Chapter 1

At some point Harry realized his uncle had let go of him and he was now lying on several of Dudley's cast off electronics. It wasn't the most comfortable of lying spots but being far too tired to move Harry let his limbs rest and tried to get in as many deep breaths as he could. Part of him was aware that his family was still in the room but they didn't seem like such a high priority any more. He knew that something very powerful magically had happened and now things were different but he didn't entirely understand what or how. Such personal contemplations were abruptly interrupted.

"Harry?" A voice from the hallway desperately called alerting Harry to the presence of additional people in the house. Perhaps the order member on duty had come to check up on him. Something magical had definitely just happened in his room and he hoped that he wasn't going to get blamed for it. The familiar face that stepped into the room was not one he was expecting though.

Shoulder length, red hair framed a round, pretty face with almond-shaped, green eyes. She was average height, but hunched and panting from running up the stairs. Despite having seen so many pictures of her, it was having his own eyes stare at him from her face that made him realize exactly who it was standing in front of him. A second later, a less flushed face, came to stand behind the woman. The man was taller than Harry had ever imagined and wore a thin, handsome face. Like Harry he had untidy, black hair which hung over heavy worry-lines in his fore head.

"Oh my god," the redheaded woman gasped stepping toward Harry slowly.

"Harry," the man's voice was little more than a breath.

Harry lay frozen faced with the impossibility of the situation. His parents were dead and yet there they stood a physical presence. There was no way for them to be standing there. Within Harry's scope of magical knowledge, there was no way anyone could recreate their appearance with such perfection. It had to be them. They had to be dead. Harry must be dead. There was no other way that this confrontation could have been in play.

Lily approached and knelt down next to him so that she was within touching distance of the boy. "Harry?" She spoke with a timidity that might be used to approach an injured animal and reached a hand out toward his face.

"Am I dead?" She drew away her fingers as if scalded.

"No. No. Harry. You are not dead." Lily replied trying to keep her voice steady. The shock from just seeing him again was being magnified by seeing him almost broken. It was written all over her face that she just wanted to pull him into her arms and hold him. James came over and knelt down beside her, taking her trembling hand into his.

Harry eyed her as suspiciously as he could, looking at her sideways from the floor.

"Are you dead?" He asked tentatively, for the first time in his life not being completely sure of the answer.

"Of course not son," James replied while his wife choked on shock.

Harry took this new information in slowly, eyes skimming over every surface of their faces. He analyzed the plane of their noses, the shape of their eyes, and the line of their jaws. Then with unsteady hands, he reached up to Lily. His fingers found the curve of her cheek. There was a texture to her face, the makeup she used to cover up worry lines. Having finished his investigation of his mother, Harry shifted over to examine James. His face was so much like Harry's that it was like touching a reflection. Harry carefully ran his fingers across the side of James's nose which was slightly more angled than his own. They were so real. It was a dream turned real life.

"I'm dreaming." Harry concluded finally. Like the body creates a fever to fight a cold, his magic must have produced a fever equivalent to fight the attack. He was going to be in so much trouble with Uncle Vernon later for staying up all night talking to hallucinations. He just hoped that he wouldn't wake anyone up.

"What happened to you?" James asked simply when no other adult in the room knew what to say. Lily looked up at him: how he could ignore Harry's mental state. James ignored her determined to try a new tactic.

"I don't know," Harry settled on when he finally decided to answer the query. He was too tired to really figure out what the question meant but he figured he should answer his parents when asked something—even if they were only hallucinations. "I'm tired…I can't think."

"That's alright Harry," said Lily quietly while James reached a hand to the teen. "Let's go home and you can go to bed."

This sounded like a wonderful idea to Harry but there was something off about actually trying it. He took James' hand in order to sit up. Trembling there on the floor with his hand in the warm steady hand of his father, his eyes found the Dursleys standing off to the side watching the reunion. This was his home. At least during the summer. He had to stay here.

"I can't." Harry dropped James' hand. His brain was foggy but he'd had his orders about staying near the house drilled into his head. "I have to stay here till the Order comes for me."

"What order?" James asked suspiciously. Lily shot him a powerful glare that made her husband back off quickly.

"Do you want to go this order Harry?" Lily asked softly.

This was all wrong. His parents should know what the Order was. They had been members. They had fought Voldemort full time under Dumbledore's leadership. Even as hallucinations they should know everything about themselves that Harry knew about them. Harry was no longer so sure that he knew what was going on. If only he could think things through maybe he could work this out. Nothing made sense.

"Come home with us honey," Lily suggested when Harry never answered her question.

Whoever they were they wanted Harry to go with them and Harry knew that he needed to stay right where he was. He was too tired to reason but that at least was comprehensible. Blinking, trying to banish his exhaustion, Harry brought up a shaking arm to point his wand at the redheaded woman. It hurt so much to hold it there he wasn't sure he could for very long, let alone cast a spell.

Responding in kind, James drew his own wand but held it at ready rather than point it at his son.

"Put them away," a scandalized Lily commanded though neither of them complied.

"Lily, he's clearly not in his right mind," James replied making eye contact with Harry's unsteady vision. "I'm not going to harm him—just make sure he doesn't harm himself or us."

Knowing that he didn't have the energy for a duel, or even to hold up his arm much longer, Harry opted to move fast. He began a basic wand motion intending to disarm his opponent but before he could even begin to form the word, a red light was streaming through the air toward him. Knowing that he couldn't dodge Harry focused on occluding his mind before his exhausted body slumped to the floor completely unconscious.

"James Potter!" Lily cried horrified. "I can't believe you just stunned your own son!"

"He was about to cast something. It could have been offensive," James replied in defense before shrugging away his transgression. "Now we can take him home without an argument."

Lily Potter sighed at her husband and went to gather her son into her arms.

An auburn haired woman sat by her unconscious, unmoving son on a mahogany bed. Her small hands picked up the end of the quilt and brought it all the way up to his chin. She had made it for a little boy excited about being old enough to have a big kid's bed. Her little boy had hero worshipped his father so she'd picked out the squares from his father's old clothes. One square came from his father's quidditch uniform, a cloth, red quaffle sewn into one quarter of the square. Another square had been cut out of the hideous, orange, muggle t-shirt his father had worn to impress the little boy's mother on their first date. The little boy's favorite square came from the red robe his father wore to work the day the little boy had been born. His father had walked out of an important meeting with important people to watch the little boy wiggle his way out (as his father described it) and the little boy loved to hear his father tell the story again and again. The auburn haired woman ran her hand over the dark haired teen's hair before turning to the little boy's father.

"We should be taking him to St. Mungo's. After whatever he's gone through he needs medical attention." Lily asserted, tears pooling along the bottom lid of her eyes.

James closed the gap between them and offered her a steady hand. She took it quietly but remained seated at her son's side. His steady though shallow breath the only comfort she received that he was really there.

She'd sat at the little boy's side in the same manner whenever he got sick—sitting, watching him breathe. The little boy had gotten older and older until he went off to school and she couldn't be there when he was ill or injured. While he was away at school, she would find comfort just lying on his quilt when she got home from work. The little boy's father would find her there often and tease her for missing the little boy. He'd always insist that they should miss their little boy together.

"We'd attract a lot of press by taking him to the hospital. I maintain it's best to do what we can here at first. Keep things quiet. Contact Dumbledore. Once we have more information, we'll take him in to be checked over," James replied squeezing his wife's hand.

One day the little boy's father and mother went to the big city to pick him up. He was coming home from school. He had become a young man while away and they were excited to see him. When the young man got off the bright, red train, his parents gave him hugs and told him how proud they were of him. The young man left his luggage with his parents and went to say goodbye to his friends. Disappearing into the crowd he never made it to his friend but never made it back to his parents.

"I'm asking Victoria to come over," insisted the fiery woman with a nod. "She'll do everything she can."

James laughed and swooped her up into his arms. Swinging them around in a circle he continued to laugh open faced and honest. It seemed almost beyond comprehension that his son was back.

Twelve other people had gone missing that day at that time. The public demanded there was some connection between the disappearances but the authorities refused it was possible. Most of the newspapers had published articles backing the government and left the families of the missing persons with little support. Till one powerful man, the headmaster of the young man's school approached the families with creating a support network among themselves and those that believed. He insisted that together they could discover the truth and help their missing loved ones.

"James!" Lily admonished with a smack to his upper arm. "Harry's clearly exhausted. Let him sleep."

As the summer term of the boy's school started to come to a close, his parents began to distress. His mother stopped going to work in order to constantly search for her child. His father dreaded that they'd find their son cold and still in a alley.

"But my son is home!" James whooped in reply, setting her down and settling for a hug and kiss instead. "And my wife is amazing."

Lily chuckled lightly before looking back at the sunken eyes of their son. He looked so small and much younger than she'd last seen him. She'd been startled more than once at the numerous scars she found covering his thin body as she dressed him for bed. It was what she couldn't see that worried her the most. What kind of mental scarring might he wake up with. She shook her head as if loosening such things in her mind could take them from reality.

"I wouldn't celebrate just yet," she sighed letting James lead her from the room.

Downstairs, in the kitchen, Lily made a floo call to a mentor from Hogwarts. Victoria Stuit had been a few years older but in Gryffindor with the Potters and was a little annoyed at being woken up by a fire call. Victoria had shared Lily's passion for potions and had tutored the younger girl. While Lily had gone into potion research, improvement and development, her blond friend had gone into the medical field. A short conversation later, the tall woman stepped through the fire place to embrace Lily. She had hardly finished explaining the situation before Victoria was soothing her worries and rushing upstairs to examine the unconscious boy.

Ryan Stuit, Victoria's older brother, was the first to be reported missing with the MLE.

Meanwhile, sitting on the counter, James was sending out an emergency summons to Dumbledore. Dumbledore had ingeniously come up with a private form of contact for everyone involved using chocolate frog cards. Minutes later, the flames flashed green again and the most powerful wizard of the age stepped through.

"So, one of the lost has returned," he said brushing a spot of soot off his extravagant robes.

Harry woke up feeling groggy and barely rested. He had no doubt that he'd slept through making breakfast when he felt the warmth of the sun on his face. Given these facts it was a bit of a surprise that Aunt Petunia didn't have anything to say on the matter. He supposed that it was possible his family thought he had gone crazy and were leaving him alone. There was no argument to their logic that Harry could think of. He wasn't sure he wanted to be near himself after the hallucinations.

Stretching out his limbs, they were a little sore but nothing he hadn't dealt with before, Harry opened his eyes though little good they'd do before he found his glasses. It was much farther to the bed table than he remembered.

"Looking for these?" A kindly familiar voice asked pressing something glasses shaped into his searching hand.

"Professor!" Harry exclaimed greeted by a pair of twinkling blue eyes. Dumbledore sat in an elaborate high back chair (which Harry was sure had been conjured only when Dumbledore had decided to sit) at his bedside.

Looking past the headmaster he realized he wasn't anyplace he was familiar with. The bed was larger than his at the Dursley's or at Hogwarts and the thick quilt, ruffled from recent sleep, looked homemade. The room was closer to the size of Dudley's and Puddlemere United players flying in blue, winked and waved from the walls. The smaller, personal pictures were too far for Harry to see but they could be of people he knew given the Gryffindor banner hanging on the closet door. A strong impression lingered that the room belonged to a teenager but hadn't been lived in recently—it was far too clean.

"How are you feeling Harry?" Dumbledore inquired when he thought Harry had acclimated a bit to his situation.

"Still tired but much better, sir," the dark haired teen replied sitting up against the headboard. "What happened last night?"

"You've been asleep for well over a day, Harry," chuckled Dumbledore with an extra twinkle in his eye.

"What?" Harry yawned.

"Magical exhaustion," Dumbledore explained simply. "You used even your spare stores, and needed the sleep to replenish. I imagine that being under weight and malnourished didn't help at all. A week of rest, good food, and a few foul tasting potions will put you right again. And as to the other night, I was hoping you would be able to tell me."

"I'm not really sure but," Harry paused, hesitant from being told he had been underweight and malnourished. He'd never been comfortable discussing his life with the Dursley's. Picking at the ribbons tied into the quilt, nervously Harry continued. "I was attacked by something magical: a curse, or something. I'm not sure. I'm not going to get in trouble for it though am I?"

"Of course not son," Dumbledore assured him leaning forward and catching Harry's eye. "Tell me about the curse."

"It was like being shoved through a block of ice and then I was hot and cold at the same time and it hurt so much. When it was all over, things got weird; I could hardly move and started hallucinating. I thought that maybe someone from the Order would come and check on me but no one ever came." Harry paused again before smiling slightly. "Well someone obviously came to check on me or I wouldn't be here now right."

His old, grandfatherly mentor nodded thoughtfully. A master of conversation, Dumbledore paused long enough to encourage Harry to continue without prompt.

"It was like my parents were there, professor. I know it's ridiculous but I could touch them and talk to them. They wanted me to go with them." It seemed to come out in a jumbled mess to him but Harry was sure that the headmaster understood enough to be startled by this information.

Harry took a couple breaths reliving how real they had been in his mind. Next to him, Dumbledore gave the troubled teen some mental space to assimilate all that had happened to him lately. Harry played over all the events again. It had all been so real that he wasn't even completely sure now that he was thinking straight that they were hallucinations. Looking back at the headmaster, Harry saw a look he associated with conversations the old man didn't really want to have with him. Their gazes caught and Harry sighed hoping that they could just get the conversation over with. When Dumbledore began to speak the twinkle was gone from his eyes: a sight Harry had seen very few times in his life.

"Harry, do you know where you are right now?" The question was stated slowly but directly.

"The new order headquarters, professor?" Harry shrugged in response feeling little importance in the question.

The headmaster neither confirmed nor denied the accuracy of this statement. The long contemplation of his response led Harry to believe that there was more to his location then he had grasped at first.

"If you're feeling well enough, I'd like you to take a closer look around the room." The elderly man extended a hand to help him up.

Harry accepted, slipping out of the bed to discover himself in a pair of red pajama pants. They were loose on his slim hips and he stepped on the hems as he made his way around the room. They were comfortable but he felt as if he was intruding. As he began examining the clutter of the top of the dresser he got the impression that the pajama pants belonged to the room's owner.

With Dumbledore's eyes watching him with anticipation, Harry felt the need to dig a bit into the clutter but the modest collection of chocolate frog cards and various knick knacks held little interest to him. Out of bored curiosity he riffled through to see which cards the other teen had. There were four Dumbledores, six Gryffindors, three Merlins and one rare Cliodna but not one Harry Potter card. A Paracelsus scowled at him as he pushed it out of the way to find an inactive practice snitch.

Closer examine revealed that it was a model for children but Harry still found a little comfort knowing that whoever's room it was shared his love of playing quidditch as well as watching it. Palming the snitch Harry moved on to the rest of the room. Like the dresser there was nothing personally familiar until he reached the desk. Spare parchment sat in one corner as well as a few failed attempts at summer homework. It looked like fourth year material but Harry wasn't sure as he had never needed to do defense against the darks arts homework over the summer.

Most curious was the line of pictures toward the back of the desk. They were all of Hogwarts and its students—at least all the laughing, scowling, and bored faces were of school age children in Hogwart's robes. One was taken in the Gryffindor common room which showed Hermione hunched over homework with a black haired girl that Harry didn't recognize. A little ways off by the fire, sat Ron playing chess with a chubby, blond boy who appeared to be keeping up with the redheaded strategy-master of Gryffindor. Much like his friends in the photo, Harry was lounging on the striped upholstery laughing with a boy that looked like a leaner Neville. The photo was completely impossible but as he moved to examine the rest, they presented the same oddities. Dean, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, Fred, George, Angelina, Katie and Lee Jordan all appeared but in addition to students that Harry had never seen before.

The most striking one was of the Neville-looking boy in quidditch robes of red and gold tossing a quaffle for a close score. In the background Harry watched himself leap off his broom to catch the snitch midair from just below Draco Malfoy's left foot while grabbing onto the Slytherin's broom with the other hand. While the look on Malfoy's face was fantastic it was a stunt Harry had never pulled in his impressively dangerous quidditch career.

"Mister Longbottom has been most dedicated in the search for you," Dumbledore said startling Harry slightly. The headmaster had walked over while Harry was puzzling over the picture.

"I was missing, professor?" Harry gave the old man a puzzled look and set the photo back in its place.

Dumbledore's face dropped making him look far older than Harry had ever seen him.

"I think, perhaps, that it is time for lunch and we can pursue that discussion after we have both eaten." There was a hesitation in the headmaster's voice but Harry was feeling quite hungry. Prompted by a growl from his own stomach Harry nodded as Dumbledore continued, "The room's owner has given you express permission to use any of his belongings. You may find the clothing a little large but come down stairs when you've dressed."