A.N. Much thanks to the many proof readers, in particular to Silent and Typa, and as always Vash and Jon.

Recap:

She reached for the rows of vials, always kept replenished by her and fished out the one holding Veritaserum, and another powerful petrifying potion, which required an antidote to release the victim. Paddy followed, staying close to her ankles. She stood for a long moment staring down the short hallway to the door of her bedroom, wondering if she would become undone if she saw him again.

Gritting her teeth she stalked down the hall and banged the bedroom door open.

Chapter 4

Harry woke up when he felt the cold of Lily's absence. He didn't know that it was her he was missing, but some instinct made him touch the warm space beside him in search of whoever had been there.

Slowly his mind began to catch up with where he was; he felt like he had had an amazing sleep after being exhausted to the bone. He turned from his side to his back on the bed and noticed the loose fitting robes on himself. In the dark he tentatively patted himself over, trying to figure out by touch if he was alright.

Finding his right hand cramped he moved his fingers to send some blood and feeling into them. He felt the texture of the Resurrection Stone and suddenly it all came back to him. He jumped off the bed and to his feet, staring around in the dark with wide eyes. Frantically he searched the pockets of the unfamiliar robes for his wand, feeling that primal fear brought on by not being able to see.

Knowing now that he hadn't his wand he became more cautious and wary of making noises. Forcing his breathing to calm he crouched a little and with an exploring arm out in front began walking. He bumped into the bed again and using that as a guide he found the wall and followed that until he came to the door.

Here he paused, with his free hand on the knob, taking just a moment to think through the idea of just jerking the door back and running out. His shoulder brushed against a switch while he was leaning against the door trying to remember what had happened between seeing Snape's memories in Dumbledore's pensieve and ending up in an unlit room. Slowly he flipped it and waited with baited breath for whoever his jailor was, for he had assumed that he had been taken somewhere against his will.

It took him a second to realize that he was looking at a normal bedroom, and he relaxed, but then he saw the dozens of frames on the walls with their faces turned away. Finding it strange, he curiously grabbed the corner of one and turned it over to find an image of his parents lounging in a couch.

He stared at the picture he had never seen before and carefully turned another picture over to find his parents again but now with himself as a baby. A prickly cold feeling crawled down his back and quickly he turned over more and more of the pictures until he was standing in the middle of the room with his mouth agape. All around him were scenes from his family's life, a few pictures he actually recognized as ones in his own album.

He turned once and then twice to take in the room. Besides never having seen it before it felt like he belonged there, surrounded by all the smiling faces. His vision was still blurred so he looked for his glasses. Keeping the stone firmly in his hand he puzzled over where he'd found himself.

Seeing the bathroom door he cautiously entered it to find his things on the floor and counter. Setting his glasses securely on the bridge of his nose he found the wand he'd taken from Draco Malfoy. He also found the wallet Hagrid had gifted him and quickly searched inside it to find all his precious belongings were there.

Hurriedly he took out the album he had put in it and matched the pictures inside with the ones on the walls. Some were perfect matches.

"But I was going into the Forbidden Forest. How did I get here?" He stood in the room trying to find the answer. In his mind he went over the knowledge that the only way to save his friends was to die and kill the part of Voldemort's soul in him.

A cold dread gripped in his heart. He was still ready to do what he needed to, but in the room surrounded by happy photographs, facing Voldemort was such a depressing thought.

"I suppose having to die can making you feel that way," he mused. Then he remembered what he had been doing before he lost consciousness. "I wanted to know if dying hurts. The stone! I was turning the stone to call…" he trailed off thinking of Sirius and his parents, and realized now Remus was with them too. Just then the door burst in, and he set his eyes on the furious face of woman in muggle clothes and short red hair.

Thread-like blue magical sparks fell off her wand, she looked at him visibly shocked. As if she hadn't expected him to be there.

"You're up?" she asked herself.

Surprised to find it wasn't a Death Eater on the other side of the door, Harry answered, "Umm, yes?"

Hearing him speak startled her out of her momentary shock and she swung the wand forward as she dove into the room. A blue bolt twisted towards him and split in three, aiming for his head, heart, and the last swinging around to hit him in the back.An instant before the spells connected, he threw up his hands to protect his face. The split bolts struck, but he felt them brush over him like a warm wind.

"What are you doing?" he shouted, trying to figure out who she was and why she was attacking him.

She cast another spell and this time he ducked, but not quite quick enough for the iron chains erupting around his feet, slamming into him, and throwing him to the ground. But, as soon as they curled around, putting their oppressive weight on him, they turned to dust and Harry sat up, spitting the transfigured dirt out of his mouth.

He felt the point of a wand jab into his throat. The woman was next to him in a half crouch, sending a clear message with how her tensed body that she was ready to pounce. He looked up into her bewildered but fierce green eyes framed by her coppery red hair, and felt an unshakeable sense of familiarity.

She sent a petrifying hex at him which didn't matter much as he was frozen taking in the sight of her. There was a thrill going through him he couldn't understand, his blood rushed from the sheer thought that he knew her with every part of his being. She was breathing hard. It was difficult to ignore her chest rising and falling under the fawn camisole, against which her creamy skin showed in contrast. He raised his hand slowly in a show of surrender and it startled her; she had thought the petrifying spell worked.

She jumped back, but tripped on her bunched skirt and fell on her side. This did not stop her from cursing him again.

"Stupefy."

The red spell hit him in the face and he sneezed, but it did nothing more than that. Harry balked away from her growl of frustration, but there was nowhere to go except one, open door she stood to the side of. He took his chance.

She did not expect him to run, and he was past her into the small corridor and to the main door before she attacked again, fast on his heels.

Harry saw the door he was running toward turn into a brick wall, and steel bars come up from the floor in front of it, completely blocking his escape.

He swore out loud and whipped around, angry and confused about the feeling he needed to know who she was. His arms trembled from adrenaline and feeling he was standing at the edge of some incredible precipice. He finally shouted the ridiculous thought in his mind.

"You…you look like my mother, Lily Potter. Who are you?" he demanded furiously.

"You're not going anywhere until I find out who you are!” she yelled at the same time.

There was dead silence in the small hall. Harry stared at his mother, having recognized her but knowing it was impossible it was really her. She was watching him with a dumfounded expression, her wand wavering in front of her.

Harry put up his hands. "I won't go anywhere. Can you please stop attacking me now?" he snapped. In his mind he cursed himself at the stupidity of obeying someone attacking him, but he had to know what was going on. Why was he in a room with pictures of his family and now across from a woman identical to his dead mother?

"Your mother?" she inquired, her wand arm going limp, hanging by her side. "Who the hell are you?"

Harry finally leveled his wand at her, and she mirrored him. "I asked first."

Neither of them gave way. They stood, waiting for the other to make a move. Harry didn't really want to curse her. Whatever instinct had made him not want to run from her also demanded he not harm her.

The tense silence was broken by a 'meow,' and Harry gave a hiss as he felt small needle claws prick his leg. He looked down to see a kitten climbing up the loose brown robes. He kept an eye on the woman while trying to shake off the determined kitten, but to his dismay it reached his shoulder and perched itself there with a satisfied purr.

“Is this your cat?” Harry asked unsurely, trying to eyeball it, but the kitten was happily trying to nuzzle his neck.

“Yes, that's Paddy. He likes you.” She smiled at his vain efforts to get the kitten down and stop it from playing with his ear. “So who are you?”

“As if you don't know, haven't recognized the scar yet?” Harry retorted sarcastically, flicking the kitten's paw, now batting at his face. “Why do you look like Lily Potter?”

Harry saw her consider him; she crossed her arms, no longer marking him with her wand. Her green eyes bored into him and he shuffled uncomfortably at their intensity. Suddenly, she kneeled and put her wand on the floor, giving Harry full eye contact.

“I'm going to leave my wand here and if you do the same, we can talk,” she offered, waiting. Harry thought about it only for a second, and knelt awkwardly with the little cat on his shoulder. He looked at her across the hall and put the wand down as well. She stood up smoothing her flowing red skirt and stepped into what looked like a small sitting area.

Harry copied her, but before he could stand up the kitten jumped into his lap so he was forced to carry it in the crook of his arm as he followed her into the room. He stood there while she turned her back on him and went to the stove. He watched her pour water into cups and make tea while he absently petted the kitten in his arms.

She brought the tea and put it on a small table under a window. The table could seat only two and she motioned him to sit down while she turned on some lights. She sat across from him, absently flicking the fringe of her copper red hair away from her face. Harry watched her in discomfort; other than the hair he could see nothing different about her from the pictures of his mother.

Quietly, she took a sip from her cup and looked at him over it. He knew she'd noticed him watching her. She arched a brow in question, and he blushed as if caught. He heard her make an unintelligible sound, and sit back in her chair, resting the cup in her lap. Unfortunately, this way her figure was exposed and for a woman of her endowment the fawn camisole did not leave much to modesty. Harry felt even more awkward and hurriedly drank from his cup to cover it up. Surreptitiously, he took her in from her angled face and delicate lips hovering around the tea cup, to her slender neck tapering off to shapely shoulders, and then, of course, where he thought he had been caught looking once already, to the swell of her bosom that complimented her svelte figure. She is gorgeous, he thought, and was filled with warmth. No wonder Dad fell for you, he thought and smiled.

A strange, light feeling came over him, and he looked up and smiled at her. She blinked slowly as if surprised, and then returned his smile a little sadly.

“What's your name?” she asked pointedly.

“Harry James Potter,” he answered before he thought of trying to get her to answer. He shook his head, wondering why he just blurted out the answer. “Well, you knew that anyway, don't know why you bothered asking,” he added sullenly. But when he looked up at her, he saw her wide-eyed and colorless.

“What-is-your-name?” she ground out, rising from her chair and looming over him.

“Harry James Potter,” he answered again, just as quickly, and without thought, body still feeling oddly light.

“No, you're dead, you're a baby,” she furiously argued, sitting down and slamming a fist on the table.

“I'm not dead, at least I don't think I am. Unless Voldemort killed me and I missed it.” He gave a nervous laugh, feeling distinctly unlike himself. The strange light feeling was beginning to worry him now.

“Did Voldemort send you here? Are you a Death Eater?”

“No, Voldemort didn't send me, and I'm not a Death Eater,” he answered calmly, and felt surprised he hadn't shouted angrily like he wanted to. He began to suspect this floating, light feeling tingling through his body.

“How did you appear in Dumbledore's office?”

“I don't know.”

“That stone, did it have anything to do with it?” she continued unrelentingly, and Harry could see she was getting more and more agitated.

“I don't know,” he answered again, feeling mildly alarmed that she had seen the stone in his hands. He tried to hide it in his pocket.

“What is that?” she pointed at the blackened and engraved stone.

“It's the Resurrection Stone,” Harry answered immediately, startling himself. That was something he was going to keep secret, so why did he tell her? His answer seemed to give her pause, and she looked at him, perplexed.

“What does the Resurrection Stone do?” she asked like she didn't want to.

“It lets you talk to people who've died; they come back but you can't be with them. They're still separate. At least that's the story.” He could see her hands shaking now, but her eyes were steady and nothing on her face said that she was affected by his story.

He waited for another question, but some of the strange feeling left him and he asked a question of his own. “Why do you look like Lily Potter?”

“I look like her because,” she paused, “I am Lily Potter.”

This time, he felt a tremble in his hands and knew he was watching her, mouth agape. It was like his mind was simultaneously running through a million thoughts and not thinking a thing. A cold sweat broke out on his head. All through this she looked at him blankly, but then a tear escaped the corner of her eye, and he finally saw the pain in her eyes.

“My God! I resurrected you!” he gasped. “I was turning the stone trying to see you before…” he trailed off. She was shaking her head.

“How can you resurrect someone who's not dead? No, I think it was me. I was the one turning the stone asking for you…and you came, you came back to me,” she said, moistening her lips with her tongue in a nervous gesture and then giving a beatific smile. Harry reacted to it infectiously and smiled as well, loving the sight of her lit up like that. Tears flowed freely from her now. He didn't have the heart to tell her he wasn't dead, that it really was him who must have resurrected her.

“How did you get so big?” she suddenly asked. Harry opened his mouth to answer, but it was lost in a loud thumping noise coming from where the door was. Lily jumped from her chair and squatted down next to the loveseat, pulling something out from under it. Harry looked over her shoulder to see a mirror in which the unmistakable face of Mad-Eye Moody was showing.

“Potter, quick, bring down your blasted wards,” he growled. Lily turned back, looking around the room frantically.

“You have to hide, now!” She shoved him towards the bedroom. Harry let himself be pushed into the room, confused about how Mad-Eye ended up being resurrected; he hadn't planned on talking to him, just his close loved ones.

Paddy, the kitten, followed him into the room. Lily had quickly swiped their wands from the floor and thrown him the one she thought was his. She waved at him to get hidden, but having just found out who she was, his heart was bursting from joy, and he wanted to ask a thousand questions, or just keep looking at her. But when he saw her twirl her wand at the brick wall, making it dissolve to reveal the wooden door, he did as she said. Pressing himself against the bedroom wall, he heard the steady thunk of Moody's walk and heard him enter the flat with some other footsteps following his. There were hushed, urgent voices and he heard the kettle being put on to boil again.

Harry was no closer to figuring out what was happening than before, but at least now he knew who the woman was, and his blood rushed at the thought. He had to be close to her. He rummaged in his magical wallet and pulled out the invisibility cloak, thinking he'd risk Moody seeing him.

Hastily, he donned the cloak and took a look around the room, at least now all of the pictures made sense. Staying flush against the walls, he crept closer to the sitting room.

“Are you alright, love?” a deep feminine voice asked. He didn't recognize it. The silence that followed the question was tense; Harry could practically feel it even where he was hidden. “I didn't mean anything by it, just concerned,” the same voice as before apologized.

Sound of shuffling robes came close to him and he thought he might be found if he stayed. He waited with baited breath but whoever it was didn't cross back into the hall from the sitting room. “Honestly, Lily, the way you're looking at me is scaring me.”

“Why are you here Mr. Moody?” he heard Lily ask, and even he could tell she had dismissed the woman who had been talking earlier. For a moment there was only sound of tea cups clinking and being put on the table.

“I have a mission for you,” Moody's gravelly voice reached him.

“Send Remus, or Alberta, I'm busy,” Lily responded shortly.

“I don't have time to worry about Lupin's sense of mercy, and Alberta is a child,” Moody nearly snapped.

“She is older than me by five years, Moody,” Lily commented.

“Aye, and still bright eyed as a suckling baby.” Something smashed on the table, punctuating Moody's anger. A tense silence followed his exclamation.

“This is a matter for the Grim Protocol. You know Alberta is not part of that, dear, even gentle Lupin isn't,” the deep feminine voice from earlier he hadn't recognized broke the silence.

“And how many times have you carried out the Grim Protocol, Mrs. Shay? Seems like every time I'm the one sent.” Harry heard Lily question harshly, and wondered what this Grim Protocol was.

“I did my part against Grindelwald, young lady. Do not forget that. If it wasn't for Dumbledore I would go with you. Moderate your tone with me,” the deep feminine voice sounded much less apologetic this time.

“And before you ask, Dumbledore invoked the Grim, not me,” Moody spoke.

“I wasn't going to ask. Who is it, and why?” Lily demanded.

“You weren't going to ask?” Moody was incredulous. “What's wrong with you, Potter? I can't send you if you've finally lost it.”

“Hmph! The day Lily Potter loses it is the day a muggleborn becomes Minister of Magic. Not a colder Grim has the Order of the Phoenix ever had.” The unknown woman laughed.

“I'm the only Grim right now, Mrs. Shay. I will take that as a compliment. I am sorry Mr. Moody I am not free.”

“Listen here, chicky, Voldemort is sending Ezekiel Rasch to trap the French minister and purify his wife. Do I need to explain what 'purify' means?” Moody asked and Harry heard Lily gasp. “Take it as a no, then. We can't arrest him, nothing can be pinned on him, and the French Minister thinks Rasch his best friend, he's refused to believe Dumbledore.”

“France can't fall. You have been charged with the Grim Protocol. We trust your skill, come back safe,” the woman added on.

“Can I ask why neither of you can do this?” Harry heard the current of bitterness in Lily.

“We're protecting the Longbottoms. They are priority. Merlin knows why, Dumbledore is more tightlipped than a goblin,” Mrs. Shay complained.

“Aye, I'd come with you, Potter, but this is best done by one person. He's a powerful wizard, don't get cocky,” Moody admonished.

“I never do, now get out and induct someone else from the Order to do this. I am tired of it,” Lily whispered.

“I'm sorry, child,” Mrs. Shay began before being cut off.

“Save your sympathy. Next time do the bit you did against Grindelwald in this war hmm?” Lily taunted, and Mrs. Shay sighed. There were quick footsteps, the door opened and shut. Presumably, Mrs. Shay had left, but Harry was waiting for Moody's characteristic thunking walk, so he knew he was still in the flat.

He heard the old auror's slow gait start and come to a pause before the man spoke again.

“Potter, I am invoking the Grim right now. You understand this?” Harry strained to hear Moody's whisper.

“Moody, what are you doing?”

“By my right as head of the Protocol, I invoke the Grim on Madame Shay.”

“You're not serious!” Lily exclaimed.

“Careful, chicky, she betrayed us. She's too strong to be broken, Dumbledore won't believe me. He's blinded by his 'faith,'” Moody spat the word. “Do it quietly, make it look right. We can't have this come out to the full Order. Another betrayal and they'll fall apart, the cowards,” he growled.

“But she's been with us so long,” Lily whispered sadly. Harry's alarm at what he was hearing kept growing, the worse came next.

“Aye, aye, she has. Lily, the protocol for Ezekiel Rasch is a trap. Shay set it up, insisted you be the one to take it, and Dumbledore made it so. Do whatever you have to do but come back, I can't rely on anyone else. After James…”

“I know,” Lily said in a very small voice, making Harry want to run in there. He kept himself from doing anything stupid but something cold had dropped in his stomach, he was scared to death for Lily. Moody's thunking walk came close to where he was standing flat against the wall and then went away. The door opened and shut again, Moody had left.

“Cursed Morgana!” Lily yelled when Moody left and Harry came back in the room to see her running her hand through her hair in a frustrated manner. She gave him a bleak look then closed the distance between them and put her arms around him.

Harry squeezed as hard as he could, but afraid he was hurting her. Tears threatened to fall when he thought this was his first hug from his mother, and he was terrified for her safety.

“You…can't do…what they want you to,” he told her, haltingly.

“I have to. I am the Order's Grim. I am so glad you're back.”

“I can't lose you again,” Harry's voice broke a bit to his shame. “I don't understand what's going on, how is Moody alive, and Dumbledore and-”

“Hush!” she soothed, and rubbed his back in circles. “You will never lose me again. But we have to get out of here now, Shay knows where I live, we can't stay here anymore. I need you to be brave, Harry, can you do it?”

Harry pulled back from her arms and stared into her eyes which were only a fraction lower than him; she was almost exactly as tall as him. There was only one way to answer that question, despite his confusion.

“Yes, I can do it.”

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