow crash. The impact caused a crack which ran right down the left-hand side. Harry looked down, confused and honestly a little scared by what he had done, and terribly guilty also.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered rapidly, rushing back to his father. "I don't know how I ... how I … how did I do that?"

James laughed out loud watching Harry grow yet more frantic and perplexed, as Lily trotted over to join them.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I broke the roof," Harry moaned. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"No harm done, son," James soothed, flicking his wand at the cracked dome and whispering Reparo! There was a puff of magic and the roof was instantly repaired.

Harry's eyes went wide and he jogged over to inspect it. He even took off his glasses for a closer look. But the roof was as good as new.

"Wow … that was amazing!" he breathed in adulation.

James chuckled and turned to Lily. "I remember the days when you were impressed by my simple spells."

"Well, I sort of had to be," Lily teased. "You were a menace with anything more complex!"

"Hush you," James grinned.

Harry came scampering back to them. His eyes were bright with excitement now that he was relieved of his guilty burden.

"How did I do that?" he asked feverishly. "I made the dome fly, didn't I!"

"It's not all that uncommon," Lily replied, bursting Harry's bubble a bit. "Bouts of accidental magic often happen to young witches and wizards as they approach your age."

James, seeing the way Harry's expression had dropped like a lead balloon, quickly added, "But only the really powerful ones can do it while saying a spell. Other kids just fall out of windows and bounce down the street like a beach ball or something."

He grinned at Lily, who cottoned on quick as a flash. "That's true. I think we must expect great things from you, Harry. After all, even Albus Dumbledore himself cant do wandless magic."

James grinned, as Harry beamed up at them both. But then James' eyes grew heavy with sadness. "You know … now that we've built the coop … there's only one thing left to do …"

Harry swallowed hard and deep. He blinked at his father.

"It's time, isn't it? Time for me to go?"

Lily suddenly increased the pressure around Harry's shoulders. He thought she might crush his very bones to dust, but he wanted to feel her near, so had no intention of telling her to ease up or to stop.

"No, James," Lily mewled lowly, her broken heart infusing her strained voice. "Can't it wait till tomorrow? Just one more night … please?"

James made the concession. "Okay. One more night. Hey, let's make it a bloody good one!"

And so they did. They played loud music, and ate cake and chocolate, and Lily drank enough wine that by the end there wasn't much blood left in her blood-to-alcohol ratio. But it was okay, because Harry was sure his mother had cried out much of the wine she'd consumed, for she barely stopped weeping the entire evening, no matter how hard she tried to conceal the fact that she was.

And then the dawn came, all too soon for everyone's liking. It was a very solemn last meal in Pont-y-Annwn that the Potter's shared together, as though their unavoidable parting was simply a bad dream that they were all just going to wake up from. It was an unspoken presence, sat with them like an uninvited breakfast guest. But it was this presence that rose first … and beckoned Harry to follow it with an unspoken command.

"It's ten o'clock," James whispered without looking up. "We have to be on that train at eleven. We don't know when our next chance will be. It's … time to go."

Lily tried to reply, but she could only make a clutching gasp by way of response, as if a ball of misery had wedged itself in her throat. She got up and busied herself cleaning the plates from the table, as Harry slowly made his way to his room to double-check he'd packed everything. And, in the quiet of his bedroom, Harry had a little cry.

This didn't seem exciting anymore. It seemed dark, and dangerous, and uncertain. And he wouldn't have his Mum to make it all better.

But Harry also knew that he had no choice, and the anger of the truth bit at him as he grudgingly accepted it. The Muggles were watching him, were watching them. Staying here would only make more trouble for his parents. And Harry really didn't want that. He had to go, and they would be fine and safe, and he'd have his Godfather now to look after him.

It was all going to be okay.

Harry took a calming breath and felt a new sense of courage settle on his heart. His Dad wouldn't be a big old scaredy-cat like this. He was as powerful as a stag after all. No, if this was him, he'd hold his head up high, puff out his chest, and then poke his tongue out at the Muggles as he slipped through their clutches. The vision made Harry laugh heartily to himself as he pictured it in his mind. That's what he'd be then.

All the cleverness and kindness of his mother, all the heart of his father. He was a Potter … and he was going to make them proud.

So he made his way back into the kitchen and tried to be bold, even though his mother was shaking with her own fear. So Harry had to master his own.

"I'm ready," he announced, brandishing his modest travelling bag as evidence. He would leave most of his belongings behind, reasoning that he had little need of them where he was going.

Lily whimpered in her throat. "My little boy … growing up much too fast. Can't you just slow down a little?"

"Is there a spell for that?" Harry asked with a weak smile.

"Probably," James chuckled. "But don't tempt your mother, will you? Lily … it's time to give Harry his cargo."

"Right," Lily nodded, composing herself now she was set to task.

She reached into her pocket and took out a grubby little package wrapped in rough brown linen, which she then placed into a leather knapsack that James was holding open for her. Then Lily crossed to Harry and threaded the strap of the knapsack over his shoulder. Harry drooped slightly as the bag settled on him and he was surprised, as he hadn't expected the grubby little package to have been anything like this weighty.

"What is this?" he asked in a grimace.

"It is a rare and extraordinarily valuable object known as a Philosopher's Stone," Lily explained. "It belonged to my friend and study partner, Amelie, who rescued it from her father's workshop when it was under threat. The Stone belongs to you now, Harry. If anything happens before we can deliver it to it's protectors on the surface, the onus will be on you to keep it secret, to keep it safe. Promise me you will."

"But how will I …"

"Promise me!"

"Okay, okay. I promise," Harry mumbled, shocked by his mother's sudden urgency. "But tell me what's so special about it?"

"If the rumours are true that Lord Voldemort is on the verge of returning, he will need this Stone to be restored to his full power," James took over. "If he ever finds it, Harry, the consequences for us all would be … severe."

"Then why not just destroy it?" Harry asked.

"Because it is also a source of power for us, in the right hands," James explained with a glint in his eye. "Besides, if we know that Voldemort is searching for this it gives us something of an edge. We know he wont be off causing problems elsewhere if his eyes are on the Stone."

"So if we can protect it, if he never finds it, he might never come back?" Harry surmised in hope.

"That's the theory," Lily confirmed.

Harry puffed out his chest as the mission bloomed inside him. "Then let's get it safe. Let's get it to my Godfather. But … how will we do that unseen?"

James gave his widest grin yet. "By use of this."

Then James smirked and pulled a most bizarre garment from inside his jacket. It was silvery, and flowed like liquid rather than fabric. Harry had never seen a material like it.

"What is that?"

"I could tell you," James replied, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "But it would be so much more dramatic if I just show you."

And with that, he threw the bizarre cloth over his shoulders … and promptly disappeared.

Harry gasped, his eyes bulging as they went very round. "Dad? Where are you? What's going on?"

"I'm still here, son," a disembodied voice replied. The smugness in it was almost unbearable now.

"Dad!" Harry whispered, awestruck. "You're invisible!"

James pulled the hood of his garment down and grinned at Harry, his head seemingly floating unsupported in mid-air. "Pretty cool, eh? This is my Invisibility Cloak."

"Wow!" Harry replied in disbelief. "That's amazing! Can I get one?"

James chuckled. "They are very expensive, Harry. Tell you what, when we get to Sirius I'll leave it with him so you can take it with you to Hogwarts. You'll get into far too much mischief if you have it before then. You can use it to impress all those new friends you're going to make when you arrive at school."

Harry felt a cosy warmth rise in his chest at that. Friends … he'd always wanted some of those. He was looking forward to that part almost as much as he was casting his first spells.

So Harry, James and Lily left the Potter estate under the cover of the Invisibility Cloak and made their way through the streets of Pont-y-Annwn to the Central Underground Train Station. Quite why it was called an underground station had always confused Harry, for everything here was underground. He supposed it was due to the connection to the famous Tube network of London, which linked up to Pont-y-Annwn roughly following the M4 motorway corridor, which ran along the surface high above.

At exactly seven minutes to eleven, a train sped into the station. This train didn't usually carry passengers; it was a special train that brought cargo from several subterranean lakes that had been converted for fish farming. The railwaymen called it The Flying Kipper. Occasionally, however, The Kipper would head to the surface to bring back special fish for a banquet or something, if important people were visiting Pont-y-Annwn.

It was also the easiest way to sneak hidden wizard boys to the surface without drawing any attention to them.

Harry, James and Lily waited in a storage depot as The Kipper unloaded her cargo. When the coast was clear, the fireman gave James the signal, and he darted from the shadows, dragging Harry along in his wake. James bundled his son into an empty cart and Lily dived in behind them, a heavy door slammed, men hustled and bustled and swore, the signal light shone green … and The Flying Kipper was ready to go.

The wheels screeched and groaned, turned slowly and the train began to move, quickly picking up speed as it gunned into a tunnel and began the steep ascent to the surface.

Harry felt the thrill of adventure pound in his bones, even forgetting his usual illogical fear of the dark, as the lights of the city were left far behind. He pinned his ear to the wall of the cart, listening to the crunch of wheel on rail, dizzying himself with fantasies of what he would find when they emerged above. He turned to his father.

"Dad? What's it like up there?"

"Very different to what you know," James replied from the thick gloom. "It's very bright. That's the first thing you'll notice. It's Summertime, too, so you'll need to wear sunglasses before you step out into the world."

"Why?"

"Because … you haven't seen sunlight in a decade," James explained bracingly. "If we aren't careful, you could go blind."

Harry gulped, and swallowed a host of new questions that had suddenly occurred to him. So he decided to stick to the ones he had already been thinking about.

"Can you really buy spell books and wands and things up here?" Harry asked.

"If you know where to look," James answered. Harry couldn't see him, but he could almost feel his father grinning smugly from across the train cart.

The journey to the surface took about half an hour. Just before emerging from the tunnel, Lily found Harry's arm in the dark and slipped something into his hand.

"Here, take these," She whispered as she proffered Harry a pair of dark-lensed glasses. "They are called aviators and they will make you look pretty suave, as well as protecting those delicate eyes of yours until you are used to the sunlight again. Get ready, we're about to break the surface of the Earth."

And, not a moment later, they did just that.

Harry was instantly glad of his new sunglasses, for even through the tinted glass the light was painfully bright. Harry winced a little as it stung his retinas, but he was determined to keep his eyes open, to drink in all the sights of this brand new world. One thing he hadn't expected was for the light to be so warm. It was a lovely sort of heat that crossed his face, quite unlike the type produced by the the giant boilers down in Pont-y-Annwn. He could feel it even through the window of the train cart.

But it was the view that truly warmed him. Gorgeous green fields and valleys sped away from him in all directions. There were hills and mountains in the background, and a hint of blue from the sea just peeping over the horizon. There were dots of white, where sheep grazed merrily on the hills, and clumps of dense green forest, and the pale yellows of wild grasses, all kissed beautifully by that burning sun rising in the East.

Harry huffed crossly. "Dad, Mum … you lied to me! It's not savage up here, it's wonderful. No … it's paradise. What do they call this place?"

"This is the country of Wales, son, in the West of the British Isles," James grinned back. "Pretty little place, isn't it?"

"It's beautiful," Harry hushed back. "I'm very cross with you for not showing me sooner!"

James chuckled back. "That's fair. Here … how about a little magic to make up for it? Lil, do you fancy helping me out?"

Lily grinned and both she and James drew their wands, before setting about transforming crates into easy chairs and boxes into side tables that groaned under the weight of snacks and cakes for the journey. Harry beamed in joy as he watched the display. He couldn't wait now to be able to do such things himself.

"So, where are we going?" Harry asked, flopping into an easy chair and grabbing a thick chocolate chip cookie, as his mother converted one whole side of the cart to glass so that they could watch the scenery fly past.

"To England, and into London," James revealed. "That's where you'll be living before you go to Hogwarts. Sirius is still a wanted man, don't forget, and there's no better place to be well concealed than in the bustle of the Capital."

Harry shivered in delight at the prospect and, in that moment, he thought he'd rather not go underground ever again. Not when there were such sights to be seen in the wide world above. He took another cookie and settled down for the ride, for it promised to be a long one.

Harry arrived in London at about the same time that, in another world, a Zeppelin was touching down with it's own illustrious young passenger aboard. The Potters, however, had taken a far more conventional method of transport, switching from The Flying Kipper to the 3.05pm Thameslink train to St Pancras. From there it was a short Tube ride to Embankment station, then up into a recently modernised Georgian townhouse, which was now a block of swanky apartments for the trendy and affluent of Muggle London.

If you squinted really closely, you might have thought that Harry and Hermione had occupied the same building, perhaps even been in the same rooms … even though they were worlds apart …

But the Potters weren't alone. Sitting in a large bay window of the living room, on a cushion of purple velvet, was a stern-looking witch called Minerva. She was the Deputy Headmistress of the magical school Harry would attend next year. She also taught a subject called Transfiguration, which James explained meant turning one thing into something else, just like they had done on the train earlier.

Right then, Harry wished he could be turned into something else, ideally something strong and brave, rather than the nervously quivering jelly he was right now.

For this woman was agreeing to become his magical guardian, but she was so stiff and stern that Harry wasn't sure if he was supposed to be afraid of her or not. He thought he probably was, but then he thought how nice and kind she was being by agreeing to help look after him, and this left Harry all sorts of confused. But she was strict and clever, that much was obvious, and Harry was definitely in awe of her, despite whether that was supposed to be laced with terror or not.

In opposition to this worrying uncertainty, was Harry's Godfather, Sirius. At first, Harry had leapt behind his father in a blind panic, when what he thought was Minerva bear-sized dog jumped at him, certain as he was that it wanted to eat his face for dinner. Then, in a dazzling display of magic, the dog transformed into a handsome man, broad and strong, and grinning from ear to ear at the sight of him.

"There he is! Come here, my boy!" Sirius boomed as he transformed. But when Harry ducked shyly behind his father, Sirius went on, "Hey, don't be scared now. Just come and give me a big old bear hug and get it over with. After all, I spent a whole seventy-seven minutes in Azkaban just so you could go free!"

James laughed at that, but Harry still clung to his jacket hem in his reticence. Sirius, far from being disheartened, simply changed tack.

"If you don't give me a hug, I might change my mind on giving you the very expensive present I've brought to bribe you for your affections!"

Harry swallowed in his bashfulness. "Y-you've bought me a present? You didn't have to do that, Sir."

Sirius looked fondly at him. "He really is your son, isn't he, Lily?"

"Hey? What about me?" James protested good-humouredly.

"You!" Sirius blurted. "If I'd offered you a present I'd be standing on my own already! I'd have been lucky to even get a thank you, let alone to be called sir."

James shook his head in mock indignation as Sirius slipped out of the room, returning a minute later with the most beautiful snowy owl Harry had ever seen. She was asleep right now, but Harry felt his heart melt at the sight of her.

"Is … is that for me?" he mumbled shyly.

"It sure is, kiddo," Sirius beamed. "But, of course, if you don't want to give me a hug, I can always take her back …"

And with that, Harry wrapped himself around his Godfather for the first time in his life. It wouldn't be the last.

"Does she have a name?" Harry whispered, as she stepped away from Sirius and accepted the cage when it was offered to him.

"No, I thought I'd let you choose one for her," Sirius answered. "Owls make great companions and they are very useful, too. In the magical world, they carry your post."

"I've set up a little owl coop just outside Annwn," James explained to Sirius. "So, Harry, when you want to send us letters, your new owl can deliver them to us and bring back our reply. That is, of course, unless you start having so much fun that you forget all about your old mum and dad stuck with the Muggles underground."

Harry passed the cage back to Sirius, then clobbered his father with a hug around the middle.

"I'll write to you and Mum every day," he promised faithfully. "I'll tell you all about how I am doing and then you can send me as many Mars Bars and Twixes as my owl can carry! Oh, I can't wait to give her a name. Any ideas?"

"Sirius is a fine name," Sirius quipped seriously. "Or Siriusina, as she's a girl."

Harry frowned as James snickered away behind him. Minerva, too, wore a disapproving look.

"Mr Potter, my advice is to find a name you thinks suits the owl," Minerva offered. "I have brought you a book, as James said you love to read, and have already thrice gone through Hogwarts: A History."

Harry blushed in his embarrassment. He was humbly grateful for the presents being lavished on him, but he was quite sure he didn't deserve them.

"T -thank you," Harry stuttered. "What is it?"

"A History of Magic," Minerva replied. "If you enjoyed reading about the history of Europe's premier magical school, you will likely get lost in the wider history of the magical world. I'm sure that somewhere within its pages you will find a name that best fits your new familiar."

"Thank you very much," Harry mumbled, taking the thick tome in trembling hands. He felt a spike of guilt shoot through him as he noticed that the book was brand new. He looked up at Minerva. "Is … is there anyone at Hogwarts who might need this? I don't mind an older copy, really. I'll just be reading it for fun."

Minerva gave Harry the warmest smile she had yet afforded him. "That's very kind of you, but Hogwarts is plentifully supplied thank you. The book is yours, a gift from me. Take it and enjoy it. I absolutely insist."

"Thank you," Harry mumbled meekly, stroking the spine of the book as reverently as he hoped to stroke his owl's feathers later.

Sirius huffed. "I buy him an owl … but he prefers your book. I have a feeling we may have just started a little contest, Minerva. And on no account will I have my godson preferring you to me. Don't worry - challenge accepted. I have my next gift in mind already. One that will fix a nimbus around my head for sure …"

Harry had no idea what what was supposed to mean, and no real will to ask further. Besides, he had several dozen questions that he needed answering already.

"So, what's going to happen to me?" he asked quietly. "I don't want to be any trouble."

"I'm afraid trouble follows the Potter family around like a fart under a blanket!" Sirius quipped lightly, which caused Harry to snigger guiltily.

"In cleaner terms," Minerva scowled. "Your father has purchased this flat for you to live in. I have agreed to take you on as my magical ward, as Mr Black here is a wanted felon."

"Guilty," Sirius confessed brightly, holding his hands up in surrender. "Well, guilty of being wanted, not of the crime they think I committed. If they ever catch me, though, I'll have to confess to my even bigger crime."

"What's that?" Harry asked excitedly.

"Why, of breaking the hearts of so many witches!" Sirius hooted. "And of being the most handsome wizard in England. I assure you, the Dementors aren't the only ones in Britain just going absolutely crazy in the desire to kiss me!"

James erupted in a peel of laughter, and Harry quickly followed suit. Even Minerva's expression softened. Well, her jaw twitched awkwardly, which was as close to a grin as she was likely to get.

"Coming back from Cloud Cuckoo Land," Minerva went on. "I will become your primary carer. You will stay here, and I will return every evening once my Hogwarts duties are finished to take care of you."

"That's very kind of you," Harry mumbled mutely. "How can I thank you?"

"You will work hard," Minerva replied simply.

"How?"

"I will set you little tasks," Minerva explained. "Sort of like homework. Magical problems, research, reading assignments, that sort of thing. You will study in the day, and when I come home in the evening we can discuss them. This is not a test, so do not worry about getting it wrong. But I do expect you to ask as many questions as you can think of. That is my fee, and that is the only sort of thanks I will accept."

Harry beamed at her. "I can do that. Actually, I can't wait to do that!"

"Oh, no, not so fast Minerva," Sirius huffed in. "You are not side-stepping me like that. Harry, you haven't heard what I'm going to do yet."

Harry looked to his Godfather in astonishment. "Are … are you going to help look after me, too?"

"Of course, kiddo," Sirius grinned. "You don't honestly think I'd let you live a Snitch's Throw away from me across London and not come to take care of you? There's more chance of the Chudley Cannons winning the Quidditch Super League than that nonsense happening."

Harry felt a burning heat rise into his chest. He felt full up with it. He turned away though, to blink some annoying water droplets from the corners of his eyes. Lily moved to her son, pulling him to her chest to protect his modesty. When Harry was ready, he sucked in a wobbly breath and turned back to the room.

"What are you going to do then?" he asked a with indecent eagerness.

"Well, once you get the chores of Minerva's study programme out of the way, we are going to have as much fun as you can handle," Sirius grinned. "We'll go to the zoo and the cinema, theme parks, football matches, whatever you like."

"Museums? Landmarks? The British Library?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Er, if you like," Sirius replied uncertainly. He turned to James in concern. "Have you taught the boy anything about fun. I mean, proper fun?"

James chuckled back. "He likes books, what can I say? Blame Lily. Besides, it's not as if I could teach him to fly a broomstick with all the Muggle watching, could I?s"

"Ooh, that's what we'll do first!" Sirius exclaimed gleefully. "We'll head into the aerodrome on Fizzick Alley. I'll teach Harry how to fly! Would you like that, kiddo?"

Harry almost exploded with his enthusiasm. "Ooh, can I, Dad? Can I? I promise I'll be good."

James grinned down. "Well, that's up your guardian now. You'll have to ask her."

Harry turned to Minerva with a cheeky grin. "You wont say no, will you Aunt Minerva."

"You know, if you swoon at me so sweetly every time you ask something, I might just have a difficult time refusing you anything. Oh dear, James, he's just too adorable. I'm in so much trouble with him already!"

James guffawed and ruffled Harry's hair. "That's my boy … I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to it!"

"How about we crack open a bottle of wine to celebrate?" Lily suggested. "Harry … why don't you go and pick which bedroom you want to be yours."

"Can I really?" Harry gasped. "Any one I want?"

"Yep," Lily grinned. "Just take your bags with you on your way."

"Is that all you've brought?" Sirius quirked, nodding at Harry's small sports bag. "Well this just wont do! We have a big flat to fill with junk, you know. I think a trip to Diagon Alley should be out first port of call. Actually, we have to go there first. You cant go around dressed like that … people will think you're strange."

Harry tugged at his fitted black t-shirt and denim jeans. Then he frowned at Sirius.

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" he huffed.

"Oh, nothing for here," Sirius smirked. "In the Muggle world you'd be quite the little heart-breaker. But to get by in our world, you're going to have to blend in. If you walk around looking like that, people will think you're one of those poor sods on an outing from St Mungo's or something. And I think we can all agree that I am not a responsible adult!"

James hooted out a laugh, but Lily looked fraught.

"What time every day will you be taking over Harry's watch, Minerva?" she asked in a strained voice.

"Hey, stop fretting, lil'-lost-Lil," Sirius quirked brightly. "Me and Hazza are going to have a great time. Can I call you Hazza?"

"No," Harry frowned. "And I'll ignore you if you do."

James was clutching at his ribs in his mirth. "That's my boy. Don't take any of his nonsense. It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies, Harry, but even more to give sass to overly zealous godfathers. You give him hell for your old Dad!"

Harry grinned, and promised faithfully that he would. Then he headed off to explore the flat. He visited the fitted kitchen with its black marble worktops, and the spacious living room that had a fifty-inch plasma television stuck to the wall. Then he thrilled as he saw the bathroom, which had been magically modified to fit a bathtub that was as large as a swimming pool. Finally, Harry went to claim his bedroom, the largest one of course, which had a nice view over the River Thames flowing nearby.

And that's when Harry saw it.

It was a large mirror standing hidden in the shadows of a far corner … a mirror so old and ornate that Harry thought it might have belonged to Merlin himself, who his Dad had told him was the first wizard in Britain ever. Harry looked at the mirror, studied his reflection in it, wondering what bizarre types of clothes he'd need to wear to fit in with the Magical World. Robes and pointed hats, probably. Hardly the height of modern day fashion.

Harry chuckled as he imagined his reflection in Wizarding garb … maybe it would help him decode the ancient inscription carved around the frame of the mirror, which Harry could barely make out in the gathering dark. He wondered what it meant, if it was a spell or something to make you look prettier. It seemed the type of thing that was becoming plausible in Harry's new paradigm.

Then, quite unexpectedly, he saw someone else reflected in the glass.

Initially, Harry jumped back from the shock. Once his heart rate had slowed to normal, however, he stepped up to the mirror once again for better look. The room was dark and shadowy, and misty moonlight was beginning to filter in through the long windows on the far side. So Harry couldn't see all that well in the gloom … but he could see clearly enough.

And what he saw was girl standing next to him. Weirder still, she was holding his hand!

Harry raised his hand in front of his face, and the mirror-girl's went with it. He studied his digits, but there was nothing there. No extra fingers entwined around his own. So he looked back at the reflection, and the girl there was definitely holding his hand. He wasn't touching her skin but … and this was the weirdest thing … he could feel her of a sort. It was a bit like with the runes. He knew she was there, and he knew she meant something important, but he couldn't tell what.

Not that that was strictly true. He did know something about her … he knew that she was good and kind and all sorts of lovely. The cosy heat of their phantom contact told him that much at least. He just wished he could get into the mirror to find out more about her. Harry sat cross-legged in front of the glass and the girl joined him. She had a mass of hair, Harry had never seen anything like it, but he couldn't make out her features at all.

It was the strangest thing, but Harry was certain that he could waste away searching for answers in the reflection before him. Was this real? Was he seeing a ghost? Was that what the mirror did? It showed you dead people?

After a long time staring, Harry dragged himself away and lay down on his new bed to contemplate things. Perhaps the room was full of ghosts, maybe the whole flat was haunted. It was possible that if he moved the mirror from room to room he would meet yet more spirits. That was a deliciously chilling prospect.

Part of Harry wanted to get up and test this theory right away, but he was feeling tired after a day chocked full of excitement and exuberance. So he turned and nuzzled down into his new pillows, eager for the next day and whatever the mirror might be able to show him.

But as he slept, Sirius slipped into the room and took the mirror away with him.

"What do you think he saw?" James asked as Sirius returned to the living room.

"Only Harry could say," Minerva replied for him. "It is more important that he works out what he saw, how the Mirror works … so that he is prepared for if he ever runs across it again."

"Which he will?" Lily asked in a fraught voice.

"Not if Dumbledore has anything to do with it," Minerva replied.

It was only later that Lily realised that Minerva hadn't quite met her eye when she'd said that. But, then again, it was a very loaded question.