Harry was awoken the next day by the early morning sunlight streaming through the broken window as it shone on his uncovered face, he turned over and buried his face further into the musty-smelling blankets with a groan, in his half-asleep state, he almost missed the chuckle that came from the opposite corner of the room.

Almost.

Harry jerked up in alarm, blankets falling away from his chest and pooling in his lap, he turned to face the person in the room with him, opening his mouth to say something but paused when he finally saw who the person was.

The woman was sat upon an old rocking chair he'd not noticed the previous night, slowly rocking back and forth, occasionally causing slight creaks to come from it, she had a pair of knitting needles and was apparently knitting something, a scarf if he wasn't mistaken. She was rather plump, but he thought that it suited her, giving her a very warm, motherly feel.

Oh, and she was a ghost.

Her needles and yarn were both ghostly items too, but she was able to interact with physical objects, as shown by her ability to use the rocking chair.

"You're dead," He stated, bluntly.

The ghost burst out laughing at his statement and it took him a moment to figure out what he'd said.

"I'm sorry!" He cried out in alarm. "I didn't mean it like that!"

The ghost just shook her head and waved him off.

"It is alright, young one, I am aware that you meant no harm in your words," Her voice was soothing, and Harry found himself relaxing.

The two stared at each other in silence for a long moment until she shot a concerned glance at him. "Where are your parents? you appear far too young to be on your own."

His eyes watered slightly, and he looked down at his lap, fiddling with the edge of one of the blankets as he attempted to avoid looking at the slightly transparent silverish eyes of the ghostly woman. "I-" He started, stopping to think of how to explain his problem.

Harry knew from his DADA lessons that it was only the ghosts of magical people who existed in a silverish colour, they were also the only ones who kept their entire personality, emotions, and memories.

The ghosts of Muggles were often perceived with full colour, and over time they would begin to lose their memories and emotions, and their personality would often take a rather dangerous turn, this was the reason why so many Muggles warned against staying the night in houses that were perceived as haunted, and why so many of their ghost stories ended with death.

According to a book which Hermione had read from the library after that lesson, there was a whole department in the Ministry of Magic dedicated to helping the ghosts of Muggles pass on, as they were a danger not just to the non-magical population of Britain, but to those with magic too.

With that knowledge in mind, Harry could tell that the ghostly woman had been a Witch when she was alive because of the bluish-silver colour of her semi-transparent body, and if he told about his problem thanks to the Animagus Transformation, she could possibly help him figure out what he should do.

There was the possibility that she could be one of those who were prejudiced against those who were non-human in origin, much like the majority of Wizards and Witches in the United Kingdom at that moment in time, which he had seen first-hand when Professor Lupin had been exposed as a werewolf at the end of the school year which had just passed.

But even with that possibility, something inside of Harry told him that it would be fine to tell her, that the outcome would be the most desirable option between telling her about the issue and not telling her.

"I messed up with the Animagus Transformation," He admitted. "I'm actually thirteen, fourteen in a week."

She leant back in her rocking chair, a contemplative look on her face. "The Animagus Transformation, is it one to take another form, such as a bird, with help of a potion?"

"Yes."

She nodded to herself and looked him in the eyes. "And you have not sought help from those in charge of those blessed with magic? Surely they can help to find you a family of your new species to take you in and teach you their ways?"

Harry winced slightly at the thought of going to the Ministry about his little problem. "No offence, but when exactly did you die?" He questioned.

The ghost raised an eyebrow at him but answered anyway. "I believe it was sometime in the late 1070s according to the Christian calendar, why does this matter?"

He looked at her in mild shock, she was as old as some of the Hogwarts ghosts. "It's 1994, ma'am and the Ministry of Magic is extremely prejudiced against anything that isn't human or doesn't have magic." He informed her.

"Prejudiced against anything not human?" She sounded extremely shocked. "How do we keep our forests, lakes, rivers, oceans, and moorlands safe? Druids help to keep the forests alive, Centaurs help cull invasive species, Merpeople help fish migrations, there are so many, many more non-human species upon this planet than there are human, and all of them have their share to keep the planet alive, and you're telling me that the magical humans now think themselves above them?"

Harry nodded. "And the non-magicals too," He agreed.

She took a deep, calming breath, and turned to look at him. "My house is warded against collapsing," She stated. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you need."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"No need to call me 'ma'am', young one, you may call me 'Nana'."

He looked up at her in shock, before looking away shyly. "My name's Harry."

She grinned, then got up from her seat and walked over to him, slowly she lowered herself to the ground until she was sitting across from him.

"So, other than being an adorable little boy," Her grin grew wider as his cheeks grew pink in embarrassment. "Have you noticed anything else that has changed about yourself?"

"Um, why do you need to know?" He asked.

Her smile grew smaller and softer as she looked down at him, understanding his discomfort. "Perhaps if you were to tell me, we could begin to figure out what you are."

He frowned slightly and tilted his head in thought, it would be a good idea to know what his species was exactly so that he would know what to expect from his growing patterns, and also how to take care of himself properly such as making sure he got the correct foods.

"Well," He began nervously. "I can remember anything I read, even if I only glance at it, um, one of the books I looked at called it 'photographic memory'."

The ghost, or Nana, as she asked to be called gave an encouraging smile and gestured for him to continue.

"I can smell scents of things, like Hedwig over there," He pointed to his owl who was still sleeping with her head tucked under her wing on the fireplace. "She smells like spruce wood, feathers, and the wind," Harry paused and tilted his head to face his beloved owl, sniffing at the air. "Actually, she also has something else which smells like it's behind those three which smells like 'snowy owl', I can't really explain it."

Nana's smile was gentle as he talked about how his owl smelt. "So, a very good memory and a very strong sense of smell, anything else?"

He nodded. "My eyesight's really, really good now, it used to be really, really bad, and I can hear things really loud now, and uh," He trailed off, looking at the floor, unwilling to look at the kind ghost.

"What is it?" She asked him in concern. "What's wrong?"

"I don't… feel comfortable," He muttered, grasping at his chest.

"What don't you feel comfortable with? Perhaps I can help?" She suggested.

"Two hearts," He stated, tears beginning to form in his eyes, and she could tell that it was only just beginning to register in his mind what had happened to him, after having spent the prior day in shock while trying to get somewhere safe.

"Two hearts?"

"Yeah…" He muttered, looking down at his hands.

"Well then," She began cheerfully. "You know what that means, right?"

He peered up at her and shook his head slightly.

"Two hearts? Well, that's double the love to give!"

His head jerked up in surprise and he stared at her in open shock. "Double the love?"

"Of course!" She cried out. "Love comes from the heart, and you Harry, have two!"

He looked down at his chest in thought.

"Double the love…"