Eric sat by a round dining table. The common room they were sitting in performed several functions: kitchen, dining room, parlor, and Willy's bedroom. Willy was a house-elf: and had been Eric's companion and caretaker for as long as he could remember. Although Eric had suggested that the elf could wall off a section for himself, Willy wouldn't have it. The shop had three other rooms: A workshop, a studio, and Eric's bedroom. Combining all these functions saved him a considerable amount on rent.

Staring across the table at him were his three resident companions. The smaller two were Midget and Widget; two burrow owls who Eric took in, developing them into first-rate wizard owls. The largest of these belonged to Willy, who was currently serving an eight-ounce steak with all the trimmings. The house elf looked anxiously on as Eric poked at his dinner. "Master Eric is not pleased? Willy tried so hard to prepare a dish you would like!"

Eric's head bobbed upward. "No, it's fine – really! It's just, well, I was talking with Mrs. Peal today, and she mentioned the way wizards deal with other magical creatures." Eric paused, examining the cleanliness of the room, his meal, all the freshly-laundered clothes sitting on his bed. "Willy, you do a fabulous job with this place. I mean, last summer I spent all night keeping up with chores. This year I'll actually be able to rest after a day's work, and it's worth more than I can think of to have you around for company." He paused, setting his utensils down and locking eyes with the elf across from him. "I just have to know: are you happy here?"

Willy's eyes flooded with tears. "Oh, sir! Willy is overjoyed to have Master Eric to look after. The shop is not at all to great for Willy to clean, and you are the kindest master an elf can hope for." Willy's eyes grew wide and fretful. "Master Eric isn't going to send Willy away, is he?"

"Oh, heavens no!" Eric immediately delved into the sirloin before him. "Dinner is excellent, and it'll be nice to be able to just read while the shop is cleaned. Everything you do for me is just fine." Eric stopped to catch the elf's eyes again. "It's just; you're not simply a servant – you're a friend and I want you to be happy. Now: if taking care of me and cleaning this place makes you happy, then that's how it will be."

"Master Eric, Willy wants nothing in the world more than to see to your needs. Promise you'll never dismiss Willy!"

"I promise: never another word." Eric tore through the remainder of his dinner with vigor. Everything seemed to taste even better knowing that Willy was doing what he wanted. As he finished his dinner, it occurred to him that Willy hadn't joined him. "You know, it never occurred to me to ask: do you eat?"

"Willy has this or that while he's preparing the Master's dinner." He seemed especially proud of his diligence.

"Well, I don't want a fat house-elf, but you're not to cheat yourself either." Eric smiled at his friend, then suddenly stiffening when he saw the tears well up again. "Relax, Willy. I'm not being generous, I'm being practical. A properly fed house-elf cleans the shop far better than a starving one." Willy smiled and quickly dabbed his eyes. Eric reminded himself that he'd have to be careful not to be too kind to Willy. House elves just don't handle charitable manners well.

Eric settled in as the evening grew late. Ever since he had left Hogwarts, there was a nagging desire he just couldn't pursue. He had written Hagrid inquiring about his family, but his adoptive uncle wasn't very helpful. It was Dumbledore's handwriting on the letter Midget brought back.

Greetings young lad. I trust all is well.

Before I attend to certain questions you had sent us, a few words:

bahweedle – rethriptul – glaphlumph. Try to remember them, for they

are most enjoyable.

( Eric sighed, having never understood his headmaster's eccentricities. )

While we understand your desire to know more about your heritage, I

regret to say that there isn't much we can tell you. You were left with

us as an infant, and we were unable to establish any family that you

might be able to contact.

It is my fondest wish that this does not dampen your spirits overmuch.

I am rather hoping that you could find it in your heart to adopt those

around you as your family. I know I speak for both Hagrid and Mrs.

Peal when I say that we all care for you very much, and hope that if

you ever feel the desire to speak to someone as family, that you would

seek us out.

Best wishes for a safe summer,

A. Dumbledore

While the letter was more than reassuring that he wasn't alone, it didn't change the fact that he knew nothing of where he came from. What if he had a family: one that had spent the last eleven years thinking that he died with his mother? Wouldn't it be a comfort to them and him to finally be re-united? He wouldn't necessarily have to give up all the friends he had. Hagrid would always be his beloved uncle, Mrs. Peal his favorite aunt, and he'd never let go of the strong feelings he had for Dumbledore as the only grandfather he had ever really known. But to have his own family, to learn who his parents were; that was something none of them could give him, no matter how they tried.

However, the question came down to where to begin. While Hagrid and Dumbledore both admitted that his mother died, there were too many obituaries to go through during that time. It would take forever to trace them all. What he needed to do was remember what his parents looked like, but since he was only an infant when he saw them last, that would be impossible.

… or would it?