22

Chapter 21

Harry cursed under his breath as he made his way through the rank sewer tunnels. The moist squelching under his feet was enough to make his nose wrinkle, even if one ignored the pervasive smell seeping into every pore. He seethed as he picked his way along, cursing Adama with every fibre of his being.

His tenth birthday had started out so well. Midnight had found him in the back room of a disreputable drinking establishment, a tumbler of rather nice scotch at his elbow and a Royal Flush in his hand. He hadn't even needed to cheat this time!

He was only playing for pocket change, a measly £500,000 pot, but he had every intention of cultivating a business relationship with all three of his fellow players. The conclusion of their negotiations was dependant on proving he could hold his own against them, something he was doing exceptionally well at as they hashed out the details during their game.

And then fucking Adama had burst in through the door before he could show his hand or collect his winnings.

Given that he was completely unwilling to be questioned at this time, Harry had been forced to make a hasty and undignified exit through a back window and over a roof, only to be spotted not even a block away. Adama had clearly studied the exits and surrounding streets carefully before making his move, anticipating which way Harry would run. And so Harry had been forced to leg it again, the cop hot on his tail.

Fucking Adama!

Grimacing as he stepped in something he'd rather not look too closely at, Harry could only be grateful he was in his Tiny clothes - baggy mass produced jeans, scruffy t-shirt, oversized military jacket and scuffed converse - rather than his usual suit and silk. He had every intention of burning these clothes once he got back to Sanctum.

Briefly considering using his emergency portkey, he decided it was best not to risk it. It was currently three in the morning, and he really didn't want his staff to see him in such a state. Using the portkey would only trigger the wards and bring them all running. Reinforcing his resolution to learn how to apparate as soon as his magical core was developed enough, he sped up, looking for the next exit.

Scowling, Harry muttered to himself as he stalked along, trying to work out how he could salvage the negotiations. He had a feeling though that the deal had fallen through. There was no way that they would want to be associated in any way with someone so closely tagged by the cops. So that was about £12 million a month that he'd just lost out on, not to mention the product he wouldn't be able to ship through them.

He made a mental note to find out who had snitched on his presence at the bar and shove their head down every open sewer pit he could find until they drowned in it.

Engrossed in his thoughts, he didn't notice the slick patch in front of his foot, and skidded, falling into the stinking sludge with a splash and a yelp. Surfacing, he retched; violently spitting the foul mess from his mouth. Whimpering pathetically as he tried to scrape as much of it off as possible, he wondered if it would be an overreaction to ruin Adama's finances by buying shares in every second rate port-a-loo and waste disposal company that was listed on the open market in the mans name. Shot could get the relevant details in a heartbeat, he was sure.

"Wow, you look like you've had a shit time of things," Shot observed, her lips twitching in amusement.

Harry glared from beneath his matted fringe, ignoring how the half dried sewerage had caused it to stick to his forehead. "Don't think for a second that I won't shoot you."

Shot raised her hands in mock surrender. "No need to take your crappy mood out on me!" She laughed and dodged the carving knife that the bedraggled boy snatched from the kitchen bench and launched at her.

"Sir?" Alex appeared, his eyes widening as they raked over the mess coating his employer. "Do you need anything?"

Closing his eyes in an effort to keep his temper in check, Harry shook his head. "No thank you." He made to walk past the Hound, only to have Sergei materialize in the way.

His eyebrows raised, Sergei pressed his lips together and tried to ignore the stench.

Throwing his hands up, Harry rolled his head back to look at the ceiling. "Vse zayebalo!" He ignored the snort of laughter from the Russian, and stepped around the hulking man, intent on getting to the shower before anyone else saw him.

"What's that smell?" Connor stumbled sleepily into the room, rubbing his eyes.

"That would be me," Harry responded dryly. "Now please excuse me, I need to shower, then gargle an entire bottle of mouthwash, and maybe drink one as well. And then I'm going to get very, very drunk and pretend this entire night didn't happen."

"You can't," Alex interjected. "You're bonding Warthog today. You can't have any alcohol in your system, not even trace amounts from mouthwash."

Turning with intimidating slowness, Harry's verdant eyes gleamed like a blades edge as he settled his gaze on the apologetic man before resuming his trek to his ensuite. He had clothes to burn and some serious exfoliation to conduct.

"No, really, what is it? Why do you smell?"

Harry grunted irritably and tried to ignore the boy.

"What is that stuff all over you? What happened? Are you alright? You really stink." Connor followed Harry down the hall, peppering the frustrated older boy with questions.

Harry grimaced. "Connor, not now."

"But-"

"Not. Now."

Pouting, the six year old subsided, but continued following his idol into the master suite. Or at least he would have, if Harry hadn't shut the door in his face.

After a thorough cleaning and half a bottle of mouthwash, Harry threw himself onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. He groaned as he heard Warthog scratching at the door. The cat was huge now, though she wouldn't reach her full size until she was around two years old. She was about the same size as him if she stood on her back legs, perhaps a little taller. He really couldn't put off bonding with her any longer. They'd researched it thoroughly, and determined that his birthday was the optimal time to perform the ritual. Something to do with power levels and phases of the moon and Dates of Personal Significance. He hadn't paid much attention when they were explaining it, more intent on his coffee at the time. All he'd needed to know was that they had to do it at sunrise on his birthday.

Ignoring the scratching, he flicked his wand to engage a Do Not Disturb sign on his door. Everyone in his household knew that if the sign was up and they wanted to bother him, then someone had better be dying, or he'd make sure they were.

Setting his alarm for five o'clock, he sighed and burrowed into his bed. Three hours sleep was better than none.

Stepping into the ritual circle, Harry glanced over at the intersecting circle that contained the furious mountain lion. Given that Warthog was unlikely to stay put for the duration of the ritual, they'd been forced to put her in a cage. It was large enough for her to lie down comfortably and she could see through the bars with no difficulty, but her intense displeasure at being restrained was very clear.

They were in the open Apparition Courtyard in the centre of the penthouse, the last few stars twinkling above them in defiance of the approaching dawn. Harry shivered, and wished that he could wear something warmer than the plain ritual robes the Hounds had provided. It may be summer, but five thirty in the morning at thirty stories in the air made things a bit chilly, and the cool air circulating against his bare skin under them made things retract rather uncomfortably.

Sergei poured the small amount of blood taken from Warthog earlier onto the activation rune in the circle around her, causing the complicated drawing to light up and glow with an eerie red light that pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

Harry nodded and drank the noxious grey brown potion he'd been given, then cut his palm with an atheme, calmly dripping the blood onto his own rune. His circle lit up an intense sickly orange, morphing into light blue, amethyst purple, and then settling a pleasant forest green.

Locking his knees so he wouldn't fall, Harry closed his eyes and began the chant that his Hounds had drilled him in relentlessly over the past months. Breathing steadily, he drew his focus inward, allowing his mouth to continue the chant on autopilot while he searched out his magical core.

He drifted deeper and deeper into the velvety black inside his mind, seeking the light that was the source of his abilities. Finally, he found it, a burning orb whose surface rippled slowly like waves of molten lava; white hot and painfully bright to look at. Harry fought the urge to flinch away, forcing himself ever closer.

He could see sections of the surface hardening and cracking slightly in response to the potion and chant that he was dimly aware his body continued, and he breathed a slow sigh of relief that it seemed to be working.

Determinedly reaching out a hand, he couldn't supress a mental scream of anguish at the pain engulfing his senses. Logically he knew that his hands weren't actually here, and he wasn't really feeling the skin and nerves blister and shrivel and peel from charring bones, but knowing and knowing were apparently very different in this situation.

Tears streaming down his face, he lunged, wrapping his fingers around a sizable shard of the hardened magic. Heaving backwards, he shuddered in agony as he felt it pull free with a reverberating crack that he felt to the very depths of his soul.

Casting about in the darkened surroundings, he located a small red light pulsing a slight distance away. He paused for a moment, startled at the beauty of it.

Feeling the shard of magic beginning to soften in his hands, he hurried forward, and carefully suspended it above the pulsing red light. The white shard continued softening, liquid magic tricking down the sides and dripping off the bottom point, each drop mixing slowly with Warthog's essence.

Harry had to fight down a faintly hysterical giggle at the thought that it looked like some bizarre plasma based ice cream.

Finally, after several agonizing minutes, the last of the shard had softened and melted into the red light. The light was unchanged in colour, but somehow seemed stronger and more brilliant, a depth added in a way that defied description. It was still the same, and yet somehow more.

Pulling back with a sigh, the exhausted boy let himself drift back toward his core, observing how the orb had healed as if nothing had been removed. Satisfied that things had gone as planned, he drew his consciousness back into his body, and opened his eyes.

Staggering as a massive bolt of pain lanced through his head, he nonetheless carefully concluded the chant and broke the ritual circle. Sergei handled Warthog, while Alex caught Harry as his legs gave out.

"Sir?" Alex asked, concerned. The ritual should have been exhausting, but not to this degree. The boy was limp and almost unconscious in his arms.

A pained whimper was his only answer, and he exchanged a worried look with Sergei.

Warthog lay in a similar state, eyes unfocused and heavy lidded as she panted in distress.

Sergei levitated the cage, following behind Alex as he carried his unprotesting employer down the hallway to his bedroom.

Placing the small boy on the bed, he stripped the ritual robes from the slim body and charmed some soft pyjamas onto him. Knowing Harry preferred to sleep topless when the temperature permitted it, he didn't bother with a shirt, merely tucked the boy into bed.

He turned and helped Sergei float Warthog out of the cage and over onto the bed next to Harry, settling her as close as possible without putting her under the blankets with the tiny wizard. Arranging the two so that they were touching, the Hounds shared one last worried look before vacating the room.

HarryCub twitched as Petunia slapped his face, screeching about something he didn't understand. He gazed around, confused. This was in the past, wasn't it? He was small, much smaller than his ten year old self. Surely the last few years, all that he had accomplished, couldn't be just a dream? He felt a wave of animalistic fury as he watched Dudley stuffing his face, eating all of his food then snatching the meagre portions off HarryCub's plate as well. HarryCub released an angry growl, wanting to pounce on the fat little human.

A shift, and HarryCub was shivering in the snow, looking up at the blurry figures of the two older humans and two cubs. Not siblings, no, but adopted. The oldest human invited HarryCub to join their pack, and HarryCub agreed, trotting after them obediently.

Shift. Pain in their jaw and backside, the stink of older male all over them. Hunger gnawing at their belly, and cold eating into their bones. Why did the older humans allow it? Was HarryCub being punished? HarryCub growled, determined to challenge the Alpha when HarryCub was grown. Until then, HarryCub would work hard, and earn their way up the pack ranking, learning everything they could. The Beta was a tolerant teacher, and HarryCub moved closer, following every action closely.

Shift. HarryCub had procured their own den. A safe place to rest and heal. A place pungent with the smell of chemicals mixed together to make the crystals that the humans desired.

Shift. Fighting, HarryCub slashed with the metal claw, crimson blood splashing hot and metallic on their skin.

Shift.

Shift.

Shift, shift, shift.

Faster and faster the images flashed by, a short lifetime of memories revisited and overlayed with a primitive animal intelligence. As Harry twitched and moaned in his sleep, a thousand injuries and countless indignities relived, his familiar experienced and learned, absorbing everything his mind contained.

"What went wrong?" Shot asked, worriedly stirring a spoonful of chocolate syrup into her already sludge like shake. Since teaming up with Vahan, she'd become very fond of the young man, thinking of him as something like a very dangerous younger brother.

"Not sure. They shouldn't have collapsed like that, and they certainly shouldn't have been in any pain." Alex pursed his lips, absently fiddling with the handle of his teacup. It was proof of his agitation, since he would ordinarily never stoop to such vulgar or revealing actions.

"He wouldn't have any alcohol in his system, would he? I mean, you specifically told him not to even use mouthwash, right?" Shot licked her long spoon, then grabbed a chocolate chip cookie from the plate of freshly baked goodies that Jinky had thoughtfully provided. Breaking it in half, she dipped one piece in her drink, then popped it in her mouth.

Sergei eyed her concoction in barely disguised disgust. The Russian was known to have a cast iron stomach, but he doubted even he could bear more than a single mouthful of any of her creations.

"What in Merlin's name is in that?" He asked, unable to resist any longer.

Shot glanced up. "Hm? Oh, um, Almond milk, chocolate syrup, caramel topping, toffee chip ice cream, a shot of espresso, whipped cream, a pinch of ground chilli powder and cinnamon."

Sergei swallowed heavily, regretting having asked. "That's revolting."

She grinned, unrepentant. "Two yums don't make a yuck. First rule of combination coordination."

"I don't think he would have been foolish enough to have ignored me about the mouthwash," Alex interjected, returning them to their original topic. "He knew how important it was that every detail of this ritual was perfect."

"Perhaps, but after seeing the state he was in when he got home, I'm not sure he was remembering details about things like that." Sergei sighed, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing his ankles. He had to admit, Narcissa Malfoy had done a marvellous job when she chose the furnishings. The couch was absurdly comfortable.

Alex scowled. "He's in for a rough time if that's the case."

"What will happen?" Shot asked, dipping another cookie.

"Well for one thing, the process would have heightened sensation astronomically, and been extremely painful. Sticking your hands in a volcano then performing open heart surgery on yourself without anaesthetic type painful."

Shot paled, eyes wide in horror.

"And then, once he'd blended his magic into Warthog, rather than her gaining intelligence and any relevant knowledge painlessly in their sleep over a period of a week or so, their minds would blend and he would relive his entire life in a single twenty four hour period. Warthog would still adapt and learn, but it would be much more traumatic for both of them. Not to mention that there could be any number of side effects that affect the bond itself. This is, of course, assuming he doesn't die or go insane."

"Well, shit," Shot supplied succinctly.

Exactly twenty four hours later, two pairs of eyes snapped open.

Dazed emerald green framed in thick black lashes blinked slowly, taking a few moments to focus on the plain white ceiling. Grunting, Harry turned his head slightly to look at his furry bed companion.

Warthog stared back, her amber eyes now turned a brilliant blue and shining with newfound intelligence.

"I did not like that," a feminine voice sounded in his mind.

Harry blinked a few times, and frowned. "Neither did I."

"It was your fault," the voice continued, "you were told not to use the mouthwash."

Harry glared slightly, even as he accepted that the voice was correct. "I'm aware. I didn't think it would make that much difference."

The voice sniffed disdainfully. "You should have. Your Hounds would not have mentioned it if it was not important. I dislike you taking such risks with my safety. You will not do such things again."

Groaning, Harry flung an arm over his eyes. "We have to spend the next twenty four hours in isolation to let our bond settle. Are you going to talk in my head all the time? Because that's going to get really annoying."

"I will talk whenever I wish. You have no say in the matter."

Oh yeah, Harry thought in resignation, this was a great idea.

It was forty eight hours after the ritual that the newly bonded pair emerged from the Master Suite. The other residents of the penthouse waited with baited breath, eager to see what, if any, changes had occurred.

"Please," Harry's pleading voice drifting down the hall, "stop talking!"

Shot snorted in laughter, immediately burying her face in her arms where they rested on the table, while Alex and Sergei traded amused glances. Connor just looked confused.

"No, I don't want to. No. No! Oh for god's sake, fine! But I want to eat breakfast first!" Harry stomped into the room, followed by a very smug cat.

Throwing himself into his chair at the head of the table, he groaned and rubbed his temples. "Good morning."

"So," Alex began delicately. "Did you sleep well?"

Harry glared at him, then switched targets and glared at Warthog. "No! I don't care if you're smarter than the average cat, you're not eating at the table! And why the hell do you have such a fixation with Yogi Bear?" He paused, listening to a response nobody else could hear. "I am not BooBoo! If I'm anyone, I'm Ranger Smith! Wait, why are we talking about this?!"

"Why can't she eat at the table?" Connor asked innocently, smiling when Warthog purred her approval.

"Because I said so," Harry sighed, knowing that the battle was already lost when Sergei shifted down a seat, forcing Connor to do the same.

Harry now sat at the head of the table with Alex on his left, and Warthog on his right. Shot was seated next to Alex, a place she had claimed as hers and would fight tooth and nail to retain. Sergei sat stoically at Warthog's right, with Connor at the foot of the table grinning at Harry's disgruntled expression.

Jinky appeared with a soft crack, placing several heaped platters of various foods on the table. Eggs - fried, poached, and scrambled - were on one platter, crispy rindless bacon on another, sausages, steak, toast, tomatoes, hash browns, haloumi, mushrooms, wilted baby spinach, baked beans; the elf had clearly gone all out.

Harry eyed the mountain of food dubiously, but shrugged and began serving himself.

"What would Mistress Warthog be wanting?" Jinky asked, looking intently into the cat's startling blue eyes.

Harry glanced up, waiting for Warthog to pass on her request. To his surprise, she seemed to be able to communicate directly with the elf, and he popped away, returning moments later with a large plate of raw steak cut into large cubes. The best cut, Harry noted absently.

Warthog licked her lips and began delicately eating the bloody meat, fastidiously licking up any drips that dared to stick to her muzzle.

Deciding that some things just weren't worth fighting over, Harry shrugged and resigned himself to the new way of doing things.

After breakfast, Harry informed everyone that Warthog demanded to go to Potter Manor, because she wanted to chat with the Heralds and the Pack. He also informed them that he had no intention of staying there himself, because he wanted to go to Diagon Alley. Well, Knockturn, really, but he might as well browse Diagon while he was there.

Shot decided to come too, wanting to pick up some new materials for her tinkering.

"Sir?" She asked thoughtfully, as they paused briefly at the Manor.

"Mm?" Harry responded, distracted as he glanced over a few reports his Smith golem had passed on.

"What do you think about making Warthog her own portkey cuff? That way she can come and go as she pleases, and if we add a tracker we'll always know where she is. We could build an alert into the wards so that you're notified each time she comes or goes."

Harry thought for a moment before nodding decisively. "Do it. Charm as many protections as possible into it as well, and make it as close to indestructible as possible."

Shot grinned. "I knew you had a soft spot for her. You're so cute when you're all protective." She made a grab as if to pinch his cheeks, before thinking better of it. She liked her hands attached, thank you very much.

Harry rolled his eyes slightly. "She's my familiar. We are literally bonded magically and mentally. She may be my protection when I'm at Hogwarts, but I will not allow myself to be weakened by a preventable loss if someone strikes at me through her."

Pouting, Shot folded her arms. "You live to ruin my delusions, don't you."

"It's my mission in life," Harry murmured, his attention already returned to his reports. Signing off on a couple, he handed them back to the patiently waiting golem. "Warthog, do you need anything before we go?"

"No, but if you could pick me up something pretty while you're gone? I like Shot's idea of giving me my own portkey cuff, but I think it should be invisible like yours; so I want pretty things to wear as well. I don't want to look like a common pet like one of those kneazles we read about. Nasty common creatures." Her voice was haughty with feigned disgust, but belied by traces of humour.

"I'll see what we can find. We might need to look at options other than a cuff though. Unless you wore it as a collar - much too obvious - it would probably be too restrictive. Would you consent to some form of armour? Or implanting small portkeys under your skin?"

"Have Shot come up with some designs. I'll consent to things under my skin only if we can't find something else suitably secure."

"Alright," Harry nodded. "Everyone ready? Let's go."

Their arrival at the Diagon Alley Apparition Point was smooth and unremarkable, or at least as unremarkable as a suit wearing boy with an unrecognisable face, two obviously very dangerous men, and a slender girl with purple stripes in her hair can be. Shot's tie-dye ripped shirt, leather biker jacket, denim miniskirt and neon green stripped leggings probably didn't help towards blending in either.

"Want me to head off on my own while you go attend to your shady business dealing in the back alleys?" Shot chirped, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.

Harry gave her a bored look, trying not to let her teasing get to him. Her theory that he took himself too seriously might have some merit, as did her observation that everyone around him did the same, but her method of countering that - annoying him until he wanted to shoot her in the liver - left a lot to be desired. Apparently Time and Place were foreign concepts to the young genius.

"I have no clandestine meetings planned until next week. Unless you meant my extremely secret meeting with an ice cream sundae at Fortescue's later." Harry glanced around casually, scanning the crowds and letting the observations and deductions roll through his mind. He was pleased that his practice with crowds had paid off.

Alex leaned slightly closer, leaving a closely listening Sergei to keep lookout for trouble. "We should stop at the bookstores, I know Connor has reread his Goblin texts several times; I'm sure he'd appreciate some new ones. We should also get a few more texts for the Ghosts. They're doing very well in their studies, and I'd say they're getting close to being ready for the next level up." He paused, thinking. "We should also restock the potions supplies, general clothing stores for The Haunt, and maybe-"

Harry cut him off with a scowl. "Bugger that. All the things for the Ghosts and Nestlings can be ordered or picked up by one of the others. This is my day to just chill out and do unplanned stuff."

Shot's eyebrows flew up. "My god, you are doing something unplanned? Are you feeling alright? Do you need to sit down?"

"Alex, remind me to use Shot for target practice later?" Harry stated mildly.

Fighting down a grin, the dapper man nodded. "Of course, Sir."

"Now, what do people usually do on their day off?" The young boy asked quietly. "I don't know what a normal child my age would be doing, and I don't want to stand out too much." He bit his lip, fighting down his anxiety.

Shot's eyes softened, and she draped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him lightly until he grudgingly leaned against her. "Well, usually they drool over the newest brooms or go to the pet shop first. Also, candy stores, joke shops, and ice cream before going to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. What appeals to you?"

"I already have a couple of Starsweeps, they've only just come out, so I guess we can skip that? Maybe the pet shop? We could get some ideas for collars and things for Warthog. She says she wants pretty things to wear."

Sergei cleared his throat slightly. "Actually, I was thinking that you should see about getting at least one owl too. The Heralds are excellent, but very distinctive. You don't always want that. I'd suggest using them for your other correspondence, and using an owl for daily things."

Harry nodded. "I've been thinking similar. Alright then, should we go look at owls now or later?"

"Now is good," Shot shrugged.

The four made their way through the crowds, taking their usual positions. Sergei led the way, his large form intimidating enough that people parted around them with no difficulty. Shot bounced next to Harry, humming to herself and glancing around for things she might want to examine more closely later. Alex brought up the rear, ever watchful for threats, and attentive to the smallest change in his employer that might indicate a need he could attend to.

Eeylops Owl Emporium was dimly lit and smelled slightly of droppings and feather dust. The rustling and occasional screech of the various birds for sale filled the air, and Harry looked around curiously.

There were only a few other customers in the shop, mainly young children picking out their first owl to take to school, or older students buying treats for their existing pets.

Harry wandered around, stopping every now and again to examine a bird more closely. He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for, so he turned to his Hounds for advice.

"I'd suggest something fairly nondescript, but tough." Alex offered thoughtfully. "Given your status in this world, it's not unreasonable that someone may try to interfere with your mail at some point, and you'd be best with a bird that can take a piece out of them if they try." He didn't need to state names, but everyone immediately thought of a certain old man who had already shown a history of meddling.

"What about this one?" Shot asked, warily eyeing a Great Horned Owl. "He looks kind of nasty."

The manager of the store approached, flinching slightly at the intense scrutiny he received from Alex and Sergei. "That owl is a female, actually. A Great Horned Owl. Beautiful creature, and one of the fastest fliers. This one is from particularly good stock; my brother bred her. I've had a bit of trouble selling her though; she's a bit temperamental. Excellently trained though, no worries there!" He snapped his mouth shut, casting a nervous glance at the Hounds, and then Harry. He returned his focus to Shot, clearly deciding she was the least threatening person in the group. "Were you looking for something in particular?"

Shot glanced at Harry quickly, then smiled at the shopkeeper. "I need something fast and tough, which will defend itself and its delivery if threatened. Obviously it would be better if it didn't bite or attack the people handling it, but I'm sure you know what I mean." She fluttered her eyelashes slightly.

"Oh! Well then it's definitely a Great Horned Owl you want, and this bird might just suit you fine. Like I said, she's a bit temperamental, but she won't bite unless you try to take delivery of something that isn't yours." The man was flustered, blushing and stammering slightly.

"Temperamental how?" Harry asked.

The manager started slightly, and scratched his head. "Well, she's smart, one of the smartest birds I've ever handled, and she doesn't like most children. She sometimes gets into a mood, and you'll need to coax her a bit to get her to take a letter. See the way she's glaring at us? To be honest, she's always reminded me of old Minerva McGonagall, the way she looks at you sometimes!"

Harry shrugged and turned to the owl. "Would you like to come with us?" He wasn't sure how intelligent she was, but the manager had said she was smart, so he would treat her like it until she proved otherwise.

The owl looked at him closely, eyes half closed in a glare. She finally hooted in acceptance, and flew down to perch on his shoulder.

Wincing slightly as her claws sank into his jacket, Harry made a mental note to have all his jacket shoulders reinforced and protected magically. Spelling them may shorten their lifespan (according to Marcel) but he really didn't want all his suits ripped to pieces by owl talons.

Making their way to the counter, Harry waited patiently while Shot flirted and haggled over the owl and all its accessories. He nudged the owl until she was sitting on the counter in front of him, and eyed her closely. The owl eyed him back sternly.

"She really does look like Professor McGonagall," Alex mused thoughtfully. "I feel like she's about to give me detention for not doing my homework."

The owl swivelled her head and eyed the older man, beak clacking as if she was about to launch into a lecture.

"Sir, I don't think we have a say in the matter. This owl's name is Minerva." Alex averted his eyes, standing stiffly as if trying not to shuffle like a guilty schoolboy.

Harry's eyes glimmered mischievously. "Minerva McGonagowl?"

Shot turned in time to catch the last comment, and snorted with laughter. "I love it!"

Their conversation was interrupted as a high pitched hooting bundle of feathers came barrelling out of the back room, swooping them erratically and flailing in the air until it collided with the window and fell to the floor with a thud.

Harry waited patiently for Alex to stop crouching over him, and then stood, tugging the wrinkles out of his suit. He was faintly amused at Alex shielding him with his own body, but it was what he paid the man for, so he wasn't overly bothered by the indignity.

The manager swore under his breath, and went over to the limp bundle on the floor. "Ruddy owl. No idea what I'm going to do with you!" He picked it up gently, letting the dazed bird rest on his wrist.

"What is it?" Shot asked, stepping closer after a short nod from a silent Sergei.

"A Saw-whet owl. Someone left him on our doorstep as a chick, and he isn't quite right, he nearly froze to death. He isn't trained or anything, he can't even fly properly." The man sighed, petting the cooing owl softly.

Shot melted, looking at the tiny little owl. "He's adorable!" She reached out, gently stroking its head. The bird nibbled her fingers affectionately.

Unable to resist, she turned pleading eyes to Harry. "What do you say, we could keep him as a pet!"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "By we you mean you, I assume?"

Shot smiled, ramping up the puppy dog eyes.

"You want a retarded owl as a pet? One that isn't even useful?"

The owl gave an indignant hoot and glared at Harry.

"He's not retarded!" Shot pouted, taking the bird onto her own wrist, and placing it on her shoulder, smiling when it chirped and snuggled into her neck. "You're a little smarty, aren't you?" She cooed, adopting the universal tone of new mothers everywhere.

Harry stared, then whispered to Alex. "Is she babytalking an owl?"

Alex nodded, also staring. "It would seem so, Sir."

"Is it just me, or is that really weird?"

"It's not just you, Sir. I also find this situation strange and uncomfortable."

Sergei nodded silently in agreement.

Harry took one more look at the stubborn set of Shot's face, and knew that he wasn't going to win. "Fine. Consider it a birthday present."

Shot smiled and turned to place a kiss on the owl's head. "Welcome to the family! What should we name you, hmm? Such a little smarty like you deserves an equally smart name." She glanced at the sternly disapproving Minerva, and had a moment of inspiration. "If the boss gets to make terrible name puns, then I think we should continue the theme. What do you say to Owlbert Einstein?"

The little owl hooted and fluttered excitedly, nibbling her ear.

Harry groaned, dropping his face to his hands. "Remind me again why I didn't leave you at home?"

The rest of the morning was spent browsing, stopping only for an ice cream when their feet began to hurt from the cobblestones.

After spending an hour or so in Flourish and Blotts, they settled into a booth in the Leaky Cauldron for lunch. Jinky had been summoned to a discrete alley to take the owls and other purchases back to the penthouse, leaving the tired foursome to fill their empty stomachs.

Harry glanced over the menu, and grimaced slightly at the food on offer. It all seemed heavy and greasy, traditional English fare.

Alex noticed his unenthusiastic response. "Sir? Do you see anything you want?"

Harry looked over the list again, his face tight. "I don't know. Would you recommend something?"

Alex glanced over the list, and frowned slightly himself. After the extensive healing and intense training Harry had gone through, they'd taken extreme care with his diet. The unfortunate side effect of this was that greasy or heavy food tended to leave him feeling uncomfortable or ill. "How about the grilled chicken burger with a side of chips, and a butterbeer?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure."

Alex nodded and gathered everybody's order, passing it on to the waitress when she stopped at their table. After she left to fetch their order, he flicked his wand, casting a silencing spell around their table.

"So, what would you like to do this afternoon?"

Harry rested his head back against the seat. "I don't know. Maybe head down Knockturn?"

They passed their meal chatting about nothing in particular, before forcing themselves to their feet and out of the pub. Shot requested to stop in at the pet store before heading down Knockturn, reminding Harry of his promise to look for pretty things for Warthog.

They wandered into Magical Menagerie, and Shot headed over to the cat accessories, browsing thoughtfully. Harry took the opportunity to familiarize himself with some of the more magical animals available in this world.

A series of reptile tanks caught his eye, and he drifted closer to have a look. A large snake filled one tank, basking on a heated rock.

"Aren't you beautiful," Harry said, admiring the blue diamonds on the otherwise jet black snake.

The snake raised its head, tilting it like a curious dog. "You speak?"

Harry frowned in puzzlement. "Of course I do; though I'm surprised you do."

The snake flicked its tongue a few times before sliding slightly closer to the glass. "Are you going to take me away from here?"

Shaking his head, Harry rested a hand against the edge of the cage. "No. I'm just looking around today. I already have a familiar, and she's demanding pretty things." He rolled his eyes, smiling faintly.

The snake let out a rasping hiss that approximated a laugh. "A cat?"

Grinning, Harry nodded in agreement. "Yes. A very large one with an attitude to match."

The snake laughed again. "You could always buy me, and I will eat her and then I could be your familiar. A snake such as myself is far superior to a mere feline."

Unable to contain himself, Harry laughed. "I never thought I'd meet anyone with an ego bigger than hers, but apparently I must tip my hat to you in that regard!" He brushed his fingers to his forehead in a mocking salute.

"I'm very useful, even if you choose not to bond me as your familiar," the snake weedled. "My venom is highly sought after, second only in toxicity to that of the mighty Basilisk! If taken regularly, it can even let you become immune to most poisons and venoms! I can smell death on you, immunity such as this would be useful to you, yes?"

Harry pursed his lips, head tilted and eyes narrowed. "You're very persistent. Do you offer yourself like this to everyone who stops to chat with you?"

The snake reared back, offended. "Certainly not! You are the first I have spoken with! Speakers of the Serpent tongue are legend, and as rare as I am! It was thought they had died out many years ago."

"Serpent tongue?" The boy repeated, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

The snake stared for a moment, then laughed again, shaking its head ruefully. "You did not realise you were speaking in my tongue and not your own? How utterly enchanting! I demand you take me with you; you are amusing and I want to leave this horrible cage."

Harry glared. "I told you I already had a familiar. I'd rather not deal with death matches between a mountain lion and a… whatever you are."

Sighing, the snake flicked its tongue. "And if I swear not to try to take her place? Surely you have a place I could roam? Or a nice corner that could be made suitable for me? You need not keep me with you at all times, just come speak with me on occasion. I truly detest this place. Take me with you."

Harry tipped his head back in exasperation, then turned to his Hounds. He stopped at Sergei's stony look, surprised. "What's wrong?"

"Boss, you're a parselmouth. You don't want that shit getting out or people will be screaming about you being a dark wizard before you can sneeze."

"Is that what the snake meant when it said I was speaking the Serpent tongue and not my own? It sounds like English to me." Harry frowned.

"Just hisses from this end. Boss, we need to get out of here. As soon as we realised we threw up a silencing spell, but somebody may have noticed, especially since you've been chatting so long." Sergei was tense, almost quivering with the need to be elsewhere.

"Alright. We'll go in a moment. I need to get this snake. It seems remarkably well informed, and I need to explore this."

Sergei's eyebrows shot up. "Warthog isn't going to like you getting another familiar."

"I won't be bonding it, though I'll probably milk its venom. It claims to be second only to a Basilisk in toxicity. I figure it can roam around Fortress or something. It's desperate to get out of here, and I wouldn't put it past it to find a way out and hunt me down if I try to leave it here."

"I'll arrange everything," Alex interjected. "Go with Sergei and Shot. I think she's picked out a few things for Warthog anyway, and you should give them to her personally so she doesn't make her displeasure known on the furniture or something."

Harry nodded. "I'll meet you at Fortress." He turned back to the snake. "My man will arrange to purchase you and transport you to one of my residences. Do not harm him in any way or I will make you suffer before I kill you. Do you understand?"

The snake bowed its head, tail twitching slightly in excitement. "As you say Master. Your man will come to no harm from me. I look forward to our future conversations."

Rolling his eyes, Harry stalked from the store, Sergei shadowing him closely and Shot scurrying along behind. "I don't even like snakes," he muttered. Warthog was going to be so pissed at him over this.