Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, all rights reserved by J.K Rowling.
Land's End
Harry
They travelled a long time; Harry and James astride the flying motorcycle, while Hedwig – Wistaria, Harry corrected himself – winged on ahead, or behind, or beside. She moved like a ghost through the sky, silent on soft feathered wings. Harry could not say exactly where they were going, except that for the most part they seemed to be heading north. They often changed altitude and direction, sometimes flying through low hanging clouds – much the way Professor Moody had wanted.
The only warning Harry had of the sudden dive was when Wistaria suddenly tucked in her wings and plunged down through the clouds. The decent was so sharp and so fast that Harry felt himself lifting of the seat of the motorcycle. Branches snapped and whipped against his helmet and body as they crashed through the treetops. A great spray of dirt and leaves erupted from under the tires when they hit the ground. James spun the motorcycle sharply, breaks squealing, and they came to a stop.
"Show off," Wistaria chided her father with a grin. She was human again, and brushing wet leaves off the front of her white dress with a look of distaste.
"Always," James answered, removing his helmet. "We'll be walking in from here," he explained to Harry. We can leave the helmets and bike here in the shed."
"What shed?" said Harry looking around. There was not even a clearing where they had landed, just a few slightly wider places between the thick trunks of ancient oaks. There was definitely no shed.
"This one," said James opening a door that was not there. Harry could see the inside of a large shed, the shadowed frames of several motorcycles and the inside of the door itself, but he could not see what the door was attached to. "Got your trunk, Harry?" James asked, reaching for the helmet in Harry's hands.
"Yeah," Harry handed his helmet to James, and adjusted the straps of the blue rucksack slung on his back. It felt empty, even though Harry knew it contained all of his earthly possessions, including his beloved Firebolt.
"Good," said James, closing the door of the shed. "Let's be off then."
The air was hushed under the canopy of the trees, the sounds of their footsteps swallowed by the soft earth, yet in the dappled light of the summer sun a great number of birds flittered about. And fairies. There were a lot of fairies. They filled the air with the chiming of bell like voices. Harry enjoyed watching them as he walked quietly behind his father.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked after a while.
"To my old family estate," James said looking back over his shoulder with a smile. "It's not much farther."
"You lived here?" Harry asked dubiously, "out in the middle of nowhere?"
"Most wizards live well away from civilization, with the Floo and Appartation; we really don't need to live close to anything or anyone."
Harry kept James talking about his childhood as they walked, some of the tales he'd previously been told took on a whole other light as his father's childhood friends took on the faces of Sirius, Lupin, and Pettigrew. Every now and then, Wistaria would chime in with a bit of hilarity from her times with their younger sisters. Harry learned the names of his family one story at a time. Aunt Lenore; her son, Domingo; his younger sisters, Amaryllis and Iris; his mother, Lily; and the house-elf Poppet were all waiting for him.
The farther into the forest they walked, the more Harry felt like he was walking into a fairy tale. The grass grew greener, the moss softer, the trees wider and taller, and the flowers more brilliant in colour. The sounds of a babbling brook joined the chiming of the fairies, the laughter of the trio, and the occasional chattering of an irate squirrel. Maybe it was a chipmunk. Harry couldn't tell.
Wistaria minded her steps, selecting each footfall with care. Where James leaped from one bank of the brook to the other, Wistaria skipped over slick river stones with ease. Harry awkwardly attempted to use the stones to cross the shallow waterway, and was awarded with a wet trainer for his efforts. His father smiled and, grasping him by the arm, heaved him up the steep bank on the far side.
"Not much farther, Harry," said James, "We should be there soon."
Harry felt like he had just swallowed a Fizzing Whizzbee, he was not sure that his feet were on the ground anymore. Just a little while longer, and he'd be home, truly home for the first time in his life.
"You said that half an hour ago," Wistaria grumbled.
"And if you don't walk faster I'll say it again in another half hour," James chided.
Wistaria sighed, and looked longingly up at the patches of blue sky visible through the tree tops.
Before long they passed through a set of broken iron gates attached to crumbling stone pillars that guarded no path.
"Welcome to Land's End," James said dryly. "It's not much now, but you should have seen it in its day."
The first thing Harry saw was the dragons. Nearly twenty feet from snout to tail tip, the beasts lounged in the sun. Unlike any dragon Harry had ever seen (and he had seen a few) these dragons were not a solid colour. Their scales were obsidian black, striped through with crimson like a tiger. A row of golden spines extended down the dragons' backs, three long golden horns swept backwards from the crest of the head, and triangular ears, like those of a cat, sat just below the outer horns.
"Uh... Dad..." Harry stopped short, grabbing a hold of James' arm. One of the beasts yawned, and stretched out its giant bat-like wings exposing crimson leathers between ebony fingers. "I think we went the wrong way."
"No," James smiled reassuringly. "We're at the right place. Don't worry about them. Domingo will take care of them if they give us any trouble."
"Are you sure it's safe?" said Harry, eyeing the dragons.
"Depends on your definition of safe," James replied nonchalantly, "if you think 'safe' means 'absolutely no possibility of harm' then no, it's not safe. I mean, they are dragons after all."
"You're crazy," Harry said. "You want to just walk right up to a pair of dragons like its nothing. Is this some sort of spell?"
"No," James assured him, "the dragons are real. And we're sort of going to walk between them, not right up to them." Harry looked sceptical.
"Its okay, Harry," Wistaria said, "just act like you're supposed to be here, and stay close to Dad and I." Then, boldly, James and Wisp headed towards the lounging dragons. Gritting his teeth against the absurdity of it all, Harry set off across what must have at one time been well manicured lawns. Wild hedges, which should have separated lush gardens, spread out from around a vine covered fountain.
The dragons scrutinized them with eyes the colour of glowing coals, but the beasts did not attack. The most energy they showed was when one blew a ring of smoke out its nostrils. In contrast to the near blind rage of the Hungarian Horntail and the random violence of baby Norbert, Harry found the languor of the odd black and red dragons unsettling. It was decidedly un-dragon like.
Past the dragons was a small campsite. Three tan canvas tents were erected in a half-circle around a campfire. An amalgamation of chairs, logs and stones were arranged around the fire, with an equal amalgamation of females sitting in them – his aunt, mother, and sisters. The youngest, a serious faced girl of eleven, with vivid auburn hair and dark brown eyes, was levitating a large iron tea pot over the flames. A table draped with a red and white chequered cloth stood just off to the side, beyond the camp stood the charred remains of a stately manor.
"Mum!" Wistaria exclaimed, and embraced Lily from behind.
"Wisp, you're back," Lily twisted about and hugged her daughter. "Does that mean –" she glanced up over Wistaria's shoulder "– your father and brother are here?" Her face softened, and then she smiled, and her whole face came alight, a faint mist shimmering in her striking emerald eyes. "Harry," she murmured, rising from her chair. She held her arms out; Harry dropped the blue rucksack on the ground and ran into her embrace. "Harry," she murmured again, clutching him tightly in her arms, "My little boy."
"Mum," Harry whispered. She smelled of flowers and wild berries, and of the smoke from the fire. Lily held him for a long time, then, reluctantly loosed her grip and stepped back. Harry smiled.
"You've gotten so big," said Lily sadly. She ruffled his hair. "Did my sister treat you well, or do I have to hex her?" There was an edge in her voice, a slight narrowing of her eyes, which told Harry she was not teasing.
"Well enough," Harry lied. "I'm alive, aren't I?"
Lily made a noncommittal noise, glancing curiously over at James. Harry's father merely shrugged.
"Ammy! Pay attention to what you're doing!" someone yelled just as the levitated tea pot crashed into the fire, spraying embers and steam all around.
"Oops," said the aubrurn haired little girl sheepishly, her face flushed. She looked almost exactly like Lily, except her eyes. Her eyes were James'.
"Amaryllis," James and Lily said in unison.
"Sorry," Amaryllis sighed. "I didn't mean to."
"No real harm done," James chuckled, smoothing Amaryllis' wavy hair. Then louder he said, "Shall we dispense with the awkwardness of introductions, Harry? Give you some faces to match all the names." Harry nodded with a giddy grin, and James continued, "This is my youngest, Amaryllis, she's eleven, the penny-head there –" he indicated a blue eyed girl with incredibly curly copper hair sitting cross-legged on a log "– is Iris, she'll be fourteen in a few weeks –" Iris waved at Harry, who waved back " –the lovely blonde lady there is my sister, Lenore, and of course, your mother." James looked around the camp, "Where are Poppet and Domingo?"
"Tío! Up here," laughed a voice from behind them. A young man was standing on the back of one of the dragons. He was rather tall, and neither lean nor broad, having an appearance of solidness without being bulky. His face was sharp, with high cheekbones, a tapered jaw line, and an aquiline nose that lent him the impression of a hawk. His short, slightly shaggy hair was black that flashed deep red in the sunlight.
"Domingo!" James called back with a laugh. "There you are."
Domingo leaned forward and slid off the dragon's scaly flank, landing with a soft thump in the grass. Grinning, he sauntered up to Harry and extended his hand. "'ola, 'arry," he said in very accented English. "Es pleasure to meet you."
"Uh, nice to meet you too... Domingo, right?" Harry said dubiously, shaking Domingo by the hand.
"Sí," Domingo said, obviously quite pleased with Harry. "Sí, I am Domingo, and this –" he gestured to the dragon that he until recently had been standing on "– es Brasa, and that –" he gestured at the other dragon "– es Sombro."
"The dragons have names?" wondered Harry.
"Sí, they have names," Domingo waved his hand dismissively, and chuckled. "Don't worry 'bout them. Es like naming a cat; they never come when called anyway."
"That just leaves Poppet..." James said, "Where is she?"
"Poppet is here, Master James," said the house elf in a light reedy voice, stepping out from the shadows cast by one of the tents. She was a small creature, completely bald with almost fine features; she had large crystal blue eyes, and a round nose like a button mushroom, a length of saffron orange cloth was wrapped around her skinny body in an elaborate toga-like dress. "Shall Poppet be packing now that Master is returned?"
James shook his head.
"Master is not wanting to be leaving soon?" Poppet asked.
"No," James said to a chorus of surprise, "we're not leaving."
Lily looked amused, and reclined against a large stone. "All right, dear, explain."
"When I went to get Harry last night, the Order – yes, Lily, the Order – had already moved him to a safe house. They know we're back," said James, slumping down in a chair by the fire. "And they need our help." Lily arched a brow. "Okay, I know all we've been doing for the last fourteen years is running, and fighting, but, we will have allies now." Lily nodded silently. "Regulus stayed behind," James continued, "the new Head Quarters is in his old house."
"And they just believed that you where who you said you where?" Lenore asked.
James rubbed the side of his neck uncomfortably. "Moony was there... I think he convinced Dumbledore that it really was me."
"Well," said Lily sensibly, "This may just have been the catalyst for the greatest change in our lives. Perhaps, in some way, we've been hoping for something like this to happen – to be found, and to have attachments to the outside world again." She patted James fondly on the knee. "We've always felt bad about leaving everyone behind, but it was necessary at the time."
Harry's sisters looked at each other, then at their parents.
"Does this mean we'll get to go to Hogwarts, Mum?" Iris asked timidly.
"Most likely," Lily said, "And we'll have to fix up a house, if we're going to be staying in England, we might as well get out of these tents and into a proper home."
The stunned, thoughtful look on the faces of Iris and Amaryllis puzzled Harry, until he realized something: those tanned canvas tents were the only home they'd ever had. Privet Drive may have been unwelcoming and harsh, but there had still been a permanency to it that in some strange way had been comforting and dreadful all at once. At the very least he had always known where he would be sleeping the next night.
The buzz of voices filtered in through Harry's introspection, excited questions about bedrooms and libraries. Then, to his embarrassment, Harry realized that someone had been talking to him.
"Are you hungry, Harry?" his mother asked in that peculiar tone people use when they've had to repeat themselves.
"Oh, yes, a little," Harry said quickly.
"Poppet will be starting supper then," said the house-elf with a bow.
"It's alri– " Harry started to say, then changed his mind.
Poppet gave him a knowing sort of smile, and disappeared into one of the tents.
Later that night, by the glow of the fire light, they ate smores, talked and laughed about the future and the past until at last Amaryllis' yawning became so contagious that they all turned in for the night.
Author's Notes: Not much to say about this particular chapter. Harry meets the rest of his family, a bunch of character introductions for everyone. Yay?