Hazy Magic

How To Fly

Disclaimer: I own not Harry Potter

AN I hope people like this chapter, I worked really hard on it. To those people who've read this far I'm begging you to review, this is my first fanfic and I really want to know if it's good and what I can improve on.

Hestia clenched Harry's wand so tightly her fingernails left deep crescent marks on her palm. She looked determined. Then she collapsed onto herself; she didn't have to put up a brave front, no one was watching.

"What to do?" She whispered into the night. She knew she had to see Dunstan and figure out what happened. He was the only one who could've undone the spell…right? She looked up at Harry's white ceiling, no answers to be found there…

Her eyes wandered around Harry's room trying to think of a way to get to Dunstan, if he even still lived in the same place. Well I certainly can't fly there, she thought cynically. She stared at Harry's school trunk as she thought this. A wave of realization hit her and she crawled over to the large black trunk and looked through the items in it.

Hestia stood triumphantly with a victorious smile on her face and a Firebolt in her hands. She no longer had wings but that never stopped any wizard from flying.

Although she personally had only ridden on a broom a few times, she had seen many of the boys do it, when they were trying to impress her; and she had seen Harry play Quiditch a couple of times. Granted, she hadn't been on a broom for,well, a while (mother always said a true lady never reveals her age).

Trying to put on a brave front to improve her confidence, Hestia mounted the broom in a "side-saddle" way, as all proper ladies were taught to do if one day they were "inconvenienced" to ride a broom (Hestia always thought it was great fun although she had only been allowed on several occasions when mother's back was turned).

A small squeak escaped her lips when the broom lifted her off the ground. "Sorry Harry," she said softly, "and thank you for everything. Do not worry, I will return your broom, I know how much it means to you."

Hestia was flying through the night, the place where she grew up was not close to Little Whinging but it was not far either. Of course she knew how to get there all along; she had flown there many times before, from various different locations. She just didn't know what to expect when she finally arrived, when she really arrived, really and truly.

The place had stayed mostly the same over time. When she first came back, years after her departure she had been so scared; scared that she wouldn't be able to remember how to get there; scared that if she did get there it wouldn't be recognizable anymore, the colonial houses torn down to make way for larger than life skyscrapers.

But her old home had stayed the same, untouched by modern times, as the wizarding world tended to be. There never was reason to be scared, wizards are a stubborn race who refuse to give up old traditions; Hestia knew that, but she had never been able to escape the dread that maybe things did change and nothing could ever be the same again.

Hestia entered a room of a sombrous manor, squinting through the dimness of the main room.

"Hmph," said a voice through the darkness, "I knew you would come." Unruffled Hestia turned her gaze to the direction of the voice. It was still a very deep bass voice, although know slightly cracked with age.

"Yes," was her simple answer to his statement.

"You know, I should've done this years ago, you would have come, although you would have been suspicious of my intentions, which I'm quite sure you are now."

"I was never suspicious. I've always known exactly what you wanted."

"Of course, of course," Dunstan replied waving his hand in a jaded fashion. "But you are curious, you have always been curious, sometimes too much so."

"You act as if you were a grandfather amused by his granddaughter's trouble-making antics."

"I am now old enough to be your grandfather," Dunstan mused.

"Whose fault would that be?"

"I could've turned you back any time, but I am not so stupid to make the same mistake twice. So you stayed an owl, as punishment."

"You have matured much, back when you were younger I have no doubt I would have been put in a cage by now. I'm slightly surprised to find you acting civilly."

"I'm dead. I decided to do one good thing before it happened." The silvery form of a tall bony man pointed to a chest near Hestia. "Your wand's in there; upper drawer on the right."

Hestia grabbed her wand, as she was standing besides the window almost ready to leave, she said, "You've grown soft."

"I've always had a soft spot for you."

"And a lovely way of showing it."