Chapter 2

Feeling a little like he was invading, Harry went through the drawers of the dresser to find a pair of worn jeans and a t-shirt. They didn't fit as well as his Hogwarts robes but they fit much better than any of Dudley's clothing ever had. There were robes as well but they were of much higher quality than the muggle clothing so Harry shied away from them. It felt more natural to wear the cheaper of someone else's clothes.

The walk downstairs was more tiring than Harry would have liked but he was sure that eating something would help. The stairs opened up into the kitchen, which was nearly as clean as the Dursley's when Harry was home for the summer. Vivid-yellow walls brightened the room reflecting the light streaming in through abundant windows. It wasn't very large but orderly in a way that opened the space efficiently. It was homely in a way different than the Weasley's kitchen. It lacked the clutter but none of the sense that it was lived in. A simple four person table sat in the corner by the largest window. A plate of turkey sandwiches sat in the middle calling directly to Harry's stomach.

"Don't touch that sandwich, young man," a voice said sternly causing Harry to pull his hand back. "I've got a two potions you need to take while you're stomach is still empty."

The woman who had spoken stood in the doorway leading to the rest of the house. She was tall with short blond hair and a square jaw. The lime green healers' robes she wore hid many pockets that she withdrew various potions from as she walked. She held out a particularly toxic-pink colored one to him before taking a seat. The rest of the vials she placed on the table.

"Drain it, then count to thirty eight and drink the lighter blue one." She ordered.

"Why thirty eight?" Harry asked eyeing the potion in his hand. It looked like something might be swimming in it.

The healer made a motion towards the vial and Harry sighed before taking a deep breath. The liquid had the texture of yogurt but tasted of vinegar. The teen made no attempt to hide how he felt about it as he began to count.

"There must be at least a thirty second gap between the two potions to allow the first one to begin interaction with your stomach acids before the second one makes it down your esophagus." She said with a smile; her manner becoming abruptly milder. She rested an elbow on the table and grabbed a sandwich. "Thirty eight gives you a little leeway."

The second one was a million times worse. It was gritty and viciously sweet. Had he not had a lot of experience choking down horrible tasting potions he probably would not have been able to get it down.

"Eat up," the healer was smiling playfully and placed a sandwich on his plate. "You look like you've hardly eaten all summer."

"Shouldn't I wait till I've digested the potions or something?" Harry asked eyeballing the remaining potions on the table.

"Nah, once they're in your stomach it doesn't matter," she explained taking a big bite of her own sandwich. "We're dealing with magic not muggle medicine."

Shrugging, Harry picked up the sandwich and took a small bite. Despite how hungry he felt, he doubted he'd be able to finish the whole thing. There was a slightly awkward silence as they ate. The healer watching every bite Harry took. The sandwich was pretty good but about half way through Harry set it down no longer hungry. The blond woman eyed him, daring him to leave it on his plate. They sat in stalemate for a moment before the she sighed and pushed a cream colored potion toward him.

"Don't worry this one's not so bad," her face had become drawn and she watched as the thin teen downed the smooth liquid. She motioned toward the remaining vial before speaking again. "Drink that in about two hours and I'll be back to check on you at dinner."

She stood and stared at him till Harry met her eyes. Her face lightened a little again.

"Victoria Stuit," she introduced herself.

"Harry Potter," he replied shaking the offered hand. The smile returned to her face.

"I know. Well I've got to get back to work. You're not the only one in need of a healer's touch." She winked at him before walking over to the fire place. "When they come back and get mad because I left, tell them you're a big boy and don't need adult supervision at all times."

Harry chuckled as Victoria grabbed a hand full of floo powder but didn't toss it into the fire. Instead she paused for several seconds. Finally she turned back around to look into the brilliant green eyes of the teen.

"Harry, I'm glad to see you doing so well. Thank you," she spoke slowly as if to make her meaning perfectly clear before stepping into the flames.

Harry paused to take in her words. It seemed like a particular thing to say. The whole situation was beginning to feel odd to him. People rarely thanked him for looking healthy. Well with the exception of Madam Pomphrey.

"I see Healer Stuit had to return to work," Dumbledore said from the wooden doorframe interrupting Harry's thought process. He nodded towards the table before stating that a little bit of food always did people right.

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed not really believing it.

"Well, Harry, I believe we have much to discuss," the old man said gesturing to the open doorway.

Harry followed Dumbledore into a hallway which opened up into the living room. Sitting on a tan couch facing him sat his parents: life size and anxious.

James Potter stood up when Harry froze. He took a step forward causing Harry to reach into the jeans for his wand. The crippling realization hit him that he hadn't had his wand since he'd passed out. The whole summer he'd reached for his wand first thing upon waking, but that morning he'd been so disoriented that he hadn't. What a fool. The whole wizarding world was at war, and their chosen one had walked around in an unknown place completely unarmed.

Voldemort had hit an all time crazy if he thought that Harry would fall for this scheme. It was unlikely that he'd gotten hair off Dumbledore without the man knowing so it might not be polyjuice but Harry wasn't going to doubt the power of illusions. The man had killed unicorns to sustain himself; there was no magical length he wouldn't go to.

Harry paled and backed up until he was up against the wall. The potions. There could have been anything in those. He could be dosed with Vertiaserum or some kind of hallucinogen. The couple in front of him could actually be the Malfoys or Parkinsons.

He had to get out of here. The fake Dumbledore blocked the hallway, and the front door was too far for him to get to without being hexed. All escape plans required that the house was actually real and not a part of the elaborate illusion.

"Drop the illusion," Harry hissed. If he had to deal with Death Eaters he was going to deal with them face to face. "I'm not going to participate in your sick joke."

Expecting his captors to pop out and mock his bravery, Harry was not prepared for the broken look on his mother's face. She sobbed and covered her mouth. The man playing his father turned as if to assure the woman.

"Yeah, you're great actors," Harry conceded rudely.

"We're your parents," the dark haired man insisted in convincing disbelief.

"Really? How did you do it? Is the cute, family home part of the illusion or did you borrow it from some unsuspecting family now lying dead in the cellar?"

The imposters blanched at his accusations of murder. The woman recovered quicker but only slightly. She took a few deep breaths as tears created slick pathways down her face. Her voice was soft but impassioned. "This is your home, Harry. Our home."

"Oh, I get it now," Harry crowed through Gryffindor boldness alone—still pressed to the wall, desperately wishing for a magical out. If he could call their bluff then maybe they would pull the illusion and put Harry back on more equal footing. He was used to dealing with psychotic Death Eaters in robes and creepy masks not playing mind games. Harry wondered that Voldemort could mock an orphan so mercilessly. "The room upstairs is supposed to be mine. Well I must say, poorly done on that matter. Everyone knows I'm a Chudley Cannons fan and those pictures."

Harry clenched his teeth fighting the helplessness and anger. They weren't just mocking him. That laughing, confident Neville could have been what the clumsy boy would have been like had he grown up with his parents. The Voldemort and his Death Eaters had taken away that chance from both boys. It was unforgivable that they would exploit that fact in order to manipulate the Boy-Who-Lived.

"The only people I know cruel enough to come up with something like those pictures are the Lestranges." Harry snarled at the speechless couple in front of him. Catching the crushed eyes of the woman he filled his with thread of hate in his being. "I will kill you one day Bellatrix."

"Harry James Potter!" The man Harry assumed was Rodolphus shouted, as the woman tried to calm him despite her own sobs.

"Now Harry," the Dumbledore imposter stepped in.

The enraged teen turned to face the old man. His long silver beard was tucked into his belt and there was a particularity in the blue eyes peering out over half-moon spectacles. The seriousness to his air silenced the allegation Harry had prepared. It was frightening how the look completed the usually kind and gentle face of the headmaster. The occupants of the room all took a minute to compose themselves emotionally under the old man's commanding presence.

"Now Harry," he repeated calmly. "I must say I find your accusations quite alarming. I believe you've been through a lot and at the moment I cannot explain the incongruities between our accepted reality and your own. However, if we could sit and have some tea, I believe that we could discuss the situation and come to a resolution."

Turning to glance at the imposters, Harry was shaken by their appearance. The couple stood gripping onto each other as if they could hold together the world if they held each other tight enough. They resembled the photos of his parents perfectly if a lot less care free. They looked so haggard and quite a bit older. Who ever had constructed their appearances had thought through the details. They didn't look like the kids that had died after barely being married for a year. These two looked like they'd lived for the last fifteen years. The way they gazed back, it was like they'd loved him unconditionally for his whole life.

Tears began to well into Harry's eyes. He couldn't allow himself to be swayed by how real everything felt. His parents had died to protect him and now Voldemort was abusing that sacrifice. The orphan sank to the floor with his knees pulled up against him. He looked so small, curled in on himself.

"I won't play games," Harry said resolutely. "If Voldemort wants to torture me, he can do it to my face."

"Voldemort?" His father's mouth questioned.

A wrinkled hand came up quickly vanishing all thought of further interrogating the boy. Blue eyes never left Harry's face, and though Harry wouldn't look directly at him, he could feel the weight of the old man's gaze. When the wizened man spoke, it was directly to the boy on the floor.

"You have made it abundantly clear that you do not wish to participate in any conversation we have. I would suggest then that you go back upstairs and rest."

While taking orders from Death Eaters desecrating the image of people he respected greatly grated against his very being, Harry knew that he could start planning his escape and gather more information upstairs. He stood slowly, keeping his eyes on the rooms occupants and backed out of the room. They may be playing a kindly role but that didn't mean they wouldn't hex him in the back. In fact he couldn't be completely sure he wouldn't be ambushed the second he stepped into the room upstairs.

Cautiously opening the red door at the top of the stairs, Harry was determined to keep his guard up after having let it down for so long. Mad Eye would be appalled; he could practically hear the retired auror yelling "constant vigilance." No amount of vigilance however could stop the wave of exhaustion that hit the teen as he stepped into the room. He had been a tired before but in a manageable way. It had to be a spell of some sort and Harry was suddenly appalled that he'd walked into a trap twice.

Concentrating as hard as he could, he slowly made his way over to the window hoping the most obvious way out of the room would actually work. Unfortunately when he demanded that his body actually open the window, he couldn't get the glass to lift. One hand clutching the sill, Harry Potter passed out on the floor.

"I hope the boy had the good sense to lie down on the bed," Dumbledore said sitting down on the only arm chair and whisking a tea set into existence with a twitch of his wand.

Neither James nor Lily knew what to say in response to that but it mattered little to them as there were more pressing issues they needed to discuss.

"He," Lily paused looking at her husband. Their son had gone completely insane. "He…" She couldn't find the right words.

"Thinks this is all some illusion created to torment him," James finished when it became clear that Lily wasn't going to be able to complete a sentence.

The headmaster nodded gravely in agreement. He motioned towards the couch opposite his seat and suggested that they sit. Lily sat but James was inclined to remain standing. He had never been one to take things sitting down, preferring to stand in order to act quickly based on any information he received. Neither of them accepted the offer of tea and biscuits.

"He trusted you this morning," James said as soon as he deemed Dumbledore was done trying to make them comfortable. He cared little for comfort at the moment; he wanted answers. He wanted to fix things.

"I believe he thought I was a member of his order," the headmaster replied taking a sip of his tea.

"But that implies that he trusts this order, whatever it is," Lily said having composed herself with the unbending devotion to her son's well being. "If he was with this order, people he trusts, why couldn't he come home? Why would they torture him?"

"That is odd, though I am not convinced that the people responsible for his disappearance and this order are the same. In addition, it strikes me that when he woke he was far more concerned with being cursed recently than being taken. He didn't even appear to have any knowledge of his own disappearance. The whole situation worries me." Dumbledore said setting down his tea and popping a small sweet into his mouth. He chewed for a moment reasoning out his explanation before he spoke again, "I'd like to do some research into the matter."

The loud crack of apparition came from the kitchen followed by a hurried bark, "James. James Potter!"

"In the front room," James called back.

A second crack and Sirius Black was suddenly standing in front of them. Despite having strong physical endurance, mandatory for work and personal vanity, he was breathing heavily. His red outer robes were missing and the lighter robes he wore underneath were torn. To see his best friend in such a state, James immediately checked him over for injury.

"Is it so far to walk from my kitchen?" James teased when he found no harm.

"You have to come with me right now," Sirius replied between heavy breaths completely ignoring James' jest.

"We're in the middle of something," James said motioning to Dumbledore who stood.

"I'm going to attend to that research," the headmaster said to indicate that the conversation was over.

"There you go, you're no longer in the middle of something," Sirius responded with a nod to Dumbledore. He glanced over at Lily a couple of times but wouldn't actually meet her eyes. "And I have to show you something right now."

"Can't you just tell me what it is," James' exasperation evident in his voice as he spoke. He wanted to stay here with Harry and Lily. He had taken time off work in order to be here when Harry woke up and to help in whatever way he could. Not even Sirius's begging could make him want to go in after all that had happened

Sirius looked over at Lily again and shook his head. "I can't. I just really need you to come with me. It's a thousand times more important than anything going on here."

Shaking his head James sighed. He wanted to explain everything that had happened over the last two days but after Harry's reaction to his own parents it didn't seem like such a good idea. As Harry's godfather, Sirius had been more than an uncle to the boy growing up and he would want to see Harry immediately. James didn't think he could watch his son reject Sirius the way he had rejected him.

"Look, Sirius, I really need to be here right now in case Harry turns up," It was a half truth but one James could live with for now.

"I know," his best friend replied quietly. All of the Marauders had taken turns just staying in the house in case Harry came home. The light in the front room hadn't been turned off since the day he went missing. "And this is still more important. James. Please."

"Go, James," Lily cut in with a surety in her words. "Time out of the house and some fresh air will be good for you. I can handle everything here"

There was reason to her words that James nodded to. He didn't really want to leave after all that had happened but Sirius needed him and maybe the distance would help. He turned toward his best friend reluctantly. "Alright."

Sirius pulled out two small magical beckons that give him the coordinates of where to go once Sirius got there. They tapped the matching green disks with their wands aligning them before the two best friend disapparated one after the other.

James landed in a back alley between two grungy brick buildings. It was still early afternoon but the alley gave the impression that even during the day time it wasn't a friendly place to be. Sirius was already rummaging through a one of the huge muggle rubbish bins. Given the amount of trash littering the cobblestone it didn't seem that the muggles were inclined to actually use the bins.

"Where are we?" James sighed.

"Oxford," Sirius replied abandoning his shifting of trash to look back at his best friend. There was a finality to his voice that hadn't been present before. He leaned back against the bin and began to explain, "See this morning the Improper Use of Magic Office was alerted to obvious apparition in front of a large group of muggles at a retirement home, a place muggle send the old they don't want to deal with I guess. The Improper Use guys show up to investigate and there's old Paul Jens—"

"Was he sane?" James cut in abruptly suddenly much more interested. Why hadn't Sirius had just explained this back at the house? If the other missing persons were showing up there was hope that one of them might still be sane. Even just one sane mind could explain the infirmity of the rest and then they could help the others.

Sirius ignored him despite the desperation in his voice.

"Anyway, they call us onto the scene because we're in charge of the whole case. And then they started getting more alerts: all apparition in muggle places. We were starting to get spread pretty thin, so when one came up in Oxford I offered to take it by myself. I thought, if Paul Jens showed up in a place for old people, and Beth Martin in a muggle law enforcement building, and Sarah Carter in a muggle restaurant. Oxford is a well known muggle school, so it just made sense…" Sirius trailed off looking over his shoulder into the rubbish bins.

"That Harry would be here," James finished but Harry couldn't be here; he was safe at home with Lily. "But were any of them sane Sirius?"

"They were all dead," Sirius replied slowly picking his auror robe out of the bin which obviously covered something else. He cradled it against his body as he continued, "I had to tell you first. I couldn't… I couldn't say anything in front of Lily. I…"

James shook his head stepping back. "Harry's not dead."

"I couldn't believe it either. I did the identification charm probably fifty times," the other auror replied pulling the robe open to reveal the body of a teenage boy in his arms.

The dead boy looked almost healthier than the live one James had seen less than twenty minutes ago. Muscles toned from incessant quidditch and a color associated with strong health during life were still present. Despite this it was easy to tell that the body had been dead for a few days. James took a step forward toward his son. There was no doubt that it looked exactly like him. The shaggy black hair stuck up in all directions and his eyes were closed but James knew that if he opened them they would be emerald. He was still even wearing the muggle jeans and loose t-shirt he had been wearing at King's Cross. Based on looks the body in Sirius's arms was Harry James Potter.

Still unable to believe that this could be his son, James pulled his wand and performed the identification charm. When a body couldn't be identified by the law enforcement, as was sometimes the case with extreme dark rituals, an auror would use a charm to determine the name of the deceased. No matter how many times James did it, "Harry James Potter," whispered from dead lips.

"Does anyone else know that you found him?" James asked suddenly pulling his son into his arms. The body was limp and heavy and hard to hold in the large robes but James clutched him desperately to his chest.

"Uh, no, I went to you first. The tops want to keep it quiet for a little bit so not even the families have been notified, but I couldn't not tell you." Sirius replied looking confused.

"Good. You investigated the alert but it really was just a punk kid apparating in front of muggles. You oblivated the muggles and told off the kid but figured that they needed you back at the ministry to help deal with the recent mass murder so you let him off with a warning." James improvised with what he hoped was believability.

"James, what are you going to do with his body?" Sirius asked stepping forward worried about the path his best friend could take out of desperation.

"I need you to trust me, Padfoot, for Harry's sake," James said frantically. "I'll explain everything when you come over after work."

"Harry's dead, Prongs," Sirius placed a hand on his best friends shoulder. The comfort from contact was lost on both men.

"If Harry's dead, than who's at the house?" James asked anxiously. Their eyes met and Sirius realized that there was no jest in his manner.

"What!"