New story! This is an animagus-based one. I have yet to see anyone give Harry this animagus form (not that there hasn't been, I haven't actually gone looking). I will probably change the title soon, but right now this is the one my head is stuck on. This will start in the summer after third year.

Disclaimer: I hold no ownership over J.K. Rowling's characters or stories, or anything else recognizable.

Harry didn't know how he got into these situations. He had just come home from his third year at Hogwarts when he was instructed to take out his normal clothes from his trunk and pack them in a hand-me-down suitcase the Dursleys had on hand. He wasn't even able to sneak his wand under his aunt's watchful eyes before they shoved the trunk into the cupboard under the stairs and jammed a new heavy-duty lock on the door. Supposedly his Uncle Vernon was getting a month long, all-expense paid trip to go to the states as long as he went to promote Grunnings with some potential business partners. Vernon's boss knew about Harry, so he already paid for his expenditure, as well.

Harry was still in shock. He didn't know if he wanted to go to the States or not. On one hand, he could actually do something this summer, on the other, he was forced to spend even more time in the presence of the Dursleys.

It wasn't like he was given much of a choice in the matter, though. Maybe he could sneak away for the entirety of the trip. Yeah right. His uncle would more than likely keep a close watch on him to make sure nothing freakish happened around him and nothing good would happen to Harry.

Harry also wasn't a big fan of the plane ride itself, either. While the Dursleys were in first class, he was stuck with a whiny prat behind him kicking his seat because the kid was bored, and when are we going to get off the plane? I want to go home! Harry, while wanting to rip into the kid for the hours of torture, agreed with the sentiment. He wanted off this plane now and he wanted to be back home, at Hogwarts. He had to send Hedwig off to Ron's. Turns out planes won't carry owls, and he wouldn't want her to be miserable anyway what with the long flight. While he thought her flight skills were amazing, Harry didn't trust the Atlantic Ocean to have rest stops in between Europe and North America.

Turns out, time doesn't fly when you do.

After a few more hours of snot-nosed kids and simpering mothers – wasn't Harry flying economy class so that he wouldn't be in any Dursley-ish presence? – the plane finally landed. Harry was almost tempted to leap to the ground and kiss the tarmac while muttering sweet, sweet Earth. He never thought flight, especially when there are flying brooms in existence, could be so torturous.

Harry followed the crowd inside to the baggage claim. His bag, luckily, was extremely easy to spot. It seemed like his was the only one with black duct tape holding it together. He thought the Dursleys might have some issues, though. They had just gotten new, normal black suitcases. The only issue with a normal suitcase was that it blended in with every other normal suitcase. And with his uncle's temper, Harry imagined their vacation would not start out as smoothly as they had hoped. Harry could almost picture his uncle's puce face as airport security dragged him out as someone else accidentally grabbed his luggage, leading to his uncle not having any of his homely comforts and buying everything new from the stupid Yanks. While his uncle loved having an out-of-country vacation, Harry knew he held no real tolerance towards anyone not a Brit.

Harry sat down in one of the handy, uncomfortable, plastic, hardback chairs the airport so kindly provided for those who had to wait for family to get their baggage. He watched Aunt Petunia, her long neck making her tower over the mob, her disgust plain to anyone who looked up. Of course, no one did as they were all looking for their own bags.

As the mob filtered out, the Dursleys finally found their bags, Uncle Vernon definitely not getting thrown out by the airport security. Well darn, Harry thought.

They got through customs and quickly hailed a cab. Harry noticed Dudley was a little green around the gills, most likely because he was afraid of heights. And thunder, and lightning, and turbulence. Their plane had to go near a minor thunder storm. Harry thought it was the most interesting thing to happen; then again, he had been through worse when the Dementors decided to be spectators, then participants, of a much more turbulent Quidditch game. He was kind of used to it. Dudley, obviously, was not.

California was as sunny as all the movies made it seem. Harry was interested in the beaches they passed by. The clear blue water called to the teenager who's only glimpse of the beach was when it was gloomy and stormy. The waves looked so much more inviting this go around.

They checked into the hotel, Harry and Dudley getting their own rooms, each of which had a connecting door between it and the elder Dursleys.

Harry plopped his worn travel bag on the bed. The hotel seemed to be something the Dursleys would go for. It was high in, with Egyptian cotton sheets on the bed and a telly that seemed to take up the entirety of the wall opposite the bed. The bathroom had all the little shampoos and other personal hygiene products in order, and there was even a little mint on the bed (not that Harry was even remotely tempted to eat it).

Harry hopped on the bed. Another upside to this trip: He wouldn't have to sleep on the lumpy mattress in the Dursley household. Harry would even go as far to say that it was comfier than the beds in the Gryffindor dorms. Harry was tempted to just fall asleep, unfortunately, his uncle wanted them to get set up then meet up in his room to go over the rules. He knew what the rules were, though! Nothing freakish. Harry can't have any fun or get in the way of the Dursleys having fun. Vernon and Dudley get twice the amount of food than anyone else (Harry wondered if the myth that Americans overstuff their plates was true).

He knew the rules, yet Uncle Vernon still did not trust him to not be a pest. Probably because in his eyes, Harry was always a pest.

Harry entered the king-sized room from the connecting door. The Dursleys looked ready for a night on the town.

"Look, boy," his uncle started, "I don't want to see you at all on this trip. You can go wherever, do whatever, but nothing freakish can happen, you got that? Don't even think of contacting your lot while we're out. We won't give you any of our hard-earned money – you can figure out yourself how to get food and the like. No one can go in your room; I want no phone calls from whores getting pregnant on this trip. You don't have that wand of yours, so I don't think this should be too much of an issue, but just know that you will be in serious trouble when we get home. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry did his best impression of a Snape sneer. "Crystal." He was jumping on the inside. No Dursleys for an entire month?! Sure, the food issue was somewhat pressing, but if push came to shove he could always order room service and put it on the Dursleys' tab. They weren't paying the bill, so they wouldn't even look at it. They may even just think that it's Dudley's food.

When Harry left the hotel to explore, he realized one major issue. He had no money. He couldn't buy a bus ticket, lunch was soon, and he couldn't even buy a map to know where he was going!

"Crap."

I hope you enjoyed this. I'm honestly not very confident in my writing yet. I will write the beginning chapters, then decide I don't like them and redo the entire story. Because of this, updates will be sporadic, with probably more edit-based updates than content-based. Review, follow, favorite, whatever suits your fancy.