A/N: I had written this chapter almost two months ago and yet, my muse wasn't satisfied with it. I have made much changes to the latter part.

Answers to some questions: What magic Baba Yaga did practice? I won't be telling now, but you will get a glimpse about it here. However, i will like to point out that her affinity is towards Dark Magic.

Note: This is not proofed by Beta. I will update the chapter when I receive it.

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter and JKR's works...

Harry was quite content with the dream he was having. Because that's what it was after all… a dream. And he never wanted it to end. He had such dreams before, he mused as the vague awareness crept in him and he felt the softness of the bed against the skin. He smiled, it was an elaborate dream after all. However, he had to admit his imagination was working on overtime for him to imagine such comfort of a bed to sleep in. In his dreams there was a pretty lady with flaming red hair and brilliant green eyes. He held strong affections towards her and didn't hesitate in the slightest to call her 'mum'. He knew how these types of dreams usually end. There would be the high pitched laughter and he would wake up in his cupboard scared and all alone.

He was perfectly content with his current dream even though something told him that the pretty lady in his dreams had dressed in unusual clothes and had brilliant violet eyes with rich black hair.

With, a bit yawn and certain sadness in his heart he got up to open his cupboard door to make breakfast…

'Wait a minute!' Harry thought and he opened his eyes in a flash.

"It really wasn't a dream" Harry whispered careful not to jinx it. He looked around where the faeries were kept, in a jar. They were right there! He was reminded of conversation he had last night.

"Set the faeries free in the morning." She had said. And so he did.

The faeries floated around his face and were up to their usual antics. He giggled as they tried to take away his glasses. One went as far as to pull his ears while few were buzzing excitedly around enjoying new found freedom. Harry was filled with a warm glow and felt his eyes moisten slightly. It hadn't even been a day and it felt so good to be free of Dursleys. It felt good to be wanted, to actually play with these strange creatures than to do mindless chores.

His thoughts slowly drifted towards the lady. He wondered if she would want her breakfast. Nervousness overtook the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest. The faeries were all brilliant but it didn't seem to lift his nervous bundle of energy quickly rumbling in his chest.

Finally, after pacing for some time, he headed towards the door after admiring for a brief moment, the designs carved in the wooden frame. He stepped outside. There, he saw a small table with two chairs which weren't there when he had arrived later in the night. And just across the table was the lady with her back turned towards him. He walked towards her with a bit of apprehension and uncertainty. He didn't actually know her and wondered what kind of person she actually would be. She had been rather angry at the Dursleys for treating him badly but he, Harry, couldn't just base that behavior to know who actually was. He didn't even know her name to start with!

He was beginning to experience a familiar yet queasy feeling in his stomach now that he thought about all those things. Amongst all those things, he remembered the latter part of night where he had broke down. He wondered for a brief moment if she would hate him for being like that.

It was thus an embarrassed harry which Yaga found when she turned to see him. She walked forth to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning Harry." She greeted him cheerfully.

"Good morning Mam." Harry greeted back in a polite tone his body rather stiff.

"Call me Gretel, Harry… or Aunt whichever you like."

"Good Morning Mrs. Gretel." Harry was happy at seeing her beaming. He was wary of calling anyone 'Aunt'.

"Breakfast is almost ready." Harry's stomach growled yet again when he inhaled the smell wafting from kitchen. Yaga gave a soft chuckle and Harry's face felt suddenly hot.

"Hungry are you?" Harry was still surprised to find her tone so pleasant and lively. Taking a chance, he replied back, "Yes, Mrs. Gretel."

"Here you have it then." Yaga said as she placed two fresh omelets with orange juice on the table. He was surprised that he was allowed to sit on a chair rather than to get out of sight like he was ordered to at the Dursleys.

He chalked it up to one more plus point for being free from the Dursleys. He dug in with much eagerness to the omelet.

"I need to discuss something with you Harry, after breakfast." Harry nodded and suddenly his mind switched in overdrive. Did something happen? Would he have to go back to the Dursleys again? God, he hoped not. His mood wasn't in the food anymore. Yaga must have noticed this as she immediately said, "Nothing grave Harry, just a bit of conversation." This seemed to alleviate his worries to some extent. Yaga shook her head as they ate in silence.

Yaga led Harry back to his room; she could clearly see his brow furrowed in concentration, as if he was trying to remember what he had done wrong. She decided to get straight to the point, "What do you know about Magic, Harry?" Harry visibly deflated, his shoulders relaxed.

"Nothing much really." Harry spoke slowly. His eyes sparkled on hope that he was about to witness more magic. Yaga had thought that Petunia had at least told him why all the unusual things were happening around him but she was wrong. She wondered if the boy thought that they were the only two of them who could perform magic. Thus she proceeded to explain all about the magical world. She explained everything that she knew with the best of her ability; she didn't leave out his parent's deaths as well as the one who had murdered them.

"But I don't even remember what happened!" Harry exclaimed. Yaga had to stifle a laugh. Out of all the things, he was more concerned of him being famous and some sadness of his parent's death. She could see the boy being overwhelmed with information and chose to stop. But what Yaga wanted to talk about came next. She hoped that he would understand the situation better.

"Magic can do many things Harry. There are quite a few things that you'll find just weird. Many times I often wonder about why wizards wear horribly pink robes with yellow strips, or, when they order butterbeer." Yaga added with a chuckle, and harry pictured the combination and to laughed a moment later. He didn't know what a butterbeer was but he was familiar with beer. His uncle drank rather large quantities of it. One or two bottles were always found at the wine-cupboard where he, was not allowed.

"But trust me when I say this Harry that your scar is indeed unusual." Yaga's tone lost all the mirth.

"Has it ever hurt?" Harry shook his head, his eyes slightly wide.

"Its..." Yaga was unable to best describe how she actually wanted to say.

"There is something in it, something that shouldn't be there." He was now alarmed.

"Will you allow me to take a look at it?" Harry gave a swift nod and Yaga gently put her hands on the scar. She placed her hands to place at his temples and squeezed them gently.

She performed various incantations that she knew but they all showed the same thing- A remnant of a killing curse. Her eyebrows furrowed. This didn't match with what she saw at Halloween night. But then again, it was possible that the curse had left its mark on him. Was something lurking beneath the scar?

"I'll have to look into more books." She murmured to herself and looked at him. The boy was scared and confused. "Not to worry, Harry Potter. If nothing works, there's always the wizarding hospital. They'll know what to do.

Yaga looked at the chest in front of her, debating the moment when she'd stepped into this room. It held her past and with it, all her hard work and her subsequent failure. She didn't trust herself with the knowledge she had gathered after decades of research. She felt as if she had betrayed some unsaid agreement by losing control over her magic.

Could she again familiarize herself with the magic she'd practice eons ago?

If felt as if only yesterday when she had wielded that powerful magic and now…the grasp on that magic had certainly loosened. It was nearly inaccessible after the purifying rituals she'd performed. She could only take comfort in the fact that she was no longer deranged killing monster she had been.

She looked down to the mark on her forearm and she was instantly reminded of the night when Thestral had given it to her.

Was this meant to be?

Part of her yearned to familiarize itself with her inherent Dark Magic she had in her, but, could she really risk not getting sucked into another cycle of mayhem of blood thirst?...and the destruction that followed?

'But this could help in figuring out what actually the scar is…' Part of her mind whispered furiously. But then again, she was aware that she could just take him to the St. Mungo's for treatment. Her breathing quickened and then, suddenly, resumed the normal pace as she came to a startling understanding.

She didn't want to take Harry Potter to St. Mungo's. It would lead to the questions such as, 'What was Harry Potter doing here? What was Harry Potter doing here? And the most unsettling question of all… What was Harry Potter doing here?

That would instantly lead people to question who she was… She had no intention of letting that happen since she already had not so genuine name. No, it would need further planning and arrangements so that when someone actually uncovered the person behind the name, Gretchen Gretel, it would be someone seeking to earn a reputation and earning galleons rather than someone shoddy and not-so trustworthy.

She had no doubt that anyone would know who she really was since…well… Baba Yaga simply didn't exist anymore. She was long dead and not in a million guesses could someone point out that the women with fair skin and black hair was indeed an ugly old woman that the book had described be… Baba Yaga.

And so, without another thought on the matter, trusting the mark and everything it meant, she opened the chest and took out a particular scroll.

Harry was getting bored. After the initial excitement had faded, he had nothing do except roam mindlessly around. Lunch had been almost a silent affair and Harry noted that Mrs. Gretel was immersed in deep thought. He had wisely finished his lunch up and made his way quietly into his room. He could see out of his window that the brightness of the day waning and that the darkness approached quickly.

Supper rolled by and he lingered behind trying to catch Yaga's attention. Yaga was deeply immersed in the writings in the scroll. It felt weird to her that she was finding it hard to read her own writings and the memory of the rituals as well as the magical arts she'd discovered. They felt strangely distant from her and she felt like she was a separate entity watching all of this from this strange body. The magical arts were familiar but there was a fog in between them which she couldn't describe.

"Uh…Mrs. Gretel." Harry said meekly. Yaga's head snapped up from her musings and it took time to recognize the small boy hovering in front of her.

"Yes."

"Could I get something to read or some work to do?" Harry asked tentatively. Yaga blinked. She stood up and made her way to the cupboard of books she had accumulated through the years.

What would the child like to read? More importantly, what would he understand? She thought as she viewed a humongous pile of books shoved neatly in each shelves.

A smile crept to her face when her eyes roamed over to a specific book. Rather, a specific set of books, The Boy-Who-Lived- Adventures. This could keep him sated for now while she sorts out the books that he'd require to learn and familiarize him to the wizarding world.

Harry's eyes were alight with wonder and joy. He'd been given books to read and he liked it. It took most of his daring to ask Mrs. Gretel to do something useful and she had not burdened him with chores. He wouldn't have minded them coming from her. Here, he'd get full meals if not anything else. But here there was proof that all people were not the same as the Dursleys.

Yaga watched in wonder and couldn't help but feel a bit proud seeing the boy flip pages after pages getting excited as well as immersed in reading those books. From the looks of it, he probably didn't get books to read in his free time. Her expression darkened a bit as the thought re-arranged itself in her mind, 'Probably he didn't have time to read books and enjoy playing like the other children would do'.

She shook her head and with a soft caressing hand on the scroll she clicked unfurled the page: The Sight.

Out of the five general senses, the sight is considered more useful and open (practical) than the rest. It allows seeing magical auras in Magick-kind. When used on commoners (Muggles) it makes them feel being judged of their actions. Further progress into this ability leads to seeing finer aspects of auras normally not possible or possessed by an average Mage. It allows detecting possession as well as outward influence of any compulsion. Helpful in detection of slaves. More advanced Necromancers are known to see souls.

Yaga traced her fingers over the small script written by her in Old-Slavic language. Her eyes drifted over the word possession as well as souls. She'd never bothered to master this abilities to the fullest. Seeing souls wasn't that useful back then. She had been busy running and attacking villages and before that she was bent on freeing the slaves from their 'Masters'.

Her lips curled into an involuntary sneer. At least now, such practices were said to be 'Bad'. The 'Nobles' and 'Purebloods' would be facing scorn from the general public if they did something like that. They were more interested in taking mistress's or ruining others by taking their gold and such things like that.

She shook her head and concentrated back on the pages.

There was no known incantation that one could just perform to obtain this ability. And yet, mastering these basic five 'senses' seemed the right way to go. She could already see the faint outline of the aura drifting in and out of her focus when she sneaked a glance at the boy.

But before that, she would need to master 'The Sound'. It would help in hearing whispers from the 'shadow-world'. They'd proven useful when she had been a budding Necromancer. The spirits, apart from the occasional whispers of wraith and vengeful spirits had been quite helpful in creating the right sounds for the development of the abilities.

She let go of the roller and the scroll snapped shut and rolled over the table, coming to a stop, few feet away from her. Her eyes were drawn to the dark wood at the edge of the paper made out of the mixture of cloth and wood. Before she could even attempt these 'Arts' she would need to protect the boy from her, if, anything would go wrong and she had the strange urge to sacrifice the boy.

She would need to forge a medallion.

Yaga walked into the room where Harry was still immersed in the books. Two of the books were lying carelessly on the table which led her to believe that he had read it. She watched as him, Harry, flipped a page and gave out a small chuckle.

"Something amusing?" Yaga spoke drawing attention to her.

"Mrs. Gretel!" Harry said startled. Yaga lips curled into a smile. They boy didn't even know she had entered the room.

"Yes… Um…" Harry said his cheeks coloring slightly.

"Well…"

"Here the…um… Boy-Who-Lived rescued the princess from the big bad wolf and he carried her back to the castle in his arms."Harry said his cheeks coloring further. "And then the king gives the princess's hand in marriage and the princess kisses him on the lips!"

Yaga gave a chuckle and Harry made a face.

"What happened next?" Yaga asked a bit amused. Harry's face was marred with frown as he read slowly,

"Handsome and Noble Harry Potter and the princess lived a long and happy life." Harry said closing the book. The look on his face was anything but happy.

"Good." Yaga sighed. The boy could read and that was good. She lay down the two glasses laden with chocolate milk on the table.

"What were the two other books about?" She asked curiously.

"The first one was about a big Giant kid-napping…" Harry's tone held a question.

"You don't know what the word means." It came out more as a statement than a question. Seeing Harry's head bowed low in shame she continued, "What do you think kidnapping means?"

Harry scratched his nose and replied slowly, "Taking someone away forcefully?"

Yaga made affirmative sounds in her throat and Harry's eyes shone brightly.

"Yes, Gudmoll the Giant took away all Harry Potter's friends and then he writes a letter to him saying where his friends can be found. The Boy-Who-Lived goes there knowing it would be a trap and fights him and wins."

Harry stooped to take a sip of chocolate milk while he continued to think about it. Few moments passed in casual silence where he and Yaga gulped down the drink and savored its taste.

"The faeries didn't come today." Harry said halfheartedly and sounding a bit sad.

"They live in their own world, Harry Potter. They came yesterday to greet you, did they not? People don't come here, you know." And which do dare is at her mercy. Yaga thought as she added further, "Maybe tomorrow I can show you my garden and you can find out where faeries hide and what they do."

Harry nodded absently. His eyelids were half-closed and he was almost waiting for the sleep to come.

"I'm not… strong as the books say… I'm-"Harry took a big yawn and continued, "Not as brave or confident. Not as tall as the pictures of me."

For once his eyes were fully open and looking at Yaga intently. "What will happen if people find out?" He said in a soft meek voice.

"That you're not as good or powerful as it is shown in these books?" Yaga asked softly. She was suddenly regretting showing him these books. Staying at Dursley's had ensured that he would have low self-esteem.

Harry's eyes were averted, looking anywhere except at her.

"You are plenty powerful for a child, young Harry." Her violet eyes were full of understanding and compassion.

"You think so?" Harry looked up, asking earnestly.

"I know so." Yaga affirmed recalling the powerful pulse that had deflected the killing curse. "Good night." Yaga said squeezing his shoulders gently and walking out of the room.

A/N: I know Necromancy is not as 'Necromantic'. All I can point out is I came up with that idea and it stuck. Most of the magic she practiced was self taught and thus the deviation. However, there will be some known powers of Necromancy as the fic develops.

Thanks for reading. Leave a review.