Chapter 4

After finishing Harry's black loincloth, which did fit, Demona had given Harry a basic gliding lesson. They hadn't gone into the air, but Demona had him perform a series of exercises so that he would know what she was talking about the next night, when she told him they would go for a glide.

Macbeth returned a few hours before dawn and, after checking on Demona and his son, left them to their bonding while he went to his office to sort through the paperwork he'd brought back from Gringotts.

But come dawn, as Demona and Macbeth were wracked by the pain of Demona's change into a human, Harry turned to stone.

"Well, this complicates things," Macbeth said, after taking a few breaths and observing the fact his son had turned to stone.

Demona sighed. "You're right, but I can't say I'm disappointed. I wouldn't want him going through the pain of transformation like I must," she admitted.

"True."

Demona rolled her eyes. "I'm going to bed," she told him flatly. "We can discuss how this," she gestured to their son, "and the new knowledge of what's going on around here changes our plans when I wake up."

Macbeth grinned. "I think I'll follow your lead," the immortal former king acknowledged.

He may be immortal, and used to long hours, but even he needed sleep.

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The next evening, after waking up and spending the afternoon discussing their options, Macbeth and Demona waited patiently as the sun began to descend.

Soon Harry had awoken and Demona was a gargoyle once more.

"That…was refreshing," Harry admitted.

"Stone sleep is," Demona acknowledged with a smile. The smile faded somewhat as she said, "Harry, before we have your gliding lesson, there are a few things we need to talk about."

"What?" he asked.

"Our options now that you're a gargoyle," Macbeth clarified.

"We aren't going to make and decisions yet," Demona assured him. "We're going to focus on making sure you're comfortable as a gargoyle, and know what you're capable of. That will take a few weeks," she admitted, "and things may change by then, influencing our decisions, but we don't want to leave you in the dark about what may happen."

"Okay," Harry agreed, glad that his parents were willing to explain things to him.

"While there are other factors, the main issue is whether we remain here in England, or go to America, Manhattan specifically," Demona explained. "Right now, we are leaning towards Manhattan. While the Quarrymen are a problem, the Deatheaters are a problem here and are frankly a larger threat than the Quarrymen. Not to mention I would like to introduce you to, and have you spend some time with, your sister. I am positive Goliath would not allow her to come to England to see you, especially on my word alone. Not to mention my business is based out of Manhattan and your father still has his job at the university, not that that's needed," she added.

Harry nodded his understanding. And to be honest, he did want to meet his sister and try and form some sort of relationship with her. But he didn't know how he'd deal with his magical education, plus all of his friends were in England. "What about my education?" he asked.

"We'll teach you," Macbeth supplied. "Your mother and I have a millennia experience with magic, though admittedly your mother has more, and is more skilled in it, than I. Even if we stayed in England, we'd have to do that." He gave his son an apologetic look, "As a gargoyle, you can't attend Hogwarts anymore. For that, I'm sorry lad."

Harry gulped, he hadn't considered the fact that he couldn't go to Hogwarts. But it made sense. Even if he could attend Hogwarts, how could he attend classes if he was stone during the day? "And my friends?"

Demona gave her son a reassuring smile as she rested her hand on his shoulder. "As I've told you, both your father and I are very well off. We'll find a way to gauge their reactions to the new you, and if they still wish to be your friends, we can easily afford bringing them to America for visits." After a moment she looked over at Macbeth. "I believe that's all we need to discuss for now, unless you can think of anything?"

"Nay," Macbeth said with a smile. "Go give the lad a gliding lesson," he encouraged.

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A Few Hours Later

Gliding over London, Demona smiled over her shoulder, pleased to see Harry had kept up with her.

While he wasn't near her level of skill yet, Harry was a natural glider. He learned quickly, with minimal instruction. As long as he kept practicing regularly, and by practice she meant actual aerial maneuvers rather than regular gliding, Harry actually had a chance to get to her own level of skill. He just needed to build up, and get used to, his wing muscles.

Falling back to glide above him, Demona noticed his wings trembling slightly. That was to be expected considering the workout she'd given him. It wasn't as difficult as the acrobatics she put herself through when training, which she did at least once a week but usually more to keep her skills up, but it wasn't a cakewalk either.

Coddling Harry wouldn't help him learn.

"We should head back," she said, not wanting her son to fall out of the sky.

"Do we have to?" Harry asked, disappointment clear in his voice.

Demona smiled, glad that her son enjoyed gliding. Still, he wasn't used to using those muscles yet, and she'd rather be safe than sorry. "Yes," she chided him. "As much fun as you're having, your muscles aren't used to the strain yet. I can see your wings trembling." She grinned, "That doesn't mean we can't race back," she added, before taking off rapidly.

"No fair!" Harry yelled, smiling as he chased after his mother.

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After allowing Harry a rest after his gliding lesson, during which time Harry was given advice on his gliding by Demona, Macbeth took his son aside.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Harry asked, as his father led him down a hallway.

"Aye," the old king affirmed. "I know that due to your new form, I can't teach you everything, but…," Macbeth stopped in front of a door, and opened it for them. As they stepped inside, Harry found the room to be a rather impressive armory. The room contained weapons ranging from daggers to some rather strange looking guns. "…would you allow me to give you a basic footing in combat?" Macbeth finished.

Harry looked around the room, before turning to Macbeth and asking, "Why can't you teach me everything?"

Macbeth sighed. "Were you still human, I could," he explained. "And I can teach you how to fight on the ground with great skill. But as a gargoyle, you may find yourself fighting in or even from the air, for those lessons, you'll need your mother's guidance. But I also know that there will be times you cannot fight in the air, when you are inside buildings for instance. And while you will still be able to perform feats I cannot, I can still instruct you on how to perform said feats." He grinned lightly, "Besides, your mother will likely spar against you after I'm done, when she picks up the training, just to make sure I've done my job properly. And if I've missed anything, I'll guarantee we'll both hear it."

"I notice she tends to take things rather seriously," Harry commented, remembering some of the comments his mother made about his gliding.

"That she does lad." Macbeth turned to look at her son. "You need to understand Harry, Life as a gargoyle…it's harder than life as a human. There are those out there, such as the Canmore Hunters and the Quarrymen, who would kill you simply for being what you are. Your mother has been hunted for a very long time, even before I myself hunted her. And I did hunt her Harry."

"Why?"

"Why are gargoyles hunted? Or why did I hunt her?"

"You."

"I loved my first wife Harry, and our son. They died almost a thousand years ago. I blamed your mother for their deaths, and I wanted to join them in death myself. We already explained how our immortality works, but that is why I hunted her." He snorted, almost in amusement. "When we regained our memories of being Lily and James, for the first time, we actually talked about the betrayal of our alliance. I now know that we were both at fault. But until then, I did not know of what reason she had for abandoning us in our time need." He placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "In a thousand years, Demona and I have made many mistakes son. And being alone…it gave us too much time to dwell on those mistakes, especially those first ones." He grinned lightly, "Though I'll admit that I now know I dwelled on the wrong mistakes, since I hadn't realized I made them at the time."

"So how do you two feel about one another now?" Harry asked.

"We're still working that out," Macbeth said with a slight grin. He placed his other hand on Harry's shoulder. "But no matter what happens between Demona and I, now, in the past, or in the future, know that we will always love you. And know that, when we regained our memories of you, our first thoughts were about finding out what had happened to you, and where you were."

Harry was silent a moment as he digested what Macbeth had told him. Finally he said. "I understand. And I would be honored to learn from you…Dad."

Macbeth's smiled at both his son's response, and that he had been called Dad for the first time by his son.

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So I've decide that I'm going to try and post chapters on Wednesdays, assuming I don't forget and life permits.

I hope you Enjoyed the chapter, Please Review, Check Out the Challenges in My Forums, and the Stories I Have for Adoption under the Title: Please Adopt Me!