Chapter Three - Surly Mood Is Surly Company

Harry felt a bit lost. He had just sat there in the shadow of this huge rock and stared at his hands. He couldn't help the silent tears that ran down his cheeks. He felt like a small boy, in the middle of nowhere, in an unknown land, without any of his possessions or friends, he didn't have a home here. He was totally and utterly alone.

"Bugger," he whispered and rubbed his tear stained cheeks. His moods were acting up, like a child's would. On top of that his magic was freaking him out a bit. It felt as if everything had abandoned him.

And if all that wasn't enough, he had had a huge dose of unrestrained rage pushed inside his head that he was trying to deal with. That thing had been awful. He had bit his own lip at some point, tasted his own blood and his stomach had rolled both with revulsion and greedy need to have more.

Maybe he should throw up a bit more.

He climbed on his rock and watched this world. It seemed as if everything should be different somehow but it wasn't. And he was still himself. Nothing would ever change that. He would never let anything change that. He sighed and felt a bit better.

He was not a child! - Despite looking like one. He could take care of himself. He had, after all always done so.

Harry tugged at his hair, black unruly strands flowed through his fingers. He flicked his wrist and conjured up a small hand mirror. It seemed he was still himself.

Yeah, pretty much. Just a lot smaller. He crunched his nose.

The same green eyes and whoa, did he have long lashes as a kid. The same hair, same nose or it would grow into the nose he remembered and he could sort of remember the rest of his scrawny self from the days before school. Harry grinned and even all his teeth were accounted for and they were not pointy, not like the orc's had been.

Yes, it seemed he was in a very strange place without much hope of getting back home. That hadn't prevented him in the past of achieving something he wanted. And the uruk had lived in a small area and did not know much of the world out there. He couldn't lose his hope on the fact that someone with intelligence on par with Crabbe didn't know something.

In the end, it didn't matter where he was, he would find a way home. No power could keep him from there. He believed magic could do anything and he knew how to use magic. And despite being a bit tricky here, magic was magic.

Filled with new determination he decided to tackle his next challenge. Exactly how did you do your bathroom business out here?

~o~

After a new-found respect of hikers and their bathroom habits, Harry was again getting less good-humored when he marched on. The long day was finally turning into evening and the sun painted the sky in purple hues. He could look back and not see the tower anymore. Krull hadn't followed him further, probably too vary of him after the whole deal with the orc's. It was a pretty smart beast.

Harry was kicking the stones in his path and would've sullenly kept his hands in his pockets if the trousers had any. He blew his hair away from his eyes. For some reason it had grown since the morning, more than in the last ten years put together. It was always in the way and it probably made him look like a girl! Even Bill didn't have hair this long and Harry was sick of his. It also itched when it grew. So with a flick of his hand he had conjured a knife, gathered his mane and cut it swiftly to neck length.

"Good riddance," he mumbled and let the locks of dark hair be carried away with wind while they slowly vanished. He dropped the knife and it vanished too before it hit the ground. That was also when he decided that he was too tired to continue and here was as good place as any to spend the night.

He gathered few pebbles and twigs and set to make himself comfortable. He bit his lower lip and scrunched up his face, thinking of what he wanted to achieve. Slowly five twigs stood up from the ground, grew up four feet and straightened. Then with a slight pop, they were surrounded by fabric. The tent was small but good enough for him.

He drew a few runes on the air on the corners to bind the form, they sunk in successfully. He also strengthened the tent and made it a bit more spacious and warm inside. He was getting rather giddy from all the magic he used. Itchy for more. So he added a bed made from a pebble, a stove and a small table with a chair. It reminded him a bit of his Gryffindor dorm.

While he was on a roll, he also transfigured boots for himself for tomorrow and enchanted them to be as comfortable as he knew how. Few new clothes were thrown on the bed. The transfigurations would last; anything he conjured up would not, even when bound with runes. But transfigured things – they probably would. It still felt strange to use magic. Unfamiliar somehow. The magic felt sluggish as if it didn't really know what he wanted but when it flowed through him and he gave it a form, it was eager like a puppy.

After that he took care of the security. He kneeled on the grass and concentrated on his hand. A thin golden string appeared and was dancing on his palm. Carefully he lowered it to the ground and watched as it started stretching and hopping onwards. Harry smiled satisfied and whispered a few words to the beginning of the string still in front of him and it vibrated happily.

Knowing it might be futile but better safe than sorry, Harry also took four small pebbles from the ground. With a whisper he made his finger sting a bit and bleed a few drops. He took one stone and drew a small symbol on it and repeated that on the other three. Then he threw them in four different directions. No flash followed but he knew his magic was hidden now from anyone interested. Those stones would also hide any magic coming from his wards. But hiding magic was tricky, especially here where he wasn't quite sure how it all worked yet.

After that he walked behind the tent, stepping over the dancing yarn on the ground half way on its circle around the area. Harry spread his hands against the fabric of the tent and they shortly flared purple. Now no light, smell or smoke coming from the inside would reveal him.

By that time the golden ward was also at the end of its cycle and when it connected in a full circle a white wave formed and spread outwards. For a short while it seemed as if the ground was covered with thousands of fireflies. Then it flickered out too. And now Harry would be notified if anyone happened to pass by the area. The trespassers on the other hand wouldn't have a clue he was there. He had a feeling he might've overdone it a bit but better safe than sorry.

Finally Harry sat in front of the fire almost satisfied. As he sat there, his mind both empty and too full to think much, he couldn't help but notice that it was very quiet. Too quiet. Not quiet like someone would attack him, but rather the you are all alone sort of quiet. The last time he had had Hermione and Ron along in his adventure.

This tent looked empty. Nothing like the chaos it had been when he was visiting the world cup with the Weasleys. He missed his friends. He missed his family. He was home sick and he had a feeling it would be some time coming until he would see them again. He hoped that for once his instinct was wrong.

Harry sighed wearily and rubbed his face while tipping back in his chair. In front of him on the table was a parchment and a quill. He had drawn something like a rough map and written few lines here and there. This place, where ever he was, didn't make any sense. The uruk had spent a lot of its time in caves and it really wasn't very intelligent. A bit above Crabbe probably. At least Harry now knew how to make the most wonderful serving of 'kuz-n'ga han' which loosely translated meant raw horse stomach filled with sun dried entrails. It made him shiver and want to puke – once again. He didn't remember being this delicate when he was a kid.

But it hadn't all been useless drivel in there, he now knew that he was going in the right direction if he wanted to find humans but by what he could tell, they might not be able to help him. They seemed not to have much, if any, technology. No cars around nor much magic. People rode horses here and wore leather, crude fabrics and fought with spears and swords.

There was magic and the uruk hated it with passion because it was used by elves – creatures the uruks seemed to fear and despise. Apparently elves were very prone to violence, always attacked the uruks at first sight, without provocation. The only good thing about them seemed to be that they preferred to keep to themselves. They looked nothing like house-elves which were the only elves Harry had ever heard of, not including Kreacher of course. That house-elf was still a vicious beast with I-poison-you tendencies and would probably get along fine in this world. But boy could he cook a decent breakfast. No, these new elves were taller and shinier.

The uruk's memories actually felt slimy to Harry, they were always surrounded by shadows, hatred and rage. It was difficult to gather the needed information from that pool of tar. Luckily he now had some sort of a map, an idea of what different races lived around and he could speak the black speech and a bit common language, which reminded him of English. He really hated to admit it to himself but it seemed a lot more had gone wrong than just him being kidnapped and dumped in the middle of nowhere. There went that theory.

Harry had concentrated on one tiny memory especially in what he had found in the uruk's head. It was a rumor about wizards. The uruk had never met one but knew an uruk who knew of another uruk who had been travelling near a tower which belonged to a wizard or wizards. The uruk was not very clear on that. And perhaps these wizards just might be able to help Harry back home.

Harry ate a sandwich while pondering. He preferred the real thing, homemade bread with a thick slices of good ham, but there was nothing wrong with a magicked one. No matter how much Hermione insisted differently. If he was back home, he would be spending the night at Burrow. Molly's cooking was fine indeed and then they all would gather in the living room. Talk about their day and what they had been doing. Bill would probably be visiting with his daughter again. Ron and George would argue about something and Hermione would roll her eyes at her husband while helping with setting the table.

Harry was sure they were worried about him, again. They had always been throughout all these years although no one had said anything to him. Ever since he and Ginny broke it up it seemed as if everyone was trying to organize his life. Maybe it was because of the war and how people were supposed to be happy now that it was all over. And he was happy. In his own way. He was – satisfied. He had his own house and a house elf. Perhaps his house-elf was a tad too blood thirsty but an elf is an elf. He had his surrogate family and all his friends.

True, he might not be able to go shopping on his own or if he did, he had about two minutes to do it before there was a line of kids with their mums asking for autographs and three reporters snapping pictures. Nor could he really do anything in public. Even meals with Ron and Seamus in the Leaky Cauldron were sometimes hard to manage. And he had one whole room in his house dedicated to morning post. He had drawn the line when Hermione suggested of getting an assistant.

Harry was see-sawing his chair while thinking.

"Whoa!" The chair started slipping, its legs scraping on the floor and with a crash Harry went down.

"Ouch," He moaned on the ground. "My bum hurts." He rubbed his behind and stared at his tea spreading over the floor.

"Well, it's better not to wallow on things I can't change." He said to himself, wondering what home he was feeling this homesickness to.

~o~

Next morning promised for a nice and sunny day. Harry woke up slowly, very comfortable in his new bed. His feet especially appreciated the rest.

Everything was good until he realized there was something tickling his nose and covering his eyes – and warming his neck.

"Whut?" Sleepily he brushed his hair away. His fingers got tangled in his long – very long hair. "Oh no," he moaned into the pillow. The girl hair was back again. And that was the mark of a downhill day. His second one in the great unknown.

He spent fifteen minutes looking after his trousers from yesterday until he gave up. The magic must've worn out some time during the night which had been fast, a new record for him. He poked the clothes he had magicked last night suspiciously. It seemed he was fighting the magic here all the way. He would really need to do something about that. But it would be a moot point if he found a way home.

Half of the morning, which was wonderfully bright and airy by the way, he spent trying to remember the runes that would collapse the tent without destroying the things inside. After two hours of agonizing occlumency he realized that he could just will the magic in a reducio spell to warp it all like that. That ended with his tent bursting. So there he was standing, his bed upside down, his table had lost a leg and amidst all that ruckus was his new, absolutely essential while hiking in the middle of summer, a very weighty stove. It was right above a pile of twigs that somewhat resembled his new chair.

He had no idea what the time was when he finally got on the road again. Well, as much as he could be on the road seeing that there really wasn't any. He had a carefully transfigured rucksack filled with minimized furniture on his back. He had had enough of tents.

~o~

It seemed he was more tired from yesterday than he thought. It couldn't have been more than an hour and he was forced to stop. His feet ached again and he was so exhausted that his arms were shaking.

"This is worse than Aunt Tunia's cleaning weekends!" Harry moaned and slumped down.

He groaned and waved his hand for a cold water bottle. A leathery bottle popped in existence which was not what he had been going for but the water was good anyway. He airdrew a few runes on the soft bottle that flashed blue and tied the charm making the bottle of water almost never ending.

Despite his body being too young and his magic going haywire, his occlumency and memories were still good. So he wanted to take benefit on that and had tried to do three things while hiking. First was to try and remember what had happened that evening two nights ago to end with him here. It seemed that no help was coming or found so he just had to figure it out himself. The second was to try and make some sense of the memories he'd acquired from the uruk. And last but not least, what were those damn runes that would make his tent fold nicely.

He had no answer to the first, the second repulsed him and third evaded him still. But at least he knew he was in a place called Rhovanion and the river he was heading towards and hopefully someday reached was Anduin. The uruk called it the great one or what he translated it to be in his head from their language. It was all very confusing. The most important thing was that the uruk counted it would take twenty days to reach that river. Twenty whole days and as proven yesterday, the uruks were in a good shape. Much more so than little old him. He would probably have to double or triple that time if he walked. And he really didn't intend to spend a month or two walking around the countryside just to reach his first goal.

That left a problem of how to move easier. He wanted to apparate, really, but every time he did there was that mist that he could feel better and better now that he had noticed it was there, where ever that was. And he had a suspicious feeling it was also affecting his other spells. He had never thought he was anywhere while apparating but apparently there was a place for that. He also noticed that whenever he apparated, he left ripples in his wake and somehow that didn't feel good. Because when he was there, in the void, for lacking the better word, he felt as if he was surrounded by something powerful, extremely so. And he, another powerful being was able to make his way through it but he changed it. And he doubted that was a smart thing to do. He would either have to figure that out or come up with something else. And something else sounded easier.

Not to mention he really wanted to try his hand on broom building. It was funny how two days of hiking could change one's mind on a lot of things. And if Hermione was here, she would scold him but as she wasn't...

~o~

"Bloody stupid broom!" Harry shouted and flung the 'broom' on the ground. Though he was the only one who would call that branch a broom. It was knobby, crooked and it lay lifeless on the ground when a real broom would have hovered a feet above it.

Harry sat down next to it to sulk and when he realized what he was doing, he groaned.

"I can't believe I'm turning into a child," he muttered and picked up a few pieces of grass to mangle. "I can't believe I'm talking to myself either. Dumbledore would find this all very amusing," he fondly remembered his old headmaster with all his funny, yet life-threatening habits. It seemed his home-sickness was not getting better. Nor was he succeeding in acting less like a child.

Few hours later Harry had decided that broom designers were his new heroes. He couldn't understand how in the bloody hell they managed to make these twigs fly. The flying charm was easy, making sure it didn't give out in three hundred feet was not. Not to mention adding the comfort charm to the seating area and only there. Then to charm the twigs in the other end to propel the whole broom forward. Then something to help maneuver the broom around, that would also have to be partly done on the twigs. Something to make the broom realize which way he wanted it to go and what directions to obey. There were a lot of somethings and most of those things he had not figured out yet. It was great he had the ability to use wandless magic and all hail mage Potter, probably the most powerful magic user in the world who still couldn't build one miserable broom!

Finally, after hours of agonizing work and when the sun was already setting, The Plough mark one was ready. The name was fitting as it seemed to drop down and plough the earth often enough. It also had an accidentally built-in altitude limit charm which made sure ten feet was the absolute highest it would go without the charms giving up. But Harry was very pleased with his baby. The Potter Plough was sure to make new sales records if it were ever to hit the magical market.

~o~

Harry was enjoying the rush of flying, the cool night air on his face, the moonlight making the world silvery blue. He twirled and zigzagged his way forward, the wind swallowing his childish laughter of joy. The sky was dark blue velvet with strange stars shining like droplets of water.

Harry frowned; sobered by the thought of how far from home he was that even the stars were unfamiliar. It didn't completely wipe out his enjoyment of his new-found freedom though. He spread his hands and closed his eyes for a bit. Enjoying the peace as his broom glid onwards soundlessly.

He had to grab the broom though when it turned slightly downwards, as if losing power and drifting. When it was close enough to the ground, he smacked it and kicked it back up.

"Don't start that again," he waggled his finger at the broom. "I've been flying at nine feet steady so no need to get all huffy again."

The broom wriggled as if ashamed.

Harry wasn't sure of the time but knew he made good progress. No settlements in sights yet. He had hoped the Uruks had just missed them but no such luck. The river was still a long way.

Harry yawned and rubbed his eyes. Flying straight was tiring. He absolutely refused to admit that he was a little boy now and that his bedtime had been hours ago.

"'m not tired," he said to himself as if that would make it true and then he forced his eyelids really open.

Next time The Plough decided to dip downwards was enough reason for Harry to decide it was perhaps time to rest a bit. Just a few minutes.

A short nap.

He yawned again and waved his hand. He was tired of tents. This would do well. He dropped the broom and dragged his feet to the bean bag chair he had conjured. Last wave of his hand cast a warming spell and then he was out, curled happily in his warm nest. Oblivious to the night around him.

~o~

Bird song woke him up. Harry scrunched his eyes close against the sunlight and burrowed further down in his - bean bag chair?

"Wha?" He asked no one particular and rubbed the crust from his eyes. It was a bit surreal to wake up in the middle of a meadow, filled with yellow flowers, bees buzzing around and he was lying in a bright blue chair. First thing he looked after was his bag which was lying a few feet from him and it seemed, by the dents in the field of flowers, that his broom was not far behind.

"hmm - It seems this child thing isn't just superficial," he said aloud, trying to wake up. "I look like a child; I seem to be beginning to act like a child - so soon I will be a child?"

He really didn't fancy regressing back to his early years. Not that it was a sure thing; his logical abilities sometimes failed him. But without a brilliant, bushy haired witch at his side offering better explanations, it was best to expect the worst. If he was in a stage where he had to have naps and would literally fall asleep on his broom, it seemed he was heading that way. He really didn't think being his eight or seven year old self in the middle of here would be the best idea. Oddly enough, it seemed all his memories were still there as well as abilities so shouldn't that mean the opposite. That this change was simply superficial. And even if it wasn't, he hadn't been a weakling when he was younger.

"Maybe this is fixable," he pondered and stood up. He really looked at himself, taking off his t-shirt. He transfigured the chair into a tall mirror.

"Whoa, now this is weird!" He exhaled. During these two days he really hadn't looked at himself that closely, not counting the small mirror he had peered in, but now he looked just like he did before he started school. A skinny midget. Obviously the Dursleys tender care still affected him, after all this time.

A mop of sun kissed dark hair was on top of his head, his hair had grown again and his head was huge compared to the rest of him. Just like any six or seven year old would have. He looked like an ordinary child, just very minuscule.

"I really hope I won't get any younger." That was a sobering thought.

Harry concentrated on his image and turned his magic inwards. Uncomfortable sensation rippled through him and in the mirror he saw that the boy was growing. His arms and legs lengthened and his face transformed into what he remembered it being just few days ago. He felt prickly all over when he stretched up.

His legs burned and he felt like he was just about ready to blow up. He was sweating and trying to keep his concentration on what he wanted to look like while staring at his oddly shaped fingers, was not easy. But finally he stood at the right height. He had his muscles back and his hair was darker and much shorter. The world suddenly looked smaller. The flowers that had only a while ago almost tickled his waist, now hugged his legs.

Harry smiled, pleased. He should have done this straight away despite the amount of magic it took or being forced to deal with the most strange sensation of being stretched in odd places..

"Now it's time for breakfast," he thought and cleared an area for a small fire. He pulled a pan out of the thin air and soon had a fire sizzling under it. Bacon and eggs were easy to conjure raw while almost impossible to magic cooked so that they tasted right. Besides, he enjoyed cooking while Kreacher was not bugging him and making all those noises that indicated the elf would have a heart attack any minute.

~o~

Harry thought the meadow he was, was really pretty. Lots of wild flowers. There were also huge trees that offered him shadow to rest in. The day was not too hot but on the other hand bursts of wind didn't make flying easy. Still, it was a nice walking weather.

After his meal Harry was walking towards a nearby hill from where he would hopefully again see where the river was. It was no use to try a point-me spell when the river could curve almost around him. While he was enjoying the scenery and peace, Harry also focused his thoughts inwards.

He felt connection to this place and it seemed to come from the mist. He had realized he was more at peace than he'd been in a long while. It was nothing that was forced on him. He was beginning to think the mist wasn't just mist but maybe something more alive than the magic he had back home.

Harry concentrated on the tree that stood couple hundred feet to his left and prepared to apparate.

Focus.

This might not be something that anyone had thought of before but then again, he had sort of marked a corner in the field of accidental discoveries. There was something there when wizards apparated around.

So, he had his destination. He was determined to be there, he could imagine himself standing next to that tree. He didn't turn or take a step but he was suddenly moving, squeezing. And then he deliberately slowed down in the nothingness and pushed the tight feeling away.

"Oh," Harry stared at wonder. His world was filled with purple color and the haze was hugging him tightly. Yet he had no need to actually breathe. He wasn't sure if he was still in the real world. It was as if there was a glass between this place and that which he had somehow managed to squeeze through without shattering it. The mist - it felt almost like a living person. It was like when he was standing next the veil of death. He could almost hear it speak.

Harry moved his arm and the mist moved away, allowing him movement. It didn't look like it was stopping him, being just smoky air. Yet Harry had the feeling that it was like a snake, one moment unmoving and in the next trying to put you down. This was like swimming in the water, the mist curled around his arm when he moved slowly and pushed further away when he moved faster.

Harry tried to grasp the haze just to see if he could feel it but he was always left empty handed. Maybe it vanished if it was separated. Harry looked around and could see no edge, nothing to show borders. He gulped, a being this vast was hard to comprehend. He tried to breath in but couldn't. He should need air - unless time wasn't moving here but of course it had to be.

Perhaps he should test that later.

'I'm turning into Hermione,' he smirked and flicked his hand to light it up with a lumos. That was when his world went topsy turvy and he found himself summarily pushed and back in the real world, stumbling for balance.

"Wonder if I moved at all," he pondered the mystery and on second thought was back in the mist. He was pretty sure the void place had something to do with magic but it didn't feel like what he was used to. This was not the magic he used. The more he tried, the more he seemed to remain in the 'real' world where he was and simply see the mist around him. It was the slight sparkle of colors drifting between the trees and covering the flowers with a shine. It also gave him a headache.

It was too bad he had never been that good with healing. Sure, he had been at the mercy of Poppy often enough but his main interest had always been to get away from the place, not use it as a learning experience. Basically he knew one healing spell and that was it. Thank Merlin he could use it almost on everything. And hadn't that been rant worthy to Hermione. She had really frustrated herself with him until she just decided that he was an anomaly. An interesting study specimen but not fit for normal theory. At that point Harry had felt like a bug under a microscope and said so. She had just smiled sweetly which always knew trouble. Five minutes later she had outlined a study of unusual magic, a totally new field of magic simply because it was so rare. In other words 'freak study'. She called it mage level irregularity magic analysis. Or M.L.I.M.A. Good thing Harry did not have childhood traumas anymore. She had used it to earn her the charms mastery.

Harry noticed his thoughts drifted back home often that day. It was his third day away. Maybe it was the carefree mood he was in, or that the scenery actually looked as if he could be in Ottery St. Catchpole easily enough and just behind the next tree he would see the roof of Burrow.

His longer legs made the walking much easier and after he left his 'mist' study, he made good progress. It was only when he was thinking about lunch, did he realize that he may have been a bit overzealous with his growth spur because it seemed his trousers were too long and got under his boots. He simply tied his belt a bit higher and reminded himself to correct it for the next day.

After eating he decided to give his broom another go, if only to better see where he was heading. But first he wanted to take a short nap. An adult nap. Not kiddie one. Without a watch he couldn't tell exactly how long he slept and he really didn't want to use a tempus spell because the numbers returned here were funny. Whether it was because he was wary of still carrying some childlike habits which included a routine naps or just because time didn't seem to carry the same meaning here, which one it was, he couldn't say. But he was pleasantly surprised when he finally got to air and saw the river much closer. Days away still but definitely not weeks.

~o~

Harry couldn't really explain it but today he seemed worry free on his travel. He had his main goal, didn't doubt of getting there in the end, he was safe or rather he could keep himself safe and there was no one bugging him constantly. Closest he could figure was to say that a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He tried to think what had been causing him stress before and couldn't really pinpoint it. Maybe his life had become too filled with routines. Maybe his adoptive family was worrying too much. Maybe he had been pushed by all to go certain direction which he hadn't noticed.

Suddenly he didn't feel so content with his life back home anymore.

Sure, he loved his friends and family. He would die to protect them, again. He absolutely loved magic and though Britain's magical community was far from ideal, he liked the everyday things in it. Entering Diagon Alley was always like the first time for him. You couldn't get used to magic.

Harry sighed. He was too old to have this discussion with himself. And he was too young to be discussing things with himself at all.

He obviously now had what he needed. A little holiday with Harry Potter, just Harry, not the boy-who-lived.

"I'm really in no rush," he said aloud. "It's been two days already and by now everyone's worried. They can't really get more worried."

And he could've left a lengthy letter explaining where he was. He really couldn't say as he still didn't remember. He doubted he had done so but it was not impossible. Maybe he had left to hunt down one of Gilderoy Lockhart's stories.

Harry snorted.

Well, at least he was keeping himself good company. No one was complaining.

It didn't seem likely that he had been kidnapped. It was pretty hard to overpower him and why would his kidnappers just leave him. And why naked. Unless it was Seamus.

Then there was the possibility of time travel which he also doubted. This place felt too far from home. All his theories hanged on the fact of how someone could've gotten to him. They would've had to get him unconscious and then oblivate him. Neither was an easy feat even when he was out of it. Especially in his home with his wards and Kreacher.

Harry carried on his post lunch (or dinner) lay in and watched the clouds. They didn't really remind him of anything or then he was lacking the imagination needed but he decided to try it anyway. He was sure this unfamiliar feeling of peace would be shattered sooner than later.

"How odd," He said and looked at a strange butterfly flying almost above his hand. True, he was no expert on the field of lepidopterology but he had never heard of butterflies that looked like they had letters painted on them. This one was all white, except there was a big splash of red on its wings that looked like a crooked A.

"Alfie, you don't know how bored I am," he said and touched the butterfly's wing and whispered, "Fulgeo" The spell made the butterfly shine and sparkle in the sun. It seemed happier. Or then it was silently screaming and flying away from the mad wizard.

Butterflies followed after him that day. Either they all wanted a sparkle of their own or then they were plotting something. Luna was right, it was hard to tell. While he marched towards the huge forest in the distance Harry thought he was thinking restless thoughts. Yet he could still say this was the happiest he had been in months.

When he got home, he would have to keep in mind of how to get back here.