Chapter 3

Harry sat on his temporary bed.

After Macbeth and Demona's discussion with him, he wasn't sure what to believe. On hand, their tale was just so…fantastic, it was hard to believe. On the other, he hadn't believed he was a wizard at first. Even after visiting Diagon Alley the first time, he'd had trouble believing it.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a knock on the door, right before it opened to reveal his father.

"I just wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready," the older man informed him. "Though I suppose we should call it lunch at this point."

"Okay," Harry acknowledged.

What followed was an awkward, silent meal between the three. Eventually Macbeth asked, "So Harry, what house are you in at school?"

"Uh, Gryffindor," Harry replied. "In fact I'm on the house quidditch team."

"What position?" the older man asked, remembering the fun he had playing the game.

Harry grinned before saying, "Seeker."

"That takes a lot of skill," Demona interjected. "At least, from what I've seen. I was never as big a fan of quidditch as your father."

"I guess," Harry shrugged. "But honestly, I think the whole team are skilled flyers, or I did. Wood, our captain, graduated two years ago, and since we didn't have quidditch last year, he hasn't been replaced."

"Why didn't the school have quidditch?" Demona asked.

Harry looked down, before saying, in a less cheerful voice, "The Tri-Wizard Tournament was hosted at Hogwarts."

Seeing their son's expression, the two adults shared a look, before Demona asked, "Did something happen last year Harry?"

"Yes," Harry replied. Looking up at his parents, he said, "Voldemort came back."

Both Demona and Macbeth froze, and when Macbeth spoke, it was in a commanding, firm voice, "What do you mean, 'Voldemort came back?"

"He regained a body."

"Harry," Demona said, leaning over and placing her hand on Harry's. "We need to know what happened. And remember, your father and I know nothing about what's happened in the magical world since our 'deaths."

Harry took a breath before beginning with what he knew of the night Voldemort came to their home in Godric's Hollow.

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When Harry was finished, describing not only what he knew of that Halloween night but the events of all four of his Hogwarts years, it was just about time to eat again.

And no one felt like cooking, so Macbeth had pizza delivered.

But soon, it was almost sunset, and Demona left momentarily, and when she returned, she was wearing a loincloth and halter-top, along with several pieces of gold jewelry.

Demona sighed, and looked at her son. "Harry, this will be painful for both your father and I." At the expression Harry gave her, she explained, "The spell that connects us, and prevents us from dying unless killed by the other, also forces us to endure the other's pain. And my transformation is painf…" Demona's explanation was cut off as the sun dipped below the horizon.

But though she and Macbeth were racked by pain as Demona changed into a gargoyle, Harry didn't pay any attention to it.

He was going through his own pain.

The spell the Weird Sisters had placed upon Harry almost fourteen years previous when they took the bodies of Macbeth and Demona from Godric's Hollow activated with the reunion of he and his parents, unlocking Harry's gargoyle heritage.

His skin, darkened to the same blue as his mothers, even as wings sprouted from his back, shredding his shirt. His teeth, elongated into fangs, his fingers and toes became sharp talons, spurs grew from his knees and elbows, a brow ridge grew along his hairline, and he grew several inches. Eyes glowing white, Harry roared at the same time as his mother as their transformations finished.

Standing in his shredded clothes, Harry looked much like a male version of his mother, though with short black hair instead of long red. While muscular, as all gargoyles were, Harry wasn't broad, like Goliath. Instead, he was built more like the human Macbeth. While his muscles were more than evident, it was the build of a runner rather than a weightlifter.

"Well," Macbeth said, looking between Demona and Harry, "This changes things."

Harry, realizing his state of undress, namely the fact his pants had been shredded (which was why Demona favored skirts in her human form. If she forgot or didn't have time to change, the skirts were less likely to be rendered useless.), quickly moved his hands to cover his, much larger, privates.

Demona rolled her eyes, but tossed a blanket from the back of Macbeth's couch to Harry. "Relax Harry," she assured him. "Though gargoyles do have some standards when it comes to modesty, they're a lot less strict than humans."

Harry promptly wrapped the blanket around his midsection. Once secure, he looked at his parents, now firmly believing their story, though he did wonder why he turned into a gargoyle. "Um…what just happened?" he asked.

Macbeth sighed in thought, before sharing a look with Demona. "I suspect," the former king commented, "that the Weird Sisters placed a spell of some type on you shortly after your birth, preventing you from becoming gargoyle. Why they even gave us lives as James and Lily, I have no idea, though I do find it ironic that, after those lives, we…or rather I, fell in love with your mother again."

Demona winced at the reminder of Paris.

"For whatever reason, it was likely broken, either by time-limit, or our reuniting," Macbeth added. He shrugged. "At least, that's the only answer I have that makes sense." He looked at Demona, before looking back at Harry. "There is no telling what we would have done if our son was a gargoyle, after-all, we did not even know gargoyles still existed when we were Lily and James."

"I have to admit, that is the most logical conclusion," Demona acknowledged. "Though whether this is a permanent change, or like mine, affected by the sun, I fear we will need to wait until dawn to discover."

Macbeth was silent as he contemplated something. This was the latest of many times he'd endured the pain of Demona's transformation since regaining their memories. It…reminded him of something. He couldn't figure out what though, and it was annoying him to no end.

"So then, what now?" Harry asked.

Demona smirked slightly. "First, we need to make you a loincloth to wear, then I think I need to teach you about being a gargoyle." She turned to look at Macbeth. "Do you think you have any heavy enough cloth, or leather I could use?" she asked. "And a belt strong enough to hold it?"

Macbeth grinned. "I'm sure I can find something," he assured them.

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As it turned out, Macbeth didn't have anything, aside from several spare coats. So Demona cut them up, much to Macbeth's dismay (though even he admitted their son needed something to wear besides a blanket), to make Harry a loincloth.

As she worked, Demona began instructing Harry on gargoyles, starting with what their physical capabilities were.

"So we need to tense our muscles to cut through stone?" Harry questioned.

Demona nodded. "Yes. If we didn't have to, it would be far too easy for us to hurt ourselves unintentionally. But if we couldn't cut through stone, many of the places we need to get to in order to be high enough to glide would be inaccessible to us," she explained.

"How exactly do we glide?" Harry asked.

With a grin, his mother said, "Easily." Chuckling at the look on Harry's face she elaborated, "While you will need to learn, once you have, it's the most natural thing in the world. The worst thing a gargoyle can endure is to remain forever on the ground. It is part of our very beings, and considering how early you started flying on a broomstick, I expect you'll take to it quickly, even if it is vastly different."

"But I didn't fly a broomstick until Hogwarts?"

Smiling sadly, Demona explained. "For your first Christmas, Sirius got you a Comet broomstick. It wouldn't have been so bad, if it had been a training broomstick like your father had bought you, but it was a real, adult sized broomstick. Naturally, your father and I weren't too happy with him. We pulled him to the kitchen so we could yell at him without frightening you, but in our anger at Sirius, we left the broomstick in the room. When we came back to finish opening gifts with you, not five minutes later, you had climbed on it and were floating near the top of the tree."

She chuckled. "Of course, you almost gave your father and I heart attacks, and we quickly got you down, but though we only allowed you the training broom from then on, you loved being in the air. Now, I suspect that was your gargoyle blood emerging, as we begin trying to glide around that age." The older gargoyle smiled and looked at him. "And I promise to teach you all I know, so that when I'm done, you can glide circles around everyone else."

"Are you really that good?" her son asked.

It was with a sad smile on her face, Demona admitted, "I'm had a millennium of practice Harry. During that time, I've learned much, out of necessity." Looking back at her work, she added, "As much fun as it may be, being a skilled glider can save your life. Sharp turns can throw off pursuers, as can moving quickly through obstacles. The more skilled you are in the air, the better prepared you are to survive."

There was silence between the two for a moment, before Demona stood up, holding the finished loincloth. "Well, let's see if this fits."

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While Demona made Harry's loincloth, Macbeth decided that now was the best time to visit Diagon Alley, specifically Gringotts. Since he had no wand, he was dressed in his usual combat attire, just in case.

Stepping up to the nearest free teller, he said, "I would like to speak to Account Manager Orthak."

The goblin didn't even bother looking up at him as he continued filling out several documents. "Name?" he asked.

With a slight smirk, Macbeth answered, "James Potter."

The goblins quill stopped. Looking up, he said, "That is not an amusing joke…wizard."

"Who said I was joking," Macbeth said, not backing down as he glared at the goblin. "Now if you would be so kind, I would like to speak with my family's account manager."

With a sneer, the goblin pulled out a piece of parchment and a dagger. "Prove yourself to be Lord Potter, and I'll fetch him," the goblin said confidently. "Prove otherwise, I'll have the guards put your head on a pike." He leaned forward and grinned, his sharp teeth making him look feral. "Or you can walk away, and I'll forget all about this."

Rolling his eyes, Macbeth picked up the knife and pricked his finger, before allowing several drops to fall onto the paper. Once they had, the blood began to form several words.

Macbeth Mac Findlaech

Aliases: Lennox Macduff

James Potter

Spouse: Grouch (d)

Demona/Lily Evans/Domonique Destine – (Divorced from Destine, Married to Evans)

Children: Luach Mac Macbeth (d)

Harry Potter

With a smirk, he slid the paper over to the goblin, whose eyes instantly widened. With some amusement, Macbeth watched as the goblin's mouth opened and closed several times before looking back at the former king.

"I will take this to Orthak at once."

Without another word, the goblin scrambled from his post and disappeared. Several moments later, the goblin returned, with another, older goblin that Macbeth recognized as Orthak.

The Potter account manager approached Macbeth, before sizing him up. "You've gotten old," he grinned after a moment.

"HA!" Macbeth exclaimed. "You don't know the half of it."

"I am sure it is a fascinating story," Orthak said, grin still on his face. "But come, let's take this conversation to my office. There's business to attend to and profit to made after-all."

"Lead the way old friend."

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So, this is going to be the last chapter I post for a while, not because I've gotten past what I have written, but because If I keep posting the chapters this fast, I'll have used up my reserve before I get anything new written (though I will say that since posting, I've written two new chapters).

Anyway, Please Review, Check out the Challenges in My Forums (especially since I just posted a new Harry Potter/Gargoyles Challenge, the Fae Kit Challenge), and the Stories I have for Adoption under the Title Please Adopt Me!