A/N: Thanks to all the reviewers!

If I ever do another fanfic that starts from the very beginning , I am going to take it even farther back, and have Dumbledore raising Harry. I think that would make for an interesting story... *Insert evil laughter here*

But then again, I don't plan on doing a full seven years again for a good long while after I finish up this one.

Chapter 26: The First Leg of the Summer

Being Events in Reflection of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Harry was in a foul mood for the rest of that first day of the summer. That dream had been really annoying. Sure, he had managed to remember a little more than the last time it had happened. The fact that whatever it was that he viewed (and he still couldn't remember the details) was a reflection of what had happened to him in the Chamber. A reflection that hadn't come to pass, and was by and large worse for him as a person. And then he remembered a haze of voices. He could remember a couple of words and phrases, but they were more confusing for their lack of context than anything else. And he felt that the three impressions from last time were reinforced, with underlines and bullet points.

And he didn't have Alistair to keep him company. Though the Hat had encouraged him to go with Remus to further his Mind Arts, Alistair could only travel so far from Hogwarts, though his range did cover the entirety of the British Isles. He had explained that as much as he was capable of teaching the Mind Arts as they were known to the Four Founders, Harry should get some exposure to different ideas and ways of working with them, along with other uses that he was incapable of teaching.

So the rest of the day passed in anti-social silence. He was still getting the strange flashes with his hearing, vision, and tactile senses, but they were no where near as bad as they were at Hogwarts. He could tell Nicolas and Perenelle wanted to talk to him about something, but they seemed to see he was in some sort of mood, and gave him some space.

He'd have to thank them for that tomorrow. And ask them if they knew anything about what was happening to him. He wasn't sure if he was going to talk about the dream though... It was just too bizarre for words.

Sitting at the table after breakfast the next day, Harry said, "Thanks for waiting to talk to me about... whatever it is you are going to talk to me about."

Perenelle smiled and said, "Well, we could tell that talking to you would be like talking to a brick wall. You really do have your mother's temperament. And that is not a compliment. Lily could be down right evil if you got her angry enough..."

Nicolas grimaced at that, and continued, "There is something that we do have to tell you, something that every magical, muggleborn or not, is informed of when they are first are given their letters before they turn eleven. We haven't told you yet because it has been a temporary non-issue."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, gave a long suffering sigh, and said, "Oh, goody. I thought I had already gotten caught up on general information everyone is supposed to know..."

Perenelle snorted, and said, "Yes, well since you had been under blocks for part of what we have to tell you about, it becomes slightly more of an issue now that it is coming back into the area of needed information. A young witch's or wizard's magic matures steadily with four exceptions. They under go... bursts of growth at on their birthday at the ages of seven, eleven, thirteen, and seventeen. Because you were under the aforementioned blocks for the first two, your next one, in a little under two months time, is going to be particularly long and more than a little painful."

Harry just shook his head and slumped down into the table, "Bloody hell. I blame Dumbledore, and no one is going to convince me otherwise... Any other news?"

Nicolas shook his head (not that Harry could see it given how he was sitting), and said, "Nope. Anything you want to talk to us about?"

Harry, face still down, said, "Yes, I have something I need to ask about... It's actually about a set of things that have been... strange about some of my senses. I've been hearing some sort of sub-audible... humming for lack of a better term. I'd call it a buzzing, but it is almost as if I can hear a tune. Then there is the fact that I sometimes feel this strange pressure on him, and I can feel it... vibrating sometimes. And when that happens when I hear the humming its almost like they are in synch. And last I keep seeing lights around objects and people, sometimes even with the things glow. It's been driving me batty."

Each of the Flamels stared at Harry in silence for a good two minutes. He had a feeling that he had just admitted to something that they understood, but did not expect. Oh, goody, this was going to be a fun conversation.

It was Nicolas who pinched the bridge of his nose this time, and he said, "Harry, you have just described, in as much detail as can usually be articulated, are the early stages of both Mage Sense and Mage Sight. One or the other are extremely rare abilities, but both? I can't think of anyone that has ever even admitted to having them both..."

Perenelle sighed and said, "It's a good thing you decided to go with Remus. The new ways of focusing that you will learn can help in learning to not let the Mage Sense drive you up the wall. At least, that is what the people who I've spoken to who have those particular gift."

Nicolas took this chance to get his own two knuts in, "And as for the Mage Sight, I know of someways to make it a bit more controllable, or at the very least comfortable."

Harry just nodded dumbly. He had some reading to do.

Harry spent the next week relaxing on the Flamel property. He idly read about his two new... talents, but there was little useful information about them. General overviews and descriptions were abound, but not much more.

He then left with Remus to Grimmauld Place to get ready for the trip. Their first stop would be to a compound deep in the Himalayan Mountain Range. The second would be a retreat of sorts for werewolves deep in the Black Forest.

The first place they would be visiting was described as something of a cross between a monastery, a scholarly retreat, and a frat house. The only reason Sirius was not coming was because there was both an extreme lack of women, and the fact that it was only one third frat house. It was a wizarding establishment, and placed in such a location in the Himalayas that it was deepest winter year round. But then again, with the place spelled like it was, they would only be cold if they went outside or opened a window, though they were warned that it could get a bit drafty. While it wasn't a place that catered to werewolves specifically, a few of them had found a way to curb the beast within there.

The second location was something along the lines of a wilderness retreat, except the accommodations were mostly for werewolves, with a number of safeguards in place for family members who were not infected. This was mostly a place for werewolves to swap tips and tricks on how they got through their worst time of the lunar cycle. There were a few werewolf masters of the Mind Arts who made this place their home, but most often the others just thought of them as drinking buddies.

So with that in mind, Harry and Remus went shopping for clothes suitable for a castle during a mild winter and the middle of summer. They then spent the next few days setting a few pranks that would go off before Sirius left for his own trip on Monday.

And then, on a Saturday afternoon, Remus introduced Harry to the cursed object that all wizards call an international portkey.

When they (finally) landed, Harry was praying for death to come and claim him. He had learned something about portkeys. They were not instantaneous travel. No, they travel at about at about a thousand miles per hour, but it isn't over quickly if you are traveling great distances. And all while you bloody spin like a top! It isn't all that many revolutions per minute, but you do start to notice it after a while.

And from merry old England to somewhere in the middle of the most godforsaken mountain range on the planet is around about forty-five hundred miles. Give or take a couple hundred miles. That is four and a half hours of spinning! Harry would have killed Remus for not warning him... If he could have gotten up from the floor.

All he could do was say, from his oh so wonderful spot on the ground, "Moony, I do not know when, and I do not know how, but I shall have my revenge, this I swear on the name of Prongs. I shall have vengeance!"

Harry was then told his second fun fact of the day, "Harry, I would have told you, but it didn't come to mind. Werewolves are generally immune to motion sickness."

All he could do was grumble as he was picked up and hauled off to where they were staying. He knew that he was going to get dosed with a mild sleeping potion to get over the time difference. Hopefully, he would be feeling more stable when he work up. And then Moony would pay.

Hauling himself into a sitting position, Harry was grateful that the world was no longer wobbling nor spinning. Checking his watch, and setting it for the correct time zone, he grinned. Remus was never up this early. So, he changed into something that hadn't been slept in, and started digging around his trunk for... supplies. He knew that Remus would be in a room connected to his.

He'd have to set up defenses after what he would do tonight.

After he had gotten into Moony's room, he was a little disturbed that the old wolf had not set up any spells or wards to ensure that nothing like what was going to happen to him would happen. Well, now in addition to revenge it was also just plain his fault. Marauders never sleep with anything less than one eye open. So this would be an object lesson in addition to payback.

So, after scrawling the work 'Neko' on his forehead using a permanent marker, changing his hair color to a rather vivid shade of pink with a combination of color changing and permanency charms, and transfiguring his ears to more resemble Dumbo's than anything else, Harry started in on the wolf's clothes.

When he finally left the room, Remus's hand was stuck in a bowl of warm water. Harry had to resist the urge to cackle as he went back to his own room, and started laying down privacy, locking, and security charms on doors.

Of course, he had purposefully forgotten the silence charms, so while he had finally broken down and started on elective course work, and had started reading up on what he would be doing in Ancient Runes next year (mostly memorizing various runes, their meanings, and learning some history, which was going to make for a boring year in that class), he was pleasantly brought out of his concentration when Remus started yelling, screaming, and cursing. He put the book down, took the defenses around his door apart, and popped his head into the werewolf's room.

"Remus, you didn't even try to protect yourself last night. I would have only done one or two things if that was the case, but, figuratively speaking, your pants were down around your ankles and your ass was in the wind. You were asking for a response of this level."

The pink haired, elephant eared man just glowered at the twelve year old. His bed clothes had a pale purple tutu over them. He hadn't noticed the fuzzy bunny slippers yet apparently, because they hadn't been thrown into a corner and burned.

"Hey, I swore revenge, now I have had it. Oh by the way, fuzzy bunny slippers on you feet."

Harry removed himself from the room as the big bad werewolf dissolved into girlish screams of terror.

But then again the next few days were hell. And none of it was Moony's fault. Apparently the Mind Arts masters of this little place don't often get young prodigies of the art coming to visit. So after the three who were in residence poked around his defenses for a few hours... each... they started playing rock, paper, scissors to see who would get a crack at him first.

Unfortunately for Harry, Master Shu was the winner. And the sadist was of the opinion that the mind cannot be trained without training the body. More specifically, he meant training the body in hte Chinese martial arts.

And so that was how Harry ended up on his back in a training room three days later. He was seeing stars, and wondering just why Fate had sought to make his life into a combination joke/horror story. Well at least he was getting a chance to practice his Mandarin. But Master Shu had been quite surprised about, and most pleased with, was that Harry had known how to fall correctly. It allowed him to 'get on with the fun stuff'.

Harry was quite certain that the reason Remus had not even taken a minor shot at payback at him was that the old man felt back for Harry. Harry felt bad for Harry. And Harry almost never felt bad for himself. Oh the humanity!

So, with him contemplating whether or not getting back up off the floor would do him any good, the current bane of his existence stood over him. Master Shu couldn't help but remind Harry of Pat Morita, so much so that he could have been a body double for the actor.

And the man knew it. Never mind the ridiculous fact that a Chinese national would use Japanese honorifics when speaking in English.

"Very good, Daniel-san. Get up now, lots of work to be done."

And so Harry hauled himself up, muttering a few off color words in French, and continued to get this particular lesson pounded into him.

On Sunday, Harry was lying on his bed, contemplating the ceiling. Not that he could do much more than that. His whole body hurt. And it would heal itself over night, and then Master Shu would make it hurt all over again. There was a lot he loved about magic, but the fact that he could take this much of a pounding added a definite bad thing to the list about how he felt about it.

And there was Remus standing at his door. Laughing. If he could have moved either of his arms he would have cursed the man.

"Laugh it up, fuzzball."

"Hey, you do know that you could be on a beach right now with Sirius?"

"I know. But I am learning something, and it is not the fact that I don't have to be aware of a part of my body for it to hurt."

Remus stopped his chuckling and took a seat in a chair near Harry's bed. "Do tell."

"Well, for me to even start to actively use my Occlumency, I have to relax. I've gotten to the point of not being in a meditative state to access my memories, but I still have to sit still and focus, blocking out most of the world."

Remus nodded, that was indeed how most of the intermediate Occlumens recalled information. Though he only knew this from talking with them. He'd never been able to get past the basics himself.

"What Master Shu is doing... The closest I can put it is that I am focusing without concentrating. It's not easy, and I can't hold it for longer than a few seconds, but it is happening. He isn't just teaching me how to fight unarmed, he's talking a lot about how to be clear and focused without even trying... It is almost as hard to explain as it is to actually do."

Remus just looked a little surprised by this. The man could have gotten three or four Masteries except the UK Ministry of Magic and those of most of Europe had laws against werewolves having more than N.E.W.T.s. There were a number of things that took an inordinate amount of focus when you got into some of the deeper ends of the various disciplines of magic.

If Harry could actually achieve what he was talking about, his ability to pull highly difficult magics would make Dumbledore look like a bumbling student, once Harry had enough knowledge to go along with the focus.

"The really upsetting thing is the three Mind Masters have divided my six weeks here solely between the three of them. And I'm with this one until Saturday, god help me."

Remus smiled sadly at Harry. He'd heard about how enthusiastic the 'Mad Monk' was, but he was really going to have to see if he could do something for Harry. He hadn't come here just to study the Magics of the Mind.

And so, while Harry spent the next week learning with the rather overzealous Mind Arts martial artist, Moony continued his routine with a slight modification. He had spent most of his time so far talking with the residents who focused on the fields he was interested in, with a few visits to each of those that focus on the Mind Arts, but now, instead of just talking shop, he asked if they there was any help that they could give a student who could sleep through classes of one of the premier magic schools of the world and still come out at the top of his class.

The result was a little overwhelming.

Most of the residents of the compound knew that Harry Potter was currently visiting. Usually the only people who were allowed to enter the halls were those with (or in the case of European Werewolves could have) at least two Masteries. But given the combination of the young man's fame, his own stellar academic records, and the fact the Mind Masters in residence wanted to spend as much time possible with him, the group as a whole had allowed him entry.

The other two Mind Arts workers had already been sternly told at the Wednesday weekly group meeting/kegger that Potter would not be driven into the ground by them. Everyone else knew that trying to reign in Master Shu was like trying to tell the tide to stop.

When Harry had finally collapsed onto his bed on the second Saturday at the compound, he was praying for someone to come and put him out of his misery. Master Shu had gotten him up after only two hours of sleep. Even on his best day, Harry still needed a good three hours of sleep, and he had often been sleeping five because of the sheer battering this raving psychotic had been giving him.

He had then been worked physically and mentally until he had dropped, then a rejuvenation potion was pour down his throat, and it started over again. Lather, rinse, and repeat until one Potter is finally allowed to go to his room shortly after midnight.

For the first time in about a year, Harry slept for a full eight hours.

With his whole body stiff, Harry wondered if the next Mind Master could be anywhere near as bad as the first. He also wondered how Remus was doing. The full moon was coming up on this Saturday, the third of July.

Harry spent the rest of his day rather twitchy. He half expected to be tackled by the next person who wanted to drum as much about their beloved mind arts as they could into him in as little time as possible. Even if he had been inclined to speak with any of the Masters of other fields of study, he just wanted to give his body and mind a rest.

He hoped the next on the list would be kinder than the first.

The next morning, as Harry was listlessly eating his porridge, a very large man, wearing one of those Russian fur caps with the ear flaps... and ushanka Harry thought it was called, sat down across from him, and said in English with a thick Russian accent, "Hallo, I am Vladimir Demidenko, and for at least two hours a day for the next two weeks, you are mine."

Harry blinked. His thoughts derailed in a catastrophic train-wreck. In soviet Russia mind teaches you!

Pulling himself together, he was thankful that this one wasn't going to take every last hour of his time.

The relief must have been fairly evident on his face because the Russian said, "Ya, Shu is a madman. He doesn't often talk about the last time he taught anyone, but I once got him drunk enough on vodka that he mentioned screams of terror and fleeing like little girls. Since you are still in this hemisphere, I think you passed. Come, let us discuss what you know of Occlumency."

What followed was four hours of questions, answers, and discussion. Harry really didn't mind it at all, at least he wasn't getting his ass kicked.

Now that he actually had free time, Harry finally found himself some time to talk with some of the other Masters who were present.

The first he actually got to spend any real amount of time with were a pair of Charms Masters, who just happened to be identical twins. They told him about the basics of wandless magic. About how, contrary to popular belief, that particular skill had absolutely nothing to do with raw power. They gave him a small book on the subject, and then started to drill him on what he knew of Charms.

They taught him a few useful charms that were the forerunners of animation charms. Instead of allowing statues and such to move as though they had joints, these charms simply programed movements into an object. One of the primary uses would be to create makeshift target ranges. Which, they said, was exactly why they were teaching it to him.

He spent about a week working with them, and they added to his stockpile of useful spells.

The time he spent with Vlad over the next fortnight was mostly spent discussing some of the most advanced implementations of mental defenses. He spoke of how to create humanoid defenders, using figments from the subconscious to control them. He also talked about how one could 'use' the more advanced concepts from warding and enchanting, both of which had bases in the fields of Runes and Charms, to further improve both physical defenses and create more elaborate traps and distractions. He also spoke of how to use the spells for spacial expansion to further complicate the defenses.

Harry knew pretty damn well that he was years away from doing most of that crap.

For the second week of his time with the Russian, Harry spent his time away from the man with some of the Potions Masters and Mistresses. They pumped him for everything he knew on the subject, and in return he filled about one hundred pages of notes, which he kept in a journal he had for his potions work, with tips and tricks about how to get the most out of countless ingredients, ways to increase the potency of a number of potions, and other tidbits of information that would probably make Snivellus kill for that journal. They also gave him a set of stirring rods of various compositions, all of which could be set for specific stirring patterns, from simple clockwise and counterclockwise, to figure-eights and other even more complex ones.

With the end of the second fortnight, Harry had finally found some real enjoyment over the past few weeks. He still fled from Master Shu whenever he saw the man though.

The next, and final for this leg of the vacation, master was an Australian who was also a Transfiguration Mistress, Norma Dean.

She focused mostly on teaching Harry a number of techniques to get him in a far deeper meditative state than any he had gone it before. He found it exceptionally hard to clear his focus to the needed levels, because his Mage Sense would just not shut up.

She also went over how much Transfiguration he knew. After drilling him of all of his current knowledge, she worked on his speed and accuracy by using a set of rubber balls. She threw them towards him and he was to change the material of them in certain patterns of stones, woods, metals, and other materials. She also worked on the very basic rudiments on conjuration with him, working solely in wood, and having him conjure it in a variety of shapes and sizes.

He finally made a break through at the beginning of the second week of embracing the sensations given to him by his Mage Sense instead of trying, fruitlessly, to block it out. After two days of spending five hours plus a day in the deep meditation, he stumbled upon something that could only be called a maelstrom of energy and light.

His eyes opened with a gasp, and he fell over out of the chair he had been sitting in, and Norma was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "I see that you finally found your magical core, Harry. Usually when someone is advanced as you seem to be, they get it in a three or four days, you took almost nine. Any reason for that?"

"I was attempting to shut out my Mage Sense instead of embrace it... It was too distracting trying to ignore it."

She nodded. "So, can you describe your core? Shapes, colors, arrangements of energies, perhaps any elemental overtones?"

He closed his eyes and tried to remember what he saw and felt. "Shades of green, mostly the color of emeralds, with bright, burnished, glowing golds. And... it was chaotic, there was almost no order that could be seen at first glance. And it was a massive... vortex. And it was massive. That is the only way I can begin to describe it."

She nodded and then said, "Well then I can tell you a good thing, though you probably already know it, and a bad thing. The good thing is that from what you describe, you are probably already fairly powerful, and you haven't stopped growing yet. But as I said, you probably already knew. The bad news is that only the more ordered of magical cores are capable of great deals of wandless magic, so the farthest you are likely to get on that particular front is basic movement spells, hovering, summoning, banishing, remote manipulation, things like that. Everything else will just end up with you blowing your eyebrows off. Your core is both too chaotic and just too strong for anything else to happen."

Now he spent time in the basements of the complex, where a number of highly advanced charms and enchantments made for the perfect green houses. He took notes on all of the plants present, planning on giving a copy of the notes as a birthday present to Neville. There were magical flora from all over the world, and as a parting gift, the Herbologists gave him a chest with a number of seeds, seedlings, and cuttings held in stasis.

He'd have to see if they could thrive in his own greenhouses before he gave samples to Neville.

Norma then spent the remainder of the time they had working on teaching Harry how to work with his core. He could, to a currently unknown extent, organize and order his core. He had only a few vague ideas, and Norma was generally clueless in regards to this, seeing as she had an extremely ordered core to begin with. She also told him about how he could consciously widen the 'link' between himself and his magic and so put even more power into his spells.

That thought scared him a little.

It was the night before they would be leaving for the Werewolf Retreat, and Harry was wandering the corridors of the compound. He hadn't been outside in six weeks, and he hadn't seen the sun in days. It was nearing midnight, and most of him wanted to go to bed, but there was a part that was restless at the international portkey that he would be taking the next day.

And when he turned down a corridor, he found himself staring down a massive black wolf. It was bloody huge. From snout to the base of its tail it had to be seven feet long, and was five feet tall at the shoulder. Harry froze at the sight of it, and said only four words, "Bloody hell, why me?"

The wolf sat back on its hind legs, cocked its head to one side, and Harry could have sworn it was grinning at him, if not laughing outright. He rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest.

"I'm glad that someone finds my life amusing."

The wolf nodded its head, and got back onto all four feet. It started to approach Harry, and seemed to be appraising him. When it got with in a yard of him, it stopped and just stared. Neither of them moved for five minutes.

And then, Harry felt something in him... click, and then clearly heard, *You'll do. It has been a long time since I have bonded to a wizard, but they are almost always the most interesting of times. I am Leon, a Himalayan Shadow Wolf.*

With this, Harry blinked and shook his head, and said, "Yet another familiar? Fate hates me. That's all I can think of, Fate hates my bloody guts."

The wolf bloody grinned again, and he heard a chuckle in his head, *You're probably right on that fact. Come on, let's get you to bed, cub. You have an international portkey to catch tomorrow.*

"Don't you mean we?"

*Nope, I have my very own method of travel, like a few other extremely powerful magical creatures. But unlike most other creatures, my range is only limited to where there are shadows.*

"I'll buy you a cow if you get me out of taking the portkey."

*Deal.*

A/N2: And that covers about the first half of Harry's summer. Things happen next chapter! But then again, things happened this chapter! MUHAHAHAH!