Summary – It's been a year since Voldemort was defeated by Harry. Most of the Wizarding community has moved on, but for those who were personally involved it's a bit harder. Then a something surprising arrives and Harry realises he's going to have a whole lot more to deal with now. One minute it was smooth sailing, the next they were all in hiding, dodging Death Eaters.
Disclaimer – Rowling lives on the opposite side of the world from me. You actually can't get much further away from my home than she is right now. So out of all the people in the world, I most definitely cannot claim to own Harry Potter or anything else in the wizarding world.
Notes – It's a long chapter – just so you know.

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At some point, not long before dawn, Harry and Remus had returned to their beds to get some rest, and to let her get some rest. Remus had told her gently that he was just across the hall and Harry was three doors down from that, so if she needed anything she only had to knock.

Then they'd left her alone, and despite her tiredness, the bone aching weariness that had settled over her, every time she closed her eyes, she could not relax enough to let herself sleep. All she could think about was James – oh, James, her James – and Dumbledore, and Sirius, of how Peter had betrayed them all, and how that strange, dark, quiet young man with such bitter, lonely eyes was her bright shinning baby boy.

At last, restless, she did manage to drift off, only to be confronted by nightmares where Voldemort's laughter haunted her, and she had to find Harry before the Dark Lord, but no matter how many doors she opened she could not find her son.

When she woke, the light steaming through the window told her it was day, but as she had no concept of position of the sun she could not tell what time of day. On one of the chairs beside her bed someone had been kind enough to leave a towel and a mismatched set of muggle clothes. It would appear that fashion had shifted in the last twenty years.

Deciding that a good long bath would not go amiss, Lily slid out of bed. Having stayed so long in one spot her muscles felt tight and some of her joints creaked.

"RON! RONALD WEASLEY! You can't hide from me forever! You're going to have to come out sooner or later! Do you hear me!" shouted a loud, female, and completely unfamiliar voice.

Lily opened her bedroom door to see a young woman with bushy hair storming down the hall. The girl stopped when she saw Lily and offered a tentative smile. There was a scar that ran along her jaw from her chin to her left ear and another one from the corner of her left eye, curving along her cheekbone.

"Hello, Mrs. Potter. I'm Hermione – a friend of Harry's." Yes she did look about the right age, but it was strange to be called 'Mrs.'. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Hermione. I was just looking for the bathroom."

"Of course. It's down here. Let me show you." Hermione led her down a long corridor.

"How long have you known, Harry?" Lily asked, curious. She wanted to know the kind of people Harry had placed around himself, after living so long with Petunia and Vernon.

"Hmmm? Oh, about eight years now. We met in first year – both of us in Gryffindor!" she smiled warmly and Lily could help but feel a tug of pride that her son had been in Gryffindor.

"Did you meet on the train?" Lily asked.

"Ah, yes, but we weren't friends until later." Hermione lowered her voice looking embarrassed. "I wasn't the easiest person to get along with back then."

"What happened?"

"Harry and Ron helped stop a mountain troll from killing me."

"You fought a mountain troll when you were eleven?" The horror of it all, but they had been barely more than babies! So many worse things had happened in the years that Lily had been gone, but somehow the mountain troll seemed just as, if not more so, a terrible thing for them to face.

"Well, Harry and Ron did most of the work. They knew I was in the bathroom, and so they came back to find me."

"What Hermione isn't telling you, is that it was our fault she was in there in the first place," interrupted a soft voice and Lily just refrained from jumping. He moved so quietly, she hadn't heard him approach again. Actually, if you forgave Hermione's shouting a few moments before, then they all moved exceptionally quietly. An effect of the war? Lily wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Good morning, Harry," Lily said, still trying to understand that this stranger in front of her, this man, was the baby she had given birth to little more than a year earlier.

"Good morning, Mum, Hermione."

"Hey Harry, have you seen, Ron?"

"No. Have you tried upstairs?"

"Yes, and down, too. There are too many places in this house for him to hide! If you see him…"

"I won't tell him you're looking for him, Hermione."

The young woman flashed a warm smile at Harry's words. They confused Lily, as they were part of a conversation she was not yet party to. However they seemed to be what Hermione wanted to hear. "Thanks, Harry! You always were smarter than him, anyway."

"Aww, thanks, Hermione," Harry joked and for the first time Lily saw a small, genuine smile settle over her son's features. It transformed his face, lightening his features, emphasising his resemblance to James.

This time as Hermione moved off she didn't shout for Ron, who was apparently one of the Weasleys. Most likely the one that was Harry – and Hermione's – age. Lily couldn't help noticing that the girl was just as silent as she had predicted, not quite as cat-graceful as Harry, but certainly her movements were sure and even.

The smile faded from Harry's face as her turned to look at his mother, but his features remained lighter than Lily could remember seeing it yet. Part of her wondered if Harry's darkness was an effect of this dim house, and she wondered where they really were.

This was the first time that she had been alone with her son since she had woken and accused him of being a liar, and she wondered what to say, what to do. Remus had made it easy on them the night before, and acted as a buffer.

It was a position her old friend was used to as he had been used to being the voice of reason of his friends, although, as she remembered rightly, he had never really exercised such abilities at Hogwarts. Only as they all left school and started taking on missions for the Order had he really used the ability, often coming between Sirius and herself. James hadn't liked to, for fear of offending the two people he loved most, but Lupin could do so in a way that didn't offend. Perhaps it would have developed into a problem, but then they'd never been given the chance to find out, had they? She thought to herself sourly.

Her attention was drawn to the fact that Harry was speaking to her. "I'm sorry, what was that you were saying?"

"I was wondering if you'd like lunch when you're done? Mrs. Weasley will have it ready soon." Lily was surprised to hear the soft note of hope nestled in his voice, almost as Harry wished to spend more time with her.

"I'd like that very much."

This time the soft smile was for her, and it warmed her in a way she hadn't thought possible with all the shocks she'd just had.

"Do you remember where my room is?" She nodded in answer. "I'll be in there. Come in and get me, and I'll show you where the kitchen is."

"Thank you, Harry." He offered another small smile in response, before turning to go back the way he had come.

"One more thing Harry?" He turned back to her, his eyebrows raised in question. "I have to ask, where are we?"

Confusion flittered across Harry's face before a mask settled there. Lily regretted her question, but didn't know why. His next words, though told, and she began to wish she had never spoken.

"The Black family home. Sirius left it to me in his Will. I need to warn you: most of the rooms on this floor are clean, as are the ones downstairs, but there is the occasional surprise. If you come across a room that's dusty, and unused, don't go in. It may be that we haven't cleared it yet."

"Cleared it?" she asked.

"Of dark magic." Then he was gone again, nothing more than a shadow moving in a corridor full of them. It was a wonder he didn't get lost.

Then she had to wonder if he did, or was lost in this shadowy house. The war she remembered had been messy and fast. One minute it was smooth sailing, the next they were all in hiding dodging Death Eaters. Never had it been 'dark', although people had referred to it as such. They'd had each other, and they'd had their lives. Only on the days when they received word of another friend's death had their lives dimmed, but then something would happen and they'd all be off again like rabbits, startled, but not having time to stop and think.

It made her wonder desperately what her son's life had been like. Fear and loneliness gripped Lily and she wished for James, his cocky attitude that suggested that everything was going to plan. Or even just to have him there to hold her and tell her he loved her, that he'd always be there for her and their son.

In the bathroom, Lily received a shock when she glanced in the mirror. So horrible at first that she ducked back out of sight, fearing that it was a joke mirror, or worse a dark one. Yet when she looked back in it, she could clearly see the woman in it was herself, but older. Probably nearing forty. Yes, if Harry was nineteen then that would be about right. Forty.

There were lines crinkled in the corner of her eyes, and at her mouth. Her hair was still red, but the colour was less stunning now, milder, dimmed with age. She looked younger than Remus, who seemed tired and careworn. Too many years living with James' death and Sirius' supposed betrayal.

Lily had always been practical. There was too much to do, you couldn't let yourself be bogged down with worries. Looking at her face, she deciding that as no one had run around claiming how horrible she looked meant that it couldn't be too bad. Had she been left to live in this world she may have ended up looking a whole lot worse. Besides, looks were the least of her worries.

Lily bathed quickly. The bathroom was large and sprawling, and the tiles were beautiful. The room was ornate, truly worthy of a great wizarding family, but Lily felt ill at ease. Sirius had left home at sixteen for good reason, she knew. The Blacks had tended to favour Voldemort, much to the disgust of their wayward son. Now the feeling of the house and Harry's words of caution made her aware of some of the forces that had induced Sirius to take such a step.

Before long she tapped on her son's door. He appeared, stepping out into the corridor beside her and gesturing for her to follow him, with only a soft greeting. It was as if everything in this house was muted or muffled, silent and dark. Like a funeral home where everyone spoke in hushed voices, and moved around warily.

"Have you live here long, Harry?" she asked him, more for conversation than anything.

"Not really." For a moment, when they started down the stairs she thought he wasn't going to say anymore. She desperately wanted to know more about her son, but he didn't trust her. He probably trusted very few people. If she wanted answers she would have to be content with what he was ready to give her, when he was ready to give her. Lupin had been right: all she could do was wait.

"Dumbledore always sent me to the Dursleys at the start of the holidays—"

"Why?" Lily couldn't help keep the frustration out of her tone. Even if Sirius had been in Azkaban, there must have been someone more suitable to take her son.

"Because of you," Harry said simply. "According to him, you died to save me and therefore as long as I lived under the roof of someone with your blood, I was protected."

Lily sighed softly. Yes, she had heard of such things, but that didn't make it anymore pleasant. "I'm sorry I had to have such horrible relatives."

Harry's lips twisted upwards slightly in acceptance of the apology, but he said no more on the topic. Lily wondered just how awful Petunia had been to him, and cursed her sister for every time she had mistreated Harry. She swore to herself that as soon as possible she was going to go and visit her sister and they would have words.

"Before fifth year was the first time I came here. Sirius had been out of Azkaban for two years, and he wanted the Order to use this house. Wanted to feel useful. It became a prison anyway." The comment surprised her, but before she could say anything, Harry was moving on. "Christmas that year. I didn't come back again in sixth year. After sixth year, I went to Privet Drive one last time – I haven't been there since – and then I went to Godric's Hollow."

Lily ignored the flicker of emotion that ran through her. Later, she would deal with it later, when she was not speaking with her son. "I lived partly there and at the Burrow, and sometimes here, depending…"

"Depending?"

"On what I needed. There's a good library here – although the one at Hogwarts that has the best information, and I let Hermione do most of the research anyway. There's not much at Godric's Hollow, not anymore, so sometimes at the Burrow. They always seemed happy to have me, even if…" there was more he was going to say but they turned into a warmly decorated dinning room. The table was set, and already Remus was seated talking to the girl that Lily was still assuming was Ginny Weasley.

Remus stood as they entered the room and held a chair back for Lily. Harry took a seat beside her, with Ginny at his other elbow.

The red-haired young woman smiled warmly at Lily. "Hello, Mrs. Potter, we didn't get a chance to be introduced last night. I'm Ginny Weasley." She elbowed Harry out of the way and offered Lily and hand, which Lily gratefully shook. The girl was pretty and had a bright smile. There was a frankness about her bearing that Lily had to like.

Remus inquired after her health and then another young red head – male this time – slunk in. Another Weasley, obviously. He was tall and lean and had a long nose, across the right side of his face was what looked like a splatter of acid scars that didn't quite blend with his freckles. His bare arms were also had long curling marks that wrapped around them, and his skin was burned and pitted halfway up his right side.

"Ron!" snapped Ginny. "Where have you been all morning? Don't you realise that Hermione's been looking for you?"

"Ah, right, yeah," said Ron, and his eyes slid to Harry.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Don't look at me."

Ron's eyes moved to Lily next and he seemed to realise who was sitting beside Harry. "Blimey!"

"Ron. This is my mum," Harry said. "Mum, this is my best friend, Ron Weasley."

"Ah, nice to meet you," Ron said, and came around the table and shook her hand. "Look," he said to the table in general, "I'm just going to help in the kitchen." He disappeared into the room so fast that it was only the swinging doors that showed he had not disapparated.

A few moments later, Hermione appeared at the door frowning. "Has anyone seen—"

"Kitchen!" answered a number of voices.

A few seconds later, Molly Weasley, hurried out of the room, carrying a pot of soup, and loud voices, their words not quite raised enough to be distinct, could be heard through the door.

Lunch continued with a list for exploits for Lily of things Harry had gotten up to in his time at Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron had both re-entered the dining room, refusing to look at each other, but soon joined in the conversation. It would seem that her son had gotten into almost as much trouble as his father, although for very different reasons. Lily had an idea that the stories were heavily edited. Even then, though, the underlying seriousness leaked through.

Once they were done with that, they started in on the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. Lily herself had gone through seven of them at Hogwarts, but nothing like the motley lot that the teens in front of her described.

"Well, first there was Quirrell…" Hermione crinkled her nose, as if she could smell something unpleasant.

"…but he had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head…" Harry added, much to Lily's shock.

"What?" Voldemort where?

"But Harry got rid of him…" Dumbledore apparently hadn't minded that he already had an eleven-year-old warrior at his school.

"Then there was Lockhart…"

"…but he wiped his memory, trying to get me and Ron."

"Git!"

"After that we had Lupin." This earned Remus a number of grins. Apparently, they had appreciated him as a professor. Certainly, he must have been a relief after the two earlier ones. Of course, as Lily soon discovered, being the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher wasn't all that hard.

"Best teacher we had!" All of them nodded, heads bobbing up and down enthusiastically.

"Then there was Moody, well not really…"

"He wasn't bad. We learned a lot from him…"

"…Except it wasn't really Moody."

"Who was it?" Lily asked, puzzled. Moody, but not Moody? Speaking of Moody – was he still around. Irrationally, she hoped against hope that he was. She'd lost enough friends in this time and place.

"A Death Eater in disguise. Moody was shoved in his trunk all year, poor guy." There was a certain amount of lightness in Ron's tone. As if it were bad, but on the scale of all things that'd he'd seen it didn't even begin to approach the worst.

"That was the year Voldemort came back." No one added to Harry's comment, but Lily soon found it had bearing on the next teacher.

"Next was Umbridge." The disgust on everyone's faces told Lily how that went.

"She was the worst – even Lockhart and Quirrell were better."

"Why?" Worse than the guy who had Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head, and the one who had tried to wipe their memories?

"She was from the ministry, and kept giving people detentions from saying Voldemort was back." It didn't sound bad, but Lily had no reason to doubt what they were saying. Undoubtedly there was to the story.

"That was the year Harry taught us, too," Ginny added quietly.

Lily snapped her head around to her son. "You taught?" He would have been all of fifteen.

"We had to learn it, and Harry was the only one who could teach us," Hermione said quietly, when Harry seemed disinclined to. "Umbridge was worse than useless."

"Then Dumbledore let Snape teach it." None of the faces displayed the least amount of amusement, and most of them were blank. Harry was scowling darkly into his plate.

"He knew what he was talking about," Hermione said quietly, almost timidly. She seemed anxious about the response that such a comment might receive. Now knowing the way that that year had ended, Lily supposed she wasn't surprised.

And Harry's comments sealed that thought. "But he still killed Dumbledore at the end of that year."

"I know, Harry." Neither Harry, nor Hermione were arguing. They seemed to agree with each other. Snape had known what he was talking about, but he had also killed Dumbledore, something for which was unforgivable.

"That's six."

"They didn't have a teacher the year after that, or this last year. It was just the senior students teaching the younger ones, and the other professors helping them. They couldn't get anyone to teach it. McGonagall still can't, nor for potions or transfiguration – even though she's principal, she has to teach it."

Every single one of the stories that Lily had been told over lunch had a grim ending, even the ones that had started off amusing. It made her sad that all these children had grown up knowing so much darkness. They had lived through times that far exceeded anything Lily had seen at their age, and yet they had all come through, scarred – probably for life – but with strength.

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