March 24, 1988

Kitezh was really neat.

"... and because the Mongols knew no magic of their own, their army could do nothing to stop the wizards from hiding the city beneath the water. The Invisible City has remained here at the bottom of the lake, ever since."

Harry marvelled at the artificial sky, the ancient buildings, the liveliness and energy so out of place. "Cool…" he breathed out, surveying the massive stone cathedral. "But what happened to the muggles living here?"

Hilde juggled the guidebook she held with one hand, trying to turn the page while keeping a tight hold on his hand with the other. "Memory and Confunding Charms were employed to allow them to return to the surface without endangering the city."

"What's this building used for now, then?"

"That's where the city's government is housed," she replied. "I think we've had enough exploring for today. Come along now, let's get something to eat and get back to the inn."

"Do we have to?" He let out a dramatic sigh, but gave in to her command. Hilde was great, she really was, but she had so many rules.

"Yes, we do. Let's hurry."

She seemed mad, but Harry couldn't figure out why. The Invisible City was great! He was sure it was chock full of mysteries and exciting things. But Hilde had been quiet and short-tempered for the entire week they'd been in Russia, not at all interested in going on adventures. "Are you tired?"

A woman selling vegetables raised her eyebrows at hearing them speak German, so Hilde sped up, tugging Harry along. "No. But I've never been so far from home."

'She was scared!' he realised. "It's okay. I bet Kitezh will be just as good as Calenberg Court, you'll see!"

She smiled at that, and Harry felt better that she'd cheered up. They arrived at the market shortly thereafter, and he obediently stayed at her side while she purchased food for them. He didn't even complain about having fischbroetchen, again. He didn't want Hilde to be scared, so he'd be good.

Still, Harry decided as he watched four large men wrestle a big cage out of the back of a wagon, that didn't mean he couldn't come back later and look around.

'I bet Dung will go adventuring with me.'

The bakery was closed again.

"I'm going to get Gilderoy Lockhart's new book! He's so brave!"

Aunt Amelia chuckled at Susan's enthusiasm, then turned to her. "What about you? Are there any specific stories you'd like to get today?"

Hannah's pace slowed, casting frequent glances over her shoulder at the storefront of Potter's Prodigious Pastries as they made their way towards Flourish & Blott's. "No, not really."

Amelia paused, peering down at her. With her monocle in place, Hannah always felt like her best friend's aunt could see right into her head. "What's wrong? Do you not want to go to the bookstore?"

"Of course she does!" Susan, understandably, was eager for that book.

"I do," Hannah agreed, and they continued on their way for a few more steps. "But would it be alright if I visited Miss Lily?"

An odd expression crossed Amelia's face. It was kind of like that time she and Susan knocked a portrait of her Great-Aunt Eleanore off the wall and blamed the house-elves. "You had scones for breakfast, isn't that enough sweets for this morning?"

"I won't buy anything! I just wanted to say hello."

Eventually, the Bones matriarch gave in with a short nod, and the three of them turned around and went back the way they'd come, stopping in front of the bakery. "It looks like she's closed up for the day."

"No, she's there, I know it!"

Hannah stepped up to the closed door and used the secret knock Miss Lily taught her, three quick knocks, stop; one again, stop; and then two more in quick succession. There was a long pause while the three waited, but nothing happened.

"Well, we tried, come along girls-"

The door opened, and Miss Lily appeared. Her clothes were clean, untouched by the light coating of flour she normally wore. Her strange eyes were bloodshot, swollen and red-rimmed, but nonetheless she smiled softly. "Hannah? Is that you?"

"Hello, Lily," Amelia said stiffly. "We're sorry to disturb you, but Hannah wanted to come say hello."

"That's fine, I wasn't busy." She stepped outside the bakery, keeping one hand on the doorframe and reached out to Hannah. "Hello, sweetie."

Seeing her again settled Hannah. It was like pulling on an extra blanket during a cold night; warm, comforting. "Why didn't you open your shop today? It was closed the last time we came, too!"

"That's why I taught you the secret knock, now, isn't it?" Lily gave her a fond look, though it faded by the time she turned in Amelia's direction. "How have you been, Amelia? It's been years."

"Fine. We're doing fine." 'Why was she being like this?' Hannah wondered.

"Well, I'm afraid I don't have anything for sale today."

"That's quite alright, we're sorry to bother you. Susan, Hannah, let's go."

Hannah squeezed Lily's skirt tighter in her hands. "Can I stay here while you go to the bookstore?"

"I'm certain Mrs. Potter is busy, and-"

"It's alright," Lily said. "I don't mind if she stays."

"Yes, well-"

"Please?" Hannah asked, not above begging for what she wanted. "I did all my lessons yesterday, can't I stay here for awhile?"

Amelia removed her monocle and rubbed her forehead between her eyes. "That's all well and good, but…" She hesitated, looking at Lily once more. "Has there been any improvement?"

'Was Miss Lily sick?' Hannah thought, a frown tugging at her lips. "No, there hasn't. But I have a Floo connection, and Sirius paid for the best protections money can buy."

"That was very generous of him." An awkward silence fell over them, and eventually Amelia nodded slowly. "Very well. Hannah, you know our address. I expect you home by lunchtime."

Susan said her goodbyes, whispering a plea to her to share any snacks she got from Lily, and then the two of them were gone, on their way to the bookstore once again.

"Let's go inside. Would you like some pumpkin juice?"

"Sure," Hannah said, easily matching Lily's slow, steady gait. It was so unusual, seeing her in regular clothes, no apron in sight. "Is everything alright? I mean, with the bakery?"

"Of course! I just needed some time to myself. Why don't you tell me about these lessons you finished?"

Hannah did so, dutifully retelling the grammar and history lessons that Miss Vance provided to her and Susan, and the exercises she'd been assigned.

"I know Emmaline," Lily said as they crossed the waiting area of her shop, moving carefully until her fingers brushed against the counter, then walking confidently to the kitchen and withdrawing a carafe of pumpkin juice from the chiller. Hannah followed and climbed onto one of the stools tucked beneath the counter. "Here you are. Give me just a minute to fix myself some tea."

"Do you not get along with Aunt Amelia?" she asked without thinking. Hannah clamped her hands over her mouth the moment she asked that, but it was too late to take back.

Lily smiled, but her expression wasn't as warm as it usually was. "Sure, of course I do. We just haven't talked in a long time."

"It's just… she never acts like that when Susan and I want to go to the Macmillan's or the Brown's." Hannah toyed with her glass of juice for a few seconds, working up her courage. Miss Lily was always so kind to her, she wouldn't be upset if Hannah asked, would she? "Is it because you're muggleborn?"

Lily's face froze for a moment, then she shook her head. "If you're asking me if Amelia judges me because of my blood, then no, I don't think so. I may not know her well, but she's not the type to look down on someone just because of how they were born." A moment passed, then she asked, "How do you know about that sort of thing?"

"Miss Vance says because me and Susan are both members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, it's our duty to understand our heritage."

"Ah. That does sound like Emmaline," she remarked, not appearing to be offended.

Hannah finished her juice, looking around the kitchen. "Is that why you have these tools and, um, machines? Because you grew up with muggles?"

"No, muggles use different things. All of this is how I bake. Like when we made Susan's cake together, remember?"

She pondered this for a few moments, looking over the large, unlit cast-iron oven, and the bucket of sooty black stones nearby. No magical home she'd ever been to had something like that. "Wouldn't it be easier to cook with a regular oven?"

"Do you mean a magical one? Maybe, but this way works best for me," Lily said. "Now, what would you like to do? I'm afraid I don't have any toys, and you wouldn't be able to read my books."

The more Hannah thought about it, though, the less sense it made. Until now, she'd always chalked up the strangeness of the PPP's design as muggle engineering, but that wasn't quite right. There were some familiar things, the kind that the Bones elves used to prepare meals, but Lily did everything manually, using her own hands even when a simple charm would suffice.

"I was thinking we could go up to the roof, and I could show you my garden."

And there were always crumbs hiding in the corners of the shop, or next to the legs of the large oven. Plus, Miss Lily's clothes were usually dusted with flour, even when she'd finished baking for the day.

"How does that sound?"

Hannah had been coming to the bakery since before her parents- since before the accident, and she'd never seen her with a wand, much less casting a spell. It was almost like…

"Miss Lily? Are- are you a squib?"

"Hurry up!"

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," he grumbled, robes rumpled and face unshaved. Dung looked like he'd just rolled out of bed, despite it being only an hour past supper. "Don' see why Hilde couldn't wait til morning to buy groceries."

"She wants milk in her porridge for breakfast," Harry lied, scampering along the familiar path he'd trod the day before.

"Milk in porridge?" Dung asked sceptically, but Harry kept his eyes fixed forward, towards their destination.

"It's how her mum used to make it." That might even be true, Harry thought upon further reflection. Anything was possible, after all.

"Pretty sure the inn sells milk, kid. Your dad pro'lly wouldn't want you wanderin' about so late, 'specially not when 'e's out touring properties."

Dung was likely right about that. Harry rarely suffered consequences beyond a stern talking-to for flouting the rules, but Father had been more gruff and less cheerful since they'd come to Kitezh. Still, no potential punishment would deter him from this adventure.

Thankfully, he was spared the need to respond by their arrival to the market, the crowd much thinner than the previous day. Many of the stands were shuttered, and most vendors' tables were already shrunken down and stacked at the edges of the square. Nonetheless, Harry knew what he was looking for was still there.

The wagon was gone, but at the edge of the square were three men, one of whom Harry recognised from the day before. A large box, covered by a thick tarp thrown over top of it stood alongside the men. Clouds of cheap tobacco floated amongst them while they attended to a card game of some sort, seated beneath the dim streetlamps.

There it was. He'd dreamt of that cage last night.

"I think Hilde's gonna 'ave to wait for milk- wait! Come back!" Dung reached out for him, but Harry expected that and easily eluded him, jogging lightly over to the men.

"Zdravstvuyte!" Harry greeted, 'hello' being the full extent of his knowledge of Russian. "What's in the cage?"

They chuckled amongst themselves, and the one he'd seen from the day before stubbed out his cigarette and set his cards face-down. "Your boy is curious," he said to Dung, in heavily accented English.

"Don' mind us, we'll just be on our way," Dung said, though he too cast several glances at the covered cage.

"What do you have in there?" Harry asked again. There was something about it, a draw of some kind pulling him towards it. He had to see what was inside.

"This is not a-" he barked out a question in Russian to his associates and received a reply. "This is not for tourists. We are businessmen."

"Anyone can see that, my good man," Dung said smoothly, reaching into his robes and withdrawing a pouch. With one hand, he rolled a cigarette, tossing it to the man before rolling another for himself. "But you know how kids can be. 'ow 'bout just a peek, then you can get back to your game?"

The man lit the gifted cigarette with his wand and inhaled, little gusts of smoke emerging as he responded. "Fine. One look, one Galleon."

"A Galleon?! Whaddya 'ave in there, the ghost of Merlin 'imself?"

Harry could feel his pulse pounding beneath his temples, unable to tear his gaze away from the tarp-covered cage. "Pay him, Dung."

Muttering under his breath, the older man dug around in his robes for several seconds, eventually locating a heavy gold coin and flipping it towards the man. "Now can we 'ave a look, or not?"

The man made a show of peering first at Harry, then Dung. "Two people is two looks. That means two Galleons."

"Oi! This is a bloody outrage, it is!" Harry crept closer while his guardian tried to haggle. "One Galleon, and three Sickles."

"Two Galleons," the man said flatly, holding out a hand to halt Harry as he did. "No further, little one. Not safe."

"Fine, fine. Bloody Russians, you're all a bunch of chiselers…" Dung passed over the second coin, slapping it into the man's open palm. "This better be good."

"It is very impressive. One-time chance to see. Very rare," the man said, motioning for his two compatriots to remove the obscuring cloth.

"You already got our gold, y'don' gotta sell us, mate," Dung said, but Harry ignored them both as the tarp was raised.

The men moved slowly, but more out of wariness than to increase the drama of the moment. The fact they had their wands drawn and clutched tightly in one hand also added to the time it took to reveal the contents of the cage.

"What is that?" Dung muttered, leaning forward. Trapped inside the cage was a creature, the likes of which Harry had never seen before.

It was small, not much taller than Harry himself, with a pair of shimmering, transparent wings emerging from its back. Covered in a light sheen of greenish fur, its legs ended in hooves, rather than feet. Leaves and vines grew from its head in a strange semblance of hair. The face had large, circular eyes, completely black. Where eyebrows would be on a person, small protrusions wafted, acting like antennae. It had no mouth.

"It is zelenfeya. A- how do you say… grassland fairy?"

"That's a fairy? They're a lot bigger than I'd've 'spected," Dung whistled, looking the creature up and down. "Nothing at all like the pixies we've got back in Britain."

"Pixie to fairy is like, ah, trout to shark. More that is not like than is."

Harry tried to take a step forward, but was again stopped by the man. "Stay back. Feya are great danger. It not care about age, will break your mind like any other." The man snapped his fingers as if to emphasise his point.

"What are you going to do with it?" Harry asked.

"Alchemists bid for it now. Experiment, research, ingredients." The man shrugged, then grinned. "I just sell."

"Right. Well, good luck with that. Come on, kid, let's go."

"Sure," he said, starting to follow Dung away from the market. Something, though - likely the same feeling that drove him here in the first place - compelled him to turn back and glance over his shoulder for one last look at the trapped fairy. His eyes met the fairy's, and a funny sort of electricity raced through his body.

'I see you, youngling.'

'What?' he tried to say, but his mouth didn't seem to work. He tried to stop, to turn around and face the creature fully, but his body wouldn't respond to his commands.

The lilting, feminine voice spoke again, musical and seductive. 'I see you. You're touched by the Origin.'

'What are you talking about? Why can't I move?'

'Where would you go? You answered my call, so we must speak.'

Harry didn't know what to do, how to make this stop. He didn't know if he wanted it to stop. 'How did those men catch you?'

'My sisters and I quarrelled, and I stormed off in a rage. Outside our circle, we are not protected by our enchantments. The humans were many, and I was but one.'

'They said they're going to sell you.' He didn't know if his sympathy carried through over whatever mind-wave they communicated by, but Harry felt immense sorrow over those words.

'They aim to, but I will return to my sisters.'

Relief washed over him. 'Good. When will you escape?' he asked.

'When you free me,' came the steady, assured reply.

If Harry could move, he was sure his jaw would have dropped. 'Me? I can't- I don't know how-'

'You bear fortune's blessing, and the fingerprint of the Origin. I will be free.'

He had no idea how to respond to that. There was a rushing sound in his ears, like when the wind deafened him during broom rides with his father. He felt an impending sense of urgency, that whatever was happening would soon come to an end. 'What is your name?'

'Meadow.'

And with that final word, the trance, or illusion, or whatever just happened came to an end. Harry stumbled, landing face-first on the street when he suddenly regained control over his body.

"Y'alright, kid? Easy now," Dung said, helping him up. "Nasty business, that, eh? I'm a bit unsettled, m'self!"

Once he'd righted himself, Harry looked around. The market was still deserted, and the men behind them were carefully replacing the cloth over the cage. Despite his lengthy interaction with the fairy, it seemed no time at all had elapsed from the moment he'd glanced over his shoulder.

Had he imagined the whole thing?

No, he ultimately decided. That happened. Meadow was real.

And he was going to free her.

A/N: Jeez, I'm really piling on poor Lily. Her life is pretty awful, but so is Hannah's. Harry, meanwhile, will get a break for the most part in this story. At least, the beginning. Rest assured, I don't plan on tDP being the woe-fest that ASAoV was haha.

Speaking of which, had a reviewer ask about the status of Wrath and Remorse. I promise it's not abandoned, but it's such a challenge to write. The main issue is the timeline of events; without going into too much detail, basically WaR is split between the events in Great Britain, and Harry & Daphne around the world. Storylines happen at a different pace for each, so it's been maddening to find any cohesion. Really, for as wide as the scope of that fic is, it would have been better to have 1 continuous story of the GB plot, and 1 continuous story of Harry's plot, but I already lost most of my readers by having the sequel be a separate story haha.

What a ramble, sorry. AMR update is next.

Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles