Disclaimer :: All things Harry Potter are owned by JK Rowling, and it would be quite an insult to her if I were to claim them as my own wouldn't it? ¡No es mina!

'Tis The Season of Summertime

Written by Matt Silver

Sandwiches, goblins and bloodsuckers and Greengrasses, oh my!

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Rated justly thanks to coarse language, crude humour, crude sexual related humour, sexual references, violence and humorous sadism (But not in the sexual way. Just kidding, really. Maybe. Okay, I am. Now ask yourself, what am I kidding about? The sadism or the sexual sadism? Muwhahaha). Do not take this fic too seriously, it's a little crack-like. Suspension of disbelief is required sometimes. Canon up until book 5, all AU from there.

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Chapter 1 :: Shielded by and from Insanity

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Harry Potter's perfect sandwich featured two slices of wholemeal bread, a light coating of softened butter on each piece of bread, a layer of shaved chicken breast and two slices of hard cheese. Since his godfather died, his perfect sandwich had an extra slice of cheese.

"Living life on the edge," he muttered to himself.

It was the summer after Harry's fifth year, and it was nearing the end of July and his upcoming birthday. Unfortunately for the Boy-Who-Lived, his summer would be spent in Casa del Dursley. A few days ago, Harry received a letter from his Headmaster/frenemy Dumbledore, instructing him to stay at Number Four, Privet Drive, for the rest of the summer, and to practice up his Occlumency. His Occlumency training was helped along by some useful books sent by the Headmaster.

A post-note at the bottom of Dumbledore's letter indicated that he would send Professor Snape to Number Four to check Harry's Occlumency prowess.

Somewhere, far away, a dozen street lamps exploded because of Harry's anger and accidental magic.

Harry's reply to Dumbledore was short and sweet as vague sarcasm can be:

'Dear' Professor Dumbledore,

A thanks for the Occlumency texts. Maybe I'll actually get somewhere in that helpful subject. And thanks for reminding me of my summer plans.

Anyway, if you send Snivellus here at all, I will personally pull out each hair from your beard with superheated tweezers. And by the way, how about you send me some useful texts? Advanced Duelling, Creative Jinxes and Hexes, Auror training manuals. If it's not too much trouble,

Harry, prisoner number #731-Screw-You

"With superheated tweezers," Harry recited, adding the cheese to his perfect sandwich.

Sandwich complete, Harry left the Dursley kitchen and started upstairs. His perfect sandwich was cradled, ready to be eaten and savoured up in his bedroom. However, Harry's unnatural lack of luck won out and he ran into his cousin Dudley.

"Watch it!" Dudley grunted, looking affronted at bumping shoulders with his wizard cousin.

Harry, still cradling his sandwich, didn't reply.

Dudley noticed the sandwich, smiled greedily and reached for it with a pudgy hand. Harry pulled his hands back, and Dudley dove for him. To save himself, Harry sidestepped, hands flailing. Unfortunately, Dudley's dive knocked the sandwich from Harry's hands and sent it to the base of the stairs.

"No!" Harry cried. He knew the sandwich was gone, and it was too late. But it hurt.

"They will never find any part of you," Harry said contemptuously to his overweight cousin.

Dudley snorted. "You can't use your freak stuff now."

"Who says I'll use magic?" asserted Harry. "Vernon and Petunia taught me how to clean without it from day one Dudley. I could kill you and no one would find you. And the pieces of you - Dudley? What's that smell?"

Harry never found out which one of Dudley's bodily functions failed him in fear, as his cousin ran up the stairs and into the bathroom. Harry, hungry and tired, sighed and headed to his own room. Inside, he found Hedwig awaiting on the windowsill, clutching a letter in her beak. On the front of the envelope was a familiar curly handwriting, and Harry dreaded the opening of that letter.

"Here goes nothing," Harry sighed. He opened up the letter and gave a quick read.

My dear Harry,

You're welcome for the helpful Occlumency texts. I hope you find the subject as fascinating and helpful as I did.

Unfortunately, it seems the bottom half of your letter was lost in transit to my office. I'm sure nothing important was lost, right Harry?

Oh well. Have a good summer,

Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

"That fucker."

Hours later, Harry decided there was no fun in sitting in his bedroom and brooding, so he reluctantly pulled out The Art of the Occlumens from the secret compartment underneath his floorboards and removed the bookmark inside of it.

"Page four," he read. "How to clear your mind and create a basic Occulmency shield in twelve easy steps. Step one, do not attempt a Legilimency attack until at least ten minutes after your mind is 'cleared'. Snivellus forgot that little tidbit it seems. Step two, get in a comfortable position..."

Harry read through the chapter twice to be sure, and attempted what the book called a 'Retrograde Legilimens' shield. After clearing his mind (Easier than it sounds, the book advises to focus on one object and make that your cleared mindscape), he imagined that Snape was raiding his mind again (Because he couldn't use magic at the moment) and remembered the feeling clearly. From there, the shield he created was the backwards effect of Snape leaving his mind.

This backwards Legilimens shield took another hour to put together. Harry felt like whooping in joy when he felt the sensation of an Occlumency shield in his head (As described in the book). It took a few minutes for him to realise that his Occlumency success was accompanied by a dizzy spell (No pun intended).

A dizzy spell that led to light headedness, associated with lack of food and magical exhaustion. A burst of pain suddenly blinded him, and he fell to his knees. However, Harry swore he heard a voice before passing out.

A voice saying, "Thank my dear and fluffly god! I mean, this is even better than me and Andrea Summerby in the broom cupboard in fifth year. Oh, she had a tongue like a-"

..::..--.--..::..

When Harry came to, he noticed immediately that his head pain was gone, and he was not alone in the smallest bedroom of Number Four. No, there was a man in his room. Thankfully, the man was clothed in simple and neat robes, with a neat beard and a healthy skin colour. It was a direct contrast from the last time Harry saw that man. But then again, the last time Harry saw that man it was with him being propelled into a ratty curtain, eyes open in shock. The man smiled widely, a smile Harry recognised anywhere. Wasn't that man dead?

Oh yeah, it was Sirius Black.

"Oh my horsefaced aunt," Harry moaned.

"My aunts are all incestous," 'Sirius' said matter-of-factly. "How are you doing Harry?"

Harry shook his head, took off his glasses and blinked slowly. He could still see a Sirius-shaped blob in front of him, so it wasn't a stain on his lens. Yes, a stain that could talk and imitate his dead godfather. He replaced his glasses and narrowed his eyes. He had finally lost it! Gone crazy, nuts, insane, bonzo, no longer in possession of ones facilities, three fries short of a happy meal -

"WACKO!" Harry burst out.

"Harry?" 'Sirius' asked worriedly. "It's part of my godfatherly duties to make sure you're not crazy. So... are you crazy?"

Harry took a seat on his bed and started to twitch his hands a little. "I'm seeing my dead godfather, how are you?"

"Oh good," Sirius said, relieved. "You're not crazy! With that and last year's little chat, I've fulfilled my main godfatherly duties."

Harry shivered at the mention of the Sirius Black version of the 'birds and bees having wild, elbowy, missionary sex' talk.

"Hungry," Harry said finally. "I feel hungry, and confused, and wondering what I'm actually talking too."

Sirius chuckled and took a seat on Harry's desk. To Harry's surprise, his godfather didn't fall through like a ghost would. Had he become a poltergeist or something?

The ghost/poltergist/lack-of-food related crazy noticed Harry's look.

"Oh, I can walk through walls, but I can do the whole sitting and standing on solid stuff," Sirius clarified.

"Good for you," Harry bit out, still confounded about the whole thing.

"Let's lay some simple rules," Sirius explained. "One, only you can see me. If your fat uncle was to walk through the door, he would see you talking to yourself, and not a roguishly handsome godfather. Two, the only reason you can see me is because of your Occlumency exercises, combined with the Visum Nex Effect."

Harry gave his godfather a confused look.

"Visum Nex is basically magic that can be performed thanks to seeing a death. For example, you can see Thestrals because you saw Cedric Diggory die," Sirius continued. "You can see me because I fell through that freaking curtain and was hanging around just beyond the afterlife. Once I was in the veil, I was able to find my way into your head from there. Your head was weak from the Occlumency training, and I wormed my way in. My presence is kind of another Occlumency shield too, so I'm not just being useless."

"Wait, wait," Harry interrupted. "You came through the veil and into my head?"

"But my body is still inside the veil," Sirius added. "You could hear voices coming from the veil right?"

Harry nodded. Last he could remember, Luna Lovegood could hear them too. And the two of them could also both see Thestrals...

"Visum Nex Effect," Sirius explained, literally reading Harry's mind. He was stuck in there after all. "And since you saw me die by that veil, I was able to find my way into your head specifically. So if you pushed Bellatrix through the veil, she could theoretically find her way in your head because you witnessed her death and it was using the veil. But personally, I want to hang her from her toenails and drop her into a vat of hungry sharks instead of pushing her through a curtain."

"Why stop at that?" Harry wondered aloud.

Sirius smiled. "Spoken like my true godson! Don't worry about her or Voldemort right now Harry."

"Why not?"

Sirius' grin widened. Harry's internal threat levels rose from Philosopher's Stone to Chamber of Secrets proportions.

"Uh-oh."

Sirius started pacing in Harry's room, arms waving widely and muttering under his breath. When Harry heard the words 'Banana hedgehog' uttered from his godfather's mouth, his internal threat levels were raised to the escaped Azkaban prisoner level.

"Sirius... what are you thinking?" he asked warily.

"A holiday," Sirius said finally. "Think about it! You need to escape, Harry. You need to bust out of this joint and have some fun! And if we're on the run from some Aurors or Death Eaters or Order members, so be it! Let's do it!"

"Let's do it?" Harry repeated. "Sirius, are you trying to live through me or something?"

Sirius pouted. "Of course not."

"Not reassuring me!"

"We'll hammer out the details later," Sirius said dismissively.

There was a moment of silence as Harry tried to regain his bearings. Apparently, his godfather had come back to him, and his Occlumency training was done all at once. Either a win-win situation or the biggest mindfuck of all time.

"How are you doing, Harry?" Sirius asked. Harry grinned, whether it be from the lack of food or the bruise developing on his knee. Throughout the entire conversation with his godfather, he was pinching his left knee rather hard, just in case.

"Fine, for now," Harry admitted. "But I am kind of tired."

"Oh right," Sirius said, grinning sheepishly. "Me appearing to you like this will kind of drain you the first few times. So, you know, feel free to fall asleep."

Harry acquiesced, falling asleep almost instantly, vaguely muttering about lost opportunities of the sandwich kind.

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It took four days, but Harry and Sirius finally hashed out their grand plan. Of course, the plan was simple in the end, and it wouldn't involve exploding rats, peanut butter, a meat grinder or banana hedgehog decoys. Nor would the plan use the 140 jars of mayonnaise Petunia bought in bulk for Dudley a few months ago, to Sirius' disappointment. Harry had to reign in some of his godfather's more outlandish ideas, and the two agreed on the basics. Get out of Privet Drive, get some money, and get out of the country to one of Sirius' island properties and relax for the summer. Everything else could wait, right?

The first step in their plan was for Harry to steal two items from his uncle and not be noticed: A fishing rod and some cheap whiskey Vernon kept in several key places throughout the house. Harry had found one of Vernon's bottles hiding inside a gaudy vase Aunt Marge gave the Dursleys for Christmas. And thus, the real reason for Vernon wanting that vase in the living room next to the television was revealed.

"I like what it represents," he would say.

It took Harry a day to procure Vernon's unused fishing rod, and another day to tie the whiskey bottle to the end of the rod successfully. The next step saw Harry on the roof of Privet Drive, storing the rod and whiskey in a gutter and wearing his Invisibility Cloak.

"Now," Sirius said, lazing on the roof without a care in the world, "We wait for our fish to come biting."

"I think it's today," Harry said optimistically. "Tonks is on Tuesdays and Friday nights from 6pm to 9pm last week and 6:05pm to 9:30pm the week before, Kingsley has Thursdays and Saturday mornings every second weekend, Moody I know has the other Saturdays, but I have no idea when else, Remus has Sunday, Monday and Wednesday nights-"

"He needs to date more," Sirius interjected.

"I think he's taking shifts to escape from that," Harry added. "Then Mr Weasley has Sunday days, and Hestia or Vance on Thursday and Tuesday nights. And Dung has today, I think. Haven't put much thought into it."

"You know, I have to wonder what kind of crazy schedule Dumbledore has them on," Sirius pondered. "And where do your guards hide?"

"Moody patrols the house, Remus hides in the bushes, Tonks sits on the roof, Kingsley usually paces the front lawn, Vance sits on the window ledge outside of the living room, watching the Dursleys. Bit of a nutter really."

Sirius shrugged. "And Mundungus?"

Harry pointed to the Dursley backyard, amidst the rose bushes and alike. In the middle of the well kept backyard was a large marble birdbath with a fat cupid spurting water into it.

"Dung lies under the birdbath, sleeping," Harry remarked, shaking his head sadly.

Sirius whistled low, then started laughing. Harry joined in for a minute, before hearing a large gunshot noise in his backyard. Typical Dung always Apparated into the backyard where Muggles could hear. Luckily, Harry's Muggles were off to the market today, stocking up on tonnes of food (Dudley), gossip magazines (Petunia and Dudley) and cheap alcohol (Vernon and occasionally Dudley and Petunia).

Moments later, Harry and Sirius heard a soft grunting as Dung shuffled across the backyard for his guard duty/nap. As soon as he settled (Harry could see his feet sticking out from the Invisibility Cloak), Harry picked up a nearby rock and took aim.

"Go for the crotch," Sirius advised, grinning.

Harry rolled his eyes and aimed at what he guessed was Dung's midriff. He threw the small rock with as much force as he could, impacting on his guard's upper thigh area.

"So close," Sirius said regretfully.

Dung yelped and stood up instantly, the Cloak shrugged off and his wand out. Harry readjusted his own Invisibility Cloak and grabbed hold of the fishing rod, whiskey bottle hanging off the end. Like a pro with a day of practice, Harry flung the rod, dangling the bottle in front of Dung's unshaven face.

Using the analogy that Dung was like a kid on Christmas morning when it came to alcohol is apt, and Dung snatched for the bottle with so much enthusiasm he didn't even notice the fishing line attached to it. Harry reeled the bottle in a bit, making Dung lurch forward to get his present. The thief/Order member dropped his wand to dive for the bottle, as Harry kept reeling in.

"Now!" Sirius urged.

Harry nodded and lowered his grip on the rod. The bottle started towards the ground, and Dung flew forward to catch it. Unfortunately, Harry had quickly pulled the rod up, and Dung was simply sprawled on the ground, no bottle in hand. Harry rolled his eyes before dropping the bottle on his guard's head, knocking the man out.

"Brilliant!" Sirius praised, as Harry started to scale down the roof. Sirius had his own way of appearing out of nowhere, so he was still on the roof. "I mean, he was obviously drunk, so that made things easier."

"Makes you wonder what Moody or Remus would've done to the bottle," Harry pondered, approaching the unconscious Order member.

Sirius popped off the roof and appeared at Harry's side instantly. "Instead of pondering the what-ifs, maybe you could hope like hell they're closet alcoholics. I mean, Remus is extremely stressed and Moody always drinks from a flask..."

"True," Harry agreed. He picked up Dung's wand and waved it. A dozen or so brown sparks shot out the end, and Harry nodded. "I can use his wand for a bit."

Sirius nodded. He approached Dung's body, stepping around the small blood puddle forming from Dung's nose (Harry himself saw the blood and thought of eating marmalade for some reason), and spotted something in the man's robes.

"Hi-ho silver!"

Harry bounded over and reached into Dung's robes, pulling out a shiny and delicate silver necklace. A necklace that Harry had definitely seen that before.

"Your stuff?" he asked, dangling the necklace in front of Sirius.

"My stuff," Sirius confirmed. "Little weasel tried to filch it before I could."

"Well... you were dead."

"Still!" Sirius cried indignantly. "I'm technically on the mortal plane now, thanks to you."

"Thanks to me," Harry said to himself. "Thanks to you, I'm now planning to escape the country for the summer, with Dumbledore and Voldemort looking for me, and all kinds of shit storms going to brew when I come back in September."

"Always focusing on the negative," Sirius said, shaking his head. "Think positive for a bit! You can talk and chat to me and I'm teaching you all kinds of stuff. And since I got in your head, Voldemort hasn't even got close to giving you those creepy nightmares! And admit it, breaking Dung's nose was pretty fun."

Harry thought it about for a moment. Thinking positive seemed like a good idea for a while. At least until all his friends and allies in England got their angry, angry hands on him after the summer.

Harry pocketed Dung's money, the silver necklace and wand, covering up the man with the Order's communal and smelly Invisibility Cloak (It was used by at least eight others after all). He left Dung in the backyard at Sirius' insistence, who noted that it was funnier that way. Harry returned to his bedroom, and started removing several key items from the secret compartment under his bed. Hedwig was sent off to Hermione for the summer, with promise that her master would be alive by the end of it. Sirius coached him into Shrinking Spells and alike, so Harry could at least carry his trunk as a compact size. However, Harry discovered the hard way that his trunk wasn't supposed to be shrunk, especially when it turned purple and started to take on the smell of rotten eggs.

"Probably just Dung's wand," Sirius assured him.

Harry strapped his Firebolt across his back and Disillusioned it, pocketed his trunk wrapped in a pair of socks, and put his Invisibility Cloak on before leaving Privet Drive for the summer.

"Nice day," Harry mused, strolling down Wisteria Walk. He spotted two rats fighting over some piece of rubbish, and still smiled. Indeed, he still smiled when one of the rats snapped the other's neck with its bare paws, its opponent's blood spurting out onto the pavement. And he still smiled as he wondered how it was physically possible for the neck breaking to occur.

Upon arriving near a secluded alleyway, Harry pulled out Dung's wand and pointed it at the street. Seconds passed before a violently violet triple-decker bus appeared with a BANG, waiting for a passenger to board it. Harry pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and pocketed it, approaching the bus.

The conductor began speaking almost immediately. "Welcome to the Knight Bus-"

"Yes yes," Harry said briskly, imitating his Transfiguration professor Minerva McGonagall. "I'm going to the Leaky Cauldron. Take the Sickles, I don't want anything else, and I will have a nice day. Mmm 'kay?"

After paying the conductor, Harry took a seat on the top floor of the bus at Sirius' insistence.

"Never rode up here," Sirius said, staring out the windows. "Mrs Potter never let me and James past the second floor when we were kids. Something about high mortality rate, whatever that means."

Harry was really starting to doubt sitting on the top floor of the Knight Bus, especially when no one else was.

"Spare change?"

Apparently no one else.

Standing at the back of bus were a bunch of rickety benches stacked up in a tall half-circle formation. However, Harry could spot several pairs of bright eyes poking through the bench enclosure, and he guessed there was something on board with him. Hesitantly, he moved a bit forward.

"Sorry?" he half-asked. Sirius displayed one of his new talents as an Occlumency shield by walking through several benches and peering through the enclosure.

"Woah!" he exclaimed. "Harry, there's people back here!"

Harry moved forward cautiously, wand in hand just in case. Upon reaching the bench enclosure, he warily poked his head in an opening. And sure enough, there were quite a few people there. The bus-dwellers were sitting around a campfire, all wearing ratty robes and looking greasier than Snape on a Tuesday. About half a dozen of the witches and wizards had their hands out in a begging gesture, apparently wanting some money or food.

"An outsider!" one of the homeless exclaimed happily. He was the oldest with more hair than skin showing and was naked except for one small rag covering his genitalia.

"What... you people live up here?" Harry asked warily. The men and women all nodded happily, several more putting their hands out in the same begging gesture.

"We have lived here since this bus was created," the leader recited. "All those years ago, I lost my job at the Ministry and had to take up residence somewhere. I had no money, and I needed a home. This place became my sanctuary, but my family refused to come live here with me."

"Who could blame them?" Harry muttered.

"I created this enclosure with some nifty charmwork. And I convinced the driver to let me stay in exchange for my fellow homeless performing sexual favours for him."

Sirius shook his head, grinning madly. "Explains why Mrs P. didn't want us up here."

"Several more people out of the job joined me here. We all live in these expanded trunks," the leader continued, gesturing to the pile of old bags, suitcases and trunks in the corner of their enclosure. "We let all those in need into the sanctuary, where they will one day find pure enlightenment."

"By living in bags and doing stuff to the driver?" Harry wondered.

"Do not mock our faith," the leader chided. "Many have found enlightenment here before stepping off the Knight Bus and living their lives to the fullest as pure and good human beings."

"Or they got jobs."

"They never visited! They're lives were obviously at the fullest!"

"Or they couldn't stand the smell."

"They were the ones we all look up to!"

"For leaving?"

The leader stood up suddenly, his expression angry. "Either give us some money OR GET OUT!"

Harry pulled his head back slowly, afraid of the homeless people's wandering hands. He backed away from the benches (With hands still poking out of the enclosure), turning to head down to the second floor. However, he bumped into a familiar face as he did so.

"Potter!" Dolores Umbridge cried. Harry's eyes narrowed in distaste at his tormenter for the past year. "What are you doing here?"

Too angry to respond coherently, Harry stuck with, "What are YOU doing here?"

Sirius appeared at Harry's side instantly, narrowing his eyes at Umbridge.

"Plan, Harry?" he asked. Harry shook his head, gripping his wand as he did so. A moment passed, and Harry took in Umbridge's appearance carefully. Her normally violently pink coloured robes were a dulled mauve, and her usually tame hair was mussed and untied. She looked thinner and gaunt, a lot like she did upon leaving the Forbidden Forest at the end of Harry's fifth year. Harry smiled patronisingly at the thought of Umbridge kicking and screaming, being dragged away by centaurs.

"How're things?" Sirius said suddenly. Harry looked at him like he was insane-r than usual, then realised that Sirius was instructing him on what to say.

"How are things?" Harry repeated. Umbridge's beady eyes widened a little, but she recovered quickly.

"I'm not a filthy liar and menace to society, how are you?" she asked sweetly.

"You're looking like you just got mauled by a pack of centaurs," Sirius said.

Harry recited Sirius' reply word for word, speaking slowly and enjoying the drop in colour on his enemy's face. She flinched at the word 'centaur', and collapsed on a nearby bench.

"How's your job?" Sirius said tauntingly.

"How's your job?" Harry asked.

To Harry and Sirius' surprise, Umbridge almost burst into tears. She suddenly looked twenty years older, if possible.

"Somewhere out there," Sirius started, shaking his head. "There's a portrait of Dolores Umbridge getting prettier and thinner as time goes on."

Before Umbridge could actually start to cry, Harry decided to rub it in a little.

"So, you lost your job?"

Umbridge nodded slowly.

Harry wondered what she was doing on the third floor of the Knight Bus. "And you're here to join those homeless nuts?"

Umbridge nodded again.

"And you just blew the driver?" Sirius asked. Harry grinned and nodded.

"And the driver? Did you jolly his roger?"

Umbridge finally lost it, sobbing into her hands pathetically. Something new reverberated inside of Harry, and he had the perfect idea for revenge on the pitiful and foul woman. As if losing her job wasn't enough...

"I'm so sorry," Harry said consolingly, patting the air above her shoulder.

"You are?" Umbridge blubbered, looking up desperately.

Harry burst out laughing, shocking his former DADA Professor. Before he could stop himself, he took a step back from her and reared his left leg back.

"Sorry that I must not tell lies!" With that, Harry kicked her across the face with a sickening force and a 'CRACK!', blood spurting from her nose and cheekbones and splattering on the walls and floor. Harry heard several crunchy sounds as she collapsed against the bench, moaning piteously. Harry took the high road and went down to the first floor of the Knight Bus, waiting for it to arrive at the Leaky Cauldron.

All experiences on the top floor of the triple-decker were pushed from Harry's mind, to keep his sanity in check.

..::..--.--..::..

"That was brilliant, Harry!" Sirius cackled.

"What the hell was that?" Harry demanded. The two were outside the Leaky Cauldron after the Knight Bus dropped them off and no one else was in the street, and no one saw a teenager supposedly yelling at himself.

"What was what?" Sirius chortled.

Harry growled softly. "THAT!"

"The Umbridge thing?"

"Yes that. Why did I kick her like that?"

"Hmm... is it because you wanted to?"

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I wanted to, but I never got the courage to do something like that. I'm guessing you did something!"

Sirius said nothing, confirming Harry's fears.

"Either stop screwing around up there or I will find a way to revive your body and kill you myself!"

Sirius frowned. "Occlumency is about blocking emotion and projecting something else, as well as protecting the mind from magical invasions. Yes, I'm more than just your normal Occlumency shield, one that you can't control fully. And one that decided that you needed to project more confidence and risk taking behaviour, so I fiddled with things. I removed your self angst, I did you a favour. Harry, you probably knew from the start you were changing up here, and you didn't confront me about it then."

"I know..." Harry said, anger mostly lost.

"So you felt guilty about Umbridge?" Sirius half-asked.

"No, of course not," Harry replied slowly. "It's just that I really savoured that little kick in the face. It's like one of my dreams come true, and that's a weird feeling."

"And this isn't?" said Sirius. "We're currently outside of Diagon Alley, about to take some money from Gringotts and leave the country. You have stolen from Dung, hurt two people who you didn't like, escaped that hellhole at the Dursleys, and you're taking control of your life. With me up here, get used to it."

Harry smiled wryly. "Dumbledore's going to be pissed."

"Nah," Sirius dismissed. "Just say it was for the greater good before he gets a chance to. Simple really."

"I'll need your backup when it happens," Harry affirmed, turning to walk into the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry made his way through the pub rather easily, despite all the customers and him being the famous Boy-Who-Lived. It was fairly easy for him to navigate Diagon Alley after putting on his Invisibility Cloak, combined with low shopper numbers on a Wednesday afternoon. So he easily made it to Gringotts, removing his cloak once inside.

"Business?" the goblin teller asked snidely, looking down at Harry with its long nose.

"The Galleon kind," Harry affirmed, pulling out his key. "I need a withdrawal from the Potter trust vault."

"The Potter trust vault?" the goblin said. "I'm sorry sir, but that vault is shut for the next three months."

Sirius popped into existence at that moment, sitting on the goblin's desk. "What the hell?"

Harry shot him a look, and turned back to the goblin. "What the hell?"

"I said that the trust vault is shut," the goblin said slowly.

"He's not wearing any pants!" Sirius exclaimed, looking behind the desk. "Oh wait, this man goblin is a female goblin! If I had a body, I'd vomit."

Praying that Sirius wouldn't find a way to vomit through him, Harry focused his attention on the wall behind his female goblin teller and asked, "Why is my vault shut?"

"It's a merging," the goblin explained. "The recent will of Sirius Black-"

"That's me!"

"-has awarded you will half of the Black estate. While the actual vault is with a Mr R.J. Lupin's possession, you received a new shipment of gold. However, as in your parent's will, your trust vault merges with the Potter family vault to be ready for your use at your sixteenth birthday."

"And the Black money..."

"Will add a sizeable amount that will take an extra few months to finish transferring," the goblin finished. She smiled evilly. "Thank you for stopping in to get an update. Although I assumed your vault manager sent you a letter detailing what I told you, but I'm happy to help one of our vault owners."

"No no no," Harry stalled. "I need to withdraw some money."

"No," the goblin replied. "I detailed what's going on, and you're not getting in this summer."

"Come on!" pleaded Harry. "Just let me get a sack of Galleons or something!"

"No."

Sirius jumped off the goblin's desk and tapped Harry's shoulder. Harry didn't feel anything (No one else could either), but noticed his godfather trying to grab his attention.

"What?" he mouthed.

"Pies," Sirius said simply.

"What?" Harry repeated, out loud this time. His goblin teller and the three customers standing behind him looked at him like he was crazy. Personally, Harry didn't think that the other customers could judge (One was a pureblood snot, one had a handlebar moustache and the last had a glass eye).

"Say pies," Sirius repeated. "I have a theory to test. So move as close as you can to the goblin and whisper it."

Harry moved forward, placing both hands on the desk in front of him. Leaning in and ignoring the goblin's smell, he whispered in his most menacing tone of voice just one word: "Pies."

The goblin's eyes widened in shock, and she started to sweat. Harry kept his menacing face (And Severus Snape impersonation) on the whole time, and raised his eyebrows slightly.

"You heard me. My favourite pies have female goblins, you see. They're usually juicier, you see."

"You wouldn't!" the goblin said indignantly. "To do that would break the Goblin Rebellion Charter of 1872. You wouldn't dare."

"All I've got to lose is my vault," Sirius said. Harry repeated, adding, "And I'd still have my money for the dwarves in Zurich."

"No..." said the goblin.

"Yessss...." Harry hissed.

"Fine! I'll pull some strings and talk to your account manager. It'll take about a day for me to find the appropriate forms, another day to fill them out, another three days for the magic to set in. A week for the manager to get the forms, another two days for him to reply, maybe three if his workload is too high. Then it'll take two weeks for the form to be processed, and six days to stop the Galleon transfer. In three days after that, you'll be able to get into your vault."

"Five weeks?" Harry said disbelievingly.

"And two additional weeks to forge a new key, and two for it to be mailed to you-"

"PIES!"

The goblin shrieked, shattering the glass eye of the nearby customer. The wizard dropped like a stone, glass imbedded in his brain and blood pouring out of his eye and ears. Several others ran to the Floo to call St Mungo's. Harry gave the man barely a glance before turning to the goblin again.

"That's all I can do at the least, sir!" she exclaimed. "Don't pie me!"

Harry, fuming, left his scared goblin teller behind, Sirius following. Harry stepped over the bloodied man with a broken glass eye, and left the bank. He passed two Healers and pointed to the general area of the injured wizard, still fuming.

..::..--.--..::..

Using money stolen from Dung, Harry bought an ice cream at Florean Fortescue's, to drown his depression in a butterbeer flavoured cone. He sat on one of the chairs outside the store, as Sirius paced the area, spouting ideas.

"Break into Gringotts using the hair of Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"No."

"Break into Dumbledore's office and steal Gryffindor's Sword?"

"What use would that be?"

"Break into the Ministry and steal Umbridge's brooch?"

"She's homeless now. Remember?"

"Break into Malfoy Manor by getting captured, and in the process, you save the captured wandmaker, a goblin and one of your friends. Unfortunately, Dobby would die in the process. And in some roundabout way, the captured wandmaker would lead you to gaining an unbeatable wand."

No answer.

"Too contrived, got it."

Eventually, Harry decided to don his Invisibility Cloak and waltz into Knockturn Alley. Using Dung's wand and some Sirius-taught Glamour Charms, Harry masqueraded as a darker skinned teen with long blond hair, covering his scar sufficiently. The Boy-Who-Lived-In-Disguise found Borgin and Burkes easily using memories of his second year, and made his way inside.

What followed was a three minute negotiation to sell the silver necklace Harry found in Dung's pocket. Harry eventually needled Borgin into a reasonable price, especially after a repeat of the Gringotts' negotiation.

"Pies," Harry said warningly.

"How did you know?" Borgin pleaded. "Don't tell my wife what I do to myself, please."

Harry left Borgin and Burkes with a pocket full of gold, enough for him to purchase a tent to stay in and several other essentials. One such essential was a pricey removal of all of Harry's wand's charms and tracking devices. Another purchase was a new bag that was bottomless and could be shrunken at will, to hold all his loot. After that, Harry was ready to hit the open road, but there was still a roadblock.

"I still need more money," he moaned. "I need Portkeys, several books on Duelling and DADA, food and drink and god knows what else."

"Hmm..." Sirius hummed. "I think I've got an idea..."

Before Harry could hear Sirius' idea, he spotted Kingsley Shacklebolt down the street, asking around. Harry, still under glamour, walked by slowly to get to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Hi Harry," Kingsley greeted from behind. "Nice glamour, would've fooled me if you didn't walk so slowly and the scar wasn't that visible."

Harry turned to face him. "Hi Shack."

"Harry. So you busted out?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. How long did it take for you guys to find out?"

"Your aunt found Mundungus lying in a pool of his own blood. The wind blew off the Invisibility Cloak hiding him, and she contacted Mrs Figg."

Harry sighed. "That bitch knew how to get in contact with you?"

"Indeed she did."

"Oh," Harry said. He surreptitiously plunged his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wand. "Concusso!"

Harry didn't stick around to see if his Concussion Hex hit home, and ran into the Leaky Cauldron. He closed the entrance to Diagon Alley with a trashcan and a Colloportus spell.

"Run run run!" Sirius advised.

Harry, agreeing, ran through the pub and holed in behind a booth Sirius pointed too. He pulled out the Invisibility Cloak and put it on, also stealing a bottle of Firewhiskey from the nearby table. He did some transfiguring on a chair into a rough fishing rod, and tied the Firewhisky to it.

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it," Harry said, Disillusioning the rod and keeping the Firewhisky bottle visible.

Kingsley charged from the back entrance, wand out and looking flushed. He scanned the area, looking for Harry, but only found normal customers and a floating bottle of Firewhisky.

"Here fishy fishy," Harry murmured.

Kingsley looked at the bottle warily, before busting out a deep smile.

"Tom you old dog," Kingsley boomed, grabbing the bottle. "I'll need a little courage today. Now where is that Potter?" He took a few swigs, and walked out of the pub through the front entrance into the Muggle world.

Harry breathed a sigh in relief, abandoning the fishing rod. He took a seat, still invisible, and yawned.

"I'm tired. We need somewhere to camp for the night," he told Sirius.

"I know a good place. It'll be another trip on the Knight Bus, so no venturing to the third floor. When you wake up, I'll teach you the easy way to Apparate."

"No arguments here."

Harry began to leave the Leaky Cauldron, but the door opened and in entered a young woman his own age. A young woman with soft honey blonde with black streaks hair tied in a light ponytail and dark blue eyes. Harry immediately recognised Daphne Greengrass from his year at Hogwarts. Following Daphne was Kingsley again, holding an empty Firewhisky bottle.

"TOM!" he called drunkenly. "I need another."

"Never thought him as a lightweight drunk," commented Sirius.

Harry tried to avoid Kingsley, but the drunken Order member bumped into him and the Invisibility Cloak slid off enough to reveal the glamour-less Harry Potter. Harry started to panic when Kingsley's eyes widened in recognition.

"'Arry?" Kingsley slurred. "Aren't I supposed to capture you?"

Before Harry could act, someone else did it for him.

"Accio Firewhisky!" Daphne Greengrass called. A bottle flew from the shelf behind Tom's bar and Daphne caught it deftly. She uncorked it with another wand wave, and handed it to Kingsley. "Bill it to my father, Tom."

The barman nodded, and Kingsley thanked Daphne before taking a long swig of his newest bottle. He stumbled off in another direction, forgetting Harry's presence. Daphne smiled slightly and approached Harry.

"You owe me one," Daphne said, at the same moment Harry said, "I owe you one."

"Bill it to my father?" Harry said mockingly, smiling anyway.

"It works. You should try name-dropping sometime," Daphne replied, shrugging. "See you around."

"Same to you Daphne."

"Daphne is it?" she said lightly, raising an eyebrow. "See you then, Harry."

After she left, Sirius appeared at Harry's side as he bundled up the Invisibility Cloak.

"Nice girl?"

Harry nodded absentmindedly, leaving the Leaky Cauldron and out into the world beyond.

..::..--.--..::..

Sirius' camping spot was some isolated forest near Godric's Hollow, the old home of James and Lily Potter. It took half an hour for Harry to prepare the tent and ward it from Muggles and other unwelcome visitors. Thanks to Sirius, Harry was well prepared to do basic wards, or the wards that Sirius knew how to do. While Harry settled into the magically expanded tent, Sirius was thinking up some more crazy schemes for money. Like a blind monkey, he eventually peeled the skin off the banana and thought of a scheme.

"I've got it," he claimed. "It's the summer after the OWL's for you. And for the pureblood girls in your year, it's a very special time."

"What?" Harry questioned, mind racing at possible crazy pureblood customs, some even Death Eater related.

"It's the annual Pureblood Virginal Deflowering Season!" Sirius declared. "The old pureblood families had a custom of selling their daughters after they finish their OWL exams, and I know a loophole to get us some money."

"Really? It involves marriage contracts and that stuff, right?" Harry asked.

"More than that," Sirius confirmed. "This contracts usually have a Pureblood Virginal Deflowering clause, in which extra money is given for virgins. It happened with my cousin Narcissa. She got sold off to Malfoy after she took her OWLs, lost her virginity and was married to the snot by the time she was seventeen."

"But we have no money to buy some poor girl," Harry argued. "And I don't get your plan."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Virginal contracts involve the witch's family paying the wizard to deflower her as a mutually beneficial sign of good faith between the two families. And the wizard doesn't sign anything because he's not bound to a contract yet. After the deflowering, the wizard works out the marriage contract with the witch's family. And that's what we do."

"How?"

"Easy easy. Especially when we take the money from the witch's family, and break off the contracts. We still have the money, and you don't have to deflower the witch - unless you want to, of course - or marry her. If you're cunning, or you have me watching your back, you can avoid signing anything and be free and clear."

Harry got up and started to pace the magically expanded tent, deep in thought. Pros included the money received, but cons... Harry did not want to buy a Pansy Parkinson or Millicent Bulstrode, even if it was just for a scam. There was no need to go that far. And besides, Pansy probably wasn't a virgin. The jury was still out on Bulstrode.

"I'm still confused," Harry confessed. "We need help."

"Do we?" Sirius said mischievously, grinning like the madman he was, even after death.

..::..--.--..::..

Hours before Harry Potter and Sirius Black started to scheme in a tent pitched at Godric's Hollow, Albus Dumbledore sat and awaited reports from his Order members. It was a damn shame that this normal Wednesday would turn into such a disaster, and it started just as Dumbledore was getting ready to do some menial and tedious paperwork. Nevertheless, the old man was as optimistic as ever, humming a jaunty tune and sucking on a lemon-flavoured sweet with fervour.

"Dumbledore!" Arabella Figg called, using Dumbledore's Floo. "Petunia just found Mundungus Fletcher in a pool of his own blood! Harry has gone too, and his stuff has been taken."

"That indicates he left on his own accord," Dumbledore mused, not that deeply troubled. Harry would always try something like this, but he would probably come back. No reason to start a manhunt. "No reason to start a manhunt, Arabella. Call Kingsley and explain everything to him. Have him check Harry's haunts. Start with the Burrow, then Diagon Alley, and check the Knight Bus, especially the third floor. I have heard it's a good hiding place for the hopeless."

Arabella then left to relay Dumbledore's message. Dumbledore wrote a note about Harry's disappearance, and checked the state of Privet Drive's wards. They were still in good shape, he decided, and it wouldn't be a problem to keep them up.

Twenty minutes later, Dumbledore had Molly Weasley bust through the Floo without permission. Though she had the Order's password into his Floo, she hadn't asked to come through like a polite person would.

"ALBUS!" she yelled, face-a-red and hands-a-flying. "Shack just came over and told us that Harry did a runner! What's going on?"

"Nothing to be worried about yet, Molly," Dumbledore said placidly. "Harry is just experiencing a little rebellion, possibly for attention. I expected an incident like this, and decided that he would be easy enough to find with several tracking charms and alike. However, I'm taking a passive approach by just having one Order member looking for him. No reason to make a fuss yet."

"I trust your judgement Albus," Molly said finally, calming down immensely. "I found it a bit weird that Shack searched Ginny's room very thoroughly. I may be getting older, but I thought that Harry had no interest in hiding in there. And my Ginny looks a bit too much Lily Potter to be someone Harry could be attracted to."

"Love is mysterious," Dumbledore said sagely. Molly nodded in agreement with him before leaving through the Floo.

A few minutes later, a Healer and Order member by the name of Elaine Fawcett came tumbling out of Dumbledore's Floo, splattered with blood on her regulation green Healer robes.

Dumbledore barely bat an eye before asking, "Good afternoon Elaine, how are you today? And who's blood is decorating your robes?

Elaine gave him a weird look before noticing the blood on her robes. "Didn't see that," she muttered. "Albus, I just ran into Harry Potter outside of Gringotts. A man was in a glass eye related mutilation, and Harry was leaving the bank just as I entered. He pointed me to where the injury was! And, Albus, he was talking to himself down the street, I swear it! Isn't he supposed to be with the Muggles?"

"True," Dumbledore replied. "I believe your tale Elaine, and good diligence on your part for reporting this incident. I have it all under control. Thank you."

Elaine left, and Dumbledore ripped right back into his menial paperwork. That Harry Potter business wasn't a big deal, really. Just an annoyance.

"Albus!" It was Mad-Eye Moody this time, limping through the non-fireplace entrance to Dumbledore's office. "I popped into the Floo ten minutes ago, and you were still staring at the desk! Have you been staring at the same spot for ten minutes?"

"Have I?"

"Possibly. So what's going on with Potter?" Moody asked testily.

"Nothing to be concerned with, Alastor," Dumbledore said. "I'm not feeling in an explaining mood, and I'm sure Kingsley or Arabella or Molly or even Petunia Dursley could explain perfectly fine."

Moody grunted and hobbled over to the fireplace. He was muttering about 'crazy old coots' and 'overly calm morons' as he travelled through the emerald flames, but Dumbledore paid him no mind.

An hour or so later, Bill Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt came through the Floo.

"Professor," Bill greeted. It was now that Dumbledore noticed Kingsley was unconscious and missing a few pieces of clothing. "I found him like this in the Leaky Cauldron, drunk as hell. Apparently, he was in and out of the pub, looking for Harry Potter, and he got quite sloshed in the process."

"Hmm..." Dumbledore hummed calmly. Was it just him, or were the walls purple?

"Albus?" Bill asked worriedly. "Kingsley's waking up."

"Hmm."

Kingsley was in fact waking up, and he started speaking/slurring immediately. "Alb-usss! I went and rode the Knight Bus on the third floor! It was wicked what they did when I started throwing around money! Didn't find Harry though. Got any booze?"

And he promptly fell asleep again.

"Oh my," Dumbledore said, not even standing up or changing from his ever serene look. "Well, send him down to Madam Pomfrey from the night, Mr Weasley. Then head off and get some sleep for the night. I will be."

Bill Weasley only stared as Dumbledore leaned his head back against his chair and fell asleep instantly. Now in a room with two sleeping senior Order members, he only had one choice in the matter. He levitated Kingsley down to the Hospital Wing and passed him off to Poppy Pomfrey, and left the castle and returned to his hot girlfriend at home.

An hour later, Madam Pomfrey was met by Professor Sprout, who was frantic and covered in a mysterious green goo.

"Poppy!" she cried.

"Good god, Pomona! Are you covered in-"

"Mandrake excrement!" Sprout wailed. "The Extreme Calming Draught you gave me for the mandrakes failed! They started excreting waste at an alarming rate. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you gave me an Anti-Constipation Potion instead!"

"Uh oh," Pomfrey said in a small voice. "I gave you those potions right before I was going to give Albus his weekly Anti-Constipation Potions! So you got that potion and Albus got- OH MY GOD!"

It would take a week for the effects of Albus' accidental calm attack to wear off, and the hunt for Harry Potter was postponed. In unrelated news, mandrake excrement made excellent skin moisturiser!

..::..--.--..::..

To be continued in Chapter 2...

..::..--.--..::..