Author's Note: Okay so this is the last chapter I plan on uploading for about a week because I have a wedding to attend back home and I leave tomorrow. I hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think okay?

Little Gem

One of the first things Harry did once he was properly washed, dressed, and fed was grab his invisibility cloak and seek out Portrait Hall. With Lorelei matching his strides beside him Harry pushed open the massive oak doors eagerly. It had been an entire year since Harry had last spoken to his family's portraits and while they never changed the boy he had been last summer was hardly recognizable anymore. He couldn't wait to tell them all about his first year at Hogwarts; his sorting, his tentative friends, his vile Potions master, his encounter with Voldemort, his research into Blood Magic, and most importantly his invisibility cloak.

The cloak was something that Harry was quite astonished by. He had looked up cloaks like his only to realize his cloak was nothing like other invisibility cloaks. Those cloaks were spelled or woven from Demiguise hair but over time they faded and turned opaque, usually they only lasted around five years. But according to Dumbledore Harry's cloak had belonged to his father while he was in Hogwarts, which should have been absolutely impossible. Not once had Harry found even a notion that permanent invisibility was possible.

Harry was hoping that Charlus or Dorea might now how or where James had gotten such a rare and impossible artifact. According to Harry's limited knowledge James had only been an Auror and hadn't had any dealings with ancient or powerful artifacts. His mother couldn't have procured it either because according to Flitwick she had gone on to gain her Charms mastery and then got pregnant and had decided to wait until Harry was born and out of infancy before taking a job. By the time that happened the war had reached its peak and she had been in the thick of it, being targeted by Voldemort.

It was quite a sight to watch as the heavy curtains pull back automatically to reveal enormous windows that flooded the room in sunlight. Slowly the portraits came alive and Harry watched in fascination as they roused themselves from slumber in confusion before seeing Harry. "Oh Harry dear," Dorea cooed happily, "I'm afraid Lorelei has grown more than you have."

"Oh Dory you know the boy won't grow till he's older," Charlus said rather gruffly but still managed to convey his humor. "He'll grow like a weed in a few years; he's a Potter after all."

Harry grinned fondly as the rest of the Potter family tried in vain to cram themselves into the closest portrait frames available. "I've missed you guys." It was true, Harry had missed their open familiarity greatly. After all of the trepidation and Boy-Who-Lived worship Harry was infinitely grateful to just feel relaxed.

"Well spit it out boy," Catherine Potter nee Malfoy snapped, though her sparkling eyes and twitching lips left her words quite dull. "We've only waited an entire year to find out which of us was right about your house."

Griselda laughed and nodded in agreement, "Not even a letter for a house elf to read us. Honestly even James had better manners."

Harry ducked his head but he couldn't keep the smile away. "Well I'm a proud new member of Ravenclaw, though the hat had a hard time deciding between Slytherin. Apparently I value knowledge more for its intrinsic value than how I can wield it or use it for my own gain."

"I knew it!" Dorea cried happily as she clapped her hands together. She sent a rather smug smirk to Charlus who had apparently been betting on Harry being a Slytherin.

"Why are there so few Potters in Hufflepuff?" Wilfred III whined loudly, causing Grayson to snort in derision.

"We don't typically breed duffers," he said rather pompously.

Wilfred III immediately rallied to the defense of the Badger house but Harry was saved from yet another debate on who died more admirably by Charlus. "Where did you get that?"

Harry realized he was talking about the invisibility cloak in his arms but he was rather taken aback by seriousness in his grandfather's tone. The man looked extremely unhappy that Harry had it. "Um, I actually wanted to ask you about it." Harry confessed, watching the scowl form on Charlus' lips. Dorea too looked worried and when Harry looked around to find most of the familiar faces looking rather astonished he began to feel rather doubtful about his musings on the cloak. "Apparently it was my dad's before he died and Dumbledore passed it on to me over Yule. Do you know where –"

Charlus cut Harry off with an angry choking noise. "He- That man had no right. That cloak is an heirloom that's been passed down from father to son from the time of Ignotus Peverell. He had no right to meddle in Potter affairs."

Rather dumbfounded, Harry found himself trying to wrap his mind around what Charlus was implying. Harry had studied the Potter family tree extensively last summer. The manor had an entire room dedicated to the vast tree that Harry found rather extraordinary at the time. Ignotus Peverell had been the oldest of the Peverell brothers and had lived from 1214 to 1291. There was simply no way that this cloak that Harry now had was the same cloak that Ignotus had owned. That would make this cloak over seven hundred years old which was simply not possible. "This cloak can't have been passed down from Ignotus, grandfather. It's not possible!"

Once again Charlus snorted, his anger seeming to lose its ferocity just enough for Harry to feel more comfortable. "Don't you go mouthing off to me after only a year at Hogwarts boy; I could tell you things that would break your understanding of possible."

Harry could only gape at the man as Dorea finally stepped forward, every pair of eyes watching the interaction between Harry and Charlus seriously. "Charlus dear – it's not Harry's fault tradition was broken. Don't take your temper out on him."

With a heavy sigh Charlus relented, "I know. I'm sorry Harry it's just that cloak is so much more important than you understand. Traditions that have been in place for almost eight hundred years have been broken, important safeguards that protect our family."

"Protect us from what?" Harry asked, desperate to uncover some dastardly Potter secret. All logic told him this cloak had to be fake, somehow replaced over and over again, and yet every Potter portrait present wore identical masks of worry and nervousness. Their seriousness chased away logic and left Harry feeling rather nervous; the cloak – while amazing – had now lost its innocuous appearance and he began to wonder if it might sprout a mouth and try to eat him.

Harry's mouth was now dry and he silently wondered if he should put the cloak down but before he could move Charlus spoke. "This is going to be a long conversation as every other Potter to own that cloak has been prepared for it all of their life. Sit down, Harry. I'm afraid we'll be here a while."

Harry sat down next to Lorelei who was watching what was happening with a heavy, half-lidded gaze that Harry had learned was when she was most alert and most dangerous. Apparently she felt as apprehensive as he did. Charlus stared at Harry long and hard, as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening or how to start. Finally he asked, "Have you ever heard anything about the Peverell brothers aside from that we descend from Ignotus?"

"No," Harry answered hesitantly. Was this something he should have studied? No one had ever mentioned anything about Ignotus so Harry had never really given the man much thought except the passing respect as the start of Harry's family line.

The portraits huddled together even closer, sitting down knee to knee like children about to have a story read to them. Each one looking as eager as a kid in Honeydukes and yet still as morbidly serious as ever. "The Peverell brothers are rather famous, Harry. It is a well-guarded Potter secret of our ancestry that Ignotus actually lived and that we descend from him because the Peverall brothers; Ignotus, Cadmus and Antioch have become a popular children's fable."

Harry waited with baited breath and the strange feeling that he was about to learn something very, very important. "It's said that the three brothers cheated Death by using magic to cross a raging river that should have killed them. The personification of Death appeared in anger and pretended to congratulate them by giving each of the brothers a gift of their choosing. Antioch chose an unbeatable wand that could perform magic no other wand could ever handle; hoping to become so powerful he could cheat Death once again.

"Cadmus chose a stone to resurrect the dead, hoping to humiliate Death even further. Ignotus chose Death's own cloak of invisibility, hoping to be able to hide himself from Death until he was ready. Antioch and Cadmus reached their early demise by attempting conquer Death even further than they already had but Ignotus lived a long and full life before he removed the cloak and Death welcomed him."

Chills rolled down Harry's spine as one part of his mind scoffed at the story while another part – the part that caused his hair to stand on end – believed that there was far more to this children's story almost instantly. "Ignotus, Antioch, and Cadmus were actually the Peverell brothers. They did not meet a personification of Death but they did craft powerful magical artifacts the likes of which have never before been duplicated.

"Ignotus weaved a cloak that has been passed down through our family for over seven hundred and fifty years. Never once has it torn or faded, it shows no signs of weather and it has never let a Killing Curse touch those it protected. Antioch crafted an unbeatable wand capable of magical feats that has left a bloody trail throughout the ages as it passes hands through death. The Deathstick, The Elder Wand, The Unbeatable Wand, all of these crop up throughout history leaving catastrophic damage in their wakes – all of these are the same wand, Antioch's wand. And Cadmus excavated and enchanted a rock that recalled the souls of the owner's deceased loved ones. It could not truly bring them back to life physically but had the power to bring forth their souls from the afterlife and tie them to physical realm as shades."

When Charlus finished speaking every hair on Harry's body was standing on end and he was covered in goosebumps. The portraits watched him carefully, studying him as Harry tried to absorb what he'd learned. "So the Peverell's were powerful wizards who created powerful magical artifacts that no one can copy. But why is that such a huge secret? Shouldn't we be proud to be descended from someone like Ignotus?"

A few of the portraits laughed but Harry felt it was rather mocking and bitter than humorous. "The three brothers were no ordinary wizards Harry," Charlus said with a strange tone that left the other portraits nodding solemnly. "There is a reason that the fable says they met Death's personification. It's because people believed them to be Death's personification. Ignotus, Antioch, and Cadmus were the most powerful and renowned Necromancers of their time and continue to be to this day."

There it was. The bomb had been dropped and Harry felt his heart start to race as he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he was descended from a family of Necromancers. Necromancy, it seemed to crop up in some aspect everywhere. In the wand shop, in the few books on Black Arts he had found, even Nanette had talked about it briefly. Her words seemed to mock him now. 'It's really rare and it runs in the blood.'

Harry looked up and into the faces of his family in understanding; he saw their faces in a new light. Each one of them, from Wilfred III the young Hufflepuff quidditch player who died performing a Wronski Feint to Grayson the rather cold and callous Slytherin who had been an avid muggle hunter. They were all bound by blood that could cost them their souls, bound by a secret that could demolish almost eight hundred years of ancestry in a single strike.

Suddenly the reality of the situation hit Harry like a bludger to the gut. If anyone found out about the blood that coursed through Harry's veins he would be subjected to the Kiss and with him, the Potter family and Necromancer blood would die with him. There were no other Potters alive to protect him or to teach him or to carry on the line if he died. All of these people that shared Harry's untamable hair, knobby knees, and bad eyesight also shared his legacy.

"Are – " Harry broke off when he found his voice thick with emotions he had no names for. "Were you all Necromancers?"

Slowly the portraits stood and Harry watched as several of them moved down numerous frames. His gaze slowly travelled back to those who remained. Charlus, Wilfred, Harold, Mary, Simon, Grayson, and several others Harry couldn't immediately place remained in the frame in front of Harry. They all stood side by side in a solidarity that left him breathless. Harry watched them watching him and it took several seconds for him to realize they were waiting for him, for his response. He was the outsider here. Harry hadn't been raised by a Potter, he had been raised in the muggle world and then shoved chaotically into the wizarding world and told that Black Arts cost you your soul.

They're waiting for me to reject them, Harry realized as his eyes stung.

"Amicti Sapietia…" Harry murmured quietly, reverently. "It makes so much sense now."

"Cloaked in wisdom," Charlus translated. "Our family motto since the cloak was passed on to Ignotus' son."

"When was I supposed to learn about this? I mean if Dumbledore hadn't messed it up, how was it supposed to happen?"

"On your thirteenth Samhain you would have been tested for the Necromantic ability as every Peverell has been since Ignotus. Should you have the ability you would have been gifted the cloak and the family grimoire to start your journey. If you do not have the ability then you would have received the cloak a few years later to safeguard until you could test your own children on their thirteenth Samhain." Grayson answered Harry with an approving expression.

Charlus nodded, "We discussed this when you left for Hogwarts. Since you were raised in the muggle world and are all that's left of the Potter line we decided we'd inform you of your heritage next summer but our plans were cut short."

"How do I find out if I am a Necromancer? Since I know about it now can I take the test now?"

Every single portrait laughed long and loud at Harry's question. "Oh Harry, just because you broke one tradition doesn't mean we'll let you break them all." Charlus was laughing so hard he was having trouble standing upright. "You have to impatiently wait until you're thirteen like every Peverell before you for hundreds of years. It's a Potter ritual."

"Besides," Mary smiled fondly at Harry and looked like she wanted to wrap him in her arms, "There is still much you need to learn about magic before you're ready to go delving into a Black Art."

Harry's head tilted to the side and the smirk that curled his lips was rather proud. He couldn't wait to tell his family of all his accomplishments. "I've been studying Blood Magic since Yule."

"You've been what?" Charlus asked with wide blue eyes.

Portraits that had left now returned when they heard Harry's confession. "I have so much to tell you all, grandfather."

This time it was Harry's turn to tell a story. He sat there for hours on the cold marble floor telling his ancestors all about his time at Hogwarts. The tentative friendships he made, the trepidation that everyone had around the Boy-Who-Lived, and the horrid Potions professor who was no better than the History of Magic Professor. Harry told them how he had grown terribly bored at Hogwarts and had made friends with the Defense professor who began to teach him Occlumency and Legillimency and how their afternoon chats quickly turned into scholarly debates and discussions on theoretical Dark Magic. He made sure to mention the Dark Arts books he found lying around the common room occasionally and how he had learned of the Black Arts, Blood Magic in particular fascinated him but how he hadn't started researching it until after Voldemort had revealed himself to Harry in the Forbidden Forest.

Harry told them all about how Voldemort had stolen the Philosopher's Stone and how he had told the Dark Lord he thought they were meant to be friends, including the wand connection between them. He ended with Dumbledore and how he'd been forced back to the muggles in fear of a horrifying tracking bracelet, accidentally discovering Blood Rune Magic and how he had been mapping out Lorelei before he had been allowed to leave.

When Harry finished the sun was setting and his ancestors looked comical in their shock. It was Catherine who broke the silent stupor as she whistled loudly. "My first year the most exciting thing to happen was a flobberworm biting my nose when I was supposed to meet Corvinus Gaunt II behind the broom shed." Harry nearly laughed when Grayson scowled darkly at his wife's forlorn sigh.

"You were better off without a Gaunt," Grayson sneered. "They are notoriously unstable."

"Oh don't worry darling," Catherine cooed maliciously, "I love you even if you can't speak Parseltongue."

Grayson's scowl became even more furious but Harry was listening with rapt attention. Gaunt's spoke Parseltongue? The trait descended from Salazar Slytherin so did that mean Gaunts were descended from Slytherin?

Harry didn't have time to ponder the Gaunts possible connection as Charlus redirected the conversation. "Albus Dumbledore has finally gone round the bend then, eh? Letting possessed men in the castle. The world has gone to shit. I can't say I'm surprised but Harry that means you have to be even more careful. You are the last Potter, the last traceable Peverell left."

"I've been careful," Harry assured the portraits. "I haven't written anything down and I haven't told anyone but Lorelei."

"Forget the blood magic boy," Charlus advised seriously. "And forget Voldemort. There's a reason the last two generations of Potter's fought against the man. Wherever he goes, death follows."

Harry couldn't stop his spine from straightening rigidly. Voldemort was his friend, how could he stay away? They were fated – brother wands and rebounded Killing Curses – Harry and Voldemort, tied together. Beyond that Harry didn't want to stay away from Voldemort. The man had been the most fascinating part of Hogwarts – of the magical world really – and now that he was gone everything was tainted by his absence. "Funny," Harry replied coolly, "coming from Necromancers."

"Dammit boy this is no time for snarky remarks. That thing isn't even human anymore. You-Know-Who defied laws of magic that should never have been touched. He nearly destroyed our world."

Dorea, Wilfred, even Grayson stayed completely quiet as Charlus ranted and none of them spoke up to contradict him after he was done. Dorea seemed to agree and the others didn't seem to care at all, Voldemort was after their time. Harry didn't know what he expected, maybe for Necromancers to have a lesser regard for laws considering who they were, but he hadn't expected for the tight ball of scorching anger to appear in his chest.

"He is not a thing," Harry growled back. "Voldemort is a radical, no doubt about that, and I have no idea if he's trying to burn the world or save it – there are arguments for both. But what I do know is what I have learned firsthand in just a year in the magical world and that is that the magical world is content in its stagnation. They have not changed nor evolved in hundreds of years and its pathetic. The laws you all adhere to need to be pushed and broken and explored."

With a furious shake of his arm Harry held up the invisibility cloak and shook it. "This is proof of how pathetic you all are. This cloak has been around for over seven hundred years and not one of you has managed to learn how Ignotus did it?"

Silence was deafening as Harry tried desperately to control his anger enough to speak again. "Ignotus pushed against your stupid laws and yet you condemn another for doing the same. You were all weak and pathetic and if I'm a Necromancer I will be greater than all of you. I will not let your narrow-mindedness or your worries over the magical world's continuance stop me.

"As far as I'm concerned if the world is content in mediocracy then it deserves to burn."

With that Harry turned on his heel and marched out of the room with Lorelei by his side. He'd be damned, even if they were his blood, if he would listen to their ignorant preaching. The world may scream that Voldemort was heinous and had he not actually spoken to Voldemort he might have believed them, but he had. Harry had spent the better part of four months interacting with Quirrell and now that Harry looked back, all those pauses in conversation and inner monologues made sense.

Voldemort had been talking to him through Quirrell. Harry knew it, he couldn't prove it but he could feel it in his gut. Maybe his definition of heinous was different that others – he considered killing off branches of magic and child abuse heinous not the loss of ignorant sheep that got in the way of the pursuit of knowledge.

Disappointment lodged in his chest like a heavy boulder. He had expected better from his family. The whole buildup of their Peverell line being the wisest – the best even, seemed to make the disillusionment all the more painful. In the end, even in Potter Manor, Harry felt like an outsider.

Over the next few days Harry pushed away all the anger, disappointment, and all the otherwise negative emotions and began to resurrect his plan from months ago. He owled the Daily Prophet and put an ad in the Jobs section; just a small anonymous blurb about a soon to be second year student needing a tutor for History of Magic and Potions. Harry mentioned room could be provided if necessary and that wages were negotiable. After that Harry opened up a P.O. Box so that all letter sent to the paper in inquiry would be redirected to that post box and then forwarded on to Harry.

In the meantime, Harry had Jordey replace all of the books he had borrowed from the Potter Library and began working on his summer homework. McGonagall wanted three feet on animate to inanimate transfigurations which Harry found exceedingly dull. He had already manage to master turning Lorelei's claws into flippers and his progress in mapping out her structure was helping guide him in the arduous task of turning her into an object. Honestly, mice were so much easier to work with.

Professor Flitwick had asked for four feet on how the Disarming and Freezing Charms could be used in duels and how the General Counter-Spell was important to complete this basic repertoire for any novice dueler. Charms were a great deal more interesting to Harry but he found the idea of dueling distasteful and as such, the essay was even more of a struggle than Transfiguration.

On the third day since Harry posted his ad in the Daily Prophet he decided to knock out both his Herbology and Astronomy essays. That had taken up most of the morning and Harry was just sitting down for a late lunch when a barn owl arrived and Jordey – who was always on owl watch – brought in four different letters. One familiar Hogwarts letter and three others all addressed to the Prophet in regards to the ad.

Deciding he couldn't live another moment without knowing his W.O.M.B.A.T scores Harry tore open his Hogwarts letter first.

Dear Mr. Potter,
Please be reminded that you must board the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross Platform 9 ¾ for prompt departure on September the first, at eleven o'clock in the morning.

We look forward to receiving you at Hogwarts next term, Draco Dormiens Nunquam Tittilandus.

Minerva McGonagall
Transfiguration Mistress
Deputy Headmistress

Quickly Harry tossed away the cover letter and even the second page filled with school supplies he'd need to get from Diagon Alley. Though he'd hold off on going until it was much closer to term, last year had been much too easy and Harry was hoping if he didn't open a single text book beforehand the classes would be more challenging. The next page held his testing scores.

Wizards' Ordinary Magic and Basic Aptitude Test Results:

Charms- Outstanding
Transfiguration: Outstanding
Herbology: Outstanding
Potions: Acceptable
Astronomy: Outstanding
Defense Against the Dark Arts: Exceeds Expectations

For a minute Harry wanted to dance in celebration, he had passed Potions! Snape could pout all he wanted but even if he made a mistake Harry had passed and that meant he could continue as he was and no one could hassle him. Dumbledore could suck on his lemon drops, Snape could scowl, Binns could stay dead…none of them mattered.

With a happy smile Harry reached for the other letters and tore open the one on top. It wasn't a very expensive sheet like Hogwarts used but the writing was elegant enough – obviously male – and the whole thing was short and to the point.

Leander Dunston was a twenty year old muggleborn who had no official Masteries yet. He was working on his Transfiguration Mastery and he was attending Muggle college, majoring in Physics. Though Leander had no official experience in tutoring Harry found himself liking the older just because he was also going to Muggle school. It was nice to see someone else was planning to explore and push past boundaries. However Leander did have a fault, the boy had not passed his Potions O.W.L. As sad as it was to pass up such a rarity Harry needed someone who had preferably passed their N.E.W.T. but at least passed their O.W.L.

The next application was from Remus Lupin who was a thirty-one year old half-blood with Masteries in both History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he had passed his Potions N.E.W.T. The man had an extensive work history and references sheet that showed he had tutored several students in Defense, History, and Potions. All in all his application was impressive, because really who had time to get two Masteries before they were thirty? However at the bottom, underneath the man's signature, was a large stamp that read: Registered Werewolf.

Not that Harry was prejudiced or anything but it did explain why the man had so much time to spend academically. Almost all creatures with sentience were shunned from society but Werewolves most of all. Still, if he was the best candidate then maybe they could arrange something to make it work.

The last letter was written in dark purple ink on thick, creamy parchment far lighter than the yellowed Hogwarts standard. The letters were curled femininely and the letter itself smelled faintly of roses. Harry smiled until he read the first line.

Mr. Potter,

Somehow this person knew who Harry was. Instead of feeling scared as he probably should Harry found himself excited and continued reading.

My name is Cassiopeia Black and I am your great aunt, your grandmother Dorea's sister. I have recently returned to England and have heard a great many things about you. Through my extensive network I have heard all about your casual dismissal of both Potions and History of Magic. According to one of my sources I believe you will also be quitting Defense Against the Dark Arts as well this year.

As my great nephew – and a favor owed to Dorea – if you cannot find a suitable tutor or would like my company either way I will be residing in England until October first. Should you be interested I have been a Hit Witch, I have Masteries in Defense, Ancient Runes and Potions, and I have tutored three official Black family members.

Magic Bless You,
Cassiopeia Black

Harry's eyes were wide by the end of the letter. Dorea had a sister who was alive? Harry had an actual blood relative alive and well other than the muggles. Immediately both Dunston and Lupin's letters were tossed in the garbage. Cassiopeia was instantly his number one choice, both because of her exceedingly clever networking skills and her blood connection. She had been able to put together who he was with such confidence that she addressed him by name.

The woman was fascinating and Harry desperately wanted to meet her.

It wasn't until the next day that Harry penned his responses. He wrote he replies and melted the wax to seal the envelopes before sliding down the banister of the stairs to get to the dining room. Milly had a delicious stack of pancakes waiting for him and Lorelei was relaxing by the fire on a rug. Harry pulled out The Big Black Book of the Best Bewitchments and read while he ate.

Harry was quite sure Mandy would have a field day over this book. It had been haphazardly hidden behind the set of Defensive Spells volumes 1-10. Any book hidden in a library was worth a flip through and Harry found it rather interesting as there was actually an in depth section on spelling non-tangible things. Words…ideas… the list went on and on, and they could all be jinxed, hexed, or cursed. The idea of cursing a word fascinated Harry and the complex theory behind it held his attention so completely that Harry nearly jumped out of his seat when the manor shook.

Almost instantly Milly and Jordey were by Harry's side, Jordey with a metal pasta strainer on his head like a helmet and Milly looking terrified. "What was that?" Harry asked the two as Lorelei hissed.

Before either elf could reply the manor gave a violent shudder and a horrible screeching rang out. It was so loud that Harry had to cover his ears as he ducked to avoid the chandelier falling on the table. Then as quickly as it had happened the manor went completely still and silent.

"What just happened?" Harry asked Jordey.

"Someone be attacking the manor Master," Harry's heart lurched in fear. "What should we elves be doing?"

"Should Milly be taking Master somewhere?"

Harry pondered his options quickly. He could have Milly apparate him and Lorelei out and they would be completely safe. However if he did then Harry would never know who attacked the manor or why. Would he really let some unknown threat wander the earth – allow himself to be chased out of his own manor by a nameless, faceless person? "No Milly," Harry said resolutely. "I want you and Jordey to hide and be ready to leave."

No experience in dueling, not able to legally use magic outside of Hogwarts, and clueless as to who his attacker was – Harry knew he was incredibly outmatched. Still he grabbed his wand and motioned for Lorelei to follow. He was going to try and sneak up on whoever it was, find out whatever he could, and then take his elves and get out. He had a plan.

Oh Merlin, please don't be Dumbledore. Harry pleaded mentally. Please don't be the Aurors.

Harry silently slipped out of the dining room and with his heart racing a mile a minute he checked his corners as he had seen muggle television shows do.

'I can smell another familiar,' Lorelei hissed softly. 'They are near the entrance hall.'

Lorelei led the petrified Harry down a few halls and then stopped so abruptly Harry nearly tripped over her. The sound of familiar hissing kept him from scowling down at his familiar.

'I smell them Master,' came a female voice. Her words were elongated and fluid in a way that English could never be. 'Should I find them?'

Harry's mind nearly exploded in shock when a male voice answered, in Parseltongue. 'No Nagini, the boy will come to me.'

Without hesitating Harry threw himself around the corner and watched as an absolutely massive snake reared back in surprise. There beside her was the oddest looking man Harry had ever seen. Pale, flawless skin was stretched just a bit too tight over high cheekbones. There was not a wrinkle, blemish, or imperfection – no the skin was smooth as an infant's which contrasted too sharply with his adult features. The effect was unsettling, making the man seem timeless and outside of physical age altogether.

He stood tall, towering over Harry, with bright crimson eyes and coal black hair. "Voldemort," Harry whispered in surprise.

"Your wards were terribly lacking."