Chapter 1:

Morning Brings Surprises

Disclaimer: This is valid throughout the entire story—I do not own any of the characters of Harry Potter. They are property of J.K. Rowling, fantastic author that she is. Any characters you do not recognize have come somewhere out of my head.

AN: Under reconstruction. Little things will have changed, but not anything major.

Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, didn't know what had happened. He'd gone to bed, furious at his sister for breaking his broom and he'd woken to find that he was in a small, poorly lit bedroom that looked big enough to hold a dog, if you would subject a dog to such poor living conditions. He was lying in a bed that he prayed just looked moldy and stained, and, rubbing his eyes, he realized there were bars on the windows. He briefly entertained the idea that his parents had finally broke down and carted him off to prison in his sleep, but realized that he was still in his clothes from the night before.

He looked around, blinking at the harsh light, wondering where the hell he was when he heard thundering footsteps heading towards his room. He looked around for his wand, and he found it in his trusty holster Draco had gotten him last Christmas. It was one of two things that he always had with him. He pulled out his wand, twelve inches, dragon heartstring, and waited to see what the thundering noise was. He was irritable, had a throbbing headache, and was ready to curse anyone who posed a threat. Or even a mere annoyance.

"Boy! You better have a good excuse for why the neighbor stopped by this morning," an unfamiliar voice shouted through the door before literally breaking it off the hinges. A huge man with an extremely red face came blasting through the door, looking not unlike a rampaging hippogriff, Harry thought. He smirked inwardly. Excellent, he thought, morning target practice.

"Well! Why was Mrs. Baker over here this morning?" The man, whoever he was, looked ready to explode. His face was red, and went five shades redder when Harry glared at him coldly and started talking.

"I don't care. I don't know who the hell you are and frankly, you're getting on my nerves. Why don't you go back downstairs so I can figure out where I am," he said, with the utmost disrespect. If possible, the man's face turned redder. He advanced threateningly.

"What did you say, boy?" The volume in his voice had been replaced by a soft, dangerous one. Harry was quickly reminded of Voldemort, his master. There were two things missing from it, however: the slight hissing that came with Voldemort's voice, and the power to back up the dangerous voice.

"I said you had better go back downstairs before I have to-" what ever Harry was going to say was stopped by a slap to the face. Harry glared at the man, he was obviously a muggle. All the more fun, he thought.

"Forric Retreculous," he said, pointing his wand at the stranger. The man started screaming as his face was covered in big red spots that looked like burns. Harry grinned to himself before saying to the man, "What did you want me to do?" The man looked helplessly at Harry, too much in agony to say anything.

"You're lucky I'm in good mood," Harry said coldly. He muttered the counter curse, not because he wanted to but because he had more important things to do, like figure out where the hell he was. He left the muggle in that room (if you could call it that) and went downstairs, only to find his aunt, whom he had not seen in years. She looked much different.

"Don't mind me, Aunt Petunia; I seem to have been transported here. I'll be going now." He walked out the door, leaving his aunt staring at his wordlessly. He was a bit perplexed as to how he'd arrived at his aunt's house. The best thing he could come up with was that he'd somehow accidentally apparated in his sleep.

Harry's first instinct was to go home, but right now he was too mad at his sister, Kaylee. The next place he thought of was Draco's house, but Draco would probably be asleep still, and he hated it when Harry stopped by unannounced. He sighed; this is what he hated about summers. There was nowhere to go but home, back to his god-awful family. He apparated back to Godric's Hollow, only to find the place in ruins.

"I'm sorry Harry; I swear I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!" A girl who looked about the age of ten or eleven was on the verge of tears. He didn't think the girl was familiar, he'd never seen her around the Durlsey's before. Speaking of which, why wasn't he in his room? He'd been sleeping when this girl had burst into his room (no, not his room, but someone's room), babbling something about she'd done.

"Er…its ok, I'm sure you didn't mean it," he said, trying to soothe the girl. Not only was she giving his headache, but he didn't like to see anyone crying, especially kids.

She stopped and stared at him after he had spoken. After a couple of seconds, she wiped her eyes, and swallowed thickly. Sniffling, she frowned a bit.

"So, you're not mad at me?" she asked, her voice small and tiny. Harry was a bit shocked at her change of moods. At least she's not crying anymore, he thought.

"Why should I be mad at you?" he asked, trying to figure out why she was in this room, and exactly where this room was.

"Because I broke your broom," she said, and then started crying again. "But I swear I didn't mean to, it was an accident!"

Harry looked at the distressed girl, surprised and confused. She was a witch, obviously, and she seemed to know who he was. But he had no clue who she was. She had auburn hair and blue eyes, and she wasn't very tall. Of course, Harry couldn't say much because he wasn't very tall for his age either.

"Can I ask you a question?" he said kindly, hoping she wouldn't burst into tears again. She nodded, still afraid of something; what it was, Harry wasn't sure.

"Who are you?" he asked, hoping for a coherent answer. Her face fell, and she started crying again. Oh God, he thought, not again.

"I knew it; I knew you were mad at me. Jeez, Harry I told you I was sorry!"

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry. I really don't know who you are, and if you don't mind, I'd like to know where I am," he said, trying not to sound annoyed. It wasn't her fault that he'd turned up in this room, which was probably hers.

She looked at him cautiously.

"You're in your bedroom, Harry, remember?" Harry shook his head; this was extremely unfamiliar to him. At least he knew that it was in fact someone's bedroom, and this someone looked exactly like him. And had his name. And apparently, knew this girl quite well. He sighed, wondering what in the hell he'd gotten into this time.

"This is not my bedroom—and I don't know who you are." A sudden thought struck him. "Do you see my wand?" He said looking around. As he wandered around, the girl started to frown. He found his wand on the table next to the bed, and when he turned around, the girl's frown had deepened.

Her eyebrows narrowed. "Very funny Harry, well I'm not going to fall for your Death Eater tricks again. The last time you claimed you lost your memory I was almost killed." Harry's eyes widened in surprise, and a bit of anger.

"I haven't lost my memory, I've never met you before in my life, and I'm most certainly not a Death Eater!" he said indignantly. She glared at him like he was being stupid.

"Don't be dumb Harry, I saw it. Everyone knows."

Harry pulled up both his sleeves, of his muggle clothing by the way, and revealed two unmarked arms. "Still think I'm a Death Eater?"

She looked at him in confusion, and then she finally seemed to realize his muggle clothing.

"Why are you wearing muggle clothing? And why are you wearing glasses?" she asked suspiciously. Harry rolled his eyes.

"I'm wearing muggle clothing because I can't wear my Hogwarts robes during the summer, my uncle would kill me. And I'm wearing glasses so I can see," he added a bit sarcastically, hoping she would drop this little argument, and would help him figure where he was.

Her eyes widened, and she looked at him differently.

"So what's your name? You certainly look like my brother," she said, pausing. "Even if you don't act like him."

"Harry Potter," he said. Her face scrunched up in confusion.

"But I thought you said you weren't my brother," she said.

"I'm not, I don't have a sister."

The girl sat down on the bed, and Harry joined her, getting a little worried. This was a little more than just weird.

"So what's your name?" She looked at him.

"Kaylee Marie Potter." Harry glanced at her wearily. He didn't know who she thought she was, but somehow, she did look familiar. If he had had a sister, he suspected she might be it. She had his mothers red hair, and now that he thought about it, his father's eyes had been the same color blue.

Harry could not even imagine what had happened. One minute he was sleeping in his bed, vaguely waking to the thundering of his uncle up the stairs, and the next minute he was sitting in this bedroom, with his supposed sister. He didn't even know if she was really who she said she was. She could be a Death Eater in disguise or something. She brought him out of his musings by suddenly standing up.

"Come on, we can ask mum and dad what to do," she said, heading towards the door, obviously ready to head downstairs and find "mum" and "dad". Harry panicked, and stopped her. Mum and dad? As in Lily and James Potter?

"No, we can't. There is absolutely no way any sane person will believe me. I don't even know if I believe me. I could be delusional, or something like that. If we try to tell them I'm their son, but not really their son, they'll think I'm crazy, and you too," he said. He'd almost convinced himself that he was imagining things. He couldn't bear the thought of his parents, even imaginary ones, thinking he was crazy.

Kaylee frowned. "But they have to believe us, what, with your Dark mark being gone and all. They saw it Harry," she said, trying to convince him. "They'll believe us—we can tell them—but", she said, seeing his panicked face, "we can wait until later, when we have an idea of what's going on."

She continued on.

"Well, we still need to eat, and mum will be done with breakfast anytime now. She'll know something is wrong if I don't show up for breakfast. Favorite meal of the day. Just try to act normal," she said, walking out the door. Harry wondered what was 'normal', and prepared himself to see his parents.

They went down two sets of stairs before they reached a homely looking kitchen. A woman with auburn hair was cooking breakfast and a man with black messy hair was sitting down, reading a newspaper, The Daily Profit, Harry guessed.

"Morning mum, dad," Kaylee said. She shook her head when Harry started to say something as well. He closed his mouth and sat down at the table. It's probably good that she stopped me, he thought, who knows what babble would have come out of my mouth.

"Morning sweetie. Breakfast is almost done. I made your favorite, creamed beef and biscuits," the woman said. Harry assumed she was his mother, and he tried to look at her without her noticing. She looked older than she had in all the pictures, but two kids and fifteen years will do that to you, Harry mused. Her auburn hair had yet to gray, and her eyes were bright as ever. His eyes were getting suspiciously misty as he soaked in the first sight of his mother he could remember, and he dropped his head, wondering how on earth he was going to get through this meal.

"Harry, I thought you were going out today," Lily said, somewhat coldly. Harry kept his face passive, but inside he cringed. His mother had sounded somewhat like...Aunt Petunia. It was a scary thought. The cold voice sounded wrong on her, especially directed towards him.

"I, er, changed my plans," he said, not knowing where or what his plans were.

"Well, you might want to let Draco know, I don't want him apparating in our house looking for you," the man said. It was really weird to look at him, because it was like looking at an older version of yourself. The only things that were different were Harry's eyes and his scar.

Harry just nodded, not sure why he would want Draco to come over anyways.

His father just sat at the table, reading his paper, and so Harry was able to surreptitiously observe him. No wonder people say I look like him, he thought. His father looked like an older version of Harry. Harry frowned as his father pretty much ignored everything and finished breakfast, excusing himself with a quiet 'thanks' to his wife. From the stories Harry had heard, he was expecting a more...exuberant person.

After eating a quick and awkward breakfast, which consisted of toast and jam, Harry excused himself and went back upstairs to 'his' room, and Kaylee was sure to follow.

When she got in the room, she closed the door.

"So I think you're my brother—some kind of weird alternate form of him," she said, without preamble. He nodded kind of agreeing with her. He couldn't think of something else that made more sense.

"So tell me about—er—myself," he said awkwardly. "I don't want people to get alarmed because I act different that what you're used to."

"Can you cast a silencing charm? I don't want Tom to hear," she said. Harry frowned.

"But I can't do magic over the summer- and who is Tom?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh yeah, I forgot I didn't tell you we have a brother. He's going to be in forth year this year." She told him some basic things, such as Tom didn't really like Harry because he was a Death Eater (which Harry pointed out that hewas not). Tom played Quidditch, chaser, just like their dad, and from what Harry could gather he was pretty good. He made the team last year, and they had won the Quidditch cup.

This brought up another question. "What house is he in? Wait- what house am I in?" he asked. Kaylee's smile faded when she heard the question.

"Well," she began, "Tom is in Gryffindor. Mum and Dad were so proud of him for making it into their old house. I'm in Gryffindor too, I'll be in my second year," she said. "And you..." she trailed off, "you are in Slytherin."

Harry groaned but then a part of his brain said, 'that was the hat's first choice, you know'. Harry ignored that little voice and listened as his sister quickly changed the subject.

"Well, it's not that bad, you are respected throughout all of Slytherin," she began. "Draco Malfoy is your best friend. And you're currently dating Pansy," she said. Harry made a face, and Kaylee laughed.

"Pansy? Am I crazy?" Harry asked. Honestly—Pansy? He couldn't be that different, could he?

Kaylee shook her head. "I think you were using her to see if her parents were loyal Death Eaters or not."

"Great," Harry mumbled. "Anything else horrifying I should know?" She considered his question seriously, which kind of scared Harry.

"Well, not really. I'm pretty sure you were a Death Eater though," she said quietly. Harry couldn't even fathom what would ever make him serve Voldemort.

"Do you know why?" he asked. She shook her head.

"I have no idea. You're incredibly smart, almost too smart for your own good. You're always coming up with some new spell or potion for Voldemort," she said. "I wish you would just fight against Voldemort instead of with him. Don't tell mum I said this, but I think you would turn the war." Harry just sat on his bed, perplexed. It didn't really sound like him at all. He quickly changed the subject.

"So, do I play Quidditch?" Harry asked.

"Nope, you said there wasn't enough time to study with Quidditch practice," she said. "It's probably a good thing you don't play, Tom would probably try to kill you," she said. Harry sighed. Flying was one of his only escapes, a way to clear his head. It had bothered him not to be able to play last year. But not flying at all? What did this alternate person do for fun? Ah—probably kill babies or something like that, he thought sarcastically.

"Did you used to play?" she asked, curious. Harry nodded his head yes.

"Yep, I've been Gryffindor seeker for the past five years. Er—minus extenuating circumstances of course," he said, thinking of Umbridge and the Triwizard Tournament. Kaylee's eyes widened.

"You were in Gryffindor? No wonder you are so shocked about everything. I would be too, finding out I was in Slytherin. So," she said, suddenly much more interested, "who did you hang out with?"

Harry thought back to his friends, who probably had no idea he was here in this strange world.

"Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are my best friends. The dream team, as Snape calls us. Then there's Fred and George Weasley. They are starting up a joke shop. Complete geniuses," he said, remembering all the things they had invented. He spent the next half hour telling his sister about his friends and the adventures they'd all had--watered down versions, of course. He didn't want her to know of his connection to Voldemort yet. He'd let slip that Voldemort had died,and she was fascinated.

"You mean he actually died? Disappeared? How? Did Dumbledore finally kill him?" she asked, awestruck. Harry squirmed a bit.

"Er, it actually happened when I was a baby, so I don't remember most of it," he said. She didn't seem satisfied with that answer, but he knew that telling her could result in disaster. She might get it into her head that he could defeat Voldemort again here, or that he was some all-powerful wizard like Dumbledore. He didn't want to get her hopes up.

"Oh, well do you know who destroyed him?"

Harry shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "I think he actually killed himself. His own killing curse rebounded on him and it stripped him of a body, leaving him powerless," he said, telling the truth, just not the whole truth.

The rest of the day was spent with the two of them talking. Harry was finding out more about this world he was in, and Kaylee wanted to know more about his life. By the end of the day, Harry was extremely mad at his counterpart. He had the perfect life here, and he wasted it. Instead of appreciating his parents and siblings, he'd started to turn away after his first year at school. He'd become very cold towards his family. He was a Death Eater, a Slytherin, he was incredibly smart (from the looks of it he could beat Hermione), his best friend was Malfoy, his family hated him (Harry was used to that with the Dursleys, but somehow it hurt more when it was his real family), he didn't play Quidditch, and he was one of Snape's favorite students.

"There is one thing we like about Harry though," she said. "He can play any musical instrument, wizard or muggle, that he picks up. He's got a natural gift for it, and he seems human when he does play. I think I like the piano best. The muggle kind, not the wizard kind," she added.

Harry added another thing to the list of differences. He'd never touched an instrument in his life. He couldn't even read music. Aunt Petunia had once volunteered to be in the church choir, and had bought a tiny electric keyboard to play along with when she practiced singing. Uncle Vernon had tolerated three days before chucking the thing in the garbage, claiming that "his wife was too good to be singing in some volunteer choir" and "stop so the stray cats go away, dear". That was pretty much the extent of Harry's musical experience.

"I don't think I've ever seen a piano up close before," Harry mused out loud. Kaylee's eyes widened.

"Come on, I'll show you yours! It's downstairs, you'll love it." She grabbed his hand, and he allowed himself to be led down the stairs to a huge room. The room almost looked like a ballroom, but Harry could swear that the house wasn't that big. Seeing the surprised look on his face, Kaylee smiled as she explained.

"It's enchanted. Mum and Dad used to throw parties in here before..." she trailed off. Harry decided he probably didn't want to know what she was going to say. He spotted the piano across the hall. She was right. Even though he didn't know a thing about pianos, he knew this one was probably the best there was.

"Mum and Dad got it for you for your seventh birthday. Isn't it just gorgeous?" Harry nodded and sat down on the bench. He ran his fingers over the ivory keys, triggering a memory he would swear he'd never had before.

He was sitting in the corner at some kind of a party. It looked like a birthday party from what he could tell, because there was a huge, three tower cake sitting on the table, half eaten. Streamers littered the ceiling and floor—they must have been wizard streamers, since some were on fire, and others were shooting out multicolored sparks. All over there were little kids, probably seven or eight years old, and he saw his sister thrown in the mix, running around with a tiara on her head. She was laughing, chasing after a larger boy, who looked remarkably like their father. He assumed it was Tom, this younger brother he'd heard of, and his assumptions were proved correct when someone yelled, "Kaylee, stop chasing your brother and come over here!"

Harry was looking out of his counterpart's eyes. He could see his mother and father over by the table with the cake, laughing at something one of the other adults had said. He was in the corner of the room, and Harry knew that people were basically ignoring him. His mother would look over at him, time to time, with a worried look, but everyone else was content on focusing their attention else where.

Someone started to sing happy birthday, and the whole room followed, in a very off-key, loud chorus. It appeared to be Kaylee's birthday, and she was blushing with excitement from all the attention. A small boy called for "Presents!", and all the children squealed. Harry winced, and he felt an emotion flutter over his consciousness. He recognized it vaguely as shame. But shame from what?

Kaylee looked around excitedly. "What's first?" she asked, and Lily Potter smiled indulgently at her youngest child.

"Whatever you want first, honey," she said.

Kaylee grinned, looked around, and found Harry sulking in the corner.

"Harry! What did you get me Harry?"

Harry felt a mask fall over his face, and he said, his face emotionless, "I didn't have enough time to get you anything, Kaylee." He told himself that this was for the best, that he had to distance himself from his family, but at the heartbroken look on her face he softened a bit. She looked about ready to cry, and her head hung as she turned to look towards her mother, no longer as interested in presents as she had been before. He sighed inwardly, hating himself for being so weak.

"However," he continued, and she looked up with a hopeful expression, "I will play you any song of your choice. You can pick anything."

Harry knew that his sister, and the rest of his family, loved to hear him play the piano. They believed that if he was human enough to enjoy something simple like music, then he couldn't possibly be turning dark. And, of course, he was quite good.

The happy look that came over his sister's face softened his loss of resolve, and she practically dragged him to the piano, chattering about something. As he sat down, people were still talking, but as he started to play, a silence grew over the room. The piece he was playing seemed to be one of Kaylee's favorites, since she was humming it along with the piano. His mother's eyes softened and his father gave him a rare smile. His heart broke in that moment and he knew without a doubt that he had to follow through with his plan. He would not allow anyone to hurt his family.

Harry shook his head to clear it. He had no idea where that memory came from, but it scared him a bit. The only visions he was used to getting were from Voldemort, and he had no desire to get them any time soon. From what Kaylee had told him, he had to be about twelve in this memory, or vision, or what ever it was, home for Easter during his second year at school. Something was nagging him about the way the other Harry was thinking.

Kaylee started humming a song, oblivious to Harry's internal confusion. He immediately recognized the song. It was the song he'd just played at the party in the memory.

To his greatest surprised, when he went to try out the keys he felt like he was on autopilot. His hands knew automatically what to do, as if he'd been doing it all his life. They started to play the intro to Kaylee's song, and she recognized it and immediately gasped. He stopped immediately, looking at the piano with a strange look on his face. What the hell?

"That's the song! How did you know…" she asked, trailing off.

"I just had a memory. It was of your birthday party, maybe your eighth or ninth. Kaylee, it's not my memory, but yet it is." Harry was becoming confused as he tried to explain things. Fortunately for him Kaylee seemed to take it without question.

"Do you think you could play it? It's been years since I've heard that song," she said softly. He turned back to the piano, and started to play again. The autopilot kicked in again, and he found himself playing that song. If he concentrated too hard, a wrong note came out and so he just stopped thinking about it. There had to be something magical about it, because he wasn't exactly the most musically inclined person.

Kaylee's face broke out into a grin, and she sat next to him and just watched him play. When he was done, she sighed. He felt happy for some reason, giving such happiness to this girl he'd just met, his little sister.

"I love that song," she said. "Do you think you could play something else?" Harry shrugged, not really comprehending her words. He was too blown away at the fact he'd just played an incredibly hard song on an instrument he'd never touched before. This was beyond weird, and he didn't know how it was physically possible. Although—he was in someone else's body. What's weird, he thought, is the fact that I can play the piano like Harry, but I don't have the Dark Mark. Odd.

"I don't know," he finally answered. She started humming another tune, but this one was more upbeat. He didn't recognize the tune, but apparently his hands did. They started right out into the introduction of the piece. He was so surprised that he kept going, closing his eyes as if afraid to mess it up.

What the Harry and Kaylee didn't realize was that Lily, James, and Tom were standing on the other side of the room, surprised to say the least. Harry hadn't played the piano in years, and he certainly hadn't agreed to play for Kaylee in a long time. They were amazed, and when he was done Lily came over to the piano, followed by James and Tom.

"That was marvelous Harry, I didn't know you were still playing," she said, her voice loosing the cool touch it had had at breakfast.

Harry was surprised by the sudden audience, and he flushed a little.

"Er, thanks. I hadn't really played that in a long time," he said. Or ever, he added in his head. It was weird to watch himself play the piano. It just seemed to come natural to his hands, and his brain seemed to know every chord, even without the music. It was bizarre.

"Do you think you could play one more for us?" Lily asked, her face soft. Harry nodded. He wondered what he should play when another memory popped into his head, this one much shorter but no less powerful.

It was one of the first songs he'd learned. He'd found out what their wedding song was from Remus, and he was intending to play it for Lily's birthday, which was four days away from their anniversary. He couldn't have been more than eight or nine as he led his bemused parents into the ballroom, where his new piano sat. He started playing, totally focusing on playing and therefore missing the surprised looks on his parents' faces. When he was done, his mother had tears in her eyes, and she sat down next to him to give him a hug. Her hugs grew less frequent over the years, but that one memory stayed with him.

His parents' favorite song was their wedding song, one he'd never heard before. Starting the slow ballad, Lily recognized the song and looked like she wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. James glanced at his son warily. Harry looked back at the piano, afraid to see disappointed faces on his parents. He finished the song, and his parents seemed to come out of a trance. They looked over at him wearily.

"Harry, why'd you suddenly start playing again?" Harry shrugged.

"Just bored today, I guess," he said, shrugging. His mum looked at him strangely.

"Don't have any studying to do?" she asked. Harry shook his head, indicating he didn't have any homework, much less the desire to do any. Probably not the smartest move, he thought, as she suddenly stared at him with caution. Oh yeah, Harry actually likes doing homework.

"Are you feeling all right, Harry?" she asked. Her eyes were furrowed in confusion.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine," he said. Kaylee winced as he answered. Apparently this was the wrong answer, for his mum's eyes narrowed. He didn't know what was wrong with that answer—maybe he was supposed to be ruder?

"All right, whatever you want you won't get it. Not after that 'potions' incident," she said, her voice becoming cold again. Harry tried not to look lost. He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.

"Er, I don't want anything from you," he said, trying to make the situation better by being rude. From the look on his mother's face, it seemed he made it worse. She started muttering different spells, pointing her wand at him. She finally said one he recognized.

"Finite Incantatem." She looked up, hoping to get a reaction, but all she got was a blank stare. Harry assumed she thought he was under some sort of spell or enchantment. He had to fix this—but it was so hard to be rude and cold to his parents, especially since he wanted nothing more than to talk to them, and get to know them.

"I'm not under any spell, not that I know of anyways. Leave off." he said, trying again, but his mother would hear nothing of it. When she couldn't find a spell that worked she began to worry.

"Harry, why don't you come with me to Hogwarts. I need to see Professor Dumbledore about something," she said, staring at him, watching for a reaction. Harry's eyes lit up. Dumbledore could send him home! His reaction seemed to worry Lily further, and he scolded himself. Of course, Harry would probably cringe at the thought of seeing Dumbledore, he thought.

"Come on, let's go by Floo Powder," she said, leading him to another room, one that had a fireplace in it. Harry held back a groan. He didn't really like traveling by Floo powder.

She threw a pinch of powder into the fire, and shouted 'Hogwarts' before stepping into the flames. Harry glanced at Kaylee, who had followed them. Behind her stood his father and Tom, his brother, both watching wearily.

"Er, Kaylee, why don't you come too," he said, wanting someone there who knew the situation he was in. Before James or Tom could object, Kaylee practically leaped into the fire. Harry followed, unsure of what he'd gotten himself into.