The rest of Saturday had been fairly somber, and passed almost silently between Severus and Harry, as they moved about the lab and Severus' office. After Harry left for his dorm, Severus finally decided to see if any of the Potter elves were alive. He headed for the kitchens.

It took less than five minutes to discover that indeed, two of the Potter elves were alive, though it was not the two youngest. Evidently, one of the more elderly elves was still alive ... and one of the younger ones had been assigned to cook and clean at the Hollow, and been killed in the attack. Severus passed the information on to Minerva, as she'd be dealing with that end of things. Severus spent the rest of the morning considering what to teach Harry now that he had a firm grasp of the basics that every wizarding child grew up knowing, and had finally begun to develop good study habits.

Shortly after lunch, though, these ruminations were interrupted by a knock on his door. Severus eyed the door with great distaste. His popularity among his peers was such that it could only be one of two people at the door, and considering that Minerva was teaching Harry today, he highly doubted it was her. He was deeply tempted to ignore the knock, but unfortunately, he rather strongly suspected that if he did, Dumbledore would use his status as Headmaster to force his way in.

He stalked to the door and opened it. "What do you want?" He snarled.

Dumbledore, to Severus' surprise, was not twinkling, for once. He held a mass of silvery gray material in his hands. An invisibility cloak. "This belonged to James. He left it with me shortly before they went into hiding, as it is a valuable family heirloom that he didn't want to risk being destroyed or lost. I had thought to give it to Harry for Christmas originally, but now I shall leave the when and how to you." Dumbledore told him.

Severus was glaring at the cloak fit to incinerate it. He'd always wondered how James and his cronies got around the school. His question was, clearly, finally answered. "And you did not hand it over before now, why?" He growled.

"I felt it would be best to give you a chance to calm down a bit first." Dumbledore admitted, a pained smile ghosting across his face. "To lessen my chances of being hexed."

Severus had to admit that Dumbledore had a point. He would have been sorely tempted to hex the man. Still was, but his temper was not as close to the surface as it had been. And he somewhat belatedly admitted to himself that Dumbledore had been doing everything in his power to calm things between them ... this was actually the first time they'd spoken since Severus had stormed out of Dumbledore's office, and Dumbledore had kept his word and stayed clear of Harry. Reluctantly, he took the cloak.

"I will see that he gets it." He said, then firmly closed the door. He might not be as angry as he had been, but he was still angry, and unwilling to deal with the man just yet.

Severus glared at the cloak for a while before putting it in his quarters. Valuable family heirloom indeed! Oh, he'd give it to Harry, he couldn't not ... he was just grateful that Harry showed zero inclination towards pranks in any form. Sneaking out at night and exploring the castle though, was more or less a rite of passage, and Severus wouldn't deny the boy that (or the means to do so without getting into trouble). Christmas was soon enough.

HPHPHP

"Now, Harry, we've run through the basics that you need to know to succeed here in school, but there are a number of things you need to know that have nothing to do with school, and everything to do with your family." McGonagall told Harry once they'd settled in her office for the day's lesson.

"My family?" Harry echoed, unable to keep the eager yearning out of his voice.

"Yes. The Potters are a very, very old family, Harry. One of the oldest, in fact. They predate the Founders by several centuries, as a matter of fact." McGonagall told him.

Harry's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Yes. Now, in our world, families of such age carry a great deal of power, both politically, socially, and in business. I am not, of course, aware of all the details, but the Potters have had a seat on the Wizengamot almost from its inception, and there will come a time when you will be expected to take your place there ... though that will not be for many years yet!" She said with a little laugh at the disgusted and horrified look on Harry's face. "You also have a home." Ok, so calling the Manor a home was really stretching it, but it would be a little bit before Harry found that out. "It's in Inverness ... I've actually been there a few times in the past, when your grandparents were alive, for parties. I intend to take you there later today, but before I do, there's something we need to discuss."

Harry was looking a tad gobsmacked. He had his own home. He wondered what it was like, but then gave himself a shake and brought his attention back to McGonagall. "What's that?"

"House elves. They are the magical world's servants." McGonagall said. "The details of the hows and whys of it have long been lost to the mists of time, but at some point in the distant past, house elves bound themselves in eternal servitude to wizardkind."

Harry made a horrified face.

"Yes, it does sound unpleasant, doesn't it?" McGonagall said. "And I will admit that more than one family treats their elves rather badly, but not all by any means. They are clever creatures, and quite powerful in their own way. Treated with kindness and understanding, they are completely, incorruptibly loyal. Treated badly, they find ways to rebel, despite the strictures of their servitude."

"What strictures?" Harry wanted to know.

"A house elf cannot disobey a direct order from their master, nor can they tell his secrets." McGonagall said. "They can only be freed ... which generally utterly devastates them ... if their master gives them clothing. The Potter elves are some of the most well cared for that I know of, second only to Hogwarts' elves, probably. I know your father considered one of the house elves to be a friend and something of a partner in crime for his adventures around the Manor."

"If I have someplace to live, and ... well, people ... to help deal with stuff there, why wasn't I allowed to grow up there?" Harry wanted to know.

"Part of the reason was that, at the time your parents went into hiding, the Manor was undergoing repairs. Death Eaters ... followers of you-know-who, had managed to get into the manor during a party, destroyed much of the first floor, and succeeded in killing some half-dozen people, including your grandparents. The damage was pretty extensive, so your parents had to use Godric's Hollow. When your father was killed, the Manor shut itself down and closed up tight. At that point, only you could have opened the place back up, but you were too young ... you couldn't say more than a few words, even if we had known what needed to be done. And Albus thought it would be better for you to grow up away from the magical world anyway, away from the pressure of being the 'boy who lived'. Unfortunately, that backfired rather spectacularly."

"That's one way of putting it." Harry said with a sigh. "So ... what do we do from here?"

"Well, if we intend to visit the Manor, you're going to have to call your elves, as they're the only ones who know precisely what to do to reopen the Manor. Their names are Toker and Mallie."

"So I just say their names?" Harry confirmed.

"Yes."

"Ok." Privately, Harry thought this was more than a bit weird, but there you were. "Toker! Mallie!"

And half a second later, there were two quiet pops, and two of the oddest creatures ever appeared. One was clearly old, with more wrinkles than the Sharpei puppy Harry had seen once, dressed in what looked like an immaculately clean white ... pillowcase ... ? with a crest (he presumed it was the Potter crest) on the chest. The other elf was younger, unwrinkled and clearly more energetic (given it was bouncing on the balls of its feet in unrestrained glee), and dressed identically.

About half a second after he'd finished cataloguing their appearance, the younger one simply couldn't control itself any longer and flung itself at Harry, clinging to him with a near-death grip. "Mallie is so excited! Mallie is so happy to see Master Harry sir! He has grown so big! Mallie is being missing her Master Harry!"

Toker, though more sedate, seemed no less glad. Unless Harry was very much mistaken, Toker was trying his utmost not to cry when he joined Mallie in hugging Harry. "Toker is very glad to being seeing you, Master Harry. Toker was being afraid he might never!"

Harry patted them both on the back. It was ... weird, but as strange as this was, it felt ... right, somehow. "I'm glad to see the two of you too." He told them. "I kind of need your help." That got both of them giving him big-eyed looks. "I want to open up the Manor again, but I don't know how. Or if it's even in livable shape. McGonagall said the first floor got pretty badly damaged."

"Toker and Mallie is fixing everything, Master!" Toker told him, then the long, thin ears drooped. "But we is having to let some things go, Master. There is only being two of us, and we's could not keep everything the way it should." The old elf was clearly distressed by that. "But we is being able to tell you how to open the Manor again. We is being able to take you there!"

"It's ok, Toker. I don't blame you. I'm sure you did your best." Harry told them. He looked over at McGonagall. "Can you take the both of us?"

The two elves nodded emphatically. "Yous is just taking our hands, Master."

Clearly, McGonagall knew this, as she was already moving to take Toker's hand. Harry took Mallie's hand, and then the world squeezed itself out of shape. It was not, Harry thought, the most comfortable way to travel. He very nearly ended up tossing his cookies.

Thanks to that, it took him a minute to take in their surroundings, and when he did, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. There was a mountain looming to the east, and stretch of water just visible to the west. And, between the two, crouched on a stony hilltop, was something as far from a 'manor' as Harry figured it was possible to get.

Potter Manor was nothing of the sort. It was a freaking fortress. Surrounded by a tall, thick stone wall (complete with towers). Actually, as Harry peered closer, he decided there were two walls, as there seemed to be two sets of towers between them and the 'castle' proper. The castle itself was maybe a quarter the size of Hogwarts, but the whole thing had clearly been built to withstand the worst siege imaginable.

"Holy mother of ... " He squeaked. "You call that a Manor?" He whirled on McGonagall, one finger pointing at the castle.

"Much of it has not been used for a very long time, Harry, but yes, it is called a Manor." McGonagall told him, her lips twitching at his astonishment.

"Someone, somewhere, had a bit of a problem with their definitions." Harry groused, then looked at the two elves. "No wonder you two couldn't keep the whole place up! I don't think it'd be possible for a dozen elves!" Then, with a deep breath, he tried to regain some of his composure. "Ok, what do I do?"

Toker pointed to a bare patch of stone off to Harry's right. "Yous is going over there, Master. There is being a carving. You is putting yous hand over the carving. Yous is then saying you's name. The wards is doing the rest."

Harry nodded and walked over to the stone. Carving indeed. The center of the stone bore a concentration of what looked like runes. Incredibly, despite the stone being subjected to time and weather, the runes seemed to be as clear and sharp as the day they'd been carved.

It was just as well he had to get down on one knee to do it, as the moment he said his name, a wave of immense power washed over him, and probably would have knocked him off his feet if he'd been standing. There was a momentary sense of great weight and strength, and then a warm rush of welcome and joy before it receeded, leaving him a bit gobsmacked. Again. Seconds later, there was a visible shimmer in the air.

"The wards is opening, Master! Yous can be going to the gates, now." Toker told him. The four of them walked to the massive gates, which opened without anyone touching them, at least as far as Harry knew.

There were, indeed, two sets of towers. The area between them was an overgrown, weed-choked mess, clearly one of the things that had to be 'let go' in the interest of keeping as much of the inside up to snuff as possible. The second 'yard', though much smaller, was as bad.

Harry was a bit surprised when the front door proper didn't open without being touched, as the two gates had. He put his hand on the thick, steel-reinforced wood ... and got another wave of warm, joyous welcome before the door 'clicked' and swung open.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. While the exterior made the place look like a fortress, the interior had clearly been refitted to modern requirements at some point in the past, at least the main floor. They were standing in a fair-sized room that was fairly plain, done in warm browns and creams with a couch and several chairs around a small fireplace as the central focus. There were two doors on the of the walls, one on the right, one on the left.

"We is going this way, Master. The West wing is being where the family stayed."

And indeed that 'wing' (more like that half of the first floor) had a kitchen, dining room, a lounge/parlor, an office, a small library, several loos, and a half dozen rooms. The kitchen had the only access to the other half of the first floor (other than the one in the foyer), where the ballroom, a huge dining room and other rooms for parties were. That half of the first floor and all but one room on the second, third, and fourth floors, had been 'let go' by the elves. The only exception was the library (the small one on the first floor evidently held only the books most used by the family at any given time). The library on the second floor was huge, every bit as big as Hogwarts'. Harry's eyes went wide.

"Oh man. Remind me to never invite Hermione over here. I'd never get her out of here!" He told McGonagall.

McGonagall smiled. "Very true, Mr. Potter. Very true."

Harry didn't really notice the portraits at first, until one finally spoke up.

"I say! It's about time there were people in this old place again. It's gotten very dull these last few years!"

Harry blinked and turned, peering at the portrait. It was of a dark-haired man that pretty much had to be a Potter, given where they were. "Yessir. I'll be living here from now on, I think."

The man peered at him. "You'd be James' boy, then?" He asked.

"Yessir." Harry said.

The man smiled. "Nigel Potter." He introduced himself. "Your great-grandfather. Charlus, that's your grandfather, is around here somewhere, asleep. Now there's people here again, he'll wake. So will the others."

A sudden, painful hope stirred in Harry's chest. "Sir ... I ... did my parents ... "

"Ever sit for a portrait?" Nigel finished the question. "Yes, their wedding portrait, but it's not here in the Manor. I have no idea where it is."

McGonagall cocked her head slightly. "If it is not here, it is most likely in the vaults, then, as the next safest place."

"Probably." Nigel admitted. "We can but hope."

Harry and McGonagall spent the day exploring. More and more of the portraits woke up and spoke to him. Harry found himself highly amused by the preponderance of red-haired wives. Oh, there were a few blondes and brunettes, but the majority were redheads. The vast majority of the portraits (at least thus far) were quite congenial, more than willing to fill Harry in on bits and pieces of a family history he'd never known as they explored. By far the most amusing was Charlus, his grandfather. But then, he was the one with the most tales about James.

Eventually, evening fell and it was time to return to Hogwarts. Harry said goodbye to Toker and Mallie, and promised to return whenever he could during the school year.

He sighed a bit when he got back to his dorm. Hogwarts was wonderful, and for the last few months Harry had been more than happy to call it home, but now, somehow, it just didn't feel right. Despite only having been there for a day, the Manor felt far more like home than Hogwarts did.