*This chapter of our story takes place in our world, but as we know, this world has many secrets too.*

In this part of the underground city, the walls were decorated with the bones of the dead.

There were countless skulls, bits of rib and pelvis, all broken up by horizontal handrails made of spinal vertebrae or those long bones in the leg. It was the creepiest thing, made all the more creepy by the soft flickering of light that came from burning torches secured high on the bone-wall in roughly-hewn iron brackets. If you weren't careful, your mind might almost be able to trick you that these bones were still alive.

It certainly did to Harry Potter, who was holding onto the handrail as he made his way through the alternating patches of light and dark cast by the flaming sconces above. If he'd had a say in the matter, Harry would probably have preferred to not know about the bones at all - or the thousands of people who had died to provide them. It wasn't that he was afraid of them; in fact, it was quite the opposite. They stoked his insatiable curiosity, and it was this that was likely to lead him into trouble.

Don't ask questions, that was the key to a quiet life in the sprawling, underground metropolis of Pont-y-Annwn, which was the local Welsh name for the place. And this was the first question that Harry could ever remember asking.

"What does Pont-y-Annwn mean, Mum?"

"The Bridge to Annwn," Harry's mother, Lily, had told him, as she handed Harry another boiled egg to de-shell for breakfast.

"Where's Annwn? And what is it?"

"Don't ask."

And with that dark reply, that was that as far as questions were concerned. So Harry had to limit his questions to himself, just as he was doing today.

"I wonder if the skulls had brains in and stuff?" Harry whispered, deliciously disgusted by the idea of the slimy things wriggling around his fingers, as he poked his digits into some vacant eye sockets on the wall. "I bet they must have, so I should stop fiddling with them, really."

Harry often spoke to himself like this. After all, as the only child in the city, and with no-one to tell him that this habit was somewhat peculiar, Harry had simply gotten used to doing it.

Another thing he'd gotten used to, which was far more exciting, was investigating the labyrinth of tunnels he'd found under the city … for in a location already seven miles underground, what else could be hiding even deeper than that?

Harry had come to decide that it must be big or secret or important, and definitely dangerous, to be buried so deep. So, naturally, he was on a mission to find it, whatever it was. And Harry's curiosity was further driven by something that his father had once told him, which - with hindsight - he probably shouldn't have.

"Always in this world, Harry, there is the sense of what might have been, if it hadn't been corrupted," James Potter had said to his son, after telling him a bedtime story one night. James never read to Harry from books, always made up the tales on the night. Tales of magic and dragons and far-off heroes doing daring deeds. Harry never tired of hearing these fanciful tales, and James never tired of inventing new ones.

"How easy would it have been for Eve to not eat her apple, for Pandora to have left that box closed," James went on. "Or for Tom Riddle to have not gone to Godric's Hollow on Halloween, if they'd only known the consequences. They had a world teeming with plenty, of beautiful oceans, verdant fields, lush valleys and temperate weather, peace and prosperity …

"... and despite all this, they still wanted more."

It was a message, Harry knew, meant to warn against his curiosity. But all it did was inspire his imagination, to see just how far people were prepared to go for 'more'. He adopted the notion that this is why his city had been created in the first place, that the answers must lay close to the very centre of the Earth, and that these corridors were the way to get there. He imagined that this was where all the great and the good would gather for elaborate banquets, to have lofty discussions on subjects that Harry couldn't conceive, and to engage in unmentionable rites.

Harry wasn't really sure what a rite was, but it was the word unmentionable that fired his excitement.

So he followed the bone-tunnel now as it sloped downwards and curved to the right. There it levelled out to a sort of parapet or viewing platform, though Harry couldn't imagine what might be watched from up here, or what sorts of people usually did the watching. He leaned over the edge to try and see through the dark mist that hung everywhere … and then snapped himself back as if hit by an electric shock.

For his mother was passing through the gloom down below.

And she was moving in some hurry. Harry didn't know if his mother knew that he was there or not, but he had to think not, as he'd have already been half way through a severe telling off by now if she did. So Harry sat up, once he'd recovered from the surprise, and tracked his mother's progress from his hidden spot high above. But soon she was out of sight, which left Harry with no choice but to follow her, as he just had to know where she was going in such a rush … not to mention to learn how she knew about this place at all.

Leaping up, Harry scurried off along the corridor, rushing a hushed apology to one of the skulls that he pulled free from the mortar as he tugged himself up. He'd just have to hope that the ghost of the poor fellow didn't come back to haunt him later. He hurried along in a crouched position to stay as quiet as possible, cursing every scuff of his trainers where they caught on the rutted floor of the tunnel. He had no idea where he was going, but he supposed that this must be the right way as the tunnel only led in one direction. He was fitfully curious now to see where his mother was unwittingly leading him.

And then he saw it. The corridor opened up into a chamber so vast that Harry couldn't even begin to guess at its massive dimensions. And there, right at the centre, was the most astonishing and unexpected thing Harry had ever seen. For he was now staring at a huge, brilliantly silver-white pyramid. It was taking up most of the space of the huge hollow in the earth that it had been built within. Harry had no words with which to describe it. But one aspect struck him straight away, something that made him think immediately of the supernatural.

For the pyramid was upside down, as if built from the roof of the cavern down, with the apex lost deep under the dark, still waters of an enormous black lake. An angular network of canals of that black water splintered out from the lake in a clearly deliberate design, divided by wide causeways of gleaming marble blocks that seemed to form a squared circle around the inverted pyramid, though what any of this might be used for Harry couldn't perceive.

Then he spotted his mother again. Lily had made her way down towards the centre of the chasm, along a path made of enormous strips of black basalt that scythed through the centre of the descending marble blocks. Harry followed his mother down this vast staircase, which looked like it was built for giants rather than regular people, until he was as close as he dared get without risking being seen.

By now, Lily had reached the web of canals and causeways at the bottom of the cavern. The construction was clearly artificial; right angles, perfect lines, considered geometry in every step. Harry watched as Lily made her way along it, soon reaching the shores of that perfectly circular lake, where the apex of the inverted pyramid disappeared beneath the murky depths.

And there, much to Harry's surprise, was James Potter, looking agitated and fraught. And next to him was an older woman that Harry didn't know. Her long hair was twisted into an elaborate plait, which hung elegantly over her left shoulder and sprouted from beneath a baby-blue beret, which she wore at a jaunty angle on her head.

Harry couldn't have seen it from his distant vantage point, but if he had been closer he would surely have noticed the large letter B surrounded by doves embroidered onto the side of the beret … the ancient crest of the equally-ancient school of Beauxbatons.

Lily hurried up to the woman and embraced her as an old friend. When they began speaking, their voices carried clearly in the acoustics of the chamber, as if another part of the conscious design of the place.

"Amelie, you're taking a great risk in coming here," Lily began quickly. "When James said it was you, I hardly believed him."

"I'm sorry, Lily, but I had nowhere else to go," the woman, Amelie, replied. Her accent was flecked with a French lilt, though she sounded bone-weary and close to exhaustion.

"What happened?" Lily pressed. "What on Earth could be so bad that you'd trek all the way down here?"

"And using the hard route too, no less," James added. He turned to his wife when she looked at him in confusion. "Amelie hasn't told me what's going on. She wanted to wait until we were both here."

"Well now we are," Lily returned, briskly. "So best to get the point. We daren't linger here too long."

Amelie took a weighty breath and shut her eyes. "They came for us tonight … the neo-Death Eaters."

James sucked in a breath so sharp it might have sliced the inside of his throat. "Neo? What does that mean?"

"It means 'new', but that isn't important right now," Amelie shot back with a dismissive wave of her hand. "All that matters is that they came … and that they were after my father's Work."

For some reason he couldn't fathom, Harry imagined the word work with a capital W. He couldn't have said why, he just did. How strange. Then his mother started talking before Harry could think more about it.

"My word … Nicolas and Perenelle," Lily hushed, anxiously. "Are they alright?"

"Yes," Amelie nodded. "They made it into their panic room, and from there they summoned Albus. He drove away the intruders."

Harry supposed that Albus was a ferocious guard dog or something. It sounded the sort of name you'd give to a beast like that. And Lily seemed to confirm his suspicion.

"That's good. I'm sure your parents are safe if Albus is looking after them," Lily nodded.

"But what of the Stone?" James cut in. "You said that these new Death Eaters were after your father's Work. Tell me they didn't find his Stone?"

"No, I was able to smuggle it away before the Death Eaters ransacked my father's Cell," Amelie revealed, with no small trace of relief in her voice. "And that's why I've come to you."

Lily gasped as though stung. "You haven't … brought it here, have you?"

"I had no choice," Amelie yelped. "If the Death Eaters had captured me, they'd have taken the Stone straight to Him … straight to You-Know-Who."

A silence of a very serious and sombre quality fell upon the vaulted chamber. Harry felt it wash over him like a tide only he could see. Whoever this You-Know-Who character was, Harry could tell that he wasn't anything good. The mere tone of Amelie's voice made Harry's skin crackle with icy tingles as she pronounced the moniker.

This feeling was echoed in the concern in Lily's voice when she spoke next. "What makes you think that? How could he be involved at all?"

"They found him … or found what's left of him … lurking in Albania," Amelie told them. "He told his new followers that the key to his return was my father and his Work, that's why they came for us tonight."

James stepped close to Amelie then and spoke in cold concern. "Tell me, Amelie … do they know about Harry? Do they know about our son?"

Amelie turned and stared hard in return. "James, Lily … the whole world knows about your boy. There isn't a child in our society who doesn't know the story of the Boy Who Lived."

"Is … is that what they are calling him?" Lily hushed. "Great Merlin! We didn't expect that!"

"How do they even know that he survived?" James quizzed. "After what Sirius did, we were supposed to be thought dead."

"And so you were ... or you and Lily were, at least," Amelie revealed. "But Harry was not. Nobody remembered seeing him with you in Piccadilly Circus that day. Then Peter Pettigrew started telling people that some sneaky Dark Magic was done by you on Harry, magic that led to the destruction of You-Know-Who's body. Pettigrew wanted to rally the Death Eaters to him, but as he was so pathetic none of them went for it.

"But, with no better explanation to be had, the story stuck in the minds of the general public. Nobody has ever been able to say where Harry went, but most people are certain that he is alive. That is why every year, on July the 31st, magical Britain comes to a virtual standstill to celebrate Harry Potter Day ... and that's only because Halloween, when his 'victory' happened, was already taken by another event!"

Up at his hiding spot, Harry gripped the ledge so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Who was this You-Know-Who? What in the world was 'magical' Britain? And why did the people who lived there call him the Boy Who Lived and celebrated his birthday? He hadn't done anything remotely interesting in the whole ten years of his life, so how could he possibly be famous for something he had no idea about? Harry's head was swimming with this assault of new knowledge and he could barely process what he was hearing.

But there was more to come.

"Amelie, the Stone cannot stay here," James went on. "Even if we could protect it from the Muggles who run the place, some of the old Death Eaters have connections to them, we know that much. This new breed could soon come looking for the Stone, and for our Harry. We aren't strong enough to fight them both. Our defence has been in secrecy … we can't jeopardise that."

"I'm afraid that defence may not hold much longer," Amelie replied, darkly.

"Explain that comment. Right now," Lily demanded, angrily.

"It is rumour heavy that one of the senior neo-Death Eaters is a Professor at Hogwarts," Amelie explained. "He caught a glimpse of Irma Pince, the librarian and student registrar, compiling the list of enrollees for the next school year. He saw your Harry's name on it. This is what we believe triggered the fresh searches for traces of You-Know-Who."

"And I bet I know who that traitor is," James growled like an enraged stag. "That hook-nosed, greasy-haired …"

"James - we don't know that it was him, he might not be responsible," Lily argued, reasonably.

James looked at his wife in coarse disbelief. "Still? After all these years? You continue to believe in him?"

"Always," Lily returned without ceremony. "There was good in him once. You don't know him as I did."

"No, but I know him as I did, which was a far more recent incarnation and reason enough for me to hate the man."

"And to crucify him before proving his guilt," Lily fired back in defiance. "Being an easy target doesn't make him the right one, James. And if Harry is in danger, we need all the actual facts before we act."

"And act you must," Amelie cut in. "If the Muggles here are in league with the neo-Death Eaters, and the notion of the Boy Who Lived is rampant among them, then they will soon align their thinking, especially if Harry starts to show. Have there been any accidents yet?"

"A few, but we've been able to explain them all away," Lily confessed. "As far as the Muggles know, their experiments down here have been successful. James and I stopped actively Practicing, and Harry's accidental bursts have been insignificant and easy to cover up. But they are getting stronger."

"But we think the Muggles suspect something already," James added. "They aren't nearly as quaint as most in our world would have us believe. Their technology and equipment is so sophisticated that it is almost indiscernable from magic. It even surpasses it in many ways. We think that they may be trying to trigger Harry in some way … and if they succeed, then we'll have to get him out pretty sharpish, before he becomes another sacrifice to Arawn."

An awkward lump formed in Harry's throat as he listened. He struggled for a clean breath of air through it. Magic, Muggles (whatever they were), a plan to spirit him away before he was sacrificed … what in the world was going on? And who or what was Arawn?

One thing was for certain, Harry was definitely abandoning this 'not asking questions' nonsense after this day!

Then Amelie started speaking again. "So you have plans to put Harry somewhere safe?"

"We are making arrangements," James confirmed.

"And the people who will protect him … will they be able to keep him safe from You-Know-Who and his followers?"

"They did a good job of it last time," James replied, grinning warmly at Lily. She simply rolled her eyes by way of reply.

"Then they should also be able to conceal the fruits of my father's Work," Amelie implored. She stepped in and pressed something small into James' hand, but Harry was much too far away to see what it was.

"You can't give this to me," James resisted. "I'm too weak to possess such an item … I'll give in to the temptation to use it for myself."

"Then I'll take it," Lily declared, crosssing to James and stealing away the package from his grasp, but not without a firm wrench or two. "I almost made one of these myself, but then decided not to finish the Work. I didn't want a bigger target on my back than I already had."

"And you'll see it safe?" Amelie pressed.

"I'd sooner see it destroyed," Lily frowned. "But it may be the key to flushing these new Death Eaters out into the open. If we can find out just how serious a threat Tom Riddle is beginning to pose again, it will allow us to plan accordingly. We'll make sure it gets to the people best suited to developing such a strategy."

"Thank you, I knew I could rely on you," Amelie replied warmly, clasping Lily firmly by the hand.

"Come on, let's get you safe and settled before we decide how best to get you out," James took over. "You can stay in the pyramid for now. No-one but us knows how to open it … nobody will think to look for you in there."

"And what will you do then?" Amelie asked.

"We'll go home and see our son" Lily replied, before adding gravely, "we need to have a serious talk with him, and he wont like much of what we have to tell him."

Then a door opened in the apex of the pyramid, and the conversation was lost to Harry's ears as the others disappeared inside it and the door closed behind them, leaving Harry all alone in the droning silence. He rose, shaky and confused, and stumbled back towards the bone-tunnel trying to force order into his overwrought brain. But in the end, only one thought prevailed …

… his mother and father had a lot of explaining to do.