A/N: Hello, it's me, Velvety! I just wanted to thank you all for the reviews, I was shocked I actually got any! Thank you for that. Anyway, I wanted to also apologize for not posting sooner. I had to do some pen-to-paper writing and you will be happy (I hope) to hear that I have the entire renditions of my fanfiction in books 4-7 planned out scene-by-scene! I WILL be finishing this fic, even though it will probably take 2-3 years with all the writing I have planned out-I did NOT abandon it, I shouldn't have posted it that soon when I still had plans to do and wrie out and that was a mistake on my part. I also am I afraid another reason for my delay was that I had to go back and edit my story where some of the scenes were sketchy and the grammar was terrible. I have put the updated versions up, along with the new chapter. I should be posting another chapter this afternoon. Important info for the updated versions of the chapters: Marlene McKinnon does not, anymore, play a part in this story. She simply didn't fit with the story arcs and wasn't a big enough character to have any impact on the story. Also, something you might want to pay attention to is the last word of the prologue.

TonksSmiles: Thank you so much! That made my day!

Preetoka Raven Potter Weasley: You don't have to worry about pairings for now, only James/Lily, which is basically the occasional kiss, nothing big. Pairings won't really come into a big play until fifth and six book, and even then it won't be anything too graphic. I haven't really decided on the pairings yet, but I can tell you there will be no Harry/Luna, since she has a big part to play somewhere else. There is also no Severus/Lily, Severus/Alice, Sirius/Lily, Sirius/Alice, Remus/Lily, Remus/Alice, James/Alice, or Frank/Lily. Just James/Lily, Frank/Alice, and maybe somewhere in the fifth book or later fourth Remus/Tonks. Also, Harry and Neville will be soon becoming "brothers-in-all-but-blood". Probably about three-four chapters to go, when Reg and Siri reunite. Regulus will soon be accepted too, and newly christened "Uncle Reggie".

Blood of the Dawn: Thank you-I always thought that J.K. made Lily look god-like and James like a brat which I didn't agree with. I always thought that a man who would die for his son and wife; though originally arrogant, would have some ulterior motive for bullying someone. In my fic, James, in fact, does. That will be coming up soon, too.

kits-hold-their-tears: Harry's reaction will be sort of different (I hope) from the ones I read-that's all I'll give you.

cardgirl91: It's going to be very inventive. Marauders and wives with tempers strike!

Warnings: Just a couple of warnings before we continue. In this chapter, we start to James and Lily's vengeance side, the Potters turn out to be much more Slytherin then we give them credit for, Harry starts to look healthy, a tender mother-son moment, Dumbledore is in fear of his manhood, Alice looses her temper, and Frank and Alice get an interesting letter…

Chapter Six

Potter Bunker

Remus and Sirius came running over to James and Lily on the street corner looking angrier than before. Remus was holding an owl cage, loose books, parchment, quills, ink, a large rectangular case that James couldn't identify, and several boxes of what looked like birthday cakes. Sirius was dragging a beaten up trunk and—James' heart leaped when he saw it—a broomstick.

"Come on," Lily moaned urgently. "We need to go. Harry's lost too much blood as it is. These bandages won't hold for long—they were only to move him." James took Lily's word on that. Lily had been a Healer before they went into hiding. She was a valuable contribution to the Order, not only being able to heal the most extensive injuries, but also a protégée Potions maker able to brew convoluted potions that most Potions Masters were stumped on. She outshot Slughorn's knowledge and expertise by far and was said to even rival Severus Snape. "Where are we going?"

James had already figured that part out. They needed to be somewhere untraceable and untouchable. Somewhere even safer than Hogwarts. Somewhere Harry would be able to recover and get the help they need without detection. Somewhere away from the prying eyes of the public, Ministry, and most importantly—Albus Dumbledore.

James knew for a fact that Dumbledore was up to something no good, no matter what he had said. James and Lily had specifically stated in their will that if they were deceased, he was to read a letter they had left to him by no later than twelve hours after their death. In the letter it not only stated who was the secret-keeper, but also the reasons they had never particularly specified to Dumbledore why Harry was to never be left with Petunia and Vernon.

So what was he playing at? Was the question wandering through everyone's mind. James was able to feel the wards around the house, which were practically non-existent. Hell, a first year could walk in; never mind Voldemort. Remus and Sirius had already filled the Potters in on how they both found it peculiar that Harry never wore his Heir ring, nor did he ever wear the crest of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Potter, Black, or Moon, which Harry was all entitled to on his eleventh birthday; not mention several other things that had simply shrugged off but now were positive parts of his manipulations which had come to light.

There was only one explanation.

Dumbledore was using Harry.

Oh, sure, the Marauders (the faithful Marauders) had all been slightly suspicious as to why after Dumbledore told them the prophecy he had this strange, hungry look in his eye when he saw Harry, but they brushed it off, however uneasily. They also ignored the fact that Dumbledore wasn't able to pick out the spy when he did Legilimency scans on everyone regularly. But, they all simultaneously agreed, how can the Leader of the Light do anything wrong?

Now, James grimaced inwardly, did it only make too much sense. Dumbledore seemed to have been playing all along to get James and Lily killed, Sirius locked away, and Remus swallowed in guilt—and put Harry where only the great, noble, infallible Albus Dumbledore could find him. To say James was happy with this would be like saying Snape was a loveable, pink unicorn with fluffy hair. Exactly. Not in a snowball's chance in hell.

"Potter Bunker," James explained quickly. "I sent all the house-elfs there. They can help us, and it has a fully stocked infirmary. It's not the safest place; Dumbledore will be able to get in, but it should hold them off for a few days. Then we can move into Potter Castle, which is even safer then Hogwarts."

"Okay," Lily said, quivering slightly and still in shock at the bloody, mangled mess that was her son, "apparate on three to outside the boundaries of Potter Bunker?"

James nodded, grasping Harry.

"One—two—three!"

James held tightly to his fawn as Apparition took on. Scenes kept replaying in his mind; unbidden they rose to the surface—his parents, lifeless on the ground, under the Cruciatus Curse, hearing the Prophecy, Voldemort, Harry lying limp on the bed, the sheets stained with red, the blood on the stairs…

He couldn't help but think, what if we were too late? What if we were just one hour later? Would he be dead? Alive? What would've happened?

James opened his eyes.

Walls surrounded the grounds of Potter Bunker. The five were standing in front of the gate with Potter crest on it: a large 'P' against a gold and red background with two golden griffins facing the 'P', each with a writhing, poisonous red snake in their mouth. Behind the 'P' were two crossed swords. The family motto read: Anguis in lacum

leonum.

James smirked maliciously, making the others look at him uneasily. Each family motto was woven with spells so that only members of the house knew what the family motto meant—oh sure, the Potters were seen for being one of the prominent three light families and bending over backward to help the thrice-damned Albus Dumbledore, but that was what they saw.

Snake in the den of lions, indeed. James thought. No, whilst everyone saw Potters epitome of Gryffindor recklessness and foolishness, Glory Gryffindor learned from her father, passing on to her children how exactly heirs of the noble Godric Gryffindor were supposed to act:

Potters were fighters, as dangerous and deadly as a poison dagger, as protective as a mother bear, and most of all, as cunning and clever as a snake. Those were the three rules of the House of Potter: Love your family, kill your enemies, and keep everyone at unawares.

The Potters were not a Light family, nor were they Dark. They were a Gray family, not a Light like everyone thought, and preferred to keep it that way—you never knew where enemies came from.

Just like the way Godric taught Glory many years ago and Glory taught her sons, they liked to keep everyone thinking they were foolish and reckless and noble and Light, and simply reap the rewards while making themselves known and putting a dent in forces they viewed bad—Light or Dark—and doing what ever means necessary to achieve so.

The only reason they were not put in Slytherin was because the Potters, Gryffindor's heirs, controled twenty-five percent of the wards and also Godric's heirlooms, like the Sorting Hat. The Hat had kept ten centuries of Potters out of Slytherin and in Gryffindor, keeping their enemies unaware. The Potters were not paranoid, no, because each generation had watched an evil figure rise, Dark or Light, and had helped combat them.

James, just like every Potter before him, was taught Dark Arts, blood magic, legilimency, occulmency, charms, potions, Ancient Runes, Arthimancy, necromancy, transfiguration…he had, like all Potters, kept his power hidden and acted like and average student except in Transfiguration, his passion, where he let his passion shine through.

James and his parents had thought at the time it was Voldemort who was the next threat, but apparently the real threat had hidden under their noses for a hundred and fifty years, not only manipulated the world so much that—from what Remus and Sirius told him—he wasn't even sure if anyone knew what the words use your brains anymore, had practically the entire Wizarding world eating out of his hand, killed off half the Order (the Marauders had suspected this, now they could confirm it), tricked all the Most Noble and Ancient Houses by putting everyone at each other's necks, and had done the worst thing imaginable.

He had hurt a Potter.

Well, the Potters might not have been around for a few years but there would be hell to pay and Albus Dumbledore was going to pay the price for dominating and manipulating the entire Wizarding world to fit his twisted chessboard.

Underneath the crested door was a large, gold doorknob. James immediately put his hand on the knob, grasping it firmly and wincing slightly as drew a sample of his blood. The gates burned gold, indicating validity, and swung open with a click.

Potter Bunker was built into a hill. After you walked up the marble steps, there was a grand marble foyer with a vast marble staircase in the middle, with a red velvet and golden-trimmed runner down it a crystal chandelier floating overhead. There were hallways on either side of the staircase, one that went down into the kitchen, infirmary, and house elf's quarters and one to the family dining room and living room and passageway that lead to the family vaults and crypts.

At the top of the staircase, there were double doors and hallways going on either side. Behind the double doors was the drawing room with large double doors, behind there was the ballroom, and behind the ballroom was the formal dining room.

The hallway on the right lead to the guest rooms, whilst the left lead to the family rooms, library, and study. There were over two hundred rooms in Potter Bunker, one hundred-fifty for the refugees of war and fifty for the family and closest friends.

As soon as five made it into the foyer, a squeaky voice called, "Whos dares enters Potter Bunker!"

James, squinting, could see the outline of a house-elf standing in the middle of the Grand Staircase. He recognized that voice… "Noddy?" James asked.

Noddy gasped, "Master James! Master James! You is returned!" Notty raced down the stairs in her fluffy white towel adorned by the Potter crest and a small 'H' stitched on the breast to identify her as Head house-elf, followed by two others, James recognized as the two head Potter house-elfs; Dotty and Kritter. Noddy, Dotty, and Kritter all were head house-elfs for the three main Potter estates—Dotty for Potter Bunker, Kritter for Potter Manor, Noddy for Potter Castle—James sent them all here for safety after his parents were murdered.

"Mistress Lily, too!" Dotty cried, all of them lurching to a stop, "You have returned!"

Kritter gasped. "What has happened to Young Master Harry, Master James?"

"Please, Kritter," James begged. "Harry was being abused by his relatives," James snarled—he couldn't believe they were actually related, "Please, get the infirmary ready."

Kritter nodded and popped away, while the five hurried down the hallway and walked inside to the infirmary. The room was long with white marble floor and gray stone walls, twenty-five beds on each side with the white cotton sheets turned down, two chairs, and a oak table with empty potion flagons, parchment and dicto-quills for listing the patient's ailments and injuries.

They laid Harry down on the bed closest to them, and a second later Dotty popped out of no where, placing a casket of about twenty or so healing potions and a pile of bandages, gauze, and thermometers.

Lily ran a scan over Harry, dragging her wand from his forehead to the small of his back. She closed her eyes, her face turning pale with worry then red and blotchy with anger.

"Lily?" James asked softly, from the bedside where he was holding Harry's hand and brooding.

"Silence," she snapped, going into Healer-mode. "His injuries are severe and I need silence." She glared at the three marauders.

They nodded dutifully and Sirius and Remus both sat the end of Harry's bed. Lily took off the stasis charm and Harry shuddered in a painful gulp of air, making everyone wince. She vanished the bandages and applied a cleansing spell to all the lacerations all over his body and renewed the bandages all over his body, along with tapping her wand healing the bruises and righting his kneecap and ankle.

They watched, in silence for hours, as she worked over son's body; slowly the red started to fade away and they could see the pale skin and skeletal frame underneath. The marauders watched as Lily healed away the past injuries of abuse, smearing on Anti-Scarring Cream, and the white lines that crisscrossed over his chest and arms disappeared. His legs, too, were restored to one might consider a normal state—as normal as it can be for a boy with stunted growth, punctured lungs, and kidneys from past abuse injuries. Lily healed those too, and Harry's pain-induced sleep had been turned into semi-peaceful slumber, the black and purple circles under his eyes died down into bags and his eyes were not bulging out any more: with the occasional whimper or sharp in-take of breath whenever Lily pressed her wand in the wrong place, but James, Remus, and Sirius were always there to sooth him.

Soon, with an exhausted sigh, Lily collapsed in a chair, and James, with one hand still clasping his son's, rubbed soothing circles on her back, murmuring comforting words as she rubbed the black rings under her eyes and pulled the potions toward her. She forced down Harry's throat three nourishment potions (which would fill him up when ever he was hungry but should'nt've been, due to starvation), growth potions (to work with the nourishment ones and restore his body back to what it should be), nutrient potions (which would give his body the necessary vitamins), and a dreamless sleep potion (to help with the no doubt nightmares of the abuse that would follow).

"He's done," Lily's voice broke as it cut through the still and thick air in the infirmary of Potter Bunker at three in the morning. She smiled wanly, "He's just sleeping. We'll be able to move to Potter Castle in the morning, after we've explained everything. Then it should take about five days for him to recover fully, with him taking potions for the next two weeks."

The marauders all exchanged smiles and James kissed Lily, but they were all too strained emotionally, psychically, and mentally to do anything more—their nerves had been frayed long ago.

"Go," she whispered to James through their embrace. "Go make the arrangements for us to move to the Castle. I—I want some time with my son."

James, wiping away his tears, kissed Lily and beckoned to the marauders, walking out of the infirmary. As soon as he disappeared from sight, Lily sighed and settled down on the bed next to him, putting his head in her lap.

Clucking disapprovingly at the infamous Potter hair Harry possessed, she smoothed it down and kissed his forehead, brushing his scar, a remnant of that infamous night and wondered how did things get so bad? Softly, her tears trickled down her cheeks on to her son. Her voice breaking slightly from lack of use, has something to for being a grave for fourteen years, she thought wryly, Lily struck up an old tune, and old tune her mother sung to her and she sung to her son,

"When little Birdie bye-bye goes, quiet as mice in churches,

He puts his head where no one knows, on one leg he perches.

When little Babie bye-bye goes, on Mamma's arm reposing,

Soon he lies beneath the clothes, safe in the cradle dozing.

When pretty Pussy goes to sleep, tail and nose together,

Then little mice around her creep, lightly as a feather.

When little Babie goes to sleep, and he is very near us,

Then on tip-toe softly creep, that Babie may not here us.

Lullaby, Lullaby, Lulla-Lulla- Lullaby."

She smiled in satisfaction as she saw her son's breathing even out a bit, as though responding to her voice. She drew a contented sigh and burrowed back into the pillows, a slight smirk on her lips as she dreamt of all the ways she could castrate Albus Dumbledore and still make it PG enough for Harry to watch.

Frank and Alice had quite about had enough of the Healers poking and prodding them, asking them stupid questions like "Count to ten backwards, please?" and "What's this thing with four legs and top called?" and their personal favorite, "What's your name?"

Finally, after the Healers had given them their robes and wands back—except for Frank's, because apparently his son used it—they were quite ready to see Neville, even if he was thirteen.

"BY MERLIN'S FLUFFY RAINBOW COLORED SHEEP!" Alice finally hollered at the top of her lungs. "LET—US—OUT!"

Usually, Alice's outbursts and impatience ended either detention or probation, so Frank, being the quiet, analytical Ravenclaw he was, would usually try to quiet her down, but he didn't—he thought she was very right. And Merin's fluffy rainbow-colored sheep? Frank thought amusedly. That's a new one. I like almost as much as 'Morgana's prehistoric polka-dotted bras'.

Suddenly, there was a loud popping noise. Frank immediately went for his wand, only to remember it wasn't there. Instead of someone apparating in, there was a letter, floating down like someone had dropped.

Carefully and hesitantly, Frank snatched it out of the air.

Dear Lord and Lady Longbottom, he read, with Alice looking over his shoulder, I, GFW, was the one who cured you. I'm sorry for frightening you with my letter, but it is imperative you know the world is at stake. Many good people will loose their lives and families to the Dark Lords—one to the self-titled 'Lord Voldemort' and the second Lord, the one who claims to be the Lord of the Light, even though was responsible for the deaths of Lord and Lady Potter, the incarceration of innocent Lord Black in Azkaban for twelve years, the 'drowning of grief' of Lord Moon (who you call Remus J. Lupin), the abuse at the hands of Petunia and Vernon Dursley for the Potter Heir, the abuse from the hands of Algernon Longbottom for the Longbottom Heir, and is even responsible for the insanity of you, Lord and Lady Longbottom, and the death of the Second Lord Black.

Alice's mouth fell open. "He doesn't mean…Dumbledore does he? But…Dumbledore…what…" Alice was sputtering now, trying to come up with an argument to combat this, but was coming up with none—Dumbledore was in one way or more responsible for the travesties these people experienced.

Frank grimaced. "Well, he unfortuneately has a point…I wouldn't call Dumbledore a dark lord, but things are…well, not looking up. Hang on, there's more…P.S. I need you to trust me. I know your son, and I'm only trying to help. You'll be meeting Neville soon—this letter is a portkey, but I assure, it is perfectly safe. You'll be meeting some old friends in three—two—one!
As he finished, Frank felt a jerk in his navel and the spinning around, holding desperately to the letter as he heard his wife's final "BY GODRIC'S YELLOW-BELLIED STOOL!" before he hit the floor and passed out.