Disclaimer: It sometimes seems I hardly own myself, I certainly don't own Harry Potter. (How was that? My first disclaimer!)
A/N: I received a comment that the vintage clothes from last chapter were so Ron wouldn't get jealous. Thanks for the comment; it's good to know when my writing isn't clear enough. I meant that expensive cloths would cause a fuss with the Dursleys.
Chapter three
As dusk approached, a dark figure in a muggle trench coat stood outside a darkened house. He shuffled just at the edge of the property line, like a dog at the edge of one of those invisible fences. He snorted at the irony of the image he had gleaned from the motel's late night TV infomercial, and raised his arms as if he were in supplication. The wards had hardly changed, but he spotted the alterations that made for a nasty surprise to anyone using that once familiar trap door through the formidable protections. Before he proceeded with his plan, he drew an envelope out of his pocket and added a hasty post script to the note he had prepared.
With all his plans in place, the figure dissalusioned himself, allowing his form to blend quietly into the night. A half hour later, there was a shimmering as all the traps were reset, and a small crack was heard in the night. The figure in black stepped out of a small alley in Dover, and strolled down to a small sailboat purchased earlier in the day. It wasn't much, but it was a quiet night on the English Channel and the man had enjoyed sailing in his youth. The vessel would do.
In Privet Drive, a teenage boy was having a world-shaking revelation. He had intended to follow his godfather's study plan, but the allure of his mother's handwriting pulled at his mind. He wouldn't be allowed to put into practice any magic he learned until September anyway, so he began with the small book called 'The Prince' by some Italian bloke. He read until midnight, and then he sat back, he hadn't even finished half, but here was something that explained so much. He turned out the lights, and lay back in bed rethinking his entire life. He was looking at where his life had been bent for others' convenience. How many times had he been maneuvered, molded, and tested? He had to finish that book, but he also knew that he had to rest so he would truly learn what he needed. His life was not his own, and as he drifted off to sleep he was reminded of his friend Ron teaching him chess. What was he, pawn, bishop, or rook? He thought back to his first year and that ridiculous obstacle course that could have claimed his friends' lives, should have if it was really meant to defend something as precious as the philosopher's stone. When would he be expected to sacrifice himself to help 'fight the good fight'? Was he to be the warrior or the martyr, he just didn't know.
Amelia Bones was looking forward to tonight. Her little brother's birthday was always an event for the last of the ancient Bones family. It was just them now after the losses in the last war, but she was always thrilled to see her niece and nephew. It would be a great feast for them all, and she had brought their favorite mushu pork for the second course of the traditionally eclectic meal. As she aparated into her ancestral entrance hall, she noticed her niece running over to take her coat, with the family house elf right behind her looking for the bags in her arms. "How are you sweaty? I hope you are ready for your father's party, none of this diet foolishness from last year."
"No foolishness aunty, I can diet tomorrow. I'll probably have the traditional next day stomach ache from all of dad's food." Suzan hugged her aunt and turned toward the coat closet, only to see a note appear on the small table next to it. "Aunty, what's that?"
Amelia turned towards the note just in time to see a packet appear under it with a single red rose lying on the table beside the two. Her wand was immediately in her hand and she inched close enough to analyze the magic on the tabletop. It was a ward that was keyed to release the invisibility of the hidden objects when she neared it. What was worse was that she recognized the ward. It was Black. He had been in her home, and could still be here to kill her and her family. She grabbed Suzan as she came to read the note and pulled the young witch back. "Do you have your wand on you?" Amelia hissed, and when her niece nodded she continued. "Draw it, and stun anyone who draws their wand OK?"
Suzan looked frightened, but Amelia couldn't comfort the girl now. At least the younger woman was holding her wand with determination, refusing to let her aunt down. Amelia flicked her wand and lights appeared in the room flashing between different colors. If disalusionment charms were present, the changes in color and light sources would reveal the intruder's outline. With the room clean, she sealed all the doors in the room except the one into the main hallway where here relatives would come in. After she lifted an anti apparition ward in the room, she called the family elf.
"Mistress called Mini?"
"Mini, please go get Edgar, Diana and Jason. Have them come here and walk though the hall. Have them come one at a time and not have their wands in hand. Suzan, what was the last thing you said to me about boys in school?"
Suzan was taken back but she did notice the subtle way her aunt had aimed the wand at her. This was dangerous. "I think Ernie McMillan finally noticed me, I know Harry never would. What did you get me for my last birthday?" Amelia nodded at how quick her niece was on the uptake, and answered her question as well. She quickly checked each of her relatives as they came into the hall, happy that they were all OK and together. After that she cast the Homonum Revelio. What ever that bastard had done, he was long gone. Thirteen years later and I still can't believe how easily that man tricked me. He just seemed so charming and dashing. It had been the first of her two greatest misjudgments, the second being her ex-husband. At least she hadn't married some damned pureblood. They usually had binding marriage contracts that could only be gotten out of in certain circumstances and with their head of house's permission.
Before she would answer her family's questions, Amelia slowly inched toward the note. She didn't touch it until she had cast every revealing spell she could think of. The card must have been left to taunt her. Amelia shielded the table with her body so her family couldn't see her hands shaking with a mixture of rage and trepidation as she picked up the note.
Dear Amelia,
Your home is as lovely as I remember; I only wish I could stay to see your face. Say hi to your little brother for me. If I remember right, he married that pretty young witch Diana. I hope this doesn't end up causing him too much trouble, the little squirt always was fun. I'll change the topic now, I don't want to seem like I am taunting you.
I was framed by Peter Pettigrew. I have several former associates searching for him, but I have been let down by them before. He was the secret keeper, and escaped me by turning into his rat animagus form. I know it sounds insane, but I kept my sanity, well enough of it, by focusing on the fact I was wrongly accused. The dementors can't take unhappy memories away. Fudge gave me a copy of the Daly Prophet, and I left it to you in the parcel. In the photo on the front is Pettigrew on the shoulder of the Weasley child. I know you will keep looking for me, please just keep an eye out for him as well. I am leaving the country for now, but maybe someday I can clear my name.
Fudge already heard about this, but was adamant that it couldn't be true. He always was a short sighted git. Please look after my godson.
I am glad my memories of you have returned with my escape.
Sirius Black
P.S. You really need to stop up that hole in your wards. I know it was meant as an escape route, but if I can find it, others can as well. A nasty addition I must say, but a person in your position makes nasty enemies. Even if I'm not one of them.
Amelia couldn't believe it. She would check out this story, but until she could seal the protections on this house, they would simply have to abandon their ancient home. "OK Edgar, get everything you need for the next week, and get to my flat in London. It will be a squeeze, but we need to move now. We'll have your birthday dinner there, but I need to get a few aurors here right now. He might still be watching the house."
"Who aunty?"
"Sirius Black, that's who left this note. He was here in this house, and until we shore up the wards, he might just come back. Not a word about this to anyone though, this has to be kept quiet." I need to call Kingsley, he'll be discrete.
Harry would spend the summer reading and studying the mind arts. He had never felt so enthralled by his summer studies. After his revelations with Machiavelli, he decided that he would need to be prepared. It seemed obvious now that he was being groomed for something, but he just couldn't figure out what. He started with the book on magical travel, and was thrilled, finishing it in a day. Portkeys, floo powder, and apparition were just the start. It contained information on wards to protect against these forms of travel, even wards allowing only inbound travel and only outbound. The book fascinated him, and he began to wonder what more he could learn. There were tantalizing theories in the later pages on how and why these forms of transport worked, and how to silence his apparition. As Harry turned his mind over and over on the unsubstantiated theories, he began to remember sitting on the stairs watching as Dudly sat enthralled by a science show. Science had always been the only subject his huge cousin had been interested in, and in desperation to get him interested in school in any way possible, his mother had subscribed to science channels on TV and magazines for the whale of a boy. Harry was remembering one particular episode about wormholes and string theory. He would have to look in to this further, and in a worst case even talk to the bully in the next room.
Harry got up to see what he could find about science that bordered on the theories in his magical transport book, but just sighed in frustration as all the bits of parchment in his lap and on the bed slid to the floor.
"I need something better," he moaned, "You would honestly think the magical world would get some use out of muggle artifacts like notebooks and pens. That's it, tomorrow I go shopping." Harry lay down on the bed and spent hours thinking about his planned experiments with traveling spells until he drifted to sleep.
LEMON Warning
Gertrude was having a spectacular night. She had a huge seemingly inexhaustible cock buried in her pounding away, as a rule clients never did much for her but she needed the money and this brothel was safer than most. This man though was like heaven. She was a prostitute in the red light district of Amsterdam, and she was the third woman this man was steadily plowing through. Earlier that night she couldn't believe that this man was willing to pay for the entire night for four of the women in the brothel. When she had been picked as third she was relieved. Paid for all night, and the guy probably wouldn't even get to her, but as she walked into the room she found both her old friend and the new girl passed out with goofy grins on their faces. The man had smiled at her with a charming lopsided grin through his long silky black hair, and said, "Hi, beautiful. I was wondering when you would show up."
Sirius was having a blast making up for thirteen years of celibacy. It was an obvious move, and he expected the aurors any minute, he just hoped he would have time to finish with this third woman, Gertrude. He smiled as she walked in and blessed the extra strength stamina potion and condoms bespelled 'for her pleasure' he had bought from that illicit vendor near the magical street here in Amsterdam. He assumed the man would eventually sell his whereabouts, so he had planned his retreat carefully in advance, but looking at Gertrude walking in wearing her skimpy black teddy and nothing else he could give a damn about anything else. She walked over to him seductively, eyeing her colleagues spread out on the bed. Sirius stood slowly and caressed her cheek, lowering his head to nuzzle at her neck. He hummed in satisfaction at her moan, even knowing she was probably faking for now.
Gertrude was going nuts. Her world was shrinking down to scattered sensations around her body as her mind focused on the wandering sensations of his mouth and hand roaming her soft smooth body all the while his right hand continued to stroke and play with her. Those fingers stroking in and out of her were driving her mad, but she wanted more, she needed more. "Please, please." She moaned near incoherence and threw her head back in delirious abandon as he penetrated her.
He couldn't hold back any longer and started pumping slowly in and out with long firm strokes. She met him stroke for stroke, angling and adjusting herself for maximum penetration riding him to her hearts content. As the tension grew she pushed the pace faster and faster until she was crying out in pure bliss. It seemed like her orgasm just kept growing, it built and built. It must have gone on for minutes, it must have been hours. She couldn't tell any more, she just didn't want him to stop, but finally he jerked, and stiffened in release, her aftershocks milking every last drop from him.
Lemon end
Sirius discretely summoned his wand from its invisible holster and scourgefied himself and the spent woman curled at his side. He couldn't leave traces that could be used to track him, and he was winded. All Sirius wanted was to curl up and nap for a few minutes and then get ready for another round with this delightful beauty beside him.
A chime sounded in his ear, and Sirius jumped up, wand in hand. He didn't even bother to put anything but his boxers on, but hit himself with the most powerful disillusionment charm he could muster. With a flick of his wand, he triggered the ward he had set up before he began his night of debauchery. He grinned as the cameras he'd set up were triggered and he quickly set them up as portkeys to the Daily Prophet Editor's office with a five minute delay. Snickering to himself, he dove out the window he had disguised as a wall before he came into the building, grabbing the broom taped to the wall outside.
Sirius swooped away on his broom, flying as fast as he could until he left the area of the anti-apparition wards the aurors put up. He was flying for his life, and hoped beyond hope that he could make it away undetected. He let out a breath in relief when he was finally able to apparate.
He appeared in a bathroom stall, across the street from a popular restaurant owned by a wizard in Hamburg. Earlier in the day, a short fat man had walked into that stall and hid a robe and some shoes in a disillusioned plastic bag, and Sirius was relieved to find it still there. He put on the robes and shoes, and walked out into the street, making sure he was seen by a pair of witches coming out the door, he activated the portkey plastic bag taking him to a small clearing just outside of a small Austrian town. A few minutes later, a man on a motorcycle drove off to a campsite in the Alps; and a tired Sirius crawled into his tent apartment for a long overdue rest.
Back in Amsterdam, the aurors had stormed into his room after setting anti apparition and portkey wards. They left men in the alley behind the brothel, and two at the front of the building. It was the main force though that blew in the doors to Sirius' room, and rushed in; passing a subtle ward that was too weak to be dangerous. They had sensed the ward, and determining that it wasn't harmful. They were surprised though to see the flashes of cameras in the corners that promptly disappeared, and when they looked around, they were all naked. Each man saw his companions as naked, but could still se his own clothes. In the end they all had to just throw out their clothes.
Harry woke early in the morning, rolling out of his bed and starting with his morning exercises. He went easy today though, knowing he would have a long and strenuous day. It was a few miles to the stores he needed to get to, and he knew that his aunt would never drive him. After showering, he slipped downstairs to make his family, in his mind he used the word captors, breakfast. This summer he had found it made his life considerably easier to just preempt their shouts by doing the chores. They seemed to go easier on him knowing about his 'murderer' godfather, and there was much less tension. Just as he finished breakfast, and before the family came down for the day, Harry ran up to get his copy of the Daily Prophet.
When Vernon came downstairs, he found his damned nephew sitting in the corner on his stool drinking a cup of coffee and laughing quietly but hysterically over his freak newspaper with a picture on the cover of his bloody godfather. It looked like the damn cretin was still at large or the boy wouldn't be laughing so much. He hated breakfasts since his own son had come home from Smeltings with that letter from the school nurse. At least they had beat it into that freak's head how to brew a decent cup of coffee, and he sighed at the waste it had been to send the damn freak to all those cooking classes when he was eight if all he could have was a damned grapefruit. His first impulse to take his temper out on the kid wavered as he saw a pan soaking in the sink. His curse simply became a grunt to hide his lifting temper. Oatmeal was not his idea of a good breakfast, but he knew from experience that a bowl of the boy's cooking seasoned with apples and a dash of cinnamon would hit the spot. Better even, he wouldn't have to hear his son complaining and his wife trying to placate the boy. He slipped into the nearest chair, and was about to begin when the boy looked up from his paper and said, "Not that one Uncle Vernon."
"What did you say boy?" The vein in his forehead began to pulse, but the boy just winked at him. Winked!
"If you sit in your usual place, there is something extra in the porridge."
Grumbling, Vernon moved to his usual spot and almost smiled when he tasted the hint of brown sugar in the bowl. He was immediately suspicious, and looked at the boy. He was not dressed in his normal clothes, but a jogging suit that actually fit, and there was a leather backpack at his feet. Vernon's suspicions jumped another notch. "What is it you want, Boy. You are not acting normal, even by your freakish standards. I'm not signing any ruddy forms or anything else, and where did you get those cloths?"
Harry thought carefully, mindful of his newfound desire to arrange his life according to his own wishes. He especially needed to get on Dudley's good side if he was to get a hold of those science journals. He already had a plan there, but a blowup here and now might severely damage his chances. "My godfather took me shopping the other day for some new clothes. He thought I needed something that fit better, or I would just draw more attention. I have to agree with him. You know how the neighbors gossip about me. If you are asked, you could just say it was a reward for good behavior at my school and that I'm starting to turn myself around. As to what I want, I need to go shopping today."
"I'm not driving you!" Petunia snapped as she and Dudley came into the room. Dudley grinned at the lack of grapefruit on his plate, and immediately tucked in.
"I didn't expect you to, but I need to go to the office supply store. 'My lot' can do a lot of things, but sometimes they are completely backwards. They actually still use parchment and quills. I would give my left arm for some proper notebooks and a pack of Bic pens."
"And where will you get the money for all this, boy?" Vernon said suspiciously. "We aren't paying for any of this. And how will you carry any of this the four miles from the store?"
Harry almost sighed, but used the lie he had planned out as he cooked breakfast. "I converted some of my scholarship money to pounds. They have a fund so those of us who don't have any money can buy school supplies, and this bag will carry anything I put into it without getting heavier." Before anyone could make the predicted threats as to his use of the 'M' word, he held up his hand. "I know you don't want me to go into further details so I won't. I just figured the breakfast would be a peace gesture. I know none of us like me being here. I promise to make as little fuss as possible this summer, and leave as soon as I am allowed. If you need anything at the store I'd be happy to get it for you. I'd need the money thought."
This left them all quiet, and it was a thoughtful, and for once this summer full, Vernon who set off for work. Harry put on his new trainers, and reveling in the feel of shoes not falling apart, set off at a jog for his full day. He continued to think of his strategy for gaining access to his cousin's science magazines, but suddenly stopped in his tracks. I should really read all seven books Sirius gave me before I start working on my portkey project. He wanted me to study all of these books before I delved deeper into the Black library, and it's not like I could use that kind of magic until September anyway.
Harry completed his purchases at the office store, and searched out a convenient alley. He pushed the full cart around the building into the shadow of the loading dock. Here he looked both ways and pulled the shrunken school trunk out of his backpack. Harry pushed on the silver plate with his thumb and said "Full size." With another look to be sure he was alone, he began ferrying his new things into the little room he had turned into an office space, and when he was done he shrunk the trunk. Tossing the trunk into his backpack, Harry walked over to the curb, and again looked to see that he was alone. He pulled out his wand, but seemed to think better of this and rummaged in his rucksack. He pulled out the trench coat he thought was so cool, and the black hat. Shrugging the coat on and placing the hat at a jaunty angle that would hide his scar, he summoned the knight bus for a trip to the Leaky Cauldron.
It would have been a mysterious figure that walked quickly through the pub and into Diagon Alley if the track suit didn't clash horribly with the coat and hat. For Harry though the effect was good enough. He just looked like any other wizard ineptly trying to wear muggle clothes. He went to his usual apothecary and waited for his turn. When the witch behind the counter looked at him he took out his trunk and returned it to full size.
"What can I get you dear? It's a little early for school shopping."
"I like to get things out of the way early, and I was coming here anyway. I'd like to restock my potions kit and get anything needed for fourth year."
"That's no problem; let's see what you've got." Harry pulled out his remaining ingredients from the previous year, and the witch refilled all the missing ingredients. She looked him over again, and smiled recognizing the boy despite the hat pulled low. Poor boy must be sick of everyone always fixating on that scar. No wonder he's hiding and shopping so early in the summer. He must be sweating under that coat. "Anything else Harry?"
The boy's shoulders slumped, causing the witch to chuckle. Before he could say anything, she looked him over and said, "I recognized you right away, you have been one of my customers for a few years now. Do you need someone to cast a cooling charm on that coat? It must be sweltering in this heat."
Harry grinned at her, "No thanks, a friend already did. Thanks for not shouting my name out when the other people were here though. I do need a metabolism boosting potion and a fat burning draught though, maybe a three month supply."
The witch frowned at that, "Absolutely not! You're skin and bones as it is. I think you need some nutrient replenishing draughts, three months should do it. Getting all the nutrients you need will help you build up muscle and stamina better than the metabolism potion. That fat burning draught will kill you at your weight."
"The two potions I asked for are not for me. They're for my whale of a cousin as a peace offering. I'm worried about his health, and I doubt that three months would be enough to bring him down to a good weight. It can't be at a strength that would look magical. It just needs to look like he has been pushing his diet hard."
"A muggle cousin?"
"Yes, but I live with him so he is aware of our world. I guess I'll take the potions you suggested too, I wouldn't want to spurn your generous suggestion." He winked at her and the older witch blushed prettily.
"OK, let me go back and see what I can rummage up. I'll give you your potion too, and I won't say anything about giving a muggle a potion if you promise to come back when you do your school shopping so I can see the results." When the witch came back she showed Harry the potions and told him how they were to be used. With a smile the young wizard climbed down into his trunk and carefully stowed both his potions ingredients and the vials of potions for himself and his cousin. Harry came back out of his trunk with a spare notebook, a pen and a few small stacks of his notes from the night before, and then putting the trunk back in his backpack. With a smile and a promise to return later in the summer he left and headed back down towards the pub and muggle London. He stopped at Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor where to his chagrin he was recognized again. Ordering a Sunday, Harry sat down and after some fond conversation with the owner, began transferring the notes to his new notebook which he labeled 'On Traveling.' This was much better.
In a small camping site in Austria, a man in battered motorcycle leathers pushed his well loved old Harley out of a one man tent that seemed just way too small. He was a far cry from the man in the seventies style jean jacket and jeans that had checked in the night before, but as he had already paid, no one even noticed him leave. He put on his helmet with a grunt, Damn those helmet laws. They were new since his old days, but at least the helmet hid his well known features. With a sigh, he slowly drove towards the autobahn; at least it still didn't have a speed limit. He drove through the night, and eventually got close to Paris where he turned off the highway and into a small village with a train station. He found a back lot where he quickly erected his tent and rolled the bike into it.
God I hope this muggle travel isn't too boring. Trains are all right if you have friends or a good book, but those airyplanes just don't seem safe. After changing into a suit and tie for his journey, Sirius took down his tent with the motorcycle still inside, and stuffed it into a backpack that was a twin to Harry's. This would be his last magic until he got to America. He put a specialized confundus charm and glamour on the bag so that people would only see what was expected inside. He wandered idly into town and bought a ticket to Charles de Gaul, then browsed the magazine stand for anything good. Most was in French, but he found some great motorcycle magazines and one porn for later, despite the Amsterdam incident he was still craving sex and knew he couldn't get any until he was off the continent. With a sigh that the news stand didn't have any novels in English Sirius paid for the magazines and some snacks then boarded his train for the two hour ride to CDG.
The terminal was a complete mystery for the old dog. He wandered up to the first desk he could find and asked about flights to New York, and was brusquely told to go to another booth. When he made his way there, he was told that there was only one seat left on the next flight in four hours. The ticket seller said she was sorry, but it was first class.
Sirius frowned, "Isn't first class any good?"
"Yes sir, but it is more expensive, we could. . ."
Sirius interrupted the lady with his lopsided grin, "I'll take it, but you'll have to explain where to go my dear. It's the first time I've been here." The lady flushed at his smile and asked for his ID, and Sirius gave her the one with the false name Adam White, and used his credit card with that name on it. Sirius walked through security and was poked and prodded with some strange metal wand and told to take his watch off and send it through some machine. He was relieved that the charms seemed to even fool the machine; you never knew when technology and magic would react badly. He spent the time waiting for his flight buying half a dozen novels and some essentials in the duty free shops and having lunch.
As he boarded the plain and made his way to the first class section Sirius sighed in relief. He was ushered to his seat by a striking brunet who couldn't take her eyes of him as he chatted her up and cheerfully accepted the complimentary Champaign. Maybe this flight wouldn't be so bad; he had noticed the secluded bathrooms on the way in.
A/N: I edited out some of the more explicit parts of the lemon. I really don't know how much I can get away with, or how that would work. Would the site admin yank the story if I go too far? I do have to say that the Amsterdam brothel is the most logical course for Sirius. After over a decade, the only thing keeping him celibate in the book was the need to protect Harry and kill Peter. There are too many fanfics that seem to make Sirius into some eunuch, and very few even address the issue. I always appreciate the stories that give some explanation, like he is damaged by dementor exposure.
