Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Harry Potter.

A massive thank you to my beta kenziescott54 for looking over, this story and improving.

Thank you to everyone who has followed / favorited / read / reviewed the story so far.

"Harry Potter!" said the eyes, reverently.

"Who are you?" Harry called out, shrinking back. "How do you know my name?"

The eyes advanced towards him, and a creature stepped out into the patch of dim moonlight that streamed through the broken window. It was the strangest looking thing Harry had ever seen; it was about half as tall as he was, with wizened, wrinkled skin and enormous eyes.

At first, Harry thought he was imagining things; but his imagination was nowhere near this creative, and he knew it. Left to his own, he probably would have imagined something much less strange looking and a great deal more sober; this creature smelled like Aunt Marge at Christmas, after she'd had too much brandy.

"What are you?" he asked. Now that he could see the creature, he was not quite so afraid; it looked entirely harmless. For one thing, it was so small, and for another, it was so drunk; but it looked incredibly sad, and its enormous eyes kept brimming over with tears.

"I is a House Elf," the creature squeaked. "My name is Quill. Little Miss gave me that name only weeks before they came and killed them all."

"What?"

"The Death Eater scum," said Quill, hiccuping. "But Harry Potter made them go away."

Harry had not the faintest idea what a House Elf was, what a Death Eater was, how Quill knew his name, or why he believed Harry had made these Death Eaters "go away." He wanted to grill the creature with questions, but his odd little face looked so sad that Harry thought that, for the time being at least, it would be rude.

"When the others get back," said Quill, its face - his face? her face? brightening with an unexpected smile, "they will be so glad to meet the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"The others?" Harry repeated. "Are they...er...House Elves too?" He chose, for now, to ignore the titled Quill had just given him, as it made no sense to him.

"No, no, no," Quill chuckled, with something close to delight. "Achan, he's a ghost, but don't ask him how he died; he gets very upset about it. And Maya - she's a Goblin."

Harry sat back. You must remember that he was only a child, and he accepted Quill's explanation as only a child could. He was still curious, of course, but he was no longer afraid, and it never occurred to him to distrust or disbelieve Quill.

"All right," he said. "But I'm very tired, Quill. I walked a long way today."

"Then Harry Potter must sleep!" said Quill anxiously. "Quill didn't meant to disturb Harry Potter!" He bowed, anxiously.

"It's fine, Quill," said Harry, and almost as soon as he said it, he was asleep.

Albus Dumbledore paced back and forwards in his office.

So far only four people in the Wizarding World knew Harry was missing - himself; Severus Snape; Kingsley Shacklebolt, a dedicated Auror; and Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

Albus knew that Severus and Kingsley would keep their mouths shut; but Fudge was unreliable. If it ever got out that Harry was missing, there would be wild rumours about what could have happened to him. The worst part about it all was that any of those rumors could be true, as Albus hadn't an inkling of what had really happened to Harry.

The boy's aunt and uncle had been about as helpful as a paper bag in place of a hat during a rainstorm. Harry had no friends, no other family; he was without money or food. He had nowhere to go.

Albus had considered that maybe, after all these years, a Death Eater still loyal to Voldemort could have had gotten hold of him; but he sure if that were the case, he was quite sure that he would have heard something about by now.

It was as if Harry had completely vanished of the face of the earth.

The thing that terrified Albus the most was that, for once, he had no idea what was to come next. He could not predict, or even guess, what was going to happen; for Harry's disappearance had never once entered his plans.

Harry blinked his eyes.

Sunlight was streaming into the front room, and a delicious smell was floating into the room.

For a moment, Harry lay still, trying to collect his sleep-addled thoughts. Then, quite suddenly he remembered: he had run away, he was in a deserted house, and he had met a strange creature called a House Elf the night before.

"I suppose that was all a dream," Harry murmured, rolling off the couch.

As he became fully aware of his surroundings, he realized that the smell - a smell of eggs, toast, and bacon - was very incongruous, for an empty deserted house, as were the clinking of silverware and the off-key singing of a voice he didn't know.

Harry hurried into the kitchen. Quill was going back and forth from pan to pan, singing loudly, cooking a feast fit for a king.

"Quill!" Harry said. So it hadn't been a dream at all!

"Harry Potter!" said Quill, happily. "Quill thought you might be hungry!"

Harry glanced at the food already steaming on a side table. He didn't know where Quill had gotten the ingredients from, as he certainly hadn't seen any food last night, but he was extremely grateful.

He offered Quill some food, because it didn't seem right to eat while Quill didn't; but the House Elf burst into tears.

"So generous, just like Little Miss, " it sobbed.

"You must miss her a lot," Harry said, softly.

The front door slammed loudly, and Harry jumped.

"It's Achan and Maya," said Quill, sniffing. Then it called loudly:

"Achan, Maya! Come here! Quill has found something to show you."

Harry had never met a Ghost or a Goblin before so he wasn't sure what he was expecting them to look like. Maya was short, with long sharp finger nails and a tiny gold hoop earring in her left ear; Achan had a young mischievous looking face.

"Well, well!" Achan said, looking hard at Harry. "from that scar, I'd say this must be the legendary Harry Potter!"

"Legendary? Why am I legendary?" asked Harry.

Achan, Maya and Quill stared at him in disbelief.

"Boy," said Maya, "there isn't a single wizard, creature, ghost, or...or portrait in the Wizarding world that doesn't know the story of Harry Potter! You mean to say you don't know it yourself?!"

"What does the name Voldemort mean to you, kid?" Achan asked, his eyes firmly fixed on Harry's confused face.

"I don't who that is," Harry confessed.

Achan, Quill and Maya were now all looking at each other.

"Well," said Maya finally, "you're in for a long night. We've got a story to tell you."

It was a long, terrible story: the rise of Lord Voldemort and his followers and how they killed anyone or anything that stood in their way - men, women and children, generations of family wiped out in seconds - it didn't bother them; how hope was fading at ever defeating him but fear and death touching everything and everyone; how a terrible thing that was also a wonderful miracle occurred the night Voldemort murdered James and Lily Potter; how, when he tried to kill Harry, the child had lived and Voldemort had not.

Harry was left with a scar, parentless, but alive, and he had saved the Wizarding World from Voldemort. In doing so, he had managed to do what powerful grown Witches and Wizards couldn't.

He was the only known person to survive the Killing Curse.

Through this horrible story, Harry learned that night who and what he really was; he was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, a wizard and the child of wizards, a hero and the child of heroes, and he belonged to the Wizarding World.

"You promised me that staying with Petunia would keep him safe!" Severus hissed, his eyes brimming with rage. "Lily's son is missing - he could even be dead - and it's your fault!"

"I checked the list for the students who will attend Hogwarts in the future," said Dumbledore, calmly. "His name is still on that list, which as you know means he's still alive. Unfortunately there no longer an address to which we can send his acceptance letter." He didn't say it out loud, but he and Snape were both thinking it: when a wizard minor moved house, the Ministry always know where to find them.

"That makes me feel so much better," Severus snarled.

"I am concerned for the boy's safety just as much as you are," said Dumbledore quietly.

"No, you are worried that you have lost your only hope against Voldemort," said Severus, his eyes glittering. "That's all he is or ever will be to you, Albus."

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