Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter; all characters/ settings etc, from the books and or movies are property of J.K Rowling and whatever Movie producer attached additional copyright to the franchise. I write merely for my own amusement and to improve my skills.


Time to Fly

Early on the morning of the tenth of August, Harry's Speaking Stone lit up, the milky bands swirling and expanding.

"Harry… Harry… answer me, Harry…" said James' voice from within the Stone, distant and echoing.

Harry scrambled across the bed and grabbed the Stone.

"I'm here, what's up?" said Harry, groggily rubbing his eyes.

"Were you serious about what you said the other day? About wanting to leave your Aunt and Uncle's forever?"

"Of course I was. Would you want to live here?"

"No, no I wouldn't," there was a long pause. "If you're serious about wanting to leave… meet me in the park at ten o'clock. Bring your things."

"Serious?"

"Of course."

"I'll be there."

"Until then."

The Speaking Stone went dark in his hand.

Harry ran his thumb over the face of the Stone, hardly believing what he had just been offered: a way out of Privet Drive. He slipped the chain around his neck, comforted by the familiarity of the cool stone against his skin. A bubble of hope welled up in his chest… then burst. Dumbledore would never let him leave. Harry rose from the bed and cross over to the window. Somewhere out there, someone was watching the house. If he tried to leave after dark to meet James he would be caught and returned to the house, and after that – he would probably be given even less freedom than he already had.

Harry looked at the glowing red letters of the clock, and sighed. Maybe there was a way to make it to the park without being seen. He still had all day to come up with something.

Harry spent most of the day cleaning his room. He pitched out all of Dudley's cast-offs, emptied out his school trunk entirely, got rid of assorted bits of garbage that had fallen to the bottom, organized all his belongings so that everything would fit inside the trunk without getting broken or squashed, and cleaned out Hedwig's cage. Then he practiced carrying his broom, trunk and cage while under the invisibility cloak. Satisfied that he could do it without being seen, Harry waited for nightfall.

Harry was lounging on his bed reading the thick history book Hermione had given him, when his uncle entered his bedroom. Harry looked up slowly, slipped a piece of red ribbon into his book to keep his place and closed the book. Uncle Vernon was wearing his best suit, and an expression of enormous smugness.

"We're going out," he said.

"Sorry?"

"We – that is to say, your aunt, Dudley, and I – are going out."

"Fine," said Harry dully, opening his book again.

"You are not to leave your bedroom while we are away."

"Okay."

"You are not to touch the television, the stereo, or any of our possessions."

"Right."

"You are not to steal food from the fridge."

"Okay."

"I am going to lock your door."

"You do that."

Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, clearly suspicious of this lack of argument, then stomped out of the room, and closed the door behind him. Harry heard the key turn in the lock and Uncle Vernon's footsteps walking heavily down the stairs. A few minutes later he heard the slamming of car doors, the rumble of an engine, and the unmistakeable sound of the car sweeping out of the drive.

Harry had no particular feeling about the Dursleys leaving. It made no difference to him whether they were in the house or not. It made no difference that the bedroom door was locked; Fred and George had shown him how to pick locks back when he was twelve.

The night grew steadily darker. Harry eventually had to click on the lantern by his bed to continue reading. The empty house creaked. The pipes gurgled. Absorbed in his book, time passed Harry marked with increasing impatience as ten o'clock drew nearer.

At nine twenty six precisely, he heard a crash in the kitchen below. He closed the book, listening intently. The Dursleys couldn't be back, it was much too soon, and in any case he hadn't heard the car.

There was silence, for a few seconds, then voices.

Burglars, he thought, sliding off the bed on to his feet – but a split second later it occurred to him that burglars would keep their voices down, and whoever was moving around in the kitchen was certainly not troubling to do so.

He snatched up his wand from the bedside table and moved up to his bedroom door. The next moment he jumped as the lock gave a loud click and his door swung open.

Harry stood motionless, staring though the open doorway at the dark upstairs landing, straining his ears for further sounds, but none came. He hesitantly peered out of the door towards the stairs.

"James?" he whispered. When no answer came he stepped out of his room and onto the landing. He felt rather foolish for thinking his friend was sneaking into the house. Because of James' call earlier he hadn't invited him in today, so no wizard that Harry knew of could even get close to the house. So, logically then, the voices he'd heard earlier had to have come from Muggles.

His heart shot upwards into his throat. There were people standing in the shadowy hall below, silhouetted against the streetlight glowing though the glass door; eight or nine of them, all, as far as he could see, looking up at him.

"Lower you wand, boy, before you take someone's eye out," said a low growling voice.

Harry's heart was thumping uncontrollably. He knew that voice, but he did not lower his wand.

"Professor Moody?" he said uncertainly.

"I don't know so much about the 'Professor'," growled the voice, "never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly."

Harry lowered his wand slightly but did not relax his grip on it, nor did he move. He had very good reason to be suspicious. He had recently spent nine months in what he thought was Mad-Eye Moody's company only to find out that it wasn't Moody at all, but an impostor; an impostor, moreover, who had tried to kill Harry before being unmasked. But before he could make a decision about what to do next, a second, slightly hoarse voice floated upstairs.

"It's alright, Harry. We've come to take you away."

Harry's heart leapt. He knew that voice, too, though he hadn't head it for over a year.

"P-Professor Lupin?" he said disbelievingly. "Is that you?"

"Why are we all standing in the dark?" said a third voice, this one completely unfamiliar, a woman's. "Lumos."

A wand-tip flared, illuminating the hall with magical light. Harry blinked. The people below were crowded around the foot of the stairs, gazing up at him intently, some craning their heads for a better look.

Remus Lupin stood nearest to him. Though still quite young, Lupin looked tired and rather ill; he had more grey hairs than when Harry had last said goodbye to him and his robes were more patched and shabbier than ever. Nevertheless, he was smiling broadly at Harry, who tried to smile back despite his state of shock.

"Oooh, he looks just like I though he would," said the witch who was holding her lit wand aloft. She looked the youngest there; she had a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling eyes, and short spiky hair that was a violent shade of violet. "Wotcher, Harry!"

"Yeah, I see what you mean, Remus," said a bald black wizard standing furthest back – he had a deep, slow voice and wore a single gold hoop in his ear – "he looks exactly like James."

"Except the eyes," said a wheezy-voiced, silver-haired wizard at the back. "Lily's eyes."

Mad-Eye Moody, who had long grizzled grey hair and a large chunk missing from his nose, was squinting suspiciously at Harry through his mismatched eyes. One was small, dark and beady, the other large, round and electric blue – the magical eye could see through walls, doors, and the back of Moody's own head.

"Are you quite sure it's him, Lupin?" he growled. "It'd be a nice lookout if we bring back some Death Eater impersonating him. We ought to ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?"

"Harry, what form does your Patronus take?" Lupin asked.

"A stag," said Harry nervously.

"That's him, Mad-Eye," said Lupin.

Very conscious of everybody still staring at him, Harry descended the stairs. He kept his wand in his hand – just in case.

Lupin held out his hand and shook Harry's.

"How are you?" he asked, looking closely at Harry.

"F-fine… better than ever really. So – " Harry asked suspiciously " – who gave you the ward key?"

The entire group looked startled, casting furtive glances at each other.

"How do you know about that?" Lupin asked.

"James told me," Harry said. "After Uncle Vernon nearly killed him by accidentally activating the darn things. Since none of you appear to be particularly uncomfortable, and I didn't invite you in, someone must have given you the key."

"You'd best just forget about that," grumbled Moody. "You're not supposed to know about the wards."

Harry sighed and turned to head back up the stairs.

"Where are you going, Harry?" Lupin asked quietly.

"Back to my room. If you're just going to treat me like a misbehaving child, I have no interest in talking with any of you. Good evening."

"Harry, please, be reasonable," Lupin implored. "Alastor is just being a grouch. Dumbledore gave us the key and sent us to get you. That's all we know."

Harry stopped, and turned to face the group again. He shook his head in disbelief.

"You guys really are something else. Fine, where are we going?"

"We can't tell you, it's a secret. It's taken a while but we've set up Headquarters somewhere undetectable. Don't worry, we will tell you more once we get to a more secure location."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

"You used to trust me, Harry," Lupin said sadly. "What have I done that you no longer do?"

"I… I'm sorry, Professor Lupin," Harry said quietly. "But I can't go with you."

"Why not Harry?" Lupin asked quietly. He studied Harry quietly for a moment. "I see. You were planning on running away again, weren't you?"

Harry nodded.

Moody snorted. "Well, you can't go. You're coming with us. We've got orders to take you to Headquarters, and that's what we're going to do."

"And just how are you going to make me?" Harry growled, green eyes flashing.

"Harry…please," said Lupin, holding out his hand to Harry, "Don't do this. You're all I have left of your father and I don't want to loose you too."

Harry snorted, "If you cared that much why didn't you try to even contact me until you started teaching at Hogwarts?"

"I wasn't allowed. After you were brought here, it was ruled in the Wizengamot that no one from the Wizarding world would be allowed to contact you. It was believed that some… less honest persons might attempt to manipulate you in your youth, among other things," Lupin made a rude noise in the back of his throat. "Really it was just a way for the disgraced Pureblood followers of You-Know-Who to take some sort of revenge on you. It is considered a high dishonour for the heir of a wizard to be raised by muggles with no knowledge of his heritage."

There was a low murmur of agreement from the crowd of wizards and witches in the foyer.

"Dumbledore is the head of the Wizengamot, why didn't he do anything?"

"He tried, Harry… but head or not, Dumbledore is just one voice among many. But he did add in a clause that if your life were to ever be threatened while you were living here, at Privet Drive, an appeal could be made to have you moved to a new guardian – either temporarily or permanently."

Harry did not know what to say or do. He stared around at the faces of the witches and wizards. "Is that why you're here?"

"Currently, this is a temporary situation," Lupin said quickly. "But we are trying to make it more permanent. But you have to come with us for us to be able to do anything."

"Why don't I help you get your things," said the violet haired witch brightly, laying a gentle hand on Harry's back. "By the way, my names Tonks."

She led Harry back into the hall and up the stairs, looking around with much curiosity and interest.

"Funny place," she said. "It's a bit too clean, d'you know what I mean? Bit unnatural. My Dad's a Muggle-born and he's a right old slob. But I s'pose it varies, just like it does with wizards… Oh, well, looks like we don't have much to do," she added, as they entered Harry's bedroom and he turned on the light.

Since he'd spent nearly that entire day cleaning, Harry's room nearly matched the rest of Aunt Petunia's immaculate house. He had one of his jean jackets slung over the back of his desk chair, and the book he'd been reading was still lying on his bed beside the Speaking Stone, but besides that, the room was pretty clean.

Harry put on his jacket, transferring his wand into the large inside pocket. Then he put the singular book back inside his trunk, and snapped the lid closed. Tonks paused at his open wardrobe to look critically at her reflection in the mirror on the inside of the door.

"You know, I don't think violet's really my colour," she said pensively, tugging at a lock of spiky hair. "D'you think it makes me look a bit peaky?"

"Er – " said Harry.

"Yeah, it does," Tonks said decisively. She screwed up her eyes in a strained expression as though she was struggling to remember something. A second later, her hair had turned bubble-gum pink.

"How did you do that?" said Harry, gaping at her as she opened her eyes again.

"I'm a Metamorphmagus," she said, looking back at her reflection and turning her head so that she could see her hair from all directions. "It means I can change my appearance at will," she added spotting Harry's puzzled expression in the mirror behind her. "I was born one. I got top marks in Concealment and Disguise during Auror training without any study at all, it was great."

"You're an Auror?" said Harry, impressed. Being a Dark-wizard catcher was the only career he'd ever considered after Hogwarts.

"Yeah," said Tonks, looking proud. "Kingsley is as well – he's that big, bald, black guy downstairs – he's a bit higher up than me, though. I only qualified a year ago. Nearly failed on Stealth and Tracking. I'm dead clumsy, did you hear me break that plate when we arrived downstairs?"

"Can you learn to be a Metamorphmagus?" Harry asked, sitting on the lid of his trunk.

Tonks chuckled. "Bet you wouldn't mind hiding that scar sometimes, eh?"

Her eyes found the lightning-shaped scar on Harry's forehead.

"No, I wouldn't mind," Harry mumbled, turning away. He did not like people staring at his scar.

"Well, you'll have to learn the hard way, I'm afraid," she said. "Metamorphmagi are really rare, they're born, not made. Most wizards need to use a wand, or potions, to change their appearance. But we've got to get going Harry. Are you done packing?" Quickly scanning the nearly empty room she added. "Is that really all you have?"

"Yeah," said Harry with a half-hearted grin. "My whole life fits into one four foot trunk. Well, everything but my broom."

"Wow! – A Firebolt?"

Her eyes widened as they fell on the broomstick in Harry's right hand. It was his pride and joy, a gift from Sirius, and an international-standard broomstick.

"And I'm still riding a Comet Two Sixty," she said enviously. "Ah well… still got your wand? Okay, let's go. Locomotor trunk."

Harry's trunk rose a few inches into the air. Holding her wand like a conductor's baton, Tonks made the trunk hover across the room and out of the door ahead of them, Hedwig's cage in her left hand. Harry followed her down the stairs carrying his broomstick.

They found the rest of the group in the kitchen. The numerous witches and wizards were investigating the various devices in the Dusleys' kitchen. A particularly rosy-cheeked witch was laughing at a potato peeler. Lupin was sealing a letter addressed to the Dursleys.

"Excellent,' said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. "We've got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Harry, I've left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry – "

"They won't," said Harry.

" – that you're safe – "

"That'll just depress them."

" – and that you may not be returning."

"Do you really think so?"

Lupin smiled but made no answer.

"Come here, boy," said Moody gruffly, beckoning Harry towards him with his wand. "I need to Disillusion you."

"You need to what?" said Harry nervously.

"Disillusionment Charm," said Moody, raising his wand. "Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Cloak, but it won't stay on while we're flying; this'll disguise you better. Here you go – "

He rapped him hard on the top of the head and Harry felt a curious sensation as though Moody had just smashed an egg there; cold trickles seemed to be running down his body from the point the wand had struck.

"Nice one, Mad-Eye," said Tonks appreciatively, staring at Harry's midriff.

Harry looked down at his body, or rather what had been his body, for it didn't look anything like his anymore. It was not invisible; it had simple taken on the exact colour and texture of the kitchen unit behind him. He seemed to have become a human chameleon.

"Come on," said Moody, unlocking the back door with his wand.

They all stepped outside on to Uncle Vernon's beautifully kept lawn.

"Clear night," grunted Moody, his magic eye scanning the heavens. "Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right, you," he barked at Harry, "we're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks'll be right in front of you, keep close on her tail. Lupin will be covering you from below. I'm going to be behind you. The rest'll be circling us. Don't break ranks for anything, got me? If one of us is killed – "

"Is that likely?" Harry asked apprehensively, but Moody ignored him.

" – the others keep flying, don't stop, don't break ranks. If they take all of us out and you survive, Harry, the rear guard are standing by to take over; keep flying east and they'll join you."

"Stop being so cheerful, Mad-Eye, he'll think we're not taking this seriously," said Tonks, as she strapped Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage to a harness hanging from her broom.

"I'm just telling the boy the plan," growled Moody. "Our job's to deliver him safely to Headquarters and if we die in the attempt – "

"No one's going to die," said Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep, calming voice.

"Mount your brooms, that's the first signal!" said Lupin sharply, pointing into the sky.

Far, far above them, a shower of bright red sparks had flared among the stars. Harry recognized them at once as wand sparks. He swung his right leg over his Firebolt, gripped its handle tightly and felt it vibrating very slightly, as though it was as keen as he was to be up in the air once more.

"Second signal, let's go!" said Lupin loudly as more sparks, green this time, exploded high above them.

Harry kicked hard off from the ground. The cool night air rushed through his hair as the neat square gardens of Privet Drive fell away, shrinking rapidly into a patchwork of dark greens and blacks. He'd fanaticised about flying away from Privet Drive so many times, he could hardly believe that it was true. That he was flying away and might never have to return.

"Hard left, hard left, there's a Muggle looking up!" shouted Moody from behind him. Tonks swerved and Harry flowed her, watching his trunk swinging wildly beneath her broom. "We need more height… give it another quarter mile!"

Harry's eyes watered in the chill as they soared upwards; he could see nothing below now but tiny pinpricks of light that were car headlights and streetlamps.

"Bearing south!" shouted Mad-Eye. "Town ahead!"

They soared right to avoid passing directly over the glittering spider's web of lights below.

"Bear southeast and keep climbing, there's some low cloud ahead we can lose ourselves in!" called Moody.

"We're not going through cloud!" shouted Tonks angrily, "we'll get soaked, Mad-Eye!"

Harry was relieved to hear her say this; his hands were growing numb on the Firebolt's handle. He wished he'd thought to grab a warmer jacket; he was starting to shiver.

They altered their course every now and then according to Mad-Eye's instructions. Harry's eyes were screwed up against the rush of icy wind that was starting to make his ears ache; he could remember being this cold on a broom only once before, during the Quiddich match against Hufflepuff in his third year, which had taken place in a storm. He began to long to be sitting on the back of James' motorcycle, with the older boy's body to block the rushing wind, and the full helmet to keep the wind out of his ears and eyes. The guard around him was circling continuously like giant birds of prey. Harry lost track of time. He wondered how long they had been flying; it felt like an hour at least.

"Turning southwest!" yelled Moody. "We want to avoid the motorway!"

Harry was now so chilled he thought longingly of the snug, dry interiors of the cars streaming along below, then, even more longingly, of travelling by Floo powder; it might be uncomfortable to spin around in fireplaces but it was at least warm in the flames…

"We ought to double back for a bit, just to make sure we're not being followed!" Moody shouted.

"ARE YOU MAD, MAD-EYE?" Tonks screamed from the front. "We're all frozen to our brooms! If we keep going off-course we're not going to get there until next week! Besides, we're nearly there now!"

"Time to start the descent!" came Lupin's voice. "Follow Tonks, Harry!"

Harry followed Tonks into a dive. They were heading for the largest collection of lights he had yet seen, a huge, sprawling criss-crossing mass, glittering in lines and grids, interspersed with patched of deepest black. Lower and lower they flew until Harry could see individual headlights and streetlamps, chimney's and television aerials. He wanted to reach the ground very much, though he felt sure someone would have to unfreeze him from his broom.

"Here we go!" called Tonks, and a few seconds later she had landed.

Harry touched down right behind her and dismounted on a patch on unkempt grass in the middle of a small square. Tonks was already unbuckling Harry's trunk. Shivering, Harry looked around. The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows, glimmering dully in the light from the streetlamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of front steps.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, but Lupin said quietly, "In a minute."

Moody was rummaging in his cloak, his gnarled hands clumsy with cold.

"Got it," he muttered, raising what looked like a silver cigarette lighter into the air and clicking it.

The nearest streetlamp went out with a pop. He clicked the unlighter again; the next lamp went out; he kept clicking until every lamp in the square was extinguished and the only remaining light came from the curtained windows and the sickle moon overhead.

"Borrowed it from Dumbledore," growled Moody, pocking the Put-Outer. "That'll take care of any Muggles looking out of the window, see? Now come on then, quick."

He took Harry by the arm and lead him from the patch of grass, across the road, and onto the pavement; Lupin and Tonks followed, carrying Harry's trunk between them, the rest of the guard, all with their wands out, flanking them.

The muffled pounding of a stereo was coming from an upper window in the nearest house. A pungent smell of rotting rubbish came from the pile of bulging bin-bags just inside the broken gate.

"Here," Moody muttered, thrusting a piece of parchment towards Harry's Disillusioned hand and holding his lit wand close to it, so as to illuminate the writing. "Read quickly and memorize."

Harry looked down at the piece of paper. The narrow handwriting was vaguely familiar. It said:

The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.


Author's Notes:Main changes to this chapter: Harry plans to run away with James. And we learn why Lupin never contacted Harry before the Prisoner of Azkaban. Harry also seems to be developing a stronger, push-me-I'll-push-back attitude. We also see that Harry can be easily distracted because as soon as he hears he may not have to return once he leaves with Lupin, he forgets that he was supposed to be meeting James in the Park.