A.N. Now edited by Jeram, much thanks to him.

Hi gang, long time no see. Been busy with rl, but took out sometime to finish up a chapter for this story.

Chapter 3

"You like living with your aunt and uncle?" I asked, trying to find out if I was right about his home life. I didn't really want to find out if Bob's theory about wizards being servants in this reality was true.

He shrugged noncommittally in answer. I waited for him to volunteer information. We sat like that for a while in the humid heat, and under the bright sun that made even the grass look glossy. I waited for more, but his shrug was all he was going to say.

I tried a more aggressive approach. "Thanks for the sandwich, you have anymore? I'm starving."

"Uh, I guess. Aunt Petunia locked the door. It's all I had. Sorry. I can get you one when she gets back." He looked uncomfortable.

I felt like an ass for putting him in that position, but also felt worse for eating his breakfast. I smiled and cocked my head behind me to where the sunroom was, motioning him to follow as I got up.

"Let me guess, you gave me your breakfast?" I asked as the boy in oversized clothes followed me.

"I wasn't hungry," he said in a bored way, but I caught his slight blush. So he was embarrassed by his situation. Hmm.

In daylight the sunroom wood was bright white, almost like it had been freshly painted. Like everything else in the small neighborhood it was spotless; it gave me the creeps. I reached for my tools but thought better of it. I wanted to earn the Archive's trust. I thought showing him a bit of magic might do the trick. It was risky with the wards but who ever said Harry Dresden wasn't a risk taker?

"By the way, I'm Harry." I turned to introduce myself holding my hand out.

The boy looked taken aback but recovered soon. His posture straightened as he threw out his hand to clasp mine in a very firm handshake. I winced from the magic that flowed from him to me; he was like a naked electrical circuit.

"I'm Harry too," he said, taking his hand back and looking at it curiously. "What was that?"

"Would you believe magic?" I grinned, inwardly cataloguing the fact that he was capable of using his abilities now if he wanted to. He might just need some training.

"My Aunt and Uncle don't like that word," he shared flatly. "There's no such thing as magic."

I sensed some hostility, though I granted myself the benefit of the doubt that he was probably thinking of his relatives and not me.

"Aha, but what if I open this door with magic? Observe: the door is locked. Please, give it a try." With a flourish I bowed to him.

He actually smiled and like a good sport jiggled the door knob this way and that way trying to open it; then backed away to let me continue my trick.

I had enough frustration inside me because of not knowing what the boy's home life meant to fuel my magic. I formed my will to it and uttered a nonsensical word, trying a veil on something small for the very first time. Luckily my tools came out invisible when I took them out from my pocket. I smiled and used them like the night before, but to the naked eye it seemed like I was making some silly motions close to the door. For some reason I couldn't quite get it and in my irritation the veil fell in a spark of light at the same time the lock gave way.

I waited for the terribly ancient ward to smite me down, but I didn't sense anything coming my way. Bob is not usually wrong, so it made me nervous. What if the ward was more subtle than something straightforward that returned fire to you? A good rule to work by is that magic you can't see is a lot worse than magic you can see; hence, my wariness over not being burned to a crisp in a flashy fashion.

"What was that blue light?" he asked in an awed voice, distracting me from my thoughts. The blue light being the spark of my veil failing on something too small for my skill level – yup, I hate veils.

"Magic, like I said. Try the door." I grinned like a performer and stood back seeing him open the door with no resistance. His mouth was a little open as he opened and shut the door.

"Can you do anything else? Where did that skull come from?" he demanded with an excited smile on his swelling lip. Obviously, when the veil over my tools fell so did the one on Bob.

Usually it is a slight on my self respect as a real wizard to do a dog and pony show, but I couldn't refuse a child I had deliberately baited. Besides it was good to put a smile on someone like him. So I showed him Bob.

"Is that a real human skull?" He was completely enthralled.

"And it talks too. What's up kiddo? Nice fight there," Bob suddenly piped up, startling both me and Harry. He went very, very wide eyed.

"Hello?" he said hesitantly.

"Yes, yes, an air spirit of knowledge trapped in a skull!" Bob exclaimed. "You're right to be shocked. Hand me over to him, Harry, the kid is obviously sympathetic to my plight," Bob chattered away turning himself a little in my grasp to look up at me with his orange glowing eye-sockets.

"Bob, I think he's just surprised by a talking skull," I corrected.

I didn't notice when the Archive closed distance between us and he startled both Bob and me by petting his bleached head. Bob spun on my palm faster than I have ever seen him move and bit the child's fingers.

"Bob!" I yelled as Harry yelped.

"I am not a pet cat," Bob said angrily but I knew he was amused by the way the orange flames spun in his eyes.

"I just wanted to see if it…he was real," Harry said with his hand tucked under his arm, well away from Bob.

"Sorry, he's special." I shrugged.

The boy nodded and looked at Bob and me pensively for a long second. I waited patiently.

"Magic is real," he whispered to himself, blinking his green eyes owlishly.

I grinned, "Yeah, you bet it is."

He didn't run away from me screaming Satanist or charlatan. I thought we were going to get along just fine.

I sat next to the law mower and a canister of gas trying to ignore the temptation to put them to destructive uses. The tool shed, which had become my home in the two days since I had showed up in the new world, was cleaner than my apartment. The inside walls were painted white, all the better to reflect the one fluorescent light above the door. I knew the tools in the shed were used, because I had seen Harry take them out to work on the garden, but you wouldn't know by looking at them by how clean they were.

I caught myself glaring again when my temples started hurting. I had seen the Archive get 'scolded' and his 'ears boxed' for not washing down the mower and tools after using them. The more time I spent around him the more I was impressed. He took his treatment patiently and still had enough goodwill left over to look out for me. I felt like a stray puppy he had taken in. He'd put me in the shed, telling me no one went in there but him because the rest of his family was too lazy. He'd even given me some of his clothes, which were already hand downs from his whale of a cousin. Seeing as I had returned to my shorter and rounder days they fit me better than they fit him.

My first instinct was to get the boy out of that house right away. Luckily for me, travelling beyond the Outside had a maturing effect on me. I knew that I needed more information before making a move. There were several things that did not make sense. Firstly, in a house as powerfully warded as Bob led me to believe, there wasn't one person who knew about magic. In fact, they actively disbelieved in it, which was suspicious in of itself. Bob had already confirmed for me that none of the Archive's relatives had the gift. So it was impossible that one of them had enchanted a ward on the house.

I was tired of running through the same information again and again in my head, and quite childishly huffed. I wish I was older. It is so much more acceptable to be exasperated when you stand 6'6" and have a reputation for a temper.

Best I could figure was that the ward was there to protect the Archive. In what way? I don't know. But if that were the case, why was he neglected and mistreated in his home? I would think protecting him would also include beating down overbearing, spiteful, gluttonous, lowlifes.

I breathed, trying to let my anger go. It was not smart to lose concentration and do unplanned magic. So near the ward, anything could happen. Although, so far the ward had been kind to me.

It was getting closer to midnight, the usual time Harry snuck out to spend some time with me and bring me dinner. I grinned at our partaking in the tradition of meeting at the witching hour. More importantly it was when I expected Bob back too. I had sent him out a couple of times to gather information from the spirit world about the Archive's descendant. Each time he returned empty handed, whining that I needed to let him out for more than an hour at a time to rustle up anything useful. So I put him out of my misery for a while and sent him off for twenty-four hours. The smart thing was to gather enough intelligence before doing anything, but I am not too patient by nature. I decided on risking it and taking the Archive's descendant away soon. My newfound maturity be damned.

If I hadn't been waiting for it I wouldn't have heard him creep up to the shed. Quickly I turned off the light bulb, amazed that it hadn't died yet because of my magic. I wondered how I was going to avoid his questions that night. He was a smart kid, very curious. He'd noticed I was American and was trying to find out why I was all the way in England. Not to mention how I knew magic. The door to the shed opened and I tensed, ready to run if it was one of Harry's relatives instead of him. He darted inside and quiet as a mouse shut the door. I lit the candle he'd brought me with a small effort of magic. He smiled like he always did seeing any bit of magic I could do.

"Here's dinner," he whispered, drawing lumpy things from his large pockets covered in paper towels.

"Thank God, I'm starved." I took the usual fare of bread, some lunchmeat, and vegetables from him and dug in. He sat quietly, patiently staring off in his own world. He had an amazing ability to blend with his background. He existed completely unobtrusively. Probably had something to do with the family who raised him; it didn't seem like a home you wanted to get noticed much. Hell, if I hadn't seen him fight a gang of kids for me I'd have thought he was a half step up from a zombie, given how unexpressive he was. Ah! But there was one thing that got him going, magic. I wondered if it was the right time to tell him he could be a practitioner too.

"Can magic make glass disappear?" he asked, breaking into my thoughts as if right on cue.

"Huh?" I gave him a blank look. He shifted a little as if unsure he should continue.

"I told you it was Dudley's birthday…" he trailed off, picking at his sneakers.

"Yeah, how was the trip to the zoo with the bloated and buffonic?" I asked casually, but his nervousness made me wary.

He smiled, looking very satisfied with himself. "It was fun. I talked to a snake, and then, I think, I made the glass disappear and he scared Dudley."

"Okay, back up, start from the beginning. You talked to a snake at the zoo? You can talk to snakes?" I was a little surprised. Beast speaking is not a common talent by far.

He shrugged and his smile wilted just a little. "It was the first time. I didn't like it, the snake was trapped behind glass and Dudley was just knocking on it to get a rise out of him. I hate bullies," he said with no little vehemence. I had noticed that there were few things that made Harry betray what he was feeling; bullies were one of those subjects.

"So you wanted the snake to be free and the glass disappeared?" I was very excited, if the Archive's descendant had discovered his magical potential by himself, I would have no trouble convincing him he was like me.

He shrugged again, too conditioned to not saying something that would potentially get him in trouble. But the satisfied smile was back. He laughed and nodded. I raised my hand for a high-five and after a second of confusion he slapped my palm. Before I could use his celebratory mood to segue into telling him about his magical heritage, he dug in his pants and brought out the glass ball LaFortier had given me to track him. The ball's pearly white light pulsed in its heart, making the candle light in the shed look cheap and fake.

"Dres?" he asked very quietly; he and I had picked 'Dres' as a nickname he could call me. "Do you think I can learn magic?" Then he hurriedly added, "I found this ball in my closet and it glows when I touch it, and the snake at the zoo…I mean it's not normal, is it? Not everyone can do that, can they?" He didn't hide his longing to be magical.

I blew a breath I didn't realize I was holding and smiled at him. "Yeah, Harry, you're different. You're like me." I watched his expression like a hawk. It was obvious he was trying to contain his happiness, keeping himself from believing what I was telling him. I knew that reaction, I'd been there. I knew what it was like to have had so much bad shit happen to you that when something good happens you're afraid to believe it. Afraid of being hurt again, but much more than that, you're afraid of being disappointed.

He shrugged nervously, not knowing how to react. "Are you sure?" he asked, not looking at me but the pulsing glass ball in his hand.

"Dead certain, kid. I sent that ball looking for you. So I know you're magical. It wouldn't have come to you if you didn't have the gift." Oh shit! I wasn't planning on telling him I had actively sought him out yet. I hoped he wouldn't notice the slip, but Harry wasn't your average suburban child, he was very sensitive and aware of the people around him.

"You sent it to me? Why?" he asked curiously. I sighed inside, relieved and pissed off at the same time. Relieved that his nature was sweet enough not to doubt me, and angry because he wasn't suspicious of me, as he should be. I was here to kidnap him, damn it!

It made lying to him that much more difficult. I weighed my conscience against my duty to the White Council, and went with my heart. I told him the truth. "There's this girl back home. She's in trouble. She has magic inside her she can't control. That ball was enchanted to find the one who could help her. I didn't know who it was going to be. It just led me to you."

He blinked at me and then frowned. "Me? But I'm just…I don't know anything. I'm not like you, I'm just Harry."

I sighed, tilting my head back to rest against the plastic wall of the shed. "You're pretty kickass at just being Harry; saved me from that gang, snuck food out to me, and you're keeping me in here." I made an all encompassing gesture at the shed. "Look, kid. I know it's a shock. I'm sorry, I wish it wasn't you. I was expecting someone older. But you're the only hope she has. The magic inside you is like hers, only you will be better at working it." Silence thickened between us with my guilt and his confusion.

"Why do you keep calling me kid? I'm as old as you," he muttered, only half focused on what he was asking.

I arched a brow, realizing I was giving myself away. I didn't really know how to act like a kid his age. "Sorry, just something us Yanks say to each other."

"Whatever you say, kid," he said, making a bad attempt at my accent. I laughed and he joined me. It made me happy to see him loosen up a little. "Is the girl your family?" he asked.

"Hmm? Um, no, not family," I answered, wondering exactly what Ivy was to me. I was the one who named her. It seems like an important relationship; just don't know what to call it.

"She's your girlfriend?" he asked. He laughed at the disgusted face I made.

"She's like seven years old!" I was honest to goodness scandalized.

"Oh!" Harry said innocently. "So you're like Uncle Vernon…he likes little girls too. Petunia thinks its Dudley looking at girls on the computer, but it's actually Uncle Vernon." He nodded in a gossipy way and kept that innocent look I was beginning to become suspicious of.

"I don't like little girls. Don't make me kick your ass," I said low in my throat. He started laughing. "And I am not your uncle!" Suddenly I was having no trouble acting like a child. So much for age gap. I let him snort and laugh himself silly for a while. "Her name is Ivy, she's important to me. She's a friend, like a niece."

"You're ten, you can't have nieces," Harry corrected, and this time he did sound suspicious.

"Okay, she's like a sister. I watch out for her, alright. She's a sweet kid. Not a lot of people out there care for her. She's pretty alone." I think I forgot I was talking to another child; my mind was too focused on Ivy and her terrible fate. So I didn't notice how long Harry had been staring at me. When I looked up I missed falling in a Soul Gaze with him by a hair's breadth.

Whatever Harry saw in my face made him lose his playful mood; seeing as he wasn't prone to being too cheerful I was sorry to see the edge of loneliness in his face. What do they say? Takes one to know one, right? I suppose yanking my chain had been his way of avoiding thinking about the revelation I dropped in his lap. But he was seriously thinking now.

"She's not alone, she has you," he whispered. His eyes widened and he blushed. Looked like hadn't meant to say it out loud. The kid was mature for his age. In his circumstances it was expected.

"Yeah. Hopefully I'll do right by her," I confessed my wish.

"I'll help you," he said. Involuntarily my head snapped to him, he looked determined but was hunched over. "I don't know what's inside me." He touched his middle, maybe an attempt to feel his magic. "But if it can save her, I will do it."

There was a lot I wanted to say, including asking for forgiveness, but in the end I just had to wonder how a ten year old kid could make a decision like that so easily. Maybe he just didn't understand what it meant. Or maybe he realized he didn't but still wanted to help. Harry had surprised me before by how much he actually understood me. Maybe "takes one to know one," works both ways.

"Thanks," that was all I could say. "You know, with your Aunt and Uncle being the way they are, I'd think you'd be more like me."

He looked askance, so I elaborated, feeling just a tiny bit whorish for baring myself to a ten-year old, "Bitter, kid. I'd be bitter if I were you. Why are you so helpful?" I couldn't help the skepticism that bled through. I had had an awful adolescence. I wasn't a good willing person for a long time because of it. At least I am better adjusted now, with sarcasm as my only throw back to those times.

"I'm not like the Dursleys…I don't want to be them," he said with deep conviction.

I was glad he felt deeply about it. Even if I hadn't been morally outraged at his neglect (which I was), it represented a very practical danger. Harry was the Archive's descendant. One day that power was going to awaken in him. Unlike Ivy, who had about four hundred years of human knowledge and wisdom, Harry would inherit five thousand years of human experience. If he was the type to hold grudges, or the type who needed violence to sooth the pain inside him, it would get ugly fast.

Even a moderately talented magical person with that kind of knowledge would be deadly. But I was thinking if Harry was showing signs of the gift so early he was going to be like me, and I am no lightweight by any wizard's definition. I wouldn't trust myself with the kind of knowledge the original Archive had. It was my job to make sure that Harry didn't become someone with a dark past like mine that would compromise his ability to use his power wisely.

To get him away from his relatives was now both a moral and mission imperative. I am glad when my personal inclinations match up with what the White Council wants from me. Doesn't happen often, so I like to savor the moment.

"The Dursleys won' let me go. They'll lock me in the cupboard." He bounced the glowing ball in his palm morosely.

This was the moment of truth. "Wanna runaway?" I said breezily.

"Where'd we go…I don't have any money for food," he said in the same downhearted tone as before. I did note that he wasn't immediately averse to the idea.

I reached into my pocket and drew the velvet bag of gemstones. Taking out a ruby and an emerald I handed them to him. "We have money. The question is, are you too afraid to leave your relatives? They treat you like crap; they don't really want you here. If you come with me, I can teach you magic, and you can be free. It will be tough but I think it will be better than living in a closet." Okay, I felt bad about manipulating him, but it was for his sake too.

He looked thoughtful. "We have to help Ivy…if she's real," he said it without any inflection, like it was just an observation. My stomach clenched; he hadn't bought what I was selling.

"You don't believe me," I said, thinking how I could make him trust me.

He shrugged. "You didn't tell me you sent the ball to look for me. You told me about Ivy after I showed you this." He held up LaFortier's magic ball. So that was it, he was wondering why I wasn't straight with him from the beginning.

"Look, kid, Harry. I thought magic might scare you. What was I to say? Hey I'm Harry, can you come help my friend Ivy because you're the only one who can. You'd think I was crazy," I tried to explain.

"Or I'd think you're a liar," he countered flatly. This was how Harry was mostly, closed off, betraying no emotion or thought.

I kicked my legs out. "Yeah, I guess you could think that." I put the velvet bag of gems in front of him, and Bob's skull too. "I've given you my money, and one of my most important magical artifacts. If I was trying to trick you, would I give you these things?" It was a gamble. I couldn't really afford Harry to have either of those things, especially Bob. God knows how that lecherous spirit would corrupt Harry. But I was hoping it wouldn't go that far. I was also hoping Harry wouldn't wonder if the gems were real either. I had no way of convincing him one way or another on that.

Luckily for me, he looked embarrassed. He put the emerald and ruby I had given him earlier in the bag and shoved it back to me. He didn't touch the skull. Smart kid. Last time he had tried to pet Bob, he'd gotten his fingers bitten. He got up suddenly and held out the glowing ball to me.

"It's yours, keep it," I said, shaking my head. He hid his relief. Guess he'd become attached to the thing.

"I'm going to bed. I'm supposed to be locked up right now," he said and slipped out before I could say much more. I blew out air, frustrated with how things had gone.

Orange lit up the bleached skull an it turned to face me. "Well, boss, you screwed the pooch that time."

"Thanks, Bob, how long have you been here?" I groused.

"Oh, just a little before a ten year old tricked you into showing all your cards. Just since then. Really, I didn't catch anything embarrassing," Bob said with a gleeful swirl of light in his eye sockets.

"Can it!" I snapped. "He'll come around…he doesn't want to be here anymore than I want him to be."

Bob made a humming sound. "Humans have an odd habit of being dependent on those who mean them harm. You sure you'll get your way?"

I shrugged, disturbed by Bob's observation. "It'll work out. What did you find?" I changed the subject

Bob skidded forward and did a quick spin on the floor – he was excited. "Your boy, the descendant, is the most famous wizard in this world. No one knows where he is. Oh, by the way, have you seen cats around?"

"Cats?" I asked, thrown for a loop.

"Cat lady, down the street is a spy. Her cats are some half-breed magical creature who report back to her. She's supposed to watch out for the kid without letting him know what she is, got it from the horse's mouth. Makes awful cookies too." Bob made a disgusted sound. I had a feeling Bob had possessed something to eat the cookies.

"Fine, cat lady spy, got it. Tell me more about Harry," I demanded.

"There was a very powerful warlock some years back. Scares everyone enough that they won't even say his name. This dark lord was the second most powerful wizard in the world. No one could stop him, until he went after the Archive's descendant. Kid was over a year old when the warlock attacked him and was killed. That scar on Harry's head is where the warlock hit him with an unstoppable curse called the killing curse. He's the only known survivor in history. Wizards tell their children his story like a fairy tale. He's a hero." Bob chattered his teeth in a mannerism I knew meant he was pleased with himself.

"Then what is he doing here? Shouldn't he be with other wizards living like a prince?" I thought out loud.

"No one seems to know where he is. People think he is being protected by the most powerful wizard in this world, bloke by the name o' Albus Dumbledore," Bob took on, what I assumed, was the local accent.

"Maybe he's the one who put up that ward. Still, doesn't make sense to leave him with vanillas. Especially this kind. Unless…" I quieted, trying to work through the many possibilities going through my mind.

This Dumbledore could be hiding Harry from other wizards, protecting him from competition until he grew up. I wouldn't be surprised if there were opportunistic wizards wanting a piece of the kid to prove themselves to the world. Or…Dumbledore, what an odd name, could be keeping Harry away so that he didn't grow up to challenge his place. That made sense too. Anyone with the magical strength to be acknowledged as the most powerful would get addicted to his status. Case in point: The Merlin. It was highly suspicious that Albus Dumbledore wasn't the one who vanquished the un-nameable warlock.

I didn't have the full picture, so I couldn't really know what happened then. I had to work with what was in front of me. Either way Harry was famous. Hell, sounded like he was a legend. This meant that he also had enemies. If not warlocks looking to make their mark against someone who killed a black wizard at the age of one, then others who were just hungry for fame. If Harry ever stepped into magical circles, he would need to be powerful, knowledgeable, and very wary. That is, if Dumbledore ever allowed him to take his place.

"What do you know about Albus Dumbledore?" I asked Bob.

"He's the headmaster of a magical school. Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. They say that the warlock was only afraid of Dumbledore and no one else. That's all I know, you sent me to find out about Harry, not Dumbledore. I'm tired," Bob complained.

"Fine, fine." Bob wouldn't know if Dumbledore was bad or good, he simply didn't have a reference point for evil. He was, in a way, endearingly ambivalent about those things.

Bob said something as he yawned, "They call Harry, The Boy Who Lived. Goodnight."

"'Night," I muttered, finding something ominous in that title. He wasn't meant to live and the world knew it. So why exactly was he alive if he wasn't supposed to be?

I took out a tome on the history and magic of the Archive from the trunk. I really hoped that there was a magical defense mechanism in the Archive enchantments that could have protected Harry. If I didn't find anything, I would have to deal with the question of whether it was white magic or black magic which saved him as a baby. I so did not want to have to worry about that.

"Harry, wake up!" I heard Bob's panicked voice and jumped up reaching for my blasting rod. I was still woozy from sleep but adrenaline has a wonderful way of kicking your ass in gear. So I was out the shed and creeping around the walls of the house as I heard Petunia, Harry's aunt, screeching inside. I heard plates breaking, the bellow of Harry's uncle, loud thumps, and another crash.

I was at the kitchen door when I saw Harry fall back against a wall holding his arm close. There are moments when you lose sense of time and space. In those moments there is only blood rushing in your mind, purpose of heart so sharp it's like the unforgiving point of a sword. I don't know when I called wind to myself, I don't know when I blasted the back door in. But suddenly I was pulling up Harry with one hand and had blasted the enraged hippo of an uncle of his into the kitchen cabinets.

I am sure his Aunt was screaming, his cousin was hiding somewhere, and his uncle was cursing me, white with fear as he was, but I heard nothing. I walked backwards, pulling Harry with me who had a split lip and a cut on his ear. Once out of the house we both ran to the shed where I picked up the unwieldy trunk, Harry grabbed Bob's skull, and we got the hell out of Dodge.

Harry led, I followed, taking short cuts only kids discover in a neighborhood. After a while he made his way through a line of bushes into the backyard of what looked like an empty house. He dropped to his knees, panting. I put the trunk down and crashed on it, trying to catch my breath. I was fat, short, and out of shape. That had to change fast – and my hair was way too long.

"What happened?" I asked when my heart stopped pounding in my brain.

"They blamed me for setting the snake on Dudley at the zoo. I said I didn't do it. I told them the snake just wanted to go back home…They said I was a freak like my mother," he added quietly.

"Bastards!" I swore with feeling. "Don't listen to them, Harry, I bet your mother was magical too, and they're just assholes."

He nodded but I could see it bothered him. I wish I had done more damage to the Dursleys. Come to think of it, I was surprised the ward hadn't stopped me. I was slinging magic right inside the house, it should have attacked me. But, then again, I didn't harm Harry; maybe it was specific to protecting him and not his relatives.

"So…" I said, wondering what he was thinking.

"They found the ball. They think I stole it. I told them it was magic. That's when Uncle Vernon…" he trailed off.

I didn't know what to say. Guys don't usually want anyone to say anything. Usually it's enough if someone listens. It's bad enough knowing you're spilling your guts to someone; it's ten times worse when they say something and throw it in your face that you're confiding in them. So I kept my mouth shut.

"I'll run away," he said.

"Yeah?" I asked, trying not to sound hopeful. When I had gone to sleep before daybreak after a night of contemplation I wasn't sure taking Harry away from his protective ward was the smart thing to do. But now I was sure it was the right choice, the only choice.

"I want to learn magic…to do things like you," he said in answer. His eyes were bright but he wasn't crying. I could read the emotion in them. It wasn't anything nice.

I nodded feeling my bubble burst a little. I did not want Harry to be motivated by revenge. It was expected after being beaten and manhandled, so I let it go. There would be other times to talk about the responsible use of magic.

"We're going to go to Chicago?" he asked, looking at me for the first time since I saved his behind.

"Uh…no. Not yet. I have to work some magic to get there. It will take me a long time. Is there anyone living in this house?" I asked. Now that we were effectively 'running off" I didn't really know where to go.

He shook his head. "Not since Mrs. Jackson died last summer."

"It will do for now. This isn't far enough from your house. If they search for us, they will find us. We'll have to move soon." I had decided the night before to send out Bob on more information gathering missions before I made a move. Looked like I had to play it by ear now. "Hey, hand my Bob's skull, kid."

Harry gave me the skull, and I knocked on its temple. "Up, Bob, have a job for you."

"Again?" Bob whined.

"Yeah. Another scouting mission. I need you to find me an unused house as far from here as possible but within a day's walk, got it?" I rattled his skull a little because the orange glow in it was dimming.

"It's daylight, Harry. Not the best time for me to be leaving," Bob reminded me. Damn.He was right, but I didn't have a choice.

"Best be careful then. Do this for me…and I'll let you have half an hour at a brothel of your choice." I felt a little dirty making that deal, but it was something which would give Bob extra motivation.

"A whole day at the brothel of my choice," Bob countered.

"Half an hour, Bob. Don't push me. Be back in two hours." Even half hour was enough for Bob to cause carnal havoc; a whole day would be catastrophic.

"Alright, boss, I'm gone." Bob's orange glow swirled in the eye sockets then misted out, for a second looking like a distortion in the air, before disappearing completely.

Harry was smiling when I looked at him; I grinned back and motioned toward the house. "Know how to get in?"

He nodded and led the way over the paint chipped stairs to a screen door. Almost daintily he pulled back the mesh from the corner of the screen door and snaked his hand in. I heard a bolt slide, before Harry pulled the door open. The wooden door behind it wasn't locked. The musty smell of disuse hit me as we walked in. White sheets covered the furniture in the small house. I let my eyes adjust to the dark, motioning Harry not to turn on the lights. I'd be surprised if the house still had electricity after its owner's demise something like a year ago. We didn't want to attract attention from the neighbors anyway; the house needed to look unoccupied.

"Don't turn on the lights, the neighbors might notice," I whispered to Harry.

He got the wide eyed look of realization on his face, and then asked, "Why are we whispering?"

"Um, uh, guess we don't need to," I answered awkwardly. That was silly of me. "We should check all the rooms; make sure no one else is here." I kept my blasting rod handy but no squatter turned up, and it looked like the house was ours. There was canned food still in the pantry. Harry set about to create something out of them on the luckily still operational gas stove. I took my first shower in what felt like weeks. It also gave me time to think.

Harry and I would need some place which was at least semi-permanent. I had a lot of magical studying ahead of me, and so did Harry. I had to prepare him for the awakening of the Archive. I wondered how much of that was going to be teaching him magic, and how much of it had to be giving him a happy childhood. Ivy's mother had committed suicide rather than become the next Archive. Harry needed to be well adjusted, for all our sakes.

Breakfast/lunch ended up being heated up canned food with a twist of Harry's creativity. I wouldn't say I hadn't had better, but it did hit the spot. I talked to him a little about magical theory over food. Warning him that magic was difficult to learn, saying something about affinity towards elements. That was a mistake because he wanted to see me do something with fire, and I didn't think it was a good idea for me to expend magical energy.

"Look, kid, I don't do anything small scale. Maybe light candles. But when I call fire, it's big. Can't do anything that flashy. Especially because I might need to protect you later." I chewed on processed meat and pontificated with my fork.

"Protect me?" he asked with a frown.

"Yeah. After you left last night, Bob came back. I sent him out to find out more about you. See, kid, you're magical, but none of your relatives are, and there was a magical protection on the house. It didn't make a lot of sense. You'll be surprised to know that you are famous." I grinned at him, hoping that I was breaking the news to him the right way. I didn't want to hide too much from him, because like it had already happened once, it would blow up in my face later. What I needed from him was to trust me.

"Why? I'm nobody." He'd stopped eating.

"I don't know the whole story. I'm just finding out things myself. Bob said that when you were a baby, some warlock tried to kill you. Why? I don't know. But the important thing is that he couldn't. Somehow when he tried to kill you, he died instead. All you got from that is that dangerous looking scar on your head." I pointed to the lightning bolt in the middle of his head.

He reached up to trace the scar on his head. "I always liked it," he said in disappointment.

"You can still like it. I think it's pretty badass. No need to hide it," I said when I noticed him flattening his bangs over it, as if that would work with his insane hair.

"What's a warlock?" he asked. I was happy to see he wasn't hiding the scar anymore.

"It's a wizard who uses black magic. A bad guy, a very bad guy. Magic is a beautiful thing, Harry. It is nature. It is a reflection of the very powers of creation. Black magic is what takes all those pure things and twists them, perverts them, makes them ugly and evil. It is every wizard's job to use magic respectfully and for good, you understand?" I was going to wait to have this conversation, but the opportunity presented itself.

"I understand. I don't want to be a warlock. But why do you need to protect me, if the warlock is dead?" he asked. I always said the kid was smart. Very aware of what went around him.

"The warlock wasn't ordinary. Bob says he was the second most powerful wizard on Earth. If you kicked his ass as a baby, other warlocks might want to test their strength against you. Hey, it's like your school. If a new kid beats up a bully, other bullies try to fight him. Get it?" I saw the look of understanding in his eyes. I am sure he understood that kind of behavior in that context.

"So I should learn magic soon," he said to himself, dipping his spoon back into his plate.

I held myself back from warning him yet again that learning magic took time. I settled for being happy he took the news of attempted murder on him in stride.

"Aunt Petunia said I got the scar in the car accident…" he said wonderingly as he ate.

"What car accident?" I asked.

"The one my parents died in," he said without emotion, getting up to wash his plates.

Oops, way to put my foot in the mouth. "I'll tell Bob to look for information on your parents. I am guessing your mom was magical. Your Aunt doesn't seem the type to like anything not chokingly ordinary. She might be lying to you."

Harry nodded with a grin, and wordlessly took my empty plates too.

"What are you smiling about?" I asked. The conversation wasn't exactly happy.

"You said 'mom.'" He chuckled.

"Oh yeah? Well, what do you Brits say?"

He shrugged, losing his good humor. "Mum, or ma, I guess."

I nodded, thinking we needed to move off that topic fast. "Let's look for bags and clothes we can use. We should take some of this food with us."

"Can we put things in your trunk?" he asked, pointing to the long and totally cumbersome piece of luggage. The Senior Council could turn me into a child, but they didn't think that carrying something like this around would be conspicuous.

"There's not much room. We should still look for things we can use. Damn trunk, if only it was smaller," I cursed. The black trunk suddenly shuddered and began rapidly shrinking. I let out a strangled scream and leapt at it. Landing on my chest, my hand slapped where the trunk had been shrinking, on top of a gleaming harmonica. I blinked at it.

"Wicked," Harry exclaimed, squatting to look at the beautifully adorned instrument. He had it in his hand before I could say anything, and just as soon it was at his lips. He blew into it and the most melodious music came from the black harmonica.

I don't know how much time went by before I realized I was staring off in space, my mind blanketed in euphoria. Fae glamour! I ripped it from Harry who gave me an angry look.

"What's your bloody problem, Dres?"

"It's magical, it took over my mind, you dolt!" I snapped back. I looked at the harmonica from all angles. "Hey, trunk, go back to your size." Nothing happened. "I, Blackstaff Dresden, command you to return to your original shape." Ah! That had the desired effect. The trunk grew in my hand, pinning me under its sudden weight. I pushed it off even as Harry laughed at my predicament. Some friend.

"Let's get to work," I said ill tempered, wondering if the damn trunk came with a manual that the Senior Council forgot to mention.

For the next two weeks we moved from one unused house to another. I began taking inventory of what the Senior Council had deemed important enough for me to bring with me. I studied the book on Archive enchantments for light reading, but concentrated on the curriculum they had given me to learn how to open Gates. The rest of the time I began to teach Harry the basics. Unfortunately Harry's quiet personality didn't mean he was very good at meditating or focusing his will. It was a long road ahead of us both, as I knew it would be. But both he and I were determined, so when he froze water in a glass and shattered it in a moment of frustration we both celebrated. We talked about how his affinity could be towards water, and the duels we could have against each other. I found I liked being a kid. It wasn't so bad watching out for the Archive's descendant.

At night I would send out Bob to collect information about things we could think of. The problem was that Bob didn't have a good filter for what was important and what was mundane. As an air spirit of knowledge he could collect unholy amounts of information. The catch always is to ask him the right questions.

We couldn't find anything more about Harry's parents, but Bob did stumble upon something called Diagon Alley. Apparently it was a meeting place and market for magical folks. Our direction had been steadily towards it. Bob told us of a bookstore and confirmed that Harry's name was in the history books. We were both very interested in finding out exactly what they said. Harry especially wanted to know about his parents.

Our moods were dampened by Bob overhearing some wizards talking about Harry Potter being missing. They were actively looking for him.

But the real trouble didn't start until the owls showed up.

fin