Chapter 6: Brooms Have Feelings Too

That night after the dishes were done, Harry asked if Remus wanted to go into the box. Remus didn't want to. His heart stuttered a bit even thinking about doing so. He sighed, sitting across from the small boy at the kitchen table. "Harry, I don't really want to. I… I really miss your dad, but that picture, that's not your dad. Not really. And that isn't me in the picture either. That's me before I lost your dad and Wormtail and Padfoot." Remus looked down at his hands furled on the table and waited for Harry's response.

Harry looked sad and nodded, "But… What should I tell them? Dad… Uhm Prongs wants to watch you teach me how to ride a broom. I kind of promised him he could watch." Harry picked at the grain of the wood on the table, sure that Remus was going to explode at him.

"And Sirius keeps demanding that I tell you they want answers. And you… well, Moony keeps telling me that he has notes about my education that he wants to go over with you. Pre-Hogwarts stuff." Harry wasn't used to presenting arguments. He wasn't trying to get Remus to change his mind either, but asking for advice on how to handle the rather persistent badgering he was being subjected to.

Remus's lips twitched in amused sympathy. He himself knew how persistent and annoying the marauders could be. Before the world fell apart. Before a war. Before all the bad shit.

He gave Harry a commiserating sigh. "Well, you could cover the painting. That will put them all to sleep and they won't even be aware of time passing."

Harry immediately shook his head at that idea, almost sickened by the thought. "I couldn't do that to them."

Remus blinked a bit and leaned closer, "Harry they aren't alive in there. You know that right? The painting is just a magical artifact. You are familiar with the concept of a diary right?" Harry nodded, "Well a portrait really is no more than a magical diary. Some fairly advanced magic is involved, but just like ghosts, they are just an echo of the person. Like a photo but instilled with memories of the person that lived."

Harry shrugged. "They told me they were just a collection of memories and magic mixed with paint but it's the best I got." Harry shrugged.

Seeing how deeply Harry had come to care for the people in the portrait Remus knew it would be a pointless endeavor to convince the boy that the depictions in the painting didn't have real feelings or weren't somehow alive. Remus decided that he was too smart to fight a losing battle.

"Well, I'm sure you can understand why I'm just a bit apprehensive about visiting the Marauders. I will at some point, I assure you. But it could take a bit for me to have a true heart-to-heart. Do you understand Harry?"

Harry nodded, "Yeah Remus. I understand."

Remus looked at the boy seeing a bit of the enthusiasm he had started the conversation with wane and he shook his head ashamed at his own cowardice. "Tell you what. Tomorrow, right after breakfast, I'm going to teach you how to fly. You can bring the Marauders out of the box and set them up where they can see and Prongs can help teach you how to fly."

Harry felt a warmth spread throughout his entire body and he floated up to the ceiling. "Harry!" Remus yelped, as Harry laughed and laughed.

"No Remus. This is great! I'm floating!" Harry's bout of accidental magic left Remus laughing like a fool right along with his young charge and Harry didn't deflate for an hour.

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"Alright, Harry. Now to get the broom to come to your hand you have to treat it like a pet. Have you ever had a pet?"

Harry shook his head, "Dudley had a fish." Harry suspected he actually had a few fish, as Dudley couldn't seem to remember to feed the thing or clean its fish bowl. Aunt Petunia had tried to be sneaky about it, but Harry caught her at it. He never said anything to Dudley though.

"Hedwig isn't really a pet, she's a friend. And I've only had her a few days." His smile faltered. "She's delivering a message to Padfoot." He worried that Hedwig wouldn't find her way back to him. He'd left the Dursleys before she had returned. Maybe she couldn't find him.

Remus looked momentarily taken aback by the comment feeling guilty for a moment and then angry that he was feeling guilty. The collective eyes of the Marauders on him were making him feel uncomfortable.

He didn't feel ready to address Padfoot's betrayal. He just didn't have the heart. Harry seemed so happy getting to know the Marauders, how could he tell him something so awful? He just couldn't.

Part of the problem he realized, is he didn't really believe it himself. He didn't understand it. He would never understand it. Sirius Black was James Potter's best friend. They were more than friends. They were brothers in all but blood. Where one was the other would be. Even to the depths of hell.

He had stopped thinking about the Marauders a long time ago. For his own sanity. He couldn't live forever in that hellscape. He just compartmentalized it and shoved it down. But now, all those old doubts and questions started rising back to the surface.

He hadn't gone to the trial. Why hadn't he gone to the trial? Maybe then he'd have the answers he needed. He sighed dragging his thoughts back to the present and smiled at Harry looking so excited and happy.

"Ok. Well then darn." Remus had never had to teach anyone to fly before. But rise to the challenge he did. He held his hand over his broom and firmly spoke "Up." Commanding it to his hand. Harry was impressed and copied him.

"Up!" The broom leaped to his hand immediately and Harry smiled. "I think it's as excited about getting to fly as I am," Harry said with a grin.

Remus stared at him and said. "Weird."

Harry blinked behind his new glasses, "What's weird."

Remus sighed, "Your dad said something like that once. That brooms had feelings and could sense if you were afraid. That they bonded with people that loved to fly as much as they did. Like they were alive."

"A good broom is made a lot like a wand is. There is the wood, and there is a core. You can use it as a focus too. I've seen it." Prongs piped up.

Harry thought about it and nodded, "Mr. Ollivander said that the wand chooses the wizard, so isn't that a bit like being alive?" Harry asked.

Remus grinned, "Maybe. I have yet to hear a counter-argument." He then nodded to his broom. "Now all brooms have cushioning charms on them. You don't actually sit on the stick part. That would be a bit painful. It feels a lot like sitting on a very soft pillow."

A laugh from the portrait garnered their attention and James said, "I once canceled Flint's cushioning charm during a match because he almost knocked me off my broom. I got a month's suspension from flying for that one. But it was so worth it."

Harry laughed imagining the scene for a moment. He had been wondering how he'd sit on a broom without injuring himself.

Remus cleared his throat gaining back the attention and demonstrated the correct way of mounting a broom and Harry followed his example. Holding his hands just so as to give him maximum control.

He then had Harry push off from the ground and hover before bringing the broom back down. He showed him how to correctly turn and dive and most importantly brake.

Harry practiced these maneuvers under Remus's watchful eye, while his dad called out helpful hints. "Keep your hands loose. You don't want to strangle the broom. Treat her gently, like a woman." Portrait Mooney put his hand over Prong's mouth and whispered something in his ear. Likely reminding him that Harry was only eleven and wasn't ready to think about girls yet.

Then finally, Remus said he could fly around the meadow. Expecting Harry to gently tour it a few feet in the air, he was unprepared for Harry's whoop of excitement and suddenly he was off like a rocket. Remus watched him with his heart in his throat, at first thinking Harry had lost control of the broom, but soon realized that Harry was a natural flyer.

There was something majestic about Harry's flying. He had so much grace and fearlessness. It was like watching the manifestation of joy. Remus watched the lad with a smile and shook his head, "Wow James. Look at him go!"

James at the moment, was propped up against a tree watching with the others from the confines of the frame with tears rolling down his cheeks as he watched his son take to the sky. "He's wonderful." James managed to say as he tracked the boy's progress grinning as he executed a barrel roll with his cries of jubilation piercing the quiet morning. "Just perfect."

Padfoot and Moony gathered around their friend and placed their hands on his shoulder. He smiled and nodded. "That there boys, is the future."