I'd had years of practice running away from Dudley and his gang, but they came after me with fists, not teeth. Dudley used to like biting me when he was a toddler, but Aunt Petunia would always haul him off. Funny thing, that. It was one of the only things she would ever stop him doing. I didn't ever think about it, until one night when I overheard her whispering furiously to Uncle Vernon. They were huddled in the arched doorway between the living room and kitchen, while I was curled up in an armchair nursing a hand pocked with Dudley's tooth-marks. I doubt they knew I was there. Or perhaps they thought I was asleep. Or perhaps they just didn't think I could understand them. I couldn't have been older than six.

"It's in the blood," she had said, almost frantic, almost pleading. "What if it's catching? First Lily, and then - no, not again, not my baby boy. Please, Vernon."

There was an angry silence, full of bristling moustache and purple veins. I couldn't see his face from my spot in the chair, but I knew that silence.

"Okay," he said, which was what the silence meant. But the silence also meant that it wasn't okay. It meant that he didn't like it, but that he agreed.

Dudley never tried to bite me after that. I don't know what Vernon said to him, but he was uncharacteristically quiet for days after.

I wished that Vernon was here to give this undead monster a stern talking-to, but he'd turned pale at the sight of Dobby's reanimation, and stood there, frozen and staring.

Useless purple blob.

I kicked the horrible undead thing as hard as I could, but Dobby wouldn't let go. His lips began to change colour as my blood spooled across them.

This felt just like the time Dudley's gang had pinned me down and piled on top of me. Dudley's fat arse had been on my head, naturally. There was nothing I could do. I couldn't move or breathe, only lie there with the suffocating certainty that I was going to die here, smothered for the entertainment of some foul children.

Agh. No.

This wasn't a bunch of children twice my weight and size. I wasn't some helpless muggle baby.

With my other arm, I grabbed at my wand, and pointed it at Dobby.

"Incendio!" I shouted, but I couldn't focus. A tiny spurt of flame shot out of the tip of my wand, but it was utterly pathetic. I felt my heart sink in my chest, and then suddenly hope blossomed within me as I saw the undead elf flinch back. He opened his mouth, revealing sharp teeth stained with crimson. My stomach churned at the sight of my own blood, but I'd seen enough of my own blood before that it didn't make me squeamish.

Again, I kicked Dobby, as hard as I could. His teeth weren't entirely out of my skin, so they tore long gashes across my skin before breaking fully free. I grimaced, blocking out the pain, and punched him in the side of the head. He reeled slightly, but it was enough to create some distance between us.

I jumped backward, hissing at the pain in my hand. In a way it was worse than the burning gashes in my arm, because I'd done it to myself.

Dobby recovered from my punch and turned his soulless stare on me, and then on Vernon, who was still standing there on the doorstep. Hell, he was doing a better impression of a corpse than Dobby was.

"Get back!" I shouted at Vernon. He didn't respond.

Immediately, though, Dobby took several paces back, and his posture changed. The feral aggression was gone. His arms hung limply at his sides. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that he'd died again, standing there. But I did. The creature wasn't dead. He was waiting.

The evidence of Vernon's attack was all there in the misshapen lump of Dobby's head, the various purpling bruises, and the long scrape where he'd been flung to the floor. Much more damning, however, was the pallid grey hue of the elf's eyes and skin. That was my doing - or the doing of this cursed ring. And yet he'd responded to my shout. It made me wonder - wonder what else I could do.

"Get back," I said again. Dobby took another handful of mindless, shambling steps.

My stomach had been feeling uneasy since this began, but it was only now that I wanted to be sick. I held it back and tried to take a deep breath. The night air was cool, but rank with the putrid stench of decay and foul magic. It caught in my throat. I gagged, retched, and spilled out everything that I'd eaten recently.

This was a bit beyond accidental magic. I'd managed to make my hair grow when Aunt Petunia tried to cut it. I'd made glass disappear and jumped onto a roof. Resurrecting the dead was something else entirely.

I looked down at the ring on my finger. The heavy stone set in it seemed to pulse solemnly. There was no trace of the blood which had dripped onto it before.

So. It was the ring's doing.

My blood and Voldemort's ring. There was no way this combination was going to lead anywhere good. I took the ring off, and turned it over in my hands slowly, torn between feeling fascinated and disgusted. So Voldemort had promised to bring back my parents, and now he'd sent me a ring which could raise the dead. I suppose he'd kept his promise. In a way. In a twisted, messed up way. I should have known better.

I turned the ring over in my hands again, wishing I could see my mother again instead of some wretched undead elf. Maybe I'd be able to go gravedigging, but as soon as the thought came into my head, I felt horrified. A zombie facsimile of my mother's corpse wouldn't be the same thing. No. This wasn't a path I was going to go down. There was no use pretending. I'd made a terrible mistake, and got nothing but a zombie elf out of it.

The ring felt oddly comforting in my hands, so I kept turning it like that as a distraction while I contemplated that decision I'd made, back in the secret chamber underneath Hogwarts. I wanted to see my parents. My mother. At any cost.

Suddenly, Vernon snapped out of his reverie to stare at me in shock.

"Lily?" he whispered, hoarsely.

Oh. Not at me. Behind me. I whirled around to see what had caught his attention, and then felt the air rush out of my lungs.

An ethereal figure hovered slightly above the ground, just behind me. She looked unlike the ghosts of Hogwarts. There was something less solid about her, as if she was made from wind and light. She smiled, and then reached down to embrace me.

"Oh, Harry. How did it come to this?"

I worked my jaw relentlessly for a moment, then managed to croak out a single word.

"Mum?"

"Yes," she replied, and ran her fingers through my hair.

I had touched the ghosts of Hogwarts before. That had been like running through icy water. My mother felt nothing like that. Her touch was solid, and warm. She was an apparition, but she was real.

"Mum," I whispered again, unsure of what to say. There was so much. I opened my mouth to ask - everything - but she raised a finger to my lips.

"Hush, now. There's no time. We can speak later. You know how to summon me now; just do as you did just now. Turn the stone in your hands while thinking of me."

There was too much going on for me to process, so I put everything that was going on into the back of my mind and focused on the present.

"You mean the ring?" I slipped it back onto my finger, giving Dobby a wary glance as I did so. He didn't move.

"That's right. But for now, listen. We don't have long! Your magic has not gone unnoticed. The Ministry is coming. If they think you did this, you will be punished. If they discover what power this ring holds, it will be taken from you. I will be taken from you."

"No!" I shouted. I had only just got my mother back - after a fashion. Even if she was just a peculiar ghost, I wouldn't give her up this soon. I had won this through blood and fire and a deal with the devil. No government busybody was going to take my mother away after that.

"Vernon!" exclaimed my mother's apparition.

"Lily?" he repeated, still seeming as dazed as he had been before.

"Thank you for raising my boy. I know you have never loved him, but you have kept him alive. For that, I am grateful." She paused, staring at him, and the temperature dropped several degrees. The wispy outline of her form flickered with an unseen fire. "But know this: if you had died, I would have raised Dudley as a son. I would have shown him all the affection and kindness that a child deserves. I would have done better."

At her last word, a snap of cold air burst outwards in every direction. Dobby stumbled, and Vernon was thrown to the ground. The grass was torn up by the roots, and I heard windows smashing from the house. All I felt was a cold breeze, ruffling my hair.

She turned back to me, now, with an urgent look in her pearlescent eyes.

"I don't know who the Ministry will be sending. You would usually only get a letter for using underage magic, but the magic cast this night has been so unusual and dark that Hit Wizards will be coming. Maybe even Aurors, since you are so important. I can only guess. It doesn't matter. You have to treat them all the same. Lie. This was not your doing. You were attacked. Can you do that for me?"

I paused, trying to think of a plausible lie, but nothing came to mind.

"Harry!" She grabbed my cheeks urgently, putting her face close to mine. "I recognize that elf. It belongs to a Death Eater. To Lucius Malfoy. Tell the Ministry that it attacked you. Be vague. Be confused. You don't understand what happened. You didn't create an inferius, it was already an inferi. Do you understand?" Her voice was frantic, intense.

All I could do was nod, but I understood.

One step at a time. One lie after another, and then this night would end and I could see my mother again.

"Vernon!" shouted my mother's spectre. "Agree with Harry. This creature attacked you unprovoked, out of nowhere. That's all you know. Do you understand?"

"Who's coming?" demanded Vernon weakly. It was all bluster. I could recognise it easily. This situation was so far out of control that he was clawing for what little bit of authority he could salvage, demanding obedience and answers. It rarely worked on me, so it would never work on my spectral mother.

"Wizards, Vernon. And if you don't co-operate with Harry they will wipe your mind as clean as Petunia's silverware. Support him, or have your brain bleached at the tip of a wand."

Suddenly I noticed a sound in the distance. I thought it was the wind for a moment, but then I understood. It was something familiar. Broomsticks.

The spectral form of my mother flickered, losing much of its luminosity and shape. She caressed my hair one final time, and then faded into nothingness. I stared at the space where she had been and pressed my thumb onto the ring longingly.

-

I had no time to dwell on it.

Five shapes dropped out of the sky in an instant, leaping off their brooms and rolling into an upright position. They stood in a ring around the three of us, me, Vernon, and undead Dobby, wands raised ready to ensorcell any or all of us.

"Potter?" demanded a gruff voice. Its owner, a large wizard with dark skin, seemed to be the leader of the group. I'm not sure whether that was just because he was the first to speak, or because he cut the most imposing figure.

"Yes?" I answered, hesitantly.

"A great deal of Dark Magic has been detected here. Normally I'd ask you what books you've been reading, but you're a known target of Dark Wizards. What happened here?"

Well, that was a relief. I'd expected them to come in accusing me of doing all this, but it looked like they were assuming somebody had attacked me. That made my lie all the more plausible.

Dawlish, Weasley, sweep for anyone remaining on the property. Tonks, Brennt, stay close. Potter! What happened? Was somebody here?"

I paused to gather my thoughts, then burst into the lie I'd been building.

"I didn't see any wizards, just that thing. What is it? It attacked me when I was taking the bins out! Uncle Vernon came out to help me, but it wouldn't stop, no matter how many times he hit it."

"That's a house elf, boy," interrupted Brennt. He looked to be the youngest of the wizards - and witch - assembled here, and had acne bad enough that his patchy beard couldn't hide it. "They don't attack wizards. They couldn't if they wanted to."

Kingsley turned his glare onto Brennt, who quailed under the anger in his boss' expression.

"That's not a house elf, boy." Kingsley raised his wand, and flicked it silently in Dobby's direction. A ring of fire rose from the ground, trapping Dobby in place. Not like he was going anywhere, anyway. "That's a damned inferius. Doesn't matter what shape it is. Doesn't matter what it was before. It'll have your throat out in seconds if its master demands. Sooner if it's an unbound one."

Kingsley must have seen my expression, because turned back to me.

"Don't worry, Potter. Fire keeps them at bay. Creatures of cold and dark like that, they hate the touch of light and heat. Good thing to keep in mind, right?"

"Right," I replied, watching the flames he'd conjured so effortlessly. If I could barely cast an incendio, how much more skilled than me was this wizard? Shape, purpose, control, and all of that with a silent spell. Was he talented, or was I just useless. Ugh. This was no time to beat myself up about it. I'd only had one year of magical education, after all - though I resolved to do better at it from now on.

"We wouldn't find a loose inferius roaming around Muggle Surrey, boss," said Tonks.

"No," agreed Kingsley. His voice was deep enough to make that single syllable seem intimidating. "So the question is, where's its master?"

"I didn't see anyone else!" I blurted out quickly.

"Just - just the thing there," added Vernon. He looked as awful as he had all night. I guess this was just going to justify every lie he'd ever invented about magic.

The other two wizards reappeared with simultaneous loud cracks. I jumped at the sound, startled.

"Easy there, Harry," said the nearest one, putting his hand on my shoulder to reassure me. "Just apparition, that's all. You okay? Ron's told me a lot about you from school. It'll take more than this to scare you, eh?"

I nodded weakly, examining the strange wizard. He had the requisite red hair and freckles for a Weasley, sure enough. So this was Ron's dad. Not how I imagined meeting him.

"Arthur!" snapped Kingsley. "Socialise on your own time. What did you find?"

"Nothing," said the other, with a sour expression. "Traces of magic everywhere, but whoever was here left long ago. I figure they dropped off the little monster and didn't wait to see the results. Wanted to cause some trouble, not a directed attack."

"Not a directed attack!" exploded Arthur. "An inferius suddenly appears on Harry Potter's front lawn, and you tell me it's just a prankster from Knockturn Alley?"

Dawlish shrugged noncommittally.

"Happens," he said.

Kingsley sighed, and flicked his wand at Dobby. The flames receded, but Dobby fell to the ground, frozen. I stared. Was that two spells cast at the same time, or one spell with two effects? Damn it, there was too much I didn't know!

"Arthur, you're the expert on muggle-baiting. Forget Harry for a moment. Seen anything like this?"

"Not since -" Arthur broke off mid sentence, looking uneasy. "Not in years. It's possible somebody decided to break out an old trick. They did it all the time in the war. Conjure up a few inferi, drop them in their old neighbourhood, and watch from a broomstick as family and friends start screaming."

"Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, eh?" Kingsley muttered.

"Yeah. Never thought a muggle's corpse would come under that heading." Arthur sighed. "Fighting inferi was half my job when I joined the office."

"Arthur Weasley, zombie slayer," sniggered Brennt. The others looked at him quizzically. Ah. Time to play spot the Muggleborn.

"So?" prodded Kingsley.

"I just don't know, Kingsley. I can only guess. Could be random, could be an attack, could even be a stray that we somehow haven't noticed for twelve years."

Arthur took a step closer to Dobby, and then rolled him over with a wand gesture. He swore loudly enough that Brennt flinched and Tonks giggled.

"I take it back. This is Malfoy's elf."

"You're sure?" asked Kingsley.

"All house elves look the same," muttered Dawlish in agreement.

"Remind me why I'm here, Kingsley? We were the sorry lot working late when the distress call came through, and you grabbed everyone you saw on the way to the Floo. I've been up all night going through the artifacts confiscated from Malfoy's mansion. This elf was following me around the whole time on Malfoy's orders."

"Making sure you didn't knick Grandaddy Malfoy's silver spoons?" quipped Tonks.

"Dusting my footprints every time I took a step. Wiping my fingerprints off anything I touched. The second I touched it."

Tonks laughed.

"Good old Uncle Lucius always knew how to make a guest feel welcome."

"Enough!" ordered Kingsley. "Arthur, you're sure?"

"Positive."

"Alright. We'll have to call in Malfoy, but that's the DMLE's job, not yours. I want you out of this."

"But -" began Arthur. I could see an argument brewing, but Kingsley made a sharp motion with his wand and there was a noise like a thunderclap. Arthur closed his mouth.

"You and Malfoy have been at each others' throats for years. It's too personal for you. Dawlish, Tonks, get the elf back to the Ministry. Stuff it in a cupboard and guard the door until the day shift turns up and there's somebody important you can pass it off it. Brennt, you're still a prick, so you can write the report for tonight."

The others all grumbled in response then climbed onto their broomsticks. Dobby's frozen body hovered mid-air between them. They shot into the air, dragging him behind them, until, only a few seconds later, I couldn't see them anymore.

I caught Arthur eyeing me up speculatively a moment later. I was used to people staring at me, but he was looking at me, not my scar. Unusual. I was about to ask him why he was staring when he suddenly turned to Kingsley.

"It's not safe for Harry to stay here, and my boy's been going on about having him visit all summer. How about I take him home with me until we get this all sorted out?"

Kingsley rolled his eyes, then gave a curt nod.

"I don't have any objections. You - I don't know your name - Potter's uncle, aren't you?"

Vernon didn't answer for a while, but baulked under Kingsley's intense look.

"Yes - yes, it's fine. Get him out of here. I mean, it'll be safer with your lot, right? For him. And they won't attack us while he's gone!" Vernon added the last part as an afterthought, but his voice rose to an exclamation as he processed what he was saying.

"Alright, Arthur. Have it your way. I'll take another look around here then report in. Help the boy get his things together, and be gone within twenty minutes."

"Come on, Harry. Wands make quick work of packing, eh? Show me to your room."

I silently opened the door and began trudging up the stairs. Petunia and Dudley burst out of the living room, demanding to know what was going on.

"Not now, Pet," said Vernon, following us inside. "The boy's going away for a while."

"Dad, what's going on?" whined Dudley.

"Just a - just a bit of a fracas outside, Dudders. It's their business," he said, sounding tired, and jerking his head to indicate Arthur and myself. "We don't want to get involved with it, do we now?"

"But what happened?" he whined, again.

"I said we're not involved!" shouted Vernon. Dudley jumped in shock, unused to having Vernon raise his voice except at other people. "Ah, sorry, son. It's been a long night. Let's just have a sit down and let your cousin get his things. They'll be gone soon, and we can all relax."