A/N: revamped and edited. Remember to review!

-----CHAPTERTWO-----

The portkey took them from the suburbs to the countryside in a whirlwind of color and magic. Harry opened his eyes, and gasped, finding himself on the ground with his trunk on his leg. Ahead of him was a grand estate, complete with a three story castle with a Victorian Tutor front, a large garden, pond, stables, and acres upon acres of forests and fields. There was no civilization in sight, and mountains were on the skyline to the east.

"'Arry, y'a'ight?" Brenna asked, helping him up.

"Er, yeah, fine!" Harry said, dusting himself off.

"Lucky the trunk dinna crush ya," Brenna said; "Come oon, best get inside."

"Where are we?" Harry asked as he gather up his trunk and Hedwig's cage.

"Delgrishire," Brenna replied.

Moody had already gone inside. Brenna and Harry walked up the sloping walk, and finally breached the castles walls. The foyer was much like that of Hogwarts, open and regal, though there was no stain glass. Portraits lined the walls, but Harry noticed how some were unmoving, as if painted by a Muggle artist. Only one, in fact, moved, a portrait of an elderly man whose eyes projected much hardship in the life the painting had captured.

There were three doors, two to the left and right, then two double doors straight ahead. On each side of the double doors were turning staircases that lead to the second floor and curved around on up to the third. Harry was transfixed by the architecture, until Brenna tapped him on the arm and directed his attention to elsewhere.

"'Arry, would ya like Ah show ya 'round?" Brenna asked; "Ya stuff'll be taken up for ya."

"Oh, okay," Harry said, "Sounds like a good idea." He still had many questions, but he would ask along the way, if he had the chance

Brenna allowed a small smile; "The door to the left is the dinin' 'all, and the kitchen's attached;" she explained; "The right is a small lib'ry, mostly a meetin' 'all. And on oop the second floor…" she said as they took the stairs; "Well, mostly studies an' empty rooms."

Harry took a chance to peer into a few, at Brenna's bidding. Most were piled with books, scrolls, and other paraphernalia one would find in a study or closet. But one room struck him as odd, even disturbing. It had no furnishings, just solid concrete walls with one barred window. There were jagged cuts torn into the stone, and the floor, and patches of red here and there.

"what happened?" he asked, looking at Brenna.

Brenna peered into the room solemnly; "We get many visitahs, 'Arry," she explained; "An' ig et's a werewolf, well…" she paused; "Thess is where they'd go durin' the full moon."

Harry nodded; "Seems it does more 'arm than good."

"No," Brenna said; "The forests 're full o' the dang'rous sort."

Harry suddenly remembered that the full moon had only been two days ago. He looked inside, seeing only a stone room with seemingly thousands of gashes and long, deep claw marks. The floors and walls were splattered with red in some places, and Harry grimaced.

"It still makes you wonder," Harry mumbled; "Anything else down here?"

"Oh, well there's the stairs to the tower," Brenna said; "But, et's just an observatory. M' grandda reads teh stars sometimes, an tha's 'is little get away from the world. Anyway, there're a few guest rooms, but teh majority o' teh bedrooms a're on the third floor. Come on."

They went to the third floor, and Harry was once more greeted with still pictures and faded ones. The faces of the portraits were all of sadness, anger, remorse, and several were frozen crying.

"Um, Brenna," Harry said; "What's wrong with all these paintings? Aren't they supposed to be moving?"

Brenna pushed her hair back behind her ears, and for the first time Harry noticed they were oddly shaped. Come to think of it, she bore a resemblance to many of the paintings. Obviously it was a family estate, but Harry did not think that blood ran so thick. Perhaps it did, who was he to know?

"Tha's what 'appens when the person 'n the portrait dies," she explained

Harry stared at her; "I'm... I'm sorry to here that," he said finally.

"Et's not your fault, 'Arry," she said, looking at a portrait; "Things 'appen, people get 'urt. People lie…"

"What?" Harry asked.

Brenna looked at him; "Ya should unnerstan', 'Arry," she said; "He's taken a lot from ya, 's well."

Then he knew who she was talking about; "You say Voldemort's led a crusade against your family?"

"Not just m' fam'ly," Brenna said; "M' kind."

Harry stared at her; "Ah'm elfin, 'Arry," she said; "Part o' why you're here es 'cause Albus 'as an agreement wit' m' grandda. Your hear on account Voldemort's spreadin' 'is wings, dinna think Surrey would be safe for ya. Thess place is an unknown."

Harry stared at another frozen portrait; "So… all these people…" he whispered.

"Used t' talk, walk, breathe, laugh, love, cry…?" Brenna's voice trailed off; "Aye, they did. M' Grandda said… tha' when m' da died, 'e managed t' take a few Death Eatas wit' 'im, but…" she shrugged, "ever'thin's believable."

"What was your father's name?" Harry asked, glancing at all of the male portraits.

Wordlessly Brenna went up to the third floor, Harry quick to follow.

"That him right there," Brenna said, and Harry stopped before the portrait.

Beneath the painting, in gold lettering, read "Amadeus Rubea McBennitae, third son of Anestrothea, died on the fifth of May, 1994, defending fellow bloodline from Death Eaters..." Harry held his breath as he stared at the still painting. The man had hair like Brenna's, pulled back in a loose ponytail. He was wearing black armor, standing regally with a black staff in his hand. The man seemed noble, but his grey eyes sent the message of fear, anxiety, but above all pure anger all together. He held his head high, pride in the slight smile he wore. There was a large, black wolf hound at its side, the beast of a dog frozen in the middle of a snarl. But Amadeus' eyes...

And to beat it all his ears were pointed and a little large compared to Brenna's. Harry looked back towards Brenna, and saw she was opening a door.

"This is your room," she said, coughing, her eyes watery; "Mine's on teh other end if ya need anything. Mister Shacklebolt is beside you, an' then Mister Lupin is across. Mister Moody beside him, and then the rest are guest rooms. Tonks is on the other end with me, and then the rest of the rooms are going to be used whenever the others arrive. But, most likely, we'll be the on'y ones 'ere for now. Order's real busy..."

"Oh, Ron's coming?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Ah'm not sure who," Brenna said, looking at him and smiling; "Ah don't get out much and Ah don't know many people. Well, your trunk's up, so Ah guess Ah'll leave ya t' unpack. If ya need anything, just shout."

Harry smiled and nodded, watching her go. Brenna went to the other end of the hall, opened a door to her room, and went in, the door closing slowly. Harry sighed, and went into his own room. But that sigh became a gasp as he looked around.

The room was decorated in reds and gold's of all shades. There was a large circular bed with pillows galore. There was a rug, and a fireplace. There was also a couch, two chairs, desk, bookcase, closet, bathroom, and a small balcony. Harry walked out to the balcony. He had a perfect view of the forest, and a river. Harry sighed, and then walked back into the room. He went over to his trunk, but it was empty. In a panic, he threw the closet doors open, realizing it was a walk-in and his clothing was hung up neatly.

His broom was on a sword holder on the wall, Harry realized, when he walked out of the closet. Harry shrugged, and closed the closet door. All of his books and school things were on the desk or in the bookcase. Harry sighed again, running a hand through his hair. He looked at a clock, and gasped when he saw it was after midnight. Though he was up to late nights, Harry was in desperate need of sleep. He consciously yawned, got into his pajamas, and went to bed, regardless of the time of day.

-o-

Harry woke the next morning, showered, and dressed in simple walk-around pants. He found a tray of breakfast food on the small coffee table, along with a copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry quickly ate and discarded the paper, and finished getting ready. Harry opened his closet, shocked to find new clothing hanging along with his old. Harry went through the shirts, the pants, and the shoes. He finally decided on simple faded jeans and a black T-shirt with collar, and a pair of tennis shoes.

Harry then checked that everything was in its place, a habit from living with Dudley. Satisfied, Harry ran his hands through his hair again. He walked back into the hallway, and looked around. Brenna's door was open, and he watched as a ghost floated out.

The ghost was female, that of a woman. She was gaunt and skinny, her long white hair flowing behind her along with her robes. She was pretty, and Harry and seen her conversing with Nick, or at least he thought he recognized her from somewhere. The ghost stared at Harry with a vague, haunting expression, then made her way down the staircase and faded away like a lost whisper.

Harry leaned against the wall as Brenna came out of her room, and then walked over to her; "Didn't know there were ghosts here," he said.

"Oh, tha' was Anne," Brenna said, waving her hand; "she's been 'ere since we came, an' tha' was about ten generations ago."

Harry nodded; "Ah, okay," he said; "Hey, thanks for the clothing."

"Oh, a Molly Weasley and a Minerva McGonagall dropped it off last night," Brenna said.

"Oh," Harry said, nodding, "So, is Dumbledore or somebody here?"

"They might be," Brenna said; "Come on, let's go see!"

Brenna and Harry went down the steps, and came to the main hallway again; "Let's check the library," Brenna said; "They hold meetings in there."

Harry nodded, and Brenna took his arm as the two teens ran down the left hallway. Brenna stopped, and Harry helped her push open two large oak doors. It opened up to a library almost a large as Hogwarts, though there were three floors to it and another loft like area near the ceiling. Harry looked around, and saw two wizards conversing over several books. Dumbledore was one, and the other Harry recognized by the only color portrait he had seen yet. The old man must be Anestrothea, he thought, and he was right. Brenna smiled, broke into a quick run, and wrapped the tall, sturdy old man in a hug. The man smiled, and hugged her briefly. As Harry walked up he caught the two conversing in a tongue he couldn't place or recognize. Thankfully though, He was drawn from his confusion by Dumbledore.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, smiling as Harry approached them; "Good to see you are in one piece. I heard Brenna gave your aunt something to talk about."

Brenna blushed, releasing Anestrothea.

"Ah, Harry, this, is Anestrothea, the kind man willing enough to let us use his home," Dumbledore said; "Anestrothea, this is Harry Potter."

"Ah yes, Harry," Anestrothea said, shaking Harry's hand briefly; "Now, Albus," he said, turning to Dumbledore; "Look here, at this map..."

Harry and Brenna watched on, but when Dumbledore looked at Harry, Harry got the picture; "we need to go," he whispered to her, tugging at her sleeve.

"Oh, okay," Brenna said, and they left the library; "Come on, Ah'll show ya teh grounds!"

--------

It took the entire day just to cover the main grounds and parts of the farm and after dinner Harry and Brenna found themselves walking down the second floor hallway. In the course of the day Harry had leaned more things about Brenna and she had learned more things about him than the two wagered. Harry had found out that both of Brenna's parents had died at the hands of Death Eaters, Like Harry's had, Brenna was also trained with a wand, though she could project magic without it. She was also an only child. Brenna led a very unknowing life Harry had concluded, because when he asked he questions about her family's business and the Order she was either oblivious or didn't know enough to suffice. Still, Harry had fast become friends with Brenna. And her eagerness to hear about Muggles and the ways of the Wizarding world kept him talking.

"This place is bigger than it lets on," Harry said as they stopped briefly.

"Yeah, magic's somethin', eh?" Brenna asked, walking across the hall and into a sitting room.

Harry yawned as he entered, realizing how late it was; "Tired?" Brenna asked, smiling as she sat down.

"Nah," Harry said, shaking his hand and yawning again. He took a seat beside her on a couch by the fire, and rested his head on a pillow.

"Hmm, I think Tonks is here," Brenna mused when they heard a loud crash from the first floor.

"How long have you known about the Order?" Harry suddenly asked, sitting up on his elbows.

Brenna looked over at him, "Couple o' months, I s'pose," she replied; "No, since I met Remus Lupin. One night 'e came wit' Dumbledore a few months ago, terribly upset about somat or other…" she finished, crossing her arms and staring into the fire. "Funny how things have come full circle…" she mumbled.

Harry watched her in silence, watching how the flames danced in her eyes to mix with the natural fire that burned with surviving anger and pain. Harry couldn't place it, but he was drawn to her. He fought the urge to ask her questions and instead concentrated on the fire.

They sat in silence, and soon Harry was close to nodding off. He only opened his eyes slightly when a blanket was laid over him. Out of the corner of his eye he looked to see Brenna tucking it around his shoulders, then moving over and getting a blanket for herself. She sat in a chair, curled up snuggly with her knees drawn up to her chest. She continued to watch the fire, as if scared yet amazed by it.

"Are you afraid of fire?" Harry asked her in a sleepy mumble.

Brenna looked over at him; "Thought you'd nodded off," she said quietly.

Harry shook his head, and propped himself up against the armrest; "Are you?" he asked.

"Sometimes," Brenna replied quietly.

They both looked over as the door opened all the way. Tonks poked her head in, smiled upon seeing the two were alright, and left.

"They don't trust us," Harry said, laughing.

Brenna smiled; "My' grandda, no doubt," she said; "'e's extremely protective of me, bein' 'is little girl an' all..." she sighed, "Suppose it has advantages..."

"What do you do during the fall, anyway?" Harry asked, sitting up. He motioned for her to sit with him.

Brenna looked at him, then got up and sat down, wrapping the blanket around herself; "Mostly read, chores," she replied; "Talkin' to ghosts gets old, though. I heard Grandfather and Mister Dumbledore talking though, the other day, and it seems I might be going somewhere if things happen over the next few weeks..." she looked away.

"Why…where?" Harry asked.

Brenna shrugged; "Ah dunno," she said, looking at him placidly; "Ah just go where I gotta. Besides, where could Ah go?"

It suddenly hit Harry, "Hogwarts," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"What?"

"Hogwarts," Harry said, a littler clearer; "You would go to Hogwarts..."

"It seems reasonable," Brenna mused, Harry," she suddenly said, looking over to the fire with wide, fearful eyes; "Look, the flames... they're... they're green!"

Harry looked over, and gasped. The flames were green, "Someone's traveling by Floo Powder," he said.

"Floo? What? Through Fire? No…" Brenna gasped, disbelieving. She scooted next to Harry, and he felt her hands hold to his arm. Harry continued to watch the fire, and both held their breath as they roared and spat someone out.

The form landed with a thud on the rug, face down and motionless. Harry stared at the head-blonde, soot covered hair.

"M-M-Malfoy?" Harry stuttered, slowly getting up. Brenna, in shock, was still clinging to him, and naturally followed suit. They approached the Malfoy heir, but Harry threw an arm out in front of Brenna when Draco moaned.

"Where am I?" Draco moaned, rolling over.

Harry just stared. The day had gone so well, and now Malfoy was here...