Taking Flight

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter Four:

"Would you like to become an animagus?" Sirius queried. It was late on the fifth of July, Remus had long since fallen asleep on the couch and godfather and godson had left him to his rest, instead content to sprawl out across the study floor while Sirius explained to him the wizarding world's social hierarchy. Harry had been irked by the blatant prejudices apparent, but the non sequitur had successfully managed to suck all of the wind out of his sails and instead left the teenager gaping like a fish out of water. "Well?"

Harry didn't even need to think about it. Disregarding the fact that depending on his form, it would be useful in a pinch, it was also something he'd wanted to do since he'd learned of it in his first year, more so when he'd learned about his father in third and especially after he'd learned of the advantages it posed from Rita Skeeter. "I'd love to."

Sirius nodded his acknowledgement. "Remus and I will make the arrangements while you're at your meeting tomorrow. Is there anything else you'd like to learn these holidays? I can't say I'm particularly enthused about teaching you about government, politics, family history and such things for the next two months, so it would be nice to have some other things to focus on."

"I'd like to know how to properly fight," Harry admitted, "I've blended the duelling forms into my own style and I'm working on stamina, but Voldemort kicked my arse in the graveyard and not in a good way. Also, is it possible to learn apparation before sixth year? I've also been working on some individual projects - do you think you and Remus could check them out?"

Sirius looked a little bit flabbergasted by Harry's response, but he collected himself quickly. "Since you're now emancipated, I can teach you apparation and you can become registered with the ICW. It will probably irk the Ministry of Magic, but what they won't know won't hurt them, the stodgy old wankers. Battle magic, I can do too, but we'll probably need a bigger place for that. I can also teach you the basics of transmutation, but that was always more your father's forte than mine and of course, Remus and I would be happy to look over anything you've been working on. Even summer assignments, the horror."

It had taken Harry a few hours to get used to his godfather's lengthy way of speaking, but according to Remus, it wasn't nearly as rapid-fire as it had been before everything went to hell. It was also a vast improvement to the almost mono-syllabic speech patterns he displayed at the Order of the Phoenix headquarters, within which the old dog was haunted by the ghosts of his childhood and such things. Helping Harry was apparently good for Sirius' soul - whatever that meant - and Remus was particularly pleased to see it, more so about the nutritional supplements Boogie and Jive were practically force feeding the Azkaban escapee alongside Harry.

it turned out that was what the weird after taste had been in his food, but when he'd learned of their purpose to gradually heal him of the malnutrition he'd suffered from as a result of his less than pleasant childhood, Harry hadn't protested their consumption. Evidently, his elves took his wellbeing very seriously and Harry appreciated it more than he could say. He suddenly had seven elves and two pseudo-uncles solely and completely concerned about Harry himself and it was a feeling he couldn't even put into words. Whatever the case, he loved it and he was pretty sure he'd never grow tired of it.

"Wicked," Harry acknowledged with an exuberant grin, but just as quickly, he was taken over by a jaw-cracking yawn. The clock hung on the wall read a quarter to midnight and Harry gave a weary sigh, beginning to pack his things up. Sirius followed Harry's lead. "I have to meet Neville tomorrow and I don't want to risk sleeping in."

"Frank and Alice's boy, right?" Sirius clarified. "He'd be a good friend and an even better ally to have. He's the heir of the Ancient and Noble house of Longbottom."

"He's in my dorm," Harry answered, "Kind of shy, but he's never been particularly blindly loyal to Dumbledore. He mostly just sticks to himself, really. At least I think so."

"That's no surprise," Sirius acknowledged, "Augusta Longbottom - she's the Dowager Lady of Longbottom House - has never been a friend of Albus'. She practically tore strips into Frank when she'd learned he'd joined the Order of the Phoenix. I bet you he wishes he'd listened to her now."

Harry tilted his head, curious. "You don't think they're mad. You think they're locked in their minds, don't you?"

Sirius arched a surprised eyebrow. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

Harry shrugged, uncomfortable with the topic. "Voldemort put me under the cruciatus in the graveyard, as you know. I just… I've been thinking about it. When I was under? I just wanted to hide away from the pain. I didn't want to overcome it or anything like that. I just wanted to get away. It was ten seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Four minutes? I can't imagine it." He looked at Sirius, expectant. "Why do you think it?"

Sirius chewed his lip. "In Azkaban, people go mad. It's more or less an inevitability, in fact. I was the exception to the rule." He chuckled mirthlessly. "Always the bloody exception. Anyway, Remus described Alice and Frank's states. That's not insanity." I researched it, actually. In the muggle world, I think they call it catatonia." He shrugged. "Then again, what would I know?"

Harry shrugged as well, dropped the pile of textbooks on top of the trunk Sirius and Remus had brought with them two days prior and exited the study. Sirius followed behind him, trudged into the living room and called for one of the elves. It was Foxtrot who appeared and after a moment, he popped the two men back to Order of the Phoenix headquarters after a quiet goodbye between godson and godfather. When they were gone, Harry retreated into his bedroom, changed into his pyjamas and clambered into bed.

The following day would surely be interesting.

-!- -#-

Fyne Alley was made up predominately by fashion boutiques, high end restaurants and trendy cafes. Harry found himself in Rosewood Cafe, settled in a booth across from the familiar form of Neville Longbottom, sipping some of the best damned tea he'd ever drank and searching for the words to explain - again - the whirlwind his life had become. He figured he might as well start from the beginning.

"Neville, mate, I only learned about my inheritance on the 1st of this month."

Neville choked, spluttered, stuttered over his words but eventually managed to blurt out, "How?"

Harry shrugged, entirely unsure. "I assume Dumbledore was supposed to tell me, but like most things, he's chosen not to." He gave his friend a rueful smile. "I'm not particularly pleased with our esteemed headmaster, if you didn't notice."

"I can guess why," Neville answered dryly. "So you found out about - what - your future lordship?"

"Precisely that, among other things," Harry confirmed. "I'm getting help catching up on what I should have rightfully learned, but I won't be an expert by September. Will you help me?"

Neville nodded without hesitation. "You're my friend, harry. We mightn't be as close as you are with Ron but…"

Harry shook his head, interrupting his tawny haired classmate. The following words would be hard to say, but they were a reality Harry was slowly coming to terms with. "I haven't heard from them all summer, on the orders of Dumbledore. I'm not at all comfortable with having friends who will follow directions from a headmaster whom, rightfully, should have no business interfering in the summer lives of his students. I understand he's powerful and such things, but he's not God. He doesn't have the right to dictate what we can and can't do… outside of school, anyway."

"You're entirely right," Neville agreed. "But getting back to that later, I'll be happy to help you at school. Can I spread the word that you weren't aware of your status? It will - ah - soothe some ruffled feathers. A few people were insulted by your lack of adherence to tradition…."

"Will it paint me in a worser light than I already am?" He felt guilty that he'd insulted some of his classmates, but it wasn't as though he could change that. There was no use crying over spilt milk - particularly when it wasn't his fault. The blame for that laid entirely at someone else's feet, but until he learned whose fault it was, Harry was just going to act under the assumption it was Dumbledore's. He was apparently his magical guardian in Sirius' stead, after all. At least he should have been, considering his godfather's incarceration, illegitimate or otherwise.

"No," Neville answered. Thoughtfully, he added, "In fact, I think it will get you some sympathy. it will also give you some wriggle room, in terms of an extended grace period. You can't really be faulted for insulting the old tossers in the Wizengamot if you don't know you're doing it, after all."

Harry laughed at Neville's description of the elderly wizards on the Wizengamot and nodded his agreement. "If you think it will be beneficial, than I'd appreciate it."

Neville smiled. "Was there anything else you needed?"

Harry shook his head, no. "Not at the moment. Thanks for meeting with me. I hope I didn't interrupt your summer plans."

"My uncle and I are going to Brazil in August, but until then, I'm really just planning as I go. You didn't interrupt anything but my failed attempts at trying to make sense of Professor Snape's assignment task."

"Just get rid of the excess words," Harry advised, "It took me a few dozen read throughs to realise he'd added about two dozen useless additions to confuse everyone, the greasy wanker."

"Typical," neville scoffed, an uncharacteristic sneer on his face. Evidently, his fellow Gryffindor's fear of the Potions master had evolved into entirely justifiable contempt. Professor Snape was a bastard, to Neville and Harry in particular, so personal resentment was likely inevitable. "Thanks for the head's up."

"No problem," harry answered. He slid over a folded piece of parchment. "My floo address. You're welcome to come by anytime. Just keep it quiet, will you? Aside from the goblins and my house elves, only two others know where I am."

"I'm honoured you trust me with it," neville answered. He pocketed the parchment within an inner fold of his lightweight robe. "I won't tell a soul."

"I know," Harry acknowledged. He looked around warily. "I can't stay much longer. If anyone recognises me…"

Neville waved him off and Harry smiled. His dorm mate knew without Harry needing to explain and he appreciated that. Hermione would have just nagged and Ron wouldn't even have realised.

"Take off now," Neville insisted, "I'll finish up and pay the bill."

Harry frowned his protest, but Neville was obstinate and Harry was grudgingly aware he couldn't loiter. Nevertheless, he dropped a couple of galleons onto the table, clapped his friend on the shoulder as he passed him by and headed out of the cafe. He ducked into an alley between two shops, called for his elf and popped away. He didn't need to be caught out now.

At his flat, Remus was settled comfortably on the couch, reading through Harry's notes about one of his personal projects. He' left it out for the two Marauders' perusal but now as Remus' gaze fell on Harry, the teenager couldn't help but fidget uncomfortably.

"You came up with this last year?" Remus clarified. Harry nodded wordlessly and Remus set down the notes, gaze still on Harry. "This is extraordinary, Harry."

The project itself was Harry's OWL level Ancient Runes assignment. He'd spend the next year perfecting it, but essentially, it was a forearm brace made of leather, powered by an individual's magic and designed to construct wards of a person's choosing around their body, with a personalised gemstone to focus the magic and with the ability to power them on and off at the user's leisure. It had taken him a hell of a lot of research of runic schemes for different wards and the wards themselves, but he'd had a lot of time with his unwilling exile from the rest of the school the year prior.

"I haven't tested it yet," he mumbled sheepishly. "It's just theoretical right now."

"We can work on it these holidays," Remus assured, "I'll work on getting the supplies while you're recovering from the animagus ritual."

"Speaking of animagus, where's Sirius?"

"Making an appearance for the Order to avoid rousing suspicion. We've got everything we need for the ritual. Now it's just a matter of finding a place,

"Will Potter Manor suffice?" Harry queried. "I haven't been there yet, but the grounds should do, if nothing else."

Boogie and Jive had provided Harry with a few pictures of Redcrest Hill, as the place had been named. A roman style structure located in the southern sector of Wales, the manor was four storeys high and so and so many feet wide, boasting too many things Harry didn't know what to do with, but probably a room they could use for the animagus ritual. It was beautiful albeit ostentatious, but as the last Potter, harry struggled to believe that the three separate wings had once been full of past family members. He wondered if it would ever be again.

Remus hummed thoughtfully. "Sirius and I didn't take it into consideration. Your father put it under lockdown when they went into hiding. We didn't consider the fact that you now have the power to take it out of lockdown. It has a ritual room though, which would be best for this situation. At any rate, it would be far easier than breaking into headquarters with you unseen."

Harry tilted his head, considered how the two Marauders would have gone about smuggling him in, thought it better if he just didn't know and changed the subject. "So Neville's said he'd help me while at school, so that's a relief. I've also made headway on all of my assignments, so that's convenient."

"How's your occluamency going?" Remus queried.

occluamency had been introduced to Harry by Professor Flitwick in his second year, the same time Harry had begun taking duelling lessons from the Charms master. Remus had learned that Harry was studying it when he'd come across the then third year meditating in a disused classroom after hours. Suffice to say, it was a very closely guarded secret.

Harry shrugged, dropped gracelessly into a chair and answered, "It's going slowly. I'm getting better though. I can maintain subconscious shields until I start actively thinking about them."

"Not bad," Remus commended, "And how are you going, since the end of the tournament?"

The werewolf looked like he wasn't sure if he ought to regret asking the question. In truth though, Remus and Sirius were the only two people who'd asked out of concern for him. Hermione and Ron had given empty consolations and most everyone else had simply tiptoed around the issue. It was nice that they'd asked, despite the fact that he didn't really like being reminded of it.

"It's not so raw now," Harry admitted, "There's still some guilt, but I figure Cedric would rather I avenge him, as opposed to wallowing in misery." He didn't know that for certain. They'd been friends, yes, bonding over seeker plays, Tri-Wizard problems and a shared fondness for Charms and Transfiguration, but Harry wouldn't have said that they were particularly close friends. nevertheless, it was a nice, selfish comfort that Harry clung to.

"That's a good mindset," Remus acknowledged, "But I don't think you should devote your life to getting vengeance. Don't forget to live as well, because if you do, when all is said and done and when Voldemort is gone, you'll have nothing left otherwise." And those words, Harry thought, were probably the truest words Harry had ever heard.