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When Harry opened his eyes the next morning, he discovered his father lying next to him. For one moment, he thought he was still dreaming. Yet when he rubbed his eyes and pinched himself, he realized he was awake and his father was sleeping next to him on his bed. It was a rather odd thing, to suddenly wake up to find someone asleep next to you, and not only that, but your parent. Harry took a minute and simply watched Severus sleeping.

The Potion Master's chest rose and fell evenly, reassuring Harry that his father was in a normal sleep, not sick or ill. He had never seen his indomitable father this way before, so relaxed, so peaceful, he looked somehow younger than his thirty-one years, all the stress from his dual occupation as teacher and spy erased from his features.

Harry stared and stared, thinking that perhaps he was seeing the true Severus at last, with all his masks off, and he smiled. You look happy now, Dad. And that's how it ought to be. I wish we could stay here forever, to hell with school and bloody Voldemort and you being a damn spy. You can never let your guard down when we're at school, and neither can I, not really. But here we can just be ourselves. Harry tilted his head to one side, a wry grin creasing his lips. Just me and my dad, what I've always wanted.

Then he recalled that Boreal was probably going to wake up any minute and he had better get dressed and wash his face. It was still quite early in the morning, around six thirty, and Harry stretched and yawned and slid off the end of the bed, leaving his father sleeping.

By the time he had finished washing his face and brushing his teeth, Severus was beginning to stir. Harry quickly shucked off his pajamas, reaching for a clean pair of jeans and Mystic red and gold shirt. He had just tugged the shirt on when he heard a soft cough from behind him.

"What the . . .I fell asleep here," Severus murmured, blinking owlishly. He sat up, amused at how quickly Harry whirled around to face him.

"Dad! You're awake," Harry exclaimed. "How are you feeling?"

"Ten times better than I was last night."

"Good," Harry said, turning back to grab his jeans.

He tugged one leg on and hopped awkwardly trying to get the other leg on until Severus grabbed his arm, holding him steady. "Harry, for the love of Merlin, why don't you sit down and put your pants on that way?"

"Uh, you were sleeping and I didn't want to wake you."

"What's wrong with the desk chair?"

"Umm . . ." Harry really didn't have an answer for that, so he finished pulling on his jeans, blushing. "Do you think Boreal is awake?"

"Not yet. The charm I cast would have alerted me if he was," Severus answered, rising. "I'm going to shower and shave and perhaps then we can have breakfast before Boreal awakens. Once I've examined him again, you can feed and water him and then you have some cauldrons to scrub, young man."

"Yeah, Dad. I know," Harry said with a faint insolent tone.

"A little cheeky this morning, aren't we?" Severus remarked, pretending to glower at him.

Harry smirked. "You like me that way."

"Incorrigible brat!" his father mock-growled, giving the smirking child a token swat before departing for the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, both men were sitting at the table eating some of Rellah's honey and banana pancakes drizzled with syrup and topped with nuts and a bit of whipped cream. Plus a side of maple-glazed bacon. Delicious! Harry had seconds and thirds before he was full, and said that Rellah was the best cook in the history of the world.

Severus was midway through his second serving and teased, "If you keep on eating like this Harry, you're going to need a size larger jeans."

"You think I'm fat?"

"No, I was only teasing. You've a ways to go before you're even remotely plump, let alone overweight," Severus laughed. Then he pointed at a small vial of potion next to Harry's plate. "Drink your Nutrient Potion, please."

Harry grimaced, he hated the taste, but Severus insisted he drink it every three weeks, for his body was still a bit stunted from his years of malnutrition at the Dursleys. But he picked up the vial and tossed it back, like he was doing a shot of tequila.

He then gulped down almost his entire cup of tea to rid his mouth of the taste. "Why is it that stuff that's supposed to be good for you tastes awful?"

"Do you think apples taste awful? They're good for you. And so is milk and oatmeal and you like them." Severus pointed out.

"Well, this Nutrient Potion tastes like Dumbledore's old socks."

"That's because it has essential vitamins and minerals in it and no sugar. Now quite grousing and finish your pancakes. You have dishes to do before Boreal wakes up."

Harry didn't need to be told twice to finish eating, he loved those pancakes. When he was done, he picked up the dishes and brought them to the sink to start washing them by hand, it was part of his punishment.

Rellah looked like she was about to protest, but Severus frowned at her. "No, I don't want to hear it, Miss Woodberry. He's in trouble, therefore he does chores without magic, even if those duties normally are yours. Think of it as a day off."

Rellah huffed. "And what if I don't want a day off?"

"It's non-negotiable," said the Potions Master smugly and Rellah harrumphed and perched on the counter to watch Harry wash the dishes. She hated being idle.

* * * * * *

 

 

Soon after Harry had finished, it took him all of ten minutes, Severus heard the alarm alert go off, it sounded like a bell ringing to his ears, though nobody save the caster could hear it. Severus rose to his feet and turned to his son, who was wiping his hands on a dishcloth, "It would seem Boreal is awake. Let's go and see how he's doing."

Father and son went down to the stable that was just outside the garden gate, and found the Silver Arrow awake and pacing restlessly in his stall. Good morning, he whinnied to them as they entered. I feel much better today than I did last night, but I wish to be out in the open. I don't like being cooped up inside.

"I can understand that, however, with your wings bound and mending, you must stay quiet and rest for three days." Severus told him. "If you will follow me outside, I shall examine you there, but you must agree to return and rest afterwards."

The pegasus considered for a long moment, then snorted agreement. As you wish, Severus. Anything to help my wings mend faster.

Severus showed him the flip latch and Boreal was delighted with it. He flipped it up with a nudge of his nose and followed Severus outside. Harry started to come too, but Severus turned and said, "Now would be a good time to clean the stall and get Boreal some breakfast, Harry."

"Okay, but how much do I give him, Dad? I don't know anything about feeding a horse."

Fill my net with hay and the trough there with oats and leave me a full bucket of water, Boreal neighed. I know enough to stop eating and won't colic like a normal horse would.

Harry wasn't quite sure what the stallion meant by that, but he just nodded and went to do as he'd been told. He found there was hay in the next stall and a bucket of oats as well. He pointed his wand and transferred the hay from one stall to the other, and then he filled up the trough with oats. He made sure the bucket was filled with water.

His next task was to clean the stall. It wasn't that dirty, but Harry set to, pushing a wheelbarrow near the door and grabbing a shovel. It took him fifteen minutes to muck out the stall, since it really wasn't that dirty, he noticed that the soiled straw vanished when he tossed it in. At least that was something.

Then he located a large straw bale and lugged it into the stall. Since he had nothing sharp to untie the bale with, he used his wand to unravel the twine knots and then spread the golden straw out with a pitchfork found in the next stall.

By then he was sweating lightly and Boreal was entering the stable again, followed by Severus.

Harry stood off to one side to let Boreal walk up to the stall. Snape had removed the blanket the stallion had been wearing and Harry could see the great wings strapped in place along the silver sides. In the light, Harry saw the pegasus's coat was a light gray, shading to a darker coloring along the muzzle and the legs and he also had silvery white dapples along his quarters. Severus had groomed him during his exam, so Boreal's coat shone and his mane and tail, which were long and flowing, were free of tangles and straw.

"Uh, how'd I do?" Harry asked, a bit uncertainly, though he wasn't sure if he was asking Severus or Boreal.

The pegasus walked into the stall and stamped a hoof, testing the depth of the straw. Very good, young apprentice. This straw bedding is just right.

Harry smiled, happy he'd gotten it right. "I wasn't sure if I'd done it right, I've never owned or been around a pegasus before, or a horse either. I just watched National Velvet and The Black Stallion."

Severus nodded his approval as well. "A good job. Boreal is mending nicely. However, you have seven cauldrons to scrub down in my lab this morning. I'll be in the herb garden, doing some gathering, I trust you're old enough to do an assigned task without me hovering over your shoulder, son. However, if I come back by lunchtime and find you slacking off, you'll have seven more cauldrons to scrub and I'll stand over you and watch you just like I would a six-year-old."

"I'll do a good job, sir." Harry promised, for there was nothing he hated more than being watched like a hawk.

"I'll hold you to that, Harry," was all Severus said, and then he departed the stable for the herb garden, summoning a large basket as he did so.

Boreal lifted his head, he had been munching on some twists of timothy mixed in with his hay. Master Severus is your father as well as your teacher?

"Yeah. He adopted me, my parents died when I was a baby, and he's the only father I remember," Harry explained, leaning against the stall door. "Only we kind of have to keep our relationship secret, specially at school, ‘cause we have enemies that want to kill us-well, me, mostly-and Dad's a spy sometimes, and he has to pretend to be a bad guy so we can get intelligence information on the followers of Voldemort."

Boreal whistled angrily at the mention of Voldemort. Even I have heard of that one, Harry. His downfall was celebrated among my kind as well as yours. If he is dead. A dark wizard like that has ways of tricking death and returning.

"I know. That's what Dad said. And if he does return, I have to be prepared to fight him. But I'd rather not talk about it right now. I wanted to know if you minded me asking you a few questions?"

No, I enjoy speaking with you, Harry, and will be happy to answer whatever you wish to ask. But shouldn't you do as your father said and finish your chores first? Most masters get angry when their instructions aren't heeded, like a First Stallion would with an unruly colt.

Harry nodded. Boreal was right, much as he hated to admit it. "Okay. Guess I should get started. I did promise, and I don't want Dad to double my punishment, I'm already grounded enough as it is. I'll see you later though, Boreal."

I shall await your return. Goodbye for now! Boreal whinnied, and resumed crunching his oats.

Harry left him happily eating and went inside the cottage.

Yet he found himself oddly reluctant to begin his assigned task, and lingered in the hallway next to Eileen's portrait, heaving a ferocious sigh as he did so.

"Why such a loud sigh, Harry?" Eileen asked softly, noting that the boy seemed rather upset about something.

"It's nothing, Gran," Harry said quickly. He had started addressing Eileen as "Gran" instead of the more formal Grandma or Grand mother, and Eileen seemed to like it, so he kept using it.

"Nothing causes you to sigh hard enough to blow the wind into a small sailboat?" she teased. "The only time I ever heard Sev sigh like that was when he was being punished for something."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You mean, he got into trouble too? Did you ever make him scrub cauldrons?"

Eileen laughed merrily at Harry's rather dumbfounded expression. "Did you think Sev was a perfect child, Harry? Oh no, he wasn't. He wasn't one that was continuously in trouble, his father was awfully strict, downright nasty if you want the truth, and he punished Severus for every little thing when he was in his cups, so Sev was careful to behave around him. But when we were here for the summer, Sev could relax and behave more like a normal child, which included being sarcastic and answering me back on occasion, and having unforseen potions disasters."

Harry's mouth fell open. "What? You mean Dad actually . . .messed up a potion? But he's like . . .a genius with them! He's a Potions Master!"

Eileen laughed even harder, clutching her sides. Harry half expected her to fall over. "Oh, Harry! Severus might be a genius and a Potions Master now, but when he was nine, he was only an apprentice like you and he made mistakes too. Granted, he was very good with brewing, and had a knack for it like no one I'd ever taught before, but he had his share of mishaps and exploded experiments. Especially when he was making something too advanced and added the wrong ingredient by mistake."

"He did? Like what?" Harry was tingling with curiosity. This was simply too funny.

"Well, he wanted to make a Fireproof Potion, only I told him to wait, it was too advanced, but your father thought he knew better than me and he went ahead and tried it anyway while I was out shopping. I came back to find he had set my lab partially on fire and burned off half of his hair, Merlin help me!"

"No way!"

Harry started to snicker, imagining his father as a boy-he pictured him rather awkward and skinny with shaggy dark hair wearing clothes stained with potions ingredients-with half of his hair burnt away, looking shocked and alarmed.

"Oh, yes. I was lucky the house didn't burn down, this was back when we lived in London, thank goodness Tobias wasn't home then, otherwise he'd have walloped Sev to kingdom come for practicing magic."

"He didn't like magic either, like my aunt and uncle?"

"No. He was furious that Severus had inherited my magic, he wanted his son to be just like him, and Severus was always more like me. It was a great disappointment, and Tobias never took such things well." Eileen frowned.

"So what did you do?"

"Well, first I put out the fire and made sure Sev was all right. I put some burn salve on his head and gave him a pain reliever and hugged him half to death. Then I shook the daylights out of him and gave him a smack or two and lectured him for half-an-hour about his deliberate disobedience and recklessness and impulsiveness."

"Really? But that's what he does to me sometimes."

"Yes, and where do you think he got it from? I rarely raised my hand to him, for he got all too much of that from Tobias, but that time I felt he needed a sharp reminder to behave. I also made him replace all the ingredients for that potion out of his allowance and scrub ten cauldrons."

"He got allowance? But I thought you were, uh, kind of tight for money?" Harry stammered, not wanting to come right out and say the word poor.

"We were, because my husband drank up everything he made and I made. But I managed to save a bit here and there, and Tobias never had access to my wizarding account, and that was what I gave Sev for allowance."

"Oh. I take it he learned his lesson after that, huh?"

"Yes, that time. But that wasn't the only time he blew up a cauldron. Although he never made the same mistake on a potion twice, he did try to make up his own recipes and those sometimes went utterly wrong . . .Such as the time he tried to make a potion to cure warts and ended up with a solution that turned your skin this hideous shade of green for a day and made you itch like crazy. . . Or the time he and Lily tried to make a potion to turn Petunia invisible since she was so awful to them. They spiked her drink with it only it had the opposite effect, it turned her hair electric blue and made her skin glow like a neon sign. I grounded him for a month for that one, and swatted him and Lily now that I think about it, I was so angry. Poor Violet Evans was beside herself."

Harry laughed even harder. "Boy, would I have loved to see that! Day-glo Petunia! Did it wear off eventually?"

"Yes, because I brewed up an antidote finally." Eileen said. "So don't let him fool you, Harry. An angel he wasn't, though he always tried to be good." She eyed her grandson fondly. "He loves you very much, you know. That's partly why he's so strict sometimes, he's afraid you'll get hurt or killed and if that happened he would be so devastated. You're all he has, child. Well, except for me, but who can count a portrait as a relative?"

"I know. I don't mean to get in trouble, Gran, but sometimes, I don't know, stuff just . . .happens."

"Harry, all children get into trouble, that's part of growing up. And that's also part of being a parent, setting boundaries and issuing consequences for behavior. It's not an easy job, but it is an important one, because then your child knows what to expect and can be trusted to behave once he understands right from wrong. Rules exist to keep you safe, Harry, Sev isn't being mean or arbitrary when he tells you not to do something. It hurts him terribly when you are hurt from some kind of escapade, that's a parent's worst nightmare, to have their child seriously injured or ill and be able to do nothing to help him."

"Oh. I never thought about it like that before."

"I know, nevertheless it is true. Children never realize the heartache they put their parents through until they have a child of their own." Eileen smirked devilishly. "Then we have our revenge. Now, I think you'd best start scrubbing, young man, before your father catches you chatting instead of working."

"I will, but can I ask you one more question, Gran?"

"What?"

"Uh, how come you can remember things that happened to Dad and you years ago and everything, but you're . . .err. . . not alive . . .?"

"Has no one ever told you how a magic portrait is made, Harry?"

"No, Gran."

"Well, it takes a special artist to make a portrait, and the person must be alive when they are being painted, because they have to sit for the picture, of course, but also because they have to agree to place a part of their memories and personality into the portrait. But that is done only when the subject is dying, and then the portrait "wakes" and becomes quite lively. Whatever memories a person chose to place in the portrait become the portrait's own, so to speak, and when I knew that I was dying, I chose to put a great deal of my memories into this canvas, so that Severus would have someone to talk to and seek advice from should he need it. It was all I could do to help him through the years, since I couldn't be with him."

Harry felt a lump grow in his throat. Eileen's heartfelt words touched him profoundly. "I wish . . .I wish my mother had made a portrait for me."

"Oh, Harry. I'm sure she would have, if she had been able to predict her own death. But Lily was killed suddenly, she had no time to plan for anything. Me, I knew my own death was coming, and I took steps to ensure that Sev wasn't left totally alone, I commissioned the portrait and made him heir to Malachite Cottage and the glen, and asked Minerva to watch out for him when she could at school. If Lily had been prepared to die, she would have done the same. But her life was snuffed out like a candle in the wind, and when you're twenty-one, you don't think about dying. Perhaps you might ask Sev about her, he was her best friend growing up and in school, I'm sure he could tell you lots of stories."

Harry sniffed hard, controlling the sudden urge to start crying valiantly. "Yeah. I'll do that. But I'd better get to work now, before Dad reams my arse. Bye, Gran." He waved at the portrait before he went past her to the potions lab and the disgusting task awaiting him.

* * * * * *

 

After he'd scrubbed all seven cauldrons, reflecting on what Eileen had told him with wry amusement, he took another shower and went into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat. Rellah made him a large roast beef and cheese sandwich and lemonade, which he devoured as if he hadn't eaten in a month. Lately, he was always hungry for some reason.

Then he went out to visit Boreal, who had slept some more and was quite glad to have someone to talk to. Harry began by asking him questions about his kind of pegasus. "Dad mentioned that there are breeds of pegasi, but I never knew that until today. I didn't even know that wizards had pegasi for, uh, pets."

We don't really consider ourselves pets, Harry, like a cat or a dog. A racing pegasus is more like a partner, which is why we have contracts. The first pegasus, from where we get our Name, was a white stallion, wild as the wind over the mountain. Only Bellerophon could ride him, and he helped the young hero slay Medusa. He sired many offspring with other pegasi and it wasn't until a year later that people started noticing that not all pegasi were of the same color. Some were champagne -colored, some were gray and some were the rare red chestnut shade. Most were the familiar white, but there was enough variation to make people think. It wasn't long after that before someone got the idea to breed two different shades of pegasi. From there they progressed to different traits, like a slow glide through the air, or speed in flight, or intelligence, or courage.

"How many breeds are there?" Harry was sitting crosslegged on a bale of hay.

Five, counting the original, which is now called the Royal White, since Bellerophon became king eventually and Pegasus was a king's steed. The Royal line is known for courage, loyalty, and brilliant tactical instincts-they make perfect battle steeds. Then there is the Crimson Star breed, which are mostly that rare red shade with a white star upon their brow. They are bred for traveling long distances, can be fiery tempered, and are used by transportation services for those who cannot Floo travel or Apparate easily. The Golden Beauty, is as their name suggests, exceedingly beautiful, they participate in pegasi shows and have the best conformation and over-all beauty, plus a sweet nature. Then there are the Silver Arrows, like myself, who are bred for speed and manuverability and make the best racing pegasi. Also good for racing are the Black Shadow line, though they are excellent as riding instructors for students, for they are even-tempered and gentle, and very intelligent.
"So, were you bred to race or something?"

In a manner of speaking, yes. A Silver Arrow loves to race, it's in our blood, but in my case, my mother was a wild pegasus, who permitted no man to ride her, and was very stubborn and independent. I've inherited some of her traits, I fear.

"These races. What are they like? Do you just race each other straight and whoever crosses the line wins?"

No, the races are more along the line of obstacles you have to fly around or under certain things at speed Depending on the race, the course could be harder or easier, the toughest course is the Skybolt International Championship.

"Have you ever flown in it?"

Boreal whickered in amusement. No, Harry. Perhaps someday, when my wings are healed, I might be able to. Of course my rider would have to be one I trusted above all, for only then can I be assured of winning or even placing second or third. Think of it as similar to the Muggle version of The Grand National or the Kentucky Derby. This is the race that most pegasi ruin their career on. There's an old saying the Skybolt first the rest nowhere, meaning that if you win the Skybolt, you're set for life.
"Your father won it twice, right?"

He did indeed. A feat which I could not hope to equal as I am now. And both times he won with the same rider on him, Susie Jefferies, who was bonded to him.

"Bonded?"

Yes, meaning that she and he shared a mental link and shared each other's thoughts to an extent. But only the most dedicated riders ever bond with their pegasi that way. And you can always tell the difference between a bonded pair and an unbonded one. A bonded pair flies as one, and is the wind incarnate. But such are few and far between, for once bonded, a pegasus will have no other rider, for as long as he lives, and we can live up into our hundreds.

Harry was quiet for a moment, thinking about all the information Boreal had told him. "Uh, Boreal? Is riding a pegasus kind of like riding a broom?"

Certainly not! I am a living feeling creature, not an inanimate piece of wood! There is no comparison between us. On a broom you could sit like a lump, and most of you do. But on a pegasus you have to move with us and it is quite different. Perhaps when I am healed I will take you for a short flight and you can see what I mean. Would you like that, Harry?

"Yeah! That would be wicked!"

Harry had about a dozen more questions for the stallion, but just then he heard Severus calling him and he had to go inside.

He found Severus in the den, holding two letters in his hand. "Harry, here are two letters for you."

Harry took them, wondering who could have been interested in writing him? And how had they known where he was? Shrugging, he tore open the first envelope.

 

Dear Harry,
 

How is your summer going? Mine's okay, I guess. Just a typical summer at the Burrow-that's what Dad nicknamed our house, cause it's round like a burrow. Percy took it upon himself to tell my parents about the whole chess game and stuff, and that set off Mum. She started out by yelling, hugging, yelling some more, and then walloping me a couple of good ones with her wooden spoon, for remembrance. Like I could forget! I even tried to tell her that Percy had already spanked me, but she said that was Percy and not her. Merlin! I won't be going up against any more giant chess sets soon, I can tell you that. But I'd take Mum's spoon over your punishment with Snape any day. At least once a spanking's over that's it. But your punishment chores just go on for days.

So what's it like living with Snape? Does he make you brew potions with him? Do you have to do all your summer reading as soon as you get home? Where are you living, anyhow? Hope it's somewhere you can fly your Nimbus. Oh, your birthday's coming up, what do you want for it? Write back soon, mate. Maybe I can come and visit.

 

Your friend,

Ron

 

Harry had to smile at that one. Though he winced when he read the part about poor Ron getting walloped twice over the same transgression. It didn't seem quite fair. But the Weasley house was nothing like Snape's.

 Ron's last question had him stumped, however. He had never had anyone ask him what he wanted for his birthday. His relatives had never even acknowledged it existed. There had never been any birthday parties, cake, or presents, or friends for Harry. Only Dudley. The first real birthday present he had ever gotten had been Hedwig from Hagrid.

He would have to think about it, and come up with something, but nothing too expensive, Ron couldn't afford it. Maybe another Quidditch book and some homemade fudge? And he didn't know how Severus would react if he asked if his friends could come and visit. He knew Severus cherished the summer months away from his students, where he could relax and not have to play the Dark Dungeon Dweller to the hilt.

He opened the next letter, sitting down at the table to read it. That one, as he had suspected from the neat handwriting, was from Hermione.

Dear Harry,
 

Sorry I haven't written until now, but I've been abroad on the Continent. My parents decided we should go to France this year on vacation and so we went to Paris and Nice and Burgundy. I can't even describe to you how amazing it was. I speak some French, but I brought along a dictionary just in case. We visited the Louvre and walked along the Seine and went to the Palace at Versailles where King Louie XIV and Marie Antoinette once lived. I climbed to the top of the Eiffel Tower. What a view!

When we visited Burgundy we went to a lot of vineyards and learned about making wine and grapes and it was fascinating. I even got to taste some wine, but I didn't really like it. The food was wonderful too. Fresh baked croissants and rolls and brie cheese and fish, lattes and champagne (I kind of liked that!) I took loads of pictures and will have to show you them. Sorry for babbling on and on, as Ron would say, enough already!

I hope you and the professor have been getting along this summer. I think he really cares a lot about you and just doesn't know how to express himself sometimes. There's a book called Learning to Find Yourself and Express Yourself by Dr. Phil that could help Professor Snape, but of course I'd never tell him that, he might bite my head off. But I've read it twice and find it very informative. It helps you get in touch with your inner child and unlock your repressed emotions.

Have you heard from Ron? I wrote him and he hasn't written back yet. I hope all is well.

You never told me where you were staying this summer, and since I had no address, I had to mail it to you and hope the owl could find you. Please write back and let me know if you've gotten this letter.

Your birthday is coming up, isn't it? Maybe you could ask Professor Snape if it would be okay to invite some friends over? I'd really like to see you open your present from me in person. It can't hurt to ask, right?

Bonne chance! That's good luck in French!

 

Luv,

Hermione

 

Harry had to pause and wipe his eyes, he had been convulsed with laughter, when he read the part about the self-help book again. He could just imagine the look on Snape's face if he ever told him what Hermione had said. "Hey, Dad, did you ever think about getting in touch with your inner child? You could read this book, it helps you deal with emotions, tells you how to unlock them . . ."

When he had finished laughing for the third time, he went to go and find his father and ask him if he wouldn't mind the Peaceful Glen being invaded by two Gryffindors, who also happened to be his best friends.


 



Chapter End Notes:


Thanks to everyone who continues to read and review this! You all get crates of chocolate frogs and malted chocolate milk shakes.

Next: Boreal's wings finally heal and Harry gets to experience a ride like no other.

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