He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking, barely noticing as the rows of self-same homes, tanned fences, and watered gardens whirred past. His full tilt slowed to a fast-paced walk and then, as his resolve faltered and he got further away, limping. Slowing to a stop, he lurched, ambling forward just slightly too fast as his foot caught on a patch of risen concrete, causing him to plaster face-first on the ground.

Just barely pinching back a pained yelp, Harry eased up onto his side, squinting up at the sky no longer cast in full sunlight. Now that the pounding in his chest had slowed, he suckered back tears at the aches that suddenly lanced him on all sides. Merlin, that bludger must've clobbered him.

Bludger... the quidditch match...

Think, Harry. The last thing he remembered was pitching off the side of his Nimbus, the grassy pinprick of earth below him eating up his field of view. How did he get here, stuck in the middle of a muggle neighborhood? His face scrunched up in consternation. How did people he'd never met before recognize him?

"This is fine," Harry muttered under his breath, "Dad should be getting that owl soon."

Harry scooted up, edging to the brink of the sidewalk to think and catch his breath. He couldn't be sure how long he remained like that, but both all at once and somehow hours later, a faint series of pops just to his left caught his attention.

"Remus!" he cried, scrambling back to his feet so quickly that his head whirred. Mooney was wearing a thin, tweed jacket and looked a lot more roughshod than normal.

Blinking for a long series of a moments - either that, or his vision had blotted out - he felt a steadying hand support him on his side. "He's scuffed up, badly."

"Merlin, Remus, you wouldn't believe - "

"Harry, what's going on? The headmaster got a floo-call from Arabella..." Remus said, brows pinched together in familiar concern.

"We have to clear the perimeter now. We're not in the wards anymore."

Harry tracked up to stare at the man with the gruff voice and mechanical eye, his attention captured just moments later by a dour man in black.

"Sev! You look like hell, what happened to you?" Harry yelped, suddenly feeling unsure this was his godfather when the man's expression puzzled before crumpling into a smoldering glare. His hair was greasy, face more gaunt and tired than Harry remembered ever seeing. Yet even in the dim twilight, it was unmistakably Severus.

"The brat's concussed."

Harry suckered in a wounded breath which just made the man raise one eyebrow. "What's wrong with you?" he asked, "And - wards? What wards?"

"Let's take him and leave," a woman with bright purple hair and a distinct nose ring hissed.

"Harry, hold on. We're taking you to the headquarters."

"Hold on to - ?" One sharp crack later and the world swirled away in a nauseating blend of earthy brown.

Cobblestone rushed up hard to greet the bottom of his feet. Ears ringing, he thoughtlessly grasped the piece of paper shoved in his hands.

"Memorize this."

Number 12, Grimmauld Place. He looked up at a narrow column of windows and a thin, gray door that stretched into existence. Before he could even open his mouth, he was rushed up a concrete porch and past the narrow threshold, barely noticing the cobwebs and gray wallpaper that materialized right in front of him.

"Merlin, Harry - you're covered in blood!" someone gasped, wrenching him into a cramped room with a long, well-worn table and kitchen counters. In the next moment, a spell was uttered that made him feel like a warm egg cracked on the top of his head.

"What's going on? Mooney, where are we?" he vexed, running a hand through his hair, as the man all but forced him to take a seat.

"Get Pomfrey here - this is more serious than we thought," Remus barked, eyeing a diagnostic sheet that popped out of thin air, before his face softened when he examined the boy more closely. "Harry, just calm down. You're at the Headquarters now."

Footsteps padded down a creaky set of stairs before a door behind him swung out, "Pup!"

The owner of the voice sucked in a breath upon sight, clapping a pair of thin hands on his shoulders. "What happened to him?"

Harry just blinked at him, squinting even though the thin, ragged man was cast in full light. He looked so familiar, yet Harry couldn't put a name to him. Graying, long hair, a pale complexion, and deep-set eyes edged with a dark glint and many sleepless nights. "Sirius?" he whispered conspiratorially. There was no way this could be him. Harry'd just seen him just a week ago at home, tanned and full-faced as ever, "Is that you?"

"'Course it's me," he frowned deeply, cocking his head, "Mooney, how bad did he hit his head?"

The world must've been pulled out from under his feet. "I - I don't understand, where's mum and dad?" he looked up at Severus who stood ramrod-straight at the edge of the room, "No one's telling me anything."

The man's expression faltered before his lip twitched in what seemed a whole lot like a snarl. Harry missed the way the other occupants of the room shared concerned glances.

"Pup, what's the last thing you remember?"

"The match against Slytherin, I was knocked off my broom. I woke up in a - a room. There was - was a weird woman, and this other boy..." he trailed off when nobody's confused expression resolved. "Is everyone else alright?"

"Harry, you were at the Dursley's all summer. You're saying you don't remember any of that?"

"Dursleys? Mum sends a Christmas card to them every year, but I've never met them."

"Quit playing this up for attention, Potter." Severus spat.

A horrible sensation spread out from the pit in his stomach. Something was very, very wrong. "You're not Severus," he breathed. "Sev wouldn't speak to me like that."

Sirius just glared at the man in black, face pinched in pure vitriol. "Get out of here, you clearly aren't helping."

"I remain where I want to, mutt." He lashed back, totally unfazed.

"And you aren't Sirius, either." Harry shook his head, gripping the edges of the bench he was on, "You wouldn't speak to him like that - you - you're family. You're family, doesn't that mean anything to you? Where am I? Where's mum, or Libby, or - ?"

A noise of disgust, "Family?"

"You two - stop fighting, you're upsetting him." Remus quipped, controlling his voice.

"Can someone please explain what the hell is going on here?" He tried to keep his voice from rising, furtively casting glances around the room before lowering his eyes shyly.

"What is your patronus, boy?" A gruff voice said at the other end of room.

Harry blinked up in confusion, twitching at the sight of mechanical-eyed man whose wand was now fidgeting in between his fingers.

"Patronus? What?"

"I said: what's your patronus?"

"Moody, please, not right now..."

"We can't be certain a Death Eater hasn't infiltrated our ranks," he snapped. "What's your patronus?"

"I can't - I don't have one -" Harry said, proffering a searching look. "I mean, I think my mum's is a Doe, and my dad's..."

The man's wand inched up by slow degrees. "Don't act innocent with me, boy. What'd you do with the real Potter? You - "

He was interrupted with a loud clatter. At the edge of the room, Severus looked even more pale than before - if that were possible - and his brow gleamed in a slight sheen of cold sweat.

Gripping the edge of the kitchen counter like a lifeline, slightly keeled forward, the man looked at him with something other than restrained disgust. Maybe more like Harry was a particularly interesting bug.

The tight feeling in Harry's chest dropped deep to his gut. "Sev, is she okay?" he thought he must've shouted it, but nobody reacted. Nobody heard him. Nobody understood.

"What?" the man queried, letting a slight exhale punch out of his mouth.

"Is she okay?" Harry repeated.

Another voice, "Who, Harry?"

"Lily. Mum." He mustered, "Did something happen, is that why everyone is acting so bloody weird?"

His complexion grew red and muddled, "What, is she sick or something?" he asked, exasperated. "Why isn't anyone telling me anything?"

"It's him, Moody, he knows her." Severus gasped out between breaths, "You've met her."

"Of course - I saw her this morning right before the bloody match," he willed away the tears pricking right behind his eyes. "And I saw her the day before that, too. And the whole bloody summer before that. And my whole life. Of course I've met her, she's my mum. Merlin, I should've never gotten on the pitch..."

"We can't be certain," Moody growled.

"Damn fool, no one knows her Patronus," Severus snapped.

Remus looked peaked in the sterile lighting. "Harry, who's Voldemort?"

"Volde-what?"

The man took one staggering step back, "This is Harry, but it's not our Harry."

"That barmy, Mooney." Sirius barked. "He hit his head - no wonder he's all jumbled up. Where is Poppy?"

"Who are we to you? What do you know about us?" Severus uneasily relinquished the edge of the counter, inching forward.

"You," Harry scrubbed at his eyes, head stinging. "You're my godfather, Sev. Don't you remember yesterday? We played chess and you made tea. You know this, we talk all the time."

"Do not play into this, Snape," Sirius seethed.

"You stop playing into this!" Harry griped, staring openly at his father's friends. "And you're an Auror - both you and Mooney are, actually. Don't you know? You only came back from the field 'cause Dad finally got the DADA position - you wanted to - to celebrate; you were so hungover the next day, we couldn't even toss the Quaffle like you promised, Sirius. You know me."

The boy pointed at the man whose eye was bobbing in every direction, "And I've never met you before. I don't even know what this place is."

For the first time, the young woman stepped forward and peered closely at him, before her hair turned a murky shade of pink. "Merlin knows the press doesn't get everything right," she quipped. "But isn't this Potter kid s'pposed to have a scar?"