I've decided to call the town Severus and Harry live in Capesville, thanks to a town name generator (lazy, I know). The name is meant to be fictional and any resemblance to a real person, place or thing is purely coincidental. Enjoy the next part of the adventure.

Towns became cities, cities became forests, and forests became mountains as Faolan flew through the sky in the balloon basket. The wind carried him fast through the evening into the night, and when he woke up and looked over the basket the next morning, he had no idea where he was. He was sure the magic contained in the balloons aided in the speed of his flight. He was more than ready to be out of the basket. He never wanted to see balloons again.

He wondered what had become of his father, why Freyr fell and did not get back up. Faolan yawned anxiously and mewed for help as he flew above another forest surrounded by mountains.

"Help!" he cried. "Somebody, help!"

Flapping wings caught Faolan's attention and a common buzzard landed on the edge of the basket. The bird of prey studied Faolan.

"Ye were calling for help?" the buzzard asked. "You're a tiger! Did ye ride this basket from Asia?"

"No, from England." Faolan climbed over to the bird, mewing at him. "You have to get me down."

"England? Is this a zoobreak? Sneak out, did ye now?"

"A what?"

"A zoobreak is when an animal breaks out of a zoo."

"No, I'm not from a zoo."

"You're a pet then? Do you belong to the royal family, laddie? I've visited there a couple times – nice place, is it no?"

"No, no! Can you get me down?"

"Hmm," the buzzard looked down, "You're a wee bit high in the sky but I think I could lower you down."

The buzzard flew off the basket and swooped down to the trees.

"Wait! Don't leave me."

Faolan tried to look over the basket, but the sight of trees far below him frightened him to keep his head inside the basket. He growled nervously. Then suddenly, the buzzard shot up above him and fluttered around the balloons. Using his sharp talons, the bird began popping the balloons one by one.

"Wait – what are you doing?"

The loud pop of more balloons was his only response. The basket dropped several feet.

"Ahh! No, not like that! Stop!"

More balloons popped and the basket dropped more. Faolan clung to the side of the basket with his claws. Closing his eyes, the cub listened to more popping.

"Have no fear," the buzzard said, "there is a pond below."

Faolan gasped as more balloons popped.

"Wait! I can't swim!"

It was too late. He was falling to the earth, the remaining balloons no longer able to hold the basket up. Faolan cried as he tumbled down to the earth, grunting as the basket collided with the water as if it were concrete. The basket fell apart from the impact, spitting Faolan out into the water. The small cub spluttered and splashed in the water, finding a broken piece of the basket to cling to.

The buzzard landed on the edge of the pond, tilting his head at the cub in the water. "Paddle, laddie."

"I can't," Faolan said. "It's too deep."

"You're not trying. Let go of the basket."

"No, I can't, I'll drown!" Faolan cried out again as he kicked his back paws, adjusting his grip on the piece of woven basket material.

"You're a wee scunner," the buzzard ruffled his feathers before shuffling along the edge of the pond. "If ye do no try to swim ye'll be stuck in there."

"Can't you help me?"

"How? I can't lift you."

Faolan froze as he felt something brush up against him in the water. Was it a predator that ate little tigers? Freyr took rapid, shallow breaths as he pivoted his head around, trying to spot whatever was in the water while keeping his balance on the piece of basket he had. Suddenly, something pushed on him and he was gliding over to the edge. As he neared the edge, Faolan yelped as he was physically flipped into the air and out of the water, landing on his face in the muddy dirt on the bank.

Faolan spat out mud and looked over his shoulder, glaring at the two otters peeking their heads out of the water. The otters snickered.

"Well, you're out now," the buzzard said. The otters laughed, but the buzzard held up his wings threateningly and stepped toward the edge. "Scram, you water rats!"

The otters jumped in the air and dived into the water with a splash, disappearing. The buzzard skipped over to Faolan. "It must feel nicer having yer feet on the ground."

"Yeah, but I have no idea where I am. Or how to get home."

"England, eh? You're in Scotland now – you'll need to head south."

"But . . . which way is south?"

"That way," the bird swung his head southward, staring off into the forest. "It'll be a long trip for ye – best get going now – skedaddle aff." The buzzard flapped his wings at Faolan, opening his beak as if to bite.

Faolan hunched his shoulders as he backed away, then ran for the trees as fast as he could. So much for the bird helping him get home. Once he was in the safety of the trees, Faolan slowed to a walk, looking back to see if the bird had followed. The fur on his body stood when a shrilling call cut through the forest. Faolan sank to the ground, belly crawling through the trees, looking all around as he slowly advanced deeper and deeper into the unknown territory.

There were many new sounds and rustles from every direction. Faolan gulped, tucking his tail against his side as he forced himself to keep going. He had to get home to his father. Thoughts of never seeing his dad again brought tears to his eyes and he sniffed pitifully. He paused near a rock to dry himself from the pond water, quenching his thirst as he did so. He was so hungry now too. Tears kept falling as he dried himself obsessively.

"My," a voice said above him, making him jump, "I didn't know Scotland had tigers."

Faolan lowered himself to the ground, resting his head on his paws. Something moved along the branches above him, shaking the leaves and wobbling the branches.

"I'm not from Scotland," Faolan said.

"No? Where ar ye from?" The voice sounded female. Faolan watched a branch shake as a slender figure leaped off to another branch.

"Er, England. The town of Capesville."

The creature jumped off a low branch and landed on the rock Faolan had stopped by, startling the small cub who jumped and hissed, hackles raised and ears flat.

"I didn't know England had tigers either," she said, sitting on the rock, her tail curling around her.

It was a Scottish wildcat. She was as big as Faolan, if not a couple pounds bigger, had a tabby coat pattern, and a long, bushy, ringed tail that twitched slightly. She smiled down at Faolan with a purr, her hazel eyes sparkling. Faolan gulped, and lowered himself once more, head on his paws again. He wasn't sure how dangerous this cat might be or what her intentions were.

"You're just a wee bairn," the cat said, smiling at Faolan, her ears flicking. "And a long way from home. It'll take a few days just to get to the border."

"Can you help me?" Faolan asked. "My daddy's probably worried."

The cat jumped off the rock, sniffing Faolan, who stayed stock still as she did so, trembling slightly. She purred as she circled Faolan, her tail raised behind her. She paused to groom a paw, then cocked her head at the small cub, her pink nose twitching.

"You smell like a human."

"I'm an animagus," Faolan explained. "I am a human, but I can turn into a tiger. I'm a wizard."

"Ah, yes, one of those types of human. I'm sure your dad is very worried for you."

"You can help me get home?" Faolan's ears perked and he relaxed considerably for the first time since he woke that morning. He sat up, curling his own tail around her.

"I can get ye there. I've always wanted to travel. My name's Eithne, by the way."

"I'm Faolan." Foalan smiled at the cat.

"We have a long trip ahead of us, Faolan. We best get going."

Eithne began trotting along the forest floor, Faolan running to keep up with her. His stomach growled noisily. "Do you think we could get breakfast first?"

Eithne smiled. "I suppose."

Remus and Sirius arrived at Severus's house via floo. They stepped inside, Sirius yelling, "Where's my favorite nephew?"

"Why do you insist on calling him your favorite?" Remus asked, walking towards the kitchen. "He's your only nephew."

"And that's a good reason to be my favorite," Sirius argued, then frowned. "Harry? Severus? Where are they?"

Remus opened the potions lab door and called, "Severus?" He was met with silence. "Hmm, they might be outside. I swore Severus said we were babysitting today so he could work on several projects. I wonder if he changed his mind."

"Oh no," Sirius shook his head, walking toward the back door. "These amusement park tickets are nonrefundable; we are taking Harry today. Severus!" Sirius walked outside.

Remus snorted and followed his friend outside, scanning the yard. He walked around the house, wondering where on earth father and son were. He froze at the sight of a massive tiger lying motionless in the grass, blinking his eyes.

"Oh no, Severus!" Remus ran over to the unconscious tiger, cradling the head and patting the cat's cheek. "Severus! Freyr, come on, wake up. Sirius!"

Sirius ran over to where Remus was kneeling with the great cat. He pulled out his wand and waved it over the tiger, but he found no traces of a hex or curse. "We should call for a healer. And maybe a magizoologist. I'm not sure what's wrong with him. He's acting like he's drugged on something."

Remus patted Freyr's cheek again, and this time, the tiger's eyes blinked open, but they were clouded. The tiger moaned and closed his eyes. Remus's face paled and he looked up at Sirius with wide eyes. "Harry," he croaked.

Sirius turned sharply on his heels, walking around the yard calling out "Harry" and "Faolan." He walked toward the wooded areas, trying to get a locator charm to work. When it continued to fail, Sirius knew Harry had to be far out of the charm's capable locating distance. And the only one who knew what happened was incapacitated.

Eithne – pronounce it as you like, I've heard many different ways of saying this name. I personally like en-ya. But to each their own. Thanks for reading. I'll get the next section up soon.