A/N: You guys don't disappoint for shit! Thanks for the reviews and stuff, last night there was a raging party at my house and I got drunk, faded, and all kinds of twisted, but in the best kind of way. Woke up, and the homies were already getting stoned in my living room, so I joined the session and now I'm so happy, I'll post another chapter. Anyways, back to the story. Okay, I came up with the idea of a montage chapter, where we see what Harry and Sirius get up to in six years. It'll skip around a lot, but I've always enjoyed that kind of writing, so I'll see if I can pull it off. Oh, and props to one of the best HP fanfic authors of all time, jbern, whose Animagus transformation ritual I'm ripping off, as well as the great Sioux Animagus (or Animage, depending on who you ask) Lone Thundercloud. Anyone who hasn't read any of his work hasn't read fanfiction. Trust me. Here's the review replies.
Unknown reviewer: Hell yeah he got drunk as fuck, and he wasn't walking by himself. He got mad wasted like I did last night. They won't go to Mexico, 'cause that country is too dope for even awesome Harry to go to. I won't disappoint…or ellssssseeee!
Riotstarter1214: You don't know the freakin' half of it. The Triwizard Tournament ain't gonna know what hit it when Harry gets suckered into that motherfucker. Oh, and sorry, but I've seen Dumbles and Weasley bashing so much in so many random fanfics that to me, it's just too played out. I'm not gonna have too much. Ron might get a bit bruised, but that's just because he's such a loveably douchebagish son of a bitch. Molly might get bashed too, but that's because she has the unfortunate luck of having the same name as my own mom. Ginny's cool, but not Harry's gf status. The twins are of course gonna be awesome in this fic. Arthur's always a class act dude. Percy's a freakin' douchebag, but having been raised in the Burrow, I can't honestly blame him. Bill and Charlie are cool dudes, so they're not gonna be bashed. Aunt Muriel is just too freakin' crass to be bashed; if anything, she'll come out of the pages and beat the shit outta me if I bash her.
HP-DG-SB- Your name is long, but I can't fault you. I actually thought that SB stood for Sirius Black, but Susan Bones is a much better option. I love the fringe pairings as well. Anyway, to understand the bashing of the Weasleys, look upward to the last review. And I don't give a fuck about the length of a review. If anything, the longer it is, the better. I will definitely check out your story, and review as well. I look forward to your next review.
vizard- a gunwand is very not practical, but it is dope as fuck. Which is why I wrote it in. Harry will use a wand, if only to hide the fact that he has a wandgun, but that'll only be at Hogwarts
lego-king- This chappie and the next will breeze through his life, and then after that, he'll be at Hoggy Warty Hogwarts again. So don't trip.
The end of the review replies.
Disclaimer: DOS
Chapter 3: The (Informal) Training of Harry James Potter
11 January, 2000
Death Valley, California, United States of America
"Sweet Merlin, Padfoot," complained Harry, wiping the sweat from his brow. "It's a million degrees here! What in the world are we even doing here?"
Harry was sitting in the sidecar that Sirius had added to his magical motorcycle, roaring down a highway square in the middle of nowhere. He was tuning an acoustic guitar with an ebony body and dark green fret bars. It had a Sound-Projecting charm on it, and Unbreakable strings, and was one of Harry's most cherished possessions.
Luckily, they didn't have to worry about the noise of the engines, or bugs getting into their eyes, thanks to the multiple enchantments placed on the chopper. They'd had to set down because, as Sirius had said, "We're almost there."
That was an hour and a half ago.
"We're gonna get you a sword!" Sirius cackled happily. "Every duelist worth his saltneeds to be not only well-grounded in the many magicks of this world, but must also be trained in the much more subtle arts of the physical arts."
"Why?" Harry had grown considerably in the three years he'd spent with his godfather physically, and magically, he was already more powerful than a fifth-year at Hogwarts, and he was still only ten, going on eleven. From wandlessly and wordlessly Summoning things like cash to wandlessly and wordlessly casting a powerful-enough Concussion Hex to smash through a thee-foot-thick piece of Conjured ice like a sledgehammer to porcelain. He could take a block of petrified wood, transform it into a brilliant peacock, take the fowl and change it into a large puma, and then into the tree it used to be before the ages had petrified it.
Sirius lifted a hand to scratch his now-shaven chin and thought for a moment. "Well, I guess you could say that it's an ancient tradition. Back before medieval times, wizards and witches were celebrated as wise men and mystics who were always turned to for guidance and, in times of war, protection.
"And since the dawn of civilization, no other weapon has captured the hearts and minds of man as much as the sword. They can be as slim as a blade of grass or as thick as my entire body, sleek and elegant as well as deadly and precise. The first ever magical blade created is most commonly placed in Mesopotamia, by the legendary King Gilgamesh. Ever since then, wizards and witches have been refining the art of creating the blades. The most famous of all magical blades is one that even Commons know about, the mythical Excalibur, wielded by none other than King Arthur himself.
"And that," he finished, turning to grin at his godson, who was putting the guitar back in its case before shrinking it, "is where my good old friend Scotty comes in. He has his sort-of permanent residence here, in sunny Death Valley, California!"
"Must be a bloody loon to be living in a place called Death Valley," Harry retorted, twirling his wandgun around his index finger, then tossing it up and catching it on his pinky, then doing it again, transferring it to the middle finger of his opposite hand.
"Hey, hey! Scotty's gonna get you a shiny sword to go with your nice gun there," Sirius said. "And I think a blade is just what you need to complete your whole 'new-age punk rock' look you got goin' there."
"You're just jealous that I look cooler than you do," Harry replied, smirking. He had several sets of robes, all of them jet-black, except for the stitching, which varied for each one, which also came with matching fingerless gloves and cargo pants. Today, he was wearing his apple-green-stitching ensemble with a pure white shirt that said 'Bite me, I'm a Parselmouth!' in black letters. His bright green eyes and rimless glasses were slightly shrouded by his hair, which was by now down to the bridge of his nose and almost to the nape of his neck.
"Oh, please!" Sirius said as they drove past a sign that proclaimed Death Valley to be a mile away. "Like you could ever compete with the Sirius Black in the coolness department." He gave a fake laugh as though amused by his godson's accusation. "But anyway, we're here, and now you can continue the true Potter legacy by becoming yet another great swordsman in a long line of great swordsmen. Your great-great-grandfather Christopher Ulrich-Potter, who was a Squib, eventually became known as the greatest swordsman in Common Europe after defeating the previous champion in three minutes flat."
"Fine," Harry said. "But when can you teach me to become an Animagus?"
Sirius sighed. They'd had this conversation before, several dozen times in the past few years, and every time, Sirius said what he said now. "Not yet. You can't become an Animagus until your natural body has hit puberty, and, to be honest, I think it'll be another year, Harry."
"That blows," he answered glumly. He looked past the sidecar and saw that he was in what appeared to be a giant mobile home park, with several permanent buildings mixed in among the trailers and RVs and things. Sirius drove his motorbike past the hundreds and hundreds of semi-permanent residences and kept going, toward the center of the crater known as Death Valley.
After ten more minutes of blistering heat and cottonmouth, the dull roar of Sirius' bike ground to a halt, and Sirius pulled off his helmet. Harry followed suit and stepped out of the sidecar, stretching. They were outside a motor home with a dusty, faded paintjob and no wheels. There was a tarpaulin attached to the side of the home and propped up so it made a sort of patio, where three folding chairs crowded around a plastic table.
"So this is where Scotty lives?" Harry asked, jerking a thumb at the beat-up mobile home with a raised eyebrow. "The magical sword-maker lives in a bloody motor-house?"
Sirius tapped his nose confidentially and winked. "Haven't you ever heard that old saying: 'Never judge a book by its cover?' Nothing is ever really what it looks like when there's magic involved, Harry."
"Whatever," was Harry's reply. Sirius went up to the door and knocked on it heavily, then stepped back. That turned out to be a wise decision because a moment later, the door burst outward with huge force, slamming into the side of the mobile home so hard it would've made a dent, if there hadn't already been one there. In the doorway was an enormous man with flaming red hair flecked with gray and a matching beard, weilding a large walking stick.
"I don' want any visitors!" he bellowed fiercely. Then he opened his eyes and squinted through his comparatively tiny glasses. "Well, bless me beard, if i' isn't Padfoot!" He stepped out of the mobile home and gave Sirius a one-armed bear hug. "How've ya been, laddie?"
"Just brilliant," Sirius replied sarcastically. "I've only been falsely imprisoned for seven years and spent the whole lot of it with a flock of dementors. Great crowd to be around for an extended period of time. But it's great to see you again, Scotty," he added brightly with a sudden change in demeanor.
"Yeah, I heard about tha' mess you go' yourself into," Scotty said, scratching his beard thoughtfully. "Didn' really ever believe that gian' load o' dragon shite they came up with. You, of all people, betrayin' James and Lily Potter to tha' sheep-shaggin' wanker, Voldemort." He gave a short bark of laughter.
Then he motioned for them to come inside. Sirius had been right. Nothing ever looks the way it seems with magic. The interior of the mobile home was somewhat of a mansion, complete with a second story and an indoor pool with at least a dozen rooms that Harry could see, and probably more to boot.
"Nice place," Harry commented absently.
"Thanks," replied Scotty as he led them into a sitting room and motioned for them to sit down. "So, Sirius, what brings ye to me humble home?"
Sirius grinned and said, "I need you to make a sword for Harry here."
"Harry?" Scotty turned and really looked at Harry for the first time. "Well, if it ain't Harry Potter? Why, you look just like yer father. But yeh've got Lily's eyes! Well, I can prob'ly whip somthin' up. Stand up there, laddie."
Harry got up, and Scotty eyeballed him. The big Scot lifted Harry's left arm and measured it, then did the same to the right arm. "Let me see yer wand, boy."
Hooking his middle finger into the trigger ring, Harry twirled it out of the holster on his hip and it came to a rest in his open palm. Scotty picked it up with a wondrous look, turning from side to side.
"Where'd ye get this beaut?" Scotty asked.
"MNY," Sirius replied. "Made by an old lady named Madame Ministra or something. She drew pretty much every single rune ever discovered on the wand so there's no need to perform wand movements."
"That's righ' brilliant, tha' is," Scotty remarked, feeling it out. "These are some very powerful materials tha' went into this puppy. Shinboku, Leviathan heartstone, Griffon flight bones, Chinese God Dragon blood."
He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment after handing Harry back his wandgun, then turned to Harry and said, "Did you know that the Japanese wizards used to use shinboku to make the handles for their katana?"
"No, I didn't," Harry said.
"Well, I was thinkin' since your wand case is made o' shinboku, and a wizard's blade should always have the components of their wand, I could make you a katana with a Godwood hilt. The slim build of the blade would go well with your frame, and it's an elegant spellcasting sword."
"Wait, you can cast spells with a sword?" Harry asked suddenly.
"Of course," Sirius said. "But there are only about forty or so spells you can use with a sword, just like with staves. But that only makes it that much cooler."
"Well, make yerselves at home," Scotty said. "Bathroom's down the hall. I've gotta start on yer sword so yeh can start trainin' with it."
"Do you have a dueling ring in this dinky little trailer?" Sirius asked as they left.
"Five doors past the bathroom," Scotty replied. "You'll love it. The thing's perfect for heap-dueling which, if memory serves, is your favorite." Sirius looked like a kid who was just given a puppy for Christmas.
"Ready, kid?" Sirius called from five yards away.
Harry frowned and shouted back, "I'm not a kid!" They were standing on either side of the dueling ring, which was basically two ten-foot-diameter circles connected by a fifteen-foot-long platform.
"Draw, varmint!" Sirius called, reaching for his wand in its holster. He managed to snap off a quick Blinding Hex at Harry before he had to blanket-shield to avoid the barrage his young opponent had returned and had to grin; the kid was getting much better.
After stealing away the initiative, Harry launched into one of his favorite spell-salvos to try and beat his godfather into submission. It was a Reductor curse, followed by dual-Bludgeoners, a trio of Conjured ropes, and a rather gray spell affectionately known as the Hangman.
Sirius dodged the Reductor, slapped a specialized shield on his non-wand arm and smacked one of the Bludgeoners away while whirling away from the other, and burned away two of the ropes with a Fire-conjuring spell. That one remaining rope was all Harry needed.
His Hangman curse hit the rope, which dodged Sirius' next few attempts at bringing it down and coiled around his legs while simultaneously jerking up. Sirius barely managed to hang onto his wand while being hoisted up into the air by his feet and cast a simple Diffindo on the rope to free himself.
Sirius barely managed to pull up a powerful Mage Shield to block Harry's next salvo, which colored his normally-clear shield jet-black.
"Hey, Sirius, Paint it Black!" he heard Harry shout with a grin in his voice, naming Sirius' favorite Rolling Stones song. Sirius discovered the motivation behind Harry's Aura Painter charm when he dropped the overpowered bastion and saw a trio of Engorged wolves sprinting down the connecting platform with a grizzly bear lumbering after them.
Despite the deadly menagerie running toward him, Sirius was impressed. The kid wasn't even eleven yet and he could already do some things he couldn't do at the halfway mark in his education. Of course, that didn't mean that he would take it too easy on the little bugger.
With a whip-like motion of his wrist, Sirius conjured a Firewhip that made the big doggies wary of him, allowing the grizzly to catch up. Perfect, Sirius thought to himself as he wove a wooden web with his wand in complicated movements.
With a final downward flick, Sirius completed the spell and pushed his power into it. The spell he'd just used was the Vacuum Curse, which, when simplified to the fullest, created a black hole from which there was no return. It was a devilish power-drainer, but the effect was not only a serious crowd-pleaser, but it was an all-purpose spell. It could be used to swallow up a massive, unblockable spell, devour a construct, be used offensively, or, in Sirius' current predicament, take out a horde of Conjured animals.
Sirius' excellent control allowed his black hole to rip open right between the four enormous Conjurations. The center wolf was first to go, followed by its brethren, and the grizzly was soon sucked up as well. But Sirius got his reward when the vacuum receded, leaving a stunned-looking Harry staring blankly at where his army of Conjurations had been.
After catching his breath quickly, Sirius decided it was time to end this little charade. Digging into his bag o' fun little nasties, he sent a dozen minor spells that he was certain Harry had no clue about while also mixing in a few bigger magicks of which Harry was also in the dark about, so he wouldn't be able to tell which to dodge and which he couldn't.
Harry managed to stay out of the way of six of the spells, was then forced to shield two more, and was struck in the leg by a little spell known as Montezuma's Revenge. That one little spell was all that was required to cause a lapse in concentration. He took a Gouging Hex to the shoulder and spouted some blood, a light electric spell that nicked his torso, and Sirius' personal favorite, Snivellus' old spell, the Levicorpus.
"You are a royal git, y'know that?" Harry said, hanging upside down and dripping bodily fluids from both his shoulder and his bum. "I've got shit running down my back and it's getting mighty close to my head right now."
Sirius Summoned Harry's dropped wandgun and released the Hoister, allowing Harry to fall like a sack of potatoes. "Better luck next time, kid," Sirius snickered, Banishing the wandgun back at Harry, who caught it out of reflex.
Harry flipped Sirius the bird as he Scourgified himself and his clothes. "Undo the diahrrea, too!" Sirius, laughing his arse off, cast the countercurse and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, just before hitting Sirius with a lightning-quick hair-growth hex known as the Unibrow and laughed while running out of the dueling room and into the house.
Scotty had been in the magical sword-crafting business since he was a wee kid, learning the trade from his own father. He'd been honing his technique for over four decades, and it was a testament to his ability that he was able to produce a fully-enchanted katana for the Potter kid in three days.
"It's always been a major milestone in a young wizard's life when he receives his firs' sword, wee Master Potter," Scotty said, sitting across from the smallish ten-year-old and holding the finished masterpiece in his big, meaty hands. "And so, it is with great pride tha' I presen' this blade to you."
He handed the roughly four-foot-long blade to the boy, who took it gingerly, afraid that he'd muss it all up by dropping the sword. The hilt was shinboku like his wandgun, but it was painted black and laquered smoothly, then wrapped in green silk in the manner peculiar to the Japanese swords. The pommel was nothing more than a black metal cap that hid the Leviathan heartstone, and recessed within the handle was the wingbone/dragon blood amalgamation. The sheath was black leather, with a cord of green rope wound around the top, near the crossguard, which resembled a lightning bolt made of the same metal as the pommel.
Harry couldn't contain his excitement any longer, and he pulled the blade from its scabbard and gasped. The blade was completely blacked-out steel, and apple-green runes were inscribed along its length, except for a long stretch devoid of anything. Harry pointed this out.
"Well, tha's where I'll be puttin' the blade's name, soon as ya give it one," Scotty answered. "Every sword's gotta have a name, elsewise nobody'd remember it."
"What should I name it?" Harry asked with a bit of trepidation. He'd never named a pet, let alone a sword.
"You name it whatever you want, godson of mine," Sirius said. "Before the Ministry took away my sword when they arrested me, it was named Ferocia. In Latin, it means Courage."
"And it also means Arrogance, don' forget tha'," Scotty snorted. "It's more than typical for Western magic-users to name their blades in the Old Tongue," he added to Harry, who nodded and was lost in thought for long moments.
Finally, he looked up, nodded as if making a decision, and said, "I know what my sword's name will be. Et Punitor, the Avenger." As a rule, Sirius had begun teaching Harry several dead languages, since most incantations were in either Latin, Egyptian, Celtic, or some other long-lost tongue.
Sirius nodded his head in a show of understanding. "It makes sense. You're going to be the one who kills Voldemort and avenge your parents' deaths, along with every other life he's destroyed. Good choice, Harry."
Harry looked back at the sword, and as if by magic (duh), the corresponding runes that made up the name of the sword had etched themselves onto the empty steel in gold. "Cor, that's bloody awesome."
"And what's even more awesome," Sirius said with a gleeful smile, "is that now me and Scotty get to beat, er, train you in yet another aspect of magic, young pupil."
Groaning inwardly, Harry knew that there would be even more pain in the forseeable future, but he knew that he wouldn't have it any other way.
16 August, 2002
Lakota Sioux Reservation, South Dakota, United States of America
"So where's the mission this time, Blackie?" Harry asked, once again in the sidecar of Sirius' bike. He was fiddling around with a laptop he'd procured, and was now in the process of trying to enhance it magically with a combination of runes, Arithmancy, and good old-fashioned brain power.
After Sirius had deemed Harry's swordsmanship 'passable' the year before, he'd decided that his godson needed proper field experience in order to prepare him for his future task of destroying Moldybuns. So, in a stroke of brilliance (at least, in the dog-Animage's mind), he got the two bounty-hunter licenses and in the months that followed, they'd become among the best in the States.
"Oh, we're not going on a mission, young apprentice," Sirius laughed. "We're going to see an old teacher of mine. He's a Lakota Sioux by the name Lone Thundercloud, and he's going to be helping you with something."
"What?" Harry asked suspiciously. "This better not be another one of those surprise trainers you're so fond of springing on me."
"Now, Harry, you're my godson, and I want to do everything in my power to equip you with what you need in your eventual fight with the Dark Wanker," Sirius explained. "I taught you wand magic, swordsmanship, and the many facets of womanizing," here, Sirius grinned his stupid dog-grin. "Sarutobi was able to drill into your brain the subtle arts of the shinobi of Japan." Harry shuddered at that.
Their next stop after Scotty had been Little Tokyo in San Francisco, where Harry had met an acquaintance of Padfoot's named Sarutobi Niwa. The man had put the boy through a rigorous physical regimen that lasted half a year before he'd deemed Harry ready for the magical aspects of the shinobi path. There were many incredible techniques that would allow Harry much greater movement on a battlefield like the Body Flicker, which was a short-range (and much more comfortable, in Harry's opinion) version of Apparition, similar to the Flash Step maneuver Scotty had taught him, but this could only be achieved while weilding his blade, Punitor. Also on the on the training sheet were powerful elemental magicks and mental arts.
"We also had the undeniable luck of getting the one and only Nicolas Flamel to teach you the power of runes and battle alchemy," Sirius continued, and Harry couldn't argue with him there. Lord Flamel had taken to Harry immediately, having met and taught his own mother.
Harry had immensely enjoyed this stage in his training. Not only had Flamel grounded him in the scientific magic of alchemy, or changing one form of matter into another, but he'd also had Harry undergo runic rituals that had greatly increased Harry's physical and magical abilities, including one that actually gave Harry a certain amount of precognition.
"So what great magical knowledge is this Thundercloud guy gonna impart on me?" Harry asked, still tinkering with the laptop. "Native American magic?"
"He's going to show you how to work with the elemental magic that permeates the Earth itself, called Wicca." Sirius explained. "He taught me everything I know in that particular branch of magic. And," he added, a knowing grin on his face, "Thundercloud will be helping you in the ritual of animal release."
"Which means?"
"Which means that hopefully by the end of the month, you'll be an Animagus," Sirius finished, watching his young charge's face. Not one to disappoint, Harry's expression went from a concentrated frown to a brilliant, hopeful smile that lit up his face.
"Are you shitting me?" Harry asked breathlessly. The young Lord Potter had been bugging his godfather to teach him the Animagus ritual since he'd learned about it, and now he was about to undertake the process himself. Then he frowned. "Wait, by the end of the month? You said it took two years for you and my dad and Pettigrew," he spat the name out like it was toxic sludge, "to turn into your inner animals."
"The Sioux, along with many of the native tribes in the American continents, go about becoming Animagi in a completely different way than us Europeans. Sarutobi taught you the Art of Transformation, but that's only temporary, and it doesn't give you the senses and power of the animal, like the Animagus transformation. Thundercloud can give you a much better explanation than I can, so I'll let him do it. Just be patient and keep on messing around with your computer. How's it coming, anyway?"
Harry grinned and started to explain the various runes that he was working into the computer. They'd had to procure various conductive metals and a few precious gems, but Harry was convinced that he could make Common electronic contraptions work even in magically saturated areas like Hogwarts.
"But how is that possible?" asked Sirius, who had a running knowledge with runes, though not as much as his godson, who'd worked under the best of the best. "The ambient magic works against the electrical components, doesn't it?"
"Yes, not to mention that there aren't any electrical outlets in the castle," Harry said. "But what this scheme here does, the urzh-fewor-amun array, is leech the ambient magic away from the atmosphere within five inches of the device while actively charging the scheme on the battery, which loops in with the one on the diamond that I installed near the motherboard. Those two keep it electrically charged while enhancing the computer's capabilities and keeping away any viruses. I want to find a ley line to test it out, but I'm pretty sure it'll work." He looked up to find Sirius shaking his head, a nostalgic smile on his lips. "What?" Harry asked.
"You truly are you parents' kid, y'know that? I remember in our seventh year at Hogwarts, Lily created a project for both Ancient Runes and Astronomy. It was a working model of the solar system and all the various little asteroids and comets, using nothing but ambient magic to power it. You remind me so much of both of them, I sometimes think I'm having conversations with ghosts."
Harry grinned, a flush of pride adorning his now-tanned skin. In the past two years, he'd grown drastically, taking to the physical and magical training like fish to water. Now standing at five feet three inches, weighing a hundred and ten pounds sopping wet, Harry was just the right size for a thirteen-year-old Potter. His emerald eyes had seen much more than most his age, even shrouded as they were by his unruly black hair, which now had streaks of his favorite color running through the jet strands.
His black robes had violet stitching today, and he'd added a few piercings to complement his new style. After his short-term apprenticeship to Nicolas Flamel, he'd also added several transmutation circles-the basis of all alchemical works-to his skin on various parts of his limbs. The katana sheathed and lying across his lap only added to the goth image he'd been accumulating since he met Sirius. Goth clothes and magic, he'd deduced, went very well together.
They eventually found themselves in a small town that was completely surrounded by the raw, beautiful wilderness of the Midwestern Badlands. To the west were sky-piercing mountains capped with majestic crowns of snow, while stretching south and east were empty plains of tall grass that rippled like the ocean in the heavy winds. On the distant horizon, Harry saw an advancing wall of thunderheads that formed foreboding cathedrals of dark clouds, promising lightning, thunder, and a sea of rain.
"It's amazing here," Harry murmured. They sped through the few streets and eventually stopped at a two-story mansion, where a single figure sat on the porch.
Sirius turned off the bike as Harry shut his laptop and hopped out of the sidecar. He slid his sword and scabbard into the corresponding loop on his belt, securing it with a quick knot, before slinging his guitar case over his shoulder and holstering his wand.
He knew he could have shrunk the guitar case, as he'd done with the trunk in his pocket, but he liked the effect it had on his look. Without it, he was just some random goth with bad hair. With it, however, he was a punk rocker. It just showed him the importance of music.
Sirius made his way up to the porch, where the figure stood to welcome them. The man was easily six feet tall, with a mane of snow-white hair tied into a ponytail by a strip of leather. His weathered face was a deep russet color, and his dark eyes showed ages of knowledge and experience.
"Mr. Black, it's been too long," said the man, whom Harry assumed was Lone Thundercloud. The man turned those piercing eyes on him and continued, "And this must be Harry Potter."
"That he is, Thundercloud," Sirius answered, shaking the Native American's hand. "It's good to see you."
"And you as well," replied Thundercloud. Then he faced Harry and held out a hand, which the young man took. "My given name is Lone Thundercloud, but you can call me Thundercloud for short. It is indeed an honor to meet the last scion of the Great and Noble House of Potter, as well as the famous Boy-Who-Lived."
"Likewise," Harry said with a grin. "I'd love to discuss the American Animagus process with you before we undertake the ritual. I make it a point to learn as much as I can about something before I do it."
Thundercloud smiled, and Harry immediately knew that he would enjoy working with this man. "That is very good. It's so refreshing to find one so young with so much maturity. My granddaughter could do with a good influence like you."
Harry fought to hide the smirk that immediately bubbled to the surface. He highly doubted that he'd be a good influence on any female, what with Sirius' rather unique lesson plan that dealt not only with magical and physical might, but also the true importance of knowing the female body and mind better than his own.
"Do you have any other grandchildren Harry's age?" Sirius asked suddenly. "I've been training him since he was eight, and he hasn't really had the chance to mingle with kids his own age. I'm a bit concerned about how this might affect his development."
"I have too many grandchildren," Thundercloud laughed as he motioned them inside. The house was spacious and airy, something that Harry liked. When he beat the Dark Wanker into submission and beyond, he hoped to have a house similar to this one.
"Clan!" the aging wizard called. "We have visitors!" There was a rumble of several pairs of feet as people moved about upstairs. Three adults and seven children of varying ages tromped down the stairs to see the newcomers.
Thundercloud gestured to the only man, saying, "This is my son, Swift Wind, and his wife, Yellow Creek." He turned to the other adult woman there and presents her as his daughter, . Then there's a role-call of the grandkids, almost all of whom belong to the son and daughter-in-law, while only one, Starless Sky, is Gentle Breeze's daughter.
"Sirius Orion Black and Harry James Potter, at your services," Harry says, giving a sweeping bow, his gear clanking around on his back and hip.
Yellow Creek gave a startled sort of yelp at the mention of their names, and Swift Wind pulled her and his kids behind him, aiming his wand at Sirius. Immediately, Harry wandlessly disarmed the man, catching the thin piece of wood in midair.
"Now, what kind of manners are those?" Harry asked, frowning. "I suppose, thanks to British propaganda and tall tales, you think that this man here is a mass murderer and traitor to his best friend, my father. That might have been the case, if Blackie here had enough brainpower to pull it off. The sad truth, however, is that he can barely string two words together to form coherent sentences."
"Watch it, you," Sirius growled good-naturedly. A few of the children burst into a fit of nervous giggles.
"Father, why would you bring this man into our house?" Swift Wind said, eyes narrowed and never leaving Sirius. "You've put us all in danger by doing so."
"Relax, my son," Thundercloud said. "I have the utmost confidence that Mr. Black is innocent of the charges placed against him. And it wouldn't do well to harm the man. Even if you somehow managed to best the second-place duelist in the world, you'd have to answer to Potter the Younger."
"That runt?" Harry immediately disliked the man, and he drew his wand slowly. Without taking his eyes off Swift Wind, he pointed the gun at an end-table and transfigured it into a male Siberian tiger, set a compulsion on it, and watched the mayhem.
The tiger leapt forward, pinned Swift Wind to the floor and began raking its itchy tongue across his face.
"I could've just as easily had Tigger eat your head, sir," Harry said quietly. "Here's your wand back." He banished the wand directly into Swift Wind's hand while simultaneously dispelling the transfigurative magic.
After navigating his way out from under the end table, Swift Wind clambered to his feet. Harry noticed that Starless Sky was trying very hard not to burst out in laughter at her uncle's misfortune. He caught her eye and grinned, which she returned with a wink.
Despite his training with Sirius, his new teenage hormones worked against him, and a spectacular blush crept onto his face. Damn this puberty! he thought for the umpteenth time. I wish the Aging Potions were permanent so I could just skip past it.
"So, Harry, why don't we step into my private study and discuss the Animage Ritual," Thundercloud said, trying to ease the tension in the room. "I know you have much you want to ask about it.
Harry'd had a very strange week. After discussing the ritual of release with Thundercloud, a conversation that had lasted over three hours, Thundercloud made Harry a potion that would put him in the correct state of mind for the ritual. This, of course, meant that Harry had to be higher than a space shuttle in orbit around Mars.
Sirius later informed him of his misdeeds while under the influence of the Peyote Releasing potion, quite to the shock, and a couple of times pride, of young Harry. If the old dog was to actually believed, the young boy wasn't a virgin anymore, thanks to Starless Sky, or Lauren, as she liked to be called.
Now, he was right in the middle of the ritual. He'd been ushered into a sweat lodge, where a foul-tasting potion had been passed around. Harry drank down much of it, since Thundercloud had him fast and go without water for two days to further prepare him for the release.
He was in the lodge with several other men, two of whom were also undergoing the ritual. The remaining men were elders of the reservation, and they were chanting in an ancient language that far surpassed Latin in the age contest. The air was practically vibrating with the magic as the chanting mages continued their spell.
Suddenly, Harry realized that his voice was being added to the elders, but he had absolutely no idea of what he was saying. A dumb, lopsided grin crossed his face, and his last thoughts were, Here goes nothing!
A/N: And that's pretty much it. It's a longer chapter than the first few, but don't expect it to last. I don't really like doing that. But anyways, things are starting to get interesting. I didn't feel the need to add the parts where Harry learns alchemy and ninja arts because, well, I just didn't feel like it. Suffice it to say, the alchemy will work similarly to the way it works in the Fullmetal Alchemist manga, and several ninja arts will be lifted from the Naruto manga. What can I say, I'm a fanfiction author. Lifting other people's ideas and making them my own is pretty much what I do. Peace.