Disclaimer: my thanks to Conan Doyle, Hiromu Arakawa, LogicalRaven and of course J.K for the central ideas and influences in this story.

Notes: what a month! And it meant to be a holiday. Well I've fallen behind on some commitments including this story, for that I say sorry but I trust many of you know how it is. This chapters only half done, but I can promise it finished in the next two weeks as for the chapter its self I guess its focused on Harry's family so read on and I hope you enjoy…

With the loud pop Harry found himself atop a grassy hill a few minutes away from his house. The Hollow might have been plottable, occasionally he got muggle postmen at the door, but like Hogwarts the was no way a wizard could appear any closer to his home, without fooing there.

He started off in a hurry, ignoring the light rain completely as he trudged down a path that led to his home. The route was scenic as though Harry had started walking through the lid of an old biscuit tin.

He met no one; the nearest village was about three mile's away so apart from farmers, or perhaps hiker none used these mud roads and paths. Out here Harry reflected, you couldn't even hear the faint rumble of ceaseless traffic that encased London.

It was something Harry was never comfortable to even with long time living in Surrey as Dudley was easily louder, the low ceaseless rumbling sound got everywhere permeating even through to the wizening world like Diagon alley and the leaky Cauldron, to the noise he could never be alone in London, one reason he lived out of the city despite his work.

As Harry walked down the path coming to a part shaded by a number of old trees, large drop of rain from one of the branches above landed square on his head, binging him out of the contemplation and he hurried onwards.

Coming up to his doorstep he heard loud barks that could only be Tulip, at this Harry was suddenly alert, a felling of panic rising in his stomach. He fidgeted in one of his pockets for the key when the door opened to a view of chaos.

The main hallway was wrecked, muddy water coated the red tiled floor, streaks of mud slashed across the walls, on the stairs and even the roof. The small table by the door had been over turned a vase of flowers had been sent with this, smashed across the welcome rug and the morning paper had been flung over patches of the wet floor the occupants of the papers pictures seeking refuge in portraits hanging across one wall of the corridor.

In the centre of this mess sat an old tin bath more water seemed to have been spilt from it than was actually still in it, the twin occupancy of this bath…

A sodden house elf clinging madly on to the struggling soaked form of Tulip, Harry watched mouth slightly agape as with a triumphant yell the crup jumped from the metal container, over the falling form of Dobby and sprang past Harry for the new exit. Dobby in panic stood and made to chase after it when his eyes fell of Harry.

With a squeal he fell back over into the muddy water, then himself dived out of the bath and scampered for the kitchen with a explanation of "Master Harry need's his tea, did not expect him back so early."

"Dobby?"

The elf paused at the name and turned ears hanging limp, eyes cast down. Harry recovering from the panic that he had been experiencing, sighed tired and relived, a little amused at the antics of the pair in his absence. "Sir?"

"No worries Dobby"

"Sorry bout the mess Sir but she is just a tad stubborn." Harry grinned lightly at this, the understatement of the century.

"And has never been fond of baths Dobby." The house elf's long ear's some how drooped still further and Harry cast around to brighten the elf's mood.

"Where's Mary Dobby? And is the any chance of a little cup of tea?"

"Young misss is uup stairrrrs Sirrr." The Small excited form of Dobby said as he went to make the tea.

Harry put his large wet overcoat on a hanger, shook his head to get the rain out of his hair, and darted casually up the stairs.

With Harry's dally life came a lot of work, and little time to spend with Mary. He was a little worried by this but reasoned that she was still to young for this to matter, but for the next hour at least he could see her and she could be in the arms of her granny, for most of the afternoon the granny in question was thrilled that the toddler's first word 'gran' and simply adored Mary.

He found her with her back to the doorway calmly sitting in her room, ignoring the commotion downstairs playing with her coloured bricks, these were much like the muggle ones but emitted the noises of magical creatures when rattled. At the moment she was lessoning to the Augurey call, a vulture like bird whose call was known to predict rain.

She was sitting upright in a sunflower yellow dress, despite tall for her age but not yet learning to walk. Her dark red hair shone in the light from the window, sensing him she looked round with orb like green eyes, and then proudly smiled razing her tattooed arms to be picked up.

"Hay there now, how have you been?" Harry asked walking in and picking her up in a hug. She giggled and started to play with his glasses prying them of her proud farther and trying them on. He blinked with his eyes, smiling as she found them to big. The pair slid down her small nose and she held them back up in place with one hand the other pocking the father's nose.

Mary looked at her dad, suddenly quiet as though she was intently lessoning out for something then her small round face brightened, she yelled "Graaaaaan, Goo Graaaaaan."

Harry stood still at this comment wearing slight frown, 'She didn't read my mind? She couldn't have?' he looked at the excitable form of his daughter in his arms and noted the tattoos were still getting more pronounced, Harry wondered vaguely why this was not surprising him more, the traits were much the same as his first accidental bursts of Legilimency and the willowy branch like tattoos that weaved from the hands to her back were clearly not a normal scars, his little girl had inherited the gifts of her father and they were just going to have to manage with that.

As she returned the glasses to his face he smiled. "Your mother would be proud. Well let's be of."