Boy and the Begining

May 31, Harry is age 11, last day in South Korea and in transit out of the country…

Harry decided on his last day staying in South Korea, as he observed an airport in Muan, he was going to try out flying the Normal way for once, just to see what it is like, after all, he had nearly been beaned by them so many times now, that he might as well experience it from the inside of his potential death dealer.

So Harry found a tattoo and piercing place that was willing to overlook his age when he handed them enough money, and had his ears pierced.

When it was done, he carefully replaced the studs, putting them away for later, with the Nomgad Earrings which he remembered as having the power to induce disinterest in all those who happen to look at the wearer of the earrings until they are removed .

Harry personally wasn't a fan of the ostentatious hoops of silver with runic symbols and rubies etched throughout, uncomfortable with the weight dragging on his irritated, newly pierced ears (one of the reasons he hadn't worn them before) but they did get the job done as he was able to stroll right through Muan International Airport (1), onto the first boarding plane he could find, and recline in First class with a tuna sandwich on the way to the Philippines.

Harry spent the long flight catching up on his reading, and was relieved that he had grabbed random selection of travel magazines on his nervous plow through the airport, one of which was on his destination, turning to the appropriate page and began to read:

" The Philippines is a beautiful island country in the Southeastern area of Asia and the third largest English speaking country in the world. It has a rich history combining Asian, European, and American influences, and consists of over 7,107 islands!..." (2)

Harry hummed thoughtfully to himself. That's a lot of islands to explore and there was likely one that was deserted enough to hide away and practice his magic, he continued to read.

"…these islands are sorted under three main geographical divisions: Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao."

Harry thought that he might be headed for Luzon, from what he remembered from the boarding sign. Harry turned the pages until he found information on Luzon.

" …Luzon is the largest as well as the most populated island in the Philippines and is located in the northernmost region and is the economic and political center of the nation, as well as being home to the country's capital city, Manila…"

He nodded to himself, Manila was another word he remembered from the boarding gate. The capital wasn't a bad place to start.

He tossed the magazine back into his bag and settled in with a stack of comic books and a walk-man attached to his adorned ears.

Ooo ooo ooo

June 1, Manila in the Philippines… (3)

The capital known as Manila, Harry soon came to notice, was a combination of an old world charm, shanty town abundance, and areas of high rise excess existing together.

The place was filled with buildings that could be a decade to over 400 years old vying for space and the peoples moved through the streets in a sort of orderly chaos that Harry couldn't make much sense of, but was cautious to stick close to those who looked like they knew what they were doing.

The city of Manila was located on the eastern shore of Manila Bay, where Harry had claimed an isolated part out of the way of locals and tourists alike, and after quickly setting up camp, he had grabbed a poncho, in case he was caught up in one of the short but heavy periods of rain that were common this time of year during the Philippine's rainy season, and decided to explore.

During his time in Manila he took photos and sketched the Manila Bay area skyline, visited the Rizal Monument, had a Halo-Halo in front of the Gate of Fort Santiago, snuck around in the dead of night at Malacañang Palace, and spent a day sitting by a fountain at the Quiapo Church doing a slower, more thoughtful drawing of the 400 or so year old site.

Harry was especially fond of the street markets, particularly in the Intramuros District, a walled district that was the oldest in Manila and considered the historic core of the capital.

Because the Philippines had been invaded or otherwise occupied by various different countries during its history, such as the Chinese, the Malay, the Muslims, and the Spanish (the source for the country's name, after a King Philip), and America, things like rice, coco and other imports were brought in and affected the local staples.

Harry's new favorite breakfast was a porridge called Champorado, which is rice porridge with coco and condensed milk eaten with a salted fish called tuyo that is similar to sardines. Harry enjoyed the combination and made sure to buy himself the supplies needed to make his new favorite breakfast once he had learned to properly prepare everything (a lesson that was quick to be given after he offered a good chunk of money to the friendly stall keeper that had given him his first bowl).

Philippine cuisine, Harry soon came to learn, was characterized by using an amazingly bold utilization of various combinations of sweet, sour and salty, like the champorado for example which has sweet and salty. As well as not wasting anything. Harry had the interesting experience of eating the head (referred to as the helmet), the intestines, bladders, feet, backside, blood, etc. of a chicken, dipped in a light sauce and BBQ'd and put on sticks. The helmet was actually not bad once one got over eating something with a face.

Harry was eager to learn it all!

Ooo ooo ooo

June 16, Marikina, Philippines…

Harry had eventually moved on, after a couple of weeks, and into exploring the rest of the greater Metro Manila (Manila the city being one of a group that makes up the Metro) and had settled in Marikina for a time.

Marikina is considered the Shoe Capital of the Philippines, the production center of 70% of the shoes in the country, taking the time to visit the famous Shoe Museum, and while he was never overly concerned about wearing shoes half the time unless he had to, was wearing through his current token towards footwear, so he had himself a pair of sneakers made based of a pair he saw from the notorious Iron Butterfly's collection, even if the collection is considered a symbol by some of an evil regime, the style was still pretty swank. (4)

While he was still meandering through the area, Harry found a small park just outside the city proper which had a rather eye-catching calumpang tree, which was currently heavy with fruit/nuts. He spent the rest of the day meditating on the tree with a new set of water colors. Harry usually preferred drawing but he thought it might be interesting to expand his mediums a bit, so he had bought a small water color set from a teenager who had a table set up nearby a table where Harry had been experimenting eating live shrimp in spicy vinegar and had decided, 'why not?' as his lunch finished scrambling in death throes down his esophagus. (5)(6)

The tree had lovely sprawling branches with bright green leaves and reddish fruit/nuts (Harry wasn't exactly sure which), the perfect first subject for his experiments with.

Harry was painting, a white kerchief pulled down his forehead and partially over his hair to protect him from the sun, and was so intent on his work that he almost didn't notice the man who burst through the bushes.

"By Jove, this is the last time I wear silk in this climate!"

Harry stared as a rather large man with a prominent bald spot, a shirt of periwinkle blue that did indeed look like silk, stretched tight and partially melted in sweat over a prominent belly, finishing off with a set of powder blue bell bottoms. It was one of the stranger outfits Harry had ever seen on someone, and he had seen a lot of odd gear in his globe trotting over the past few years.

He was obviously English, and obviously unused to not only dressing for the climate, but dressing with any sense at all, man. (7)

Harry was not exactly the fashion police, but even he understood bad dressing.

The man unshouldered a canvas stool, setting it up at the foot of the tree he had been painting, and plopped himself down, fanning himself with his map. It was around then that he noticed a bemused Harry.

"Goodness lad! Gave me a bit of a start! Didn't see you there!" he patted his chest, "children shouldn't be sitting around all quiet-like at your age."

Harry sighed and moved his things so the man wasn't in his line of sight.

"Oh, a painter I see," the man chortled, "well I suppose a little introspection can be forgiven for the creative mind…mind if I see? I enjoy a little scribble here and there. Knew this fascinating chap who does amazing work with landscapes, all the rage with purebloods currently, always remembers to send me invitations to his latest shows."

Since Harry was not likely to be left alone any time soon, he sighed and turned the watercolour pad of paper around.

"Goodness! Not bad my boy! Not bad!" a disturbing glint was shot his way, it suddenly reminded him of Anansi when the spider god talked about stories for some reason, "it's a shame you're not of my lot, you could have really done something with this talent of yours, ah well."

"Er, thanks," Harry replied, unsure if he had bene insulted or not and making sure to keep a healthy distance as far as politeness allowed in case he needed to make a dash for it.

The man brightened at the sound of his voice, "a fellow Englishmen! Grand! The names Horace Slughorn by the way, I suspect your here vacationing with your family then? Yes, well best be getting on with it," he paused, giving Harry a sly look, "a strong strapping chap such as you wouldn't mind doing a fellow countrymen whose old legs are a bit weak a favor?" (8)

Harry, who had not been able to get a word in edgewise, gave a shrug.

Taking that as a yes, the man gestured to a cloth sack sitting beside him.

"I came all this way to gather some of those you see," he gestured at the red fruit/nuts above them, "I'm into po...er, natural medicine, and they are particularly good for some of my mixtures. Has to be picked fresh mind, and particularly good picked by single women, particularly virgin single women over the age of 16…but what can you do? Though you look young enough to still be a virgin and single as well, half as good I suppose…" (5)

Red flag up, Harry grabbed his satchel, leaving his art things strewn about and ran for all he was worth.

Slughorn frowned, pulling out his wand now that he was alone and directed it towards the tree. With a muttered spell and a levitation charm, he had what he wanted in the bottomless basket.

"Kids these days, so excitable! Ah well, these are still somewhat useful I suppose, even if a single virgin didn't pick them."

Ooo ooo ooo

June 18, Capiz Province, Philippines…

Harry was strolling through a town in the Capiz province in the Visayas district, carrying an armful of laundry to a local laundry mat, when a sock happened to fall out of his laundry bag. Harry had bent down to retrieve the errant item, when he heard a tik-tik sound coming from behind him. curious, he happened to look between his legs and beheld a tall thin creature in the vague shape of an anthromorphic canine with what looked like a long butterfly tongue dangling to the creatures thin feet.

Harry yelped, standing up and whirling around, but all he saw was a little old woman sitting at a table selling candles.

She gave him a curious look, and Harry hastily turned around, heart pounding, and decided that his laundry could wait for the next town.

Before he left though, Harry hastily went to the nearest table he came across selling knickknacks, and bought a bracelet of orange and black beads, rather thankful he had stopped to listen to old wise tales while riding the bus for kicks. (9)

Ooo ooo ooo

June 23, Bulacan Province, Philippines…

Harry was practicing with a kubing, a thin, blade-shaped harp made of bamboo he had gotten out of curiosity (and ignoring the amusement and good nature jibing by the locals nearby as he carried it out of the small town he was passing through) - as he flew high through Northern Philippines one morning, somewhere in the central Luzon district on Luzon Island and decided to stop for some lunch in a forested area in the Bulacan province. (10)

Harry put away his kubing and pulled out one of his preservation jars which were filled with the Adobo he had made last evening, a bottle of Royal Tru-Grape, and a fork, settling into the small gorge he'd spotted to enjoy a little dinner and a kip. (11)(12)

As he ate, he pulled out a book he had picked up in Manila titled Travels Through Philippine and after surveying the well detailed map included, Harry determined that the buildings he had seen not too far from his current location was the training grounds for The Scout Ranger Elite. (13)(14)

Harry was admittedly curious. He had actually seen a few military training camps in various countries during his travels, though he had never really stuck around long enough to properly observe. According to the book, this military group was supposed to be some of the best, and their training rather grueling.

Harry shrugged. He had nothing really better to do.

To be cautious though, since it was a military facility, he put on those blasted enchanted earrings (the piercings in his ears long healed by this point, though he always had to keep the studs in on the holes grew over quickly)and found a good vantage spot hovering over a group of what looked like new initiates.

He pulled out his book.

"… volunteers for Scout Rangers are usually already trained soldiers from other army regiments. Upon arrival they will be divested of their ranks so that they all begin as equals."

Harry observed these new recruits as for the next five hours they were put through the most grueling exercise possible.

Harry raised his eyebrows. According to his book, the first five hours during something called Reception, they were put through hard physical challenge to wear them down, and likely wheedle out those who may not be yet up to scratch in the very beginning.

The fact that it was close to 30c without a cloud in the sky or any sort of breeze added an extra touch of unfortunate to the sweating men below.

Harry saw four men in the first 10 minutes or so alone fall victim to heat exhaustion, one of which had to be taken away by ambulance.

Harry was suddenly profoundly grateful that he never had aspirations for the military. As fit as he was, he didn't think he could have had the strength to do what these men were doing.

Interested to see how many would make it, Harry stuck around to watch.

During the second run, more soldiers were taken away.

One soldier, Harry noticed, had such a severe case of heat stroke that medics were attempting to cool off his body as soon as he was loaded into the ambulance.

Harry felt rather sorry for the poor bloke, so taking advantage of the fact that no one could notice him, he landed near by the hubbub, took out one the peaches he had kept from one of the trees he had planted since being in the Philippines and cut pieces of the juicy reddish-gold fruit and put them into a bottle of water, shaking it.

When he was done, while hands were busy bathing the man's upper torso with cold cloths, Harry placed a hand under the senseless man's neck and carefully fed him the drink.

In a matter of minutes, the medics were surprised when the man suddenly sat bolt upright, perfectly fine.

The man gave his thanks, and rather shocked himself at his recovery and sudden sense of boundless health, good will, and energy, thanked god, and went to catch up with the others.

Harry returned to hovering over the volunteers, always impressed with the kick those peaches had.

After those runs, the recruits then were required to get onto their bellies and crawl through grass and mud for some distance as fast as they were able, vaguely reminding Harry of snakes. The man that Harry had helped was still going strong and was actually slightly ahead of the pack.

Then they did things like rolling by grabbing onto partners ankles, jump squats, and leaning on their heads for extended periods.

A few more dropped from exhaustion and were carted away.

Finally, in the end, those left were lined up for the final phase of Reception.

One by one, all the men took turns as they kneeled on the ground and were spoon fed heaps pf mashed chillis as well as forced to drink the juices. They were not even allowed to spit it out and had to swallow all of it. Harry grimaced in sympathy,  he was fine with a bit of spice here and there, but was not overly partial to excessive amounts (perhaps it was the . Watching these men struggle with this…meal, Harry knew he would now never be able to look at chilli peppers the same way again.

Then, those who had managed to survive THAT little venture, went over to pay homage to a statue of a black panther sitting on a plinth with a coat of arms of a red rimmed shield with a sword or dagger in the center, the insignia of the scout rangers called the Tabak. According to Harry's book, the red border of the tabak signifies the blood, sweat, and tears (literally) shed by every ranger during their course of training and the sword symbolizes their special capability of being able to go anywhere, any place, at any time.The words "we strike" was the final decorative cherry for emphasis.

Out of the 200 plus volunteers that had started out in the beginning, only 33 had made it.

Harry eventually continued on, but had a whole new respect for the term perseverance.

Ooo ooo ooo

June 27, A Small City, Philippines…

Marcel Leon was a man who enjoyed the finer things in life. He had been raised in a respectable middle class family in Arkansas, was mildly good at athletics but not enough to get him anywhere other than a slightly healthier body, and had studied for years to become the best Defense Attorney that money could buy.

He was not overly attractive, but kept fit enough and decently put together. His partner, a history teacher, Juan, who was also well put together and decently fit, though perhaps enjoyed t-shirts a bit more then Marcel, but he looked good in them, so he didn't complain.

He was not a bad man, nor was he a saint, just a morally average individual who got on with things.

Eventually, as retirement approached, and he had less and less cases, and more and more grey hairs, he entered a bit of later life crisis (much like a mid-life crisis, but in ones later 60's). His partner, seeing the signs, encouraged him to get a hobby.

That is what Marcel did.

Bird watching became his great passion and when he was handed his complimentary gold watch and clock at his retirement ceremony, he had already seen every bird that Arkansas had to offer and was already planning a trip to Washington.

During his Bird watching, he came across other aficionados and discovered Bird Watching Bingo. The point of the sport is that one is given a list of random species of bird, an international list, and they are required to find, check off, and take a picture of the bird, and then send it into headquarters where you would get another list and a badge proclaiming your ranking within the Bird Bingo Club. (15)

Marcel was currently in the top three in second place.

Marcel was going to get the number one title from that smug Linda McStrudal, the current champion of the past 7 lists, and when he got his tasteful royal blue satin and plastic badge, he was going to rub that gloating woman's face in it.

Much to his partner's delight, Marcel had surprised Juan with tickets to the Philippines as a 20th anniversary present. While Juan was perusing the local bookstores and museums, Marcel had settled in to find the last 3 birds on his bingo sheet.

He had so far found the Red-Footed Booby, and the Oriental Darter much more quickly than he had estimated. (16)

Now, he was so close he could taste his victory!

He had rented a boat and motored to an area along a small fresh water lake that the local who had rented him the boat had told him his last target, a Grebe, could be sighted.

He sat in that boat for hours until finally the object of his desire paddled out into the water directly in front of him.

He cackled to himself as he pulled out his bird bingo sheet and, with a flourish of his expensive shinny blue pen, he crossed Grebes off his list.

One quick glance through his binoculars to ensure that the bird seemed disinclined to go anywhere, and he quickly, but not non-threateningly, grabbed his expensive telephoto-lensed camera and settled the view finder to his eye.

He was just adjusting the focus on the content bird when suddenly, a hand shot out of the water next to the bird, making the creature squawk in statement, and grabbed the grebe around it's long neck and drag it, struggling under the water.

The bird didn't surface, not as much as a feather.

Marcel stared at the spot for several stunned blinks, before he practically threw the camera back into its bag, and smacked the edge of his boat several times, cussing a blue streak as he realized that he would have to wait for another grebe to appear, and he was already out of time!

Oh...and the disembodied hand reaching out of the water, never to arise again with attached body, implying something beyond the creepy-creep going on, but that was less important to the bird-blocked Marcel.

By the time the man had found another grebe, two days later, McStrudal (whose list had taken the woman to Canada) had already secured her position at the top in Bird Bingo yet again.

Meanwhile…

Harry licked his lips as he continued to turn the handle of his new roasting spit, occasionally running a stick with banana leaves attached on one end, dipped in a solution of coconut vinegar and garlic over the delightfully golden-browning carcass of some water fowl he had caught earlier while he had been underwater in some lake observing the local fresh water fish while Bubbling.

He had been looking for an excuse to use his new cooking utensil. Sure it was for roasting a pig usually, but he found that it worked just as well for…he paused, looking at his rotating dinner, whatever type of bird it was.

Now, where did he put his basil?

Ooo ooo ooo

June 30, Balabac Islands, Philippines…

Harry was hiking though a smaller inlet that was part of the Balabac islands looking for a nice out of the way spot to set up camp when he came across what had to be the largest pig he had ever seen.

He had seen wild pigs and boars during his travels so far, the Philippines alone had a at least 4 different varieties of wild pig, and some rather tasty, but he could safely admit that this fellow took the cake!

He stood roughly 5 feet from the tip of his ear to the bottom of his thick dark front hooves, and at least 7 feet long from snout to tail.

It had rough bristly short fur along its body in bands of green, yellow, and brown, dainty dark curled tusks, like a silent movie era villain, and round reddish brown eyes.

The two observed each other for a moment, before the pig gave a somewhat irritated tail flick then charged in a mass of affronted squealing.

Harry immediately took to the air, and observed the creature further, wondering if he should sketch it, or maybe take a picture as it was an impressive animal.

The oinker skidded to a stop in surprise, and then looked straight up at him.

Then it stood up on its hind legs and called out in clear English.

"Excuse me, but what sort of bird are you exactly?"

Harry nearly fell out of the sky in surprise.

Harry made to fly off. Talking giant pigs was not a good sign for his day.

"Oh now don't be like that," the pig called after him, "I didn't mean any harm, do come back."

Harry paused in his retreat, looking behind him wearily and found that the creature did seem to look apologetic, at least he thought it might be an apologetic look, this being his first experience talking to a pig.

Harry moved a little closer, but remained ready to book it in case the talking pig did something shifty.

The newest Abnormal encounter to be added to his list, was by far the most normal encounter for Harry.

The pig, seeing that Harry was open to conversation had gotten up and began walking around on his hind legs, looking quite comfortable with that fact and was led to a comfy looking cottage some 10 minutes away, settled between the hollow of two trees that had grown conjoined to each other.

There were chickens pecking around the grounds, a heard of goats that looked at Harry balefully at their approach but otherwise ignored them.

An askal, a breed of one of the more common street dogs of the Philippines came running from around the back and barked at Harry before the pig scolded the dog, but patted his head in a reassuring manner and sent the canine on his way with what looked like cubes of boneless dried fish sitting just inside his door way. (17)

Seeing the obvious invite and feeling rather foolish now remaining tense with the obvious politeness and welcome directed his way, he landed on his feet but didn't follow the creature inside.

His host understood and with a whistle, a table, two chairs, and a cart with a set of finger sandwiches and a jug of lemonade came outside and settled in front of the cottage, with two mugs following in the rear.

Harry took the offered seat, and had the bemusing experiencing of enjoying a rather nice brunch as the two chatted.

"Imagine my surprise when instead of yet another human trespasser, I find some sort of odd bird instead!" the good pig fellow exclaimed as he took a sip of his drink, smacking his snout agreeably.

Harry sniffed his drink and took a careful sip himself and other then it being a bit more sour then he was used to, it was quite delicious.

"I'm not a bird," Harry corrected.

The pig raised a brow, "really now? While I agree you don't look anything like a bird, you can fly and it's been my experience that only birds and bats can fly…are you a bat then? You're certainly larger than a bat, and certainly more naked…then again, you don't have any feathers...hmmm…"

"I'm not a bat or a bird," Harry snorted, "I'm a boy."

"Now that's what I thought at first myself," the pig grunted to himself, reaching for a sandwich and taking a nibble as he thought, "though a foreigner most likely, considering your look, but human's, not even little boys, can fly in the manner I just witnessed, and you are certainly no Aswang or any of the other shapeshifters, this area is far too remote for their lot and I would have smelled one a mile off anyway."

Harry took a few bites of his sandwich, some sort of bean paste mixed with wild onion that was actually pretty tasty. (18)

He felt comfortable enough to ask his own questions by this point.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you try to attack me anyway?"

"Attack?" the pig looked scandalized, "that's barbaric! No! Merely scare, I would never actually physically harm someone if I could help it. Occasionally humans like to try to encroach on my bit of land. Not often, but sometimes, and it becomes a further and further necessity to scare them off. The magic that once protected my inlet from their encroachment is a bit old you see. It was magic that was set up by a shaman of my kind just before the Spaniards arrived. There are other places like this of course, and there are others such as myself, but with the encroachment of human population and industry and agriculture over the years, we've had to spread ourselves thinner and thinner, to the point where there are so few of us left that we have quite forgot how to cast such powerful magic when our Shamans disappeared."

The pig sighed, nibbling on his sandwich.

"Oh, that's harsh," Harry said sympathetically, then "can I ask, um, what exactly are you, how is it that you can speak English if your so isolated? And what sort of magic is this?" he tapped the table.

"Well, you're a curious creature aren't you? I do appreciate a thing with a good head on his shoulders!" the pig chuckled to himself, "to answer your questions, my kind are called Cafre, I am able to speak to you thus, English is it called? Interesting name, because my kind have the ability to understand and speak the tongues of any sentient creature we come across, a friend of mine also speaks your language, and through him I grasped it first, though he never bothered to mention what it was called. As for the table and the tableware and such, is a simple locomotion enchantment that is one of the few magic's that is left to my kind." (19)

The pig, whose name was introduced (with apologies for the bad manners for not saying so earlier) as Lurl.

They were in the middle of debating the merits of onions when a third visitor arrived.

A beautiful bright green Parrot with teal tipped wing feathers and a sea blue cape of feathers on its head flew in and landed on a tree branch and squawked at them, looking quite incensed.

"Oh do not look so frustrated Ferdis, here," Lurl gestured behind him and an ornately carved wooden bird perch trundled outside and settled on the other side of the table.

A small clay bowl with slices of fruit and sandwich settled itself into a cup holder on the perch with some water.

The bird squawked again and turned his beak towards Harry then upwards. Harry had the sudden impression that the parrot was flipping him off somehow.

"Now don't be rude Ferdis, really! Do you think that I have taken leave of my senses and just invited some human child for brunch? Ple-ease!" Lurl snorted disdainfully, "

The parrot gave the pig a look that seemed to imply that he had, but after a time, gave a put upon sigh and took the offered perch.

"There's a good chap," Lurl said, "now, introductions are in order. Harry, this is my good friend of several years, Ferdis, comes all the way from Thailand to spend a season with me, he tends to be a bit ill-tempered from the flying you see," the parrot gave an indignant huff, "Ferids, this is Harry Potter a bird of some sort in the guise of a human who says he's not a bird, but can fly anyway and knows some marvelous things you can do with onions!...now none of that sulking," Lurl chided, "don't be rude and introduce yourself," then aside to Harry, "my friend tells the most wonderful stories!"

Ferdis seemed to have reached his tolerance point for suddenly he said "of course he's not a bird you pizza topping with legs!" the bird berated, "look at him! He's got no feathers! No beak! Of course he looks human! He IS Human! Imbecile! And you just outed me!"

Harry stared at the parrot as it paced up and down its perch.

"But humans can't fly," Lurl argued back stubbornly, ignoring the last part.

"Of course they can!" the bird snapped back, "I told you about this! Planes! Hang gliders! Helicopters!"

Now it was Lurl's turn to be affronted, "of course I remember Ferdis, I'm no soft sculled ninny! I meant that the boy himself can fly!"

The bird turned its beady black eyes on Harry, pinning him under his gaze like a bug.

"Well, up with you then, let's see you fly without your death machines."

Harry glowered at the parrot, somewhat over the surprise of seeing a parrot speak in intelligible sentences outside of "polly wanna cracker" style of speech by this point.

It had been Harry's experience that it was best not to upset people, whether normal or abnormal, if he could avoid it, so he wiped his fingers on the provided napkin, pushed his chair back, and rose into the air about 10 feet.

The bird let out a startled squawk, making Harry smirk, served the git right for the dirty looks.

The bird flew around Harry, obviously looking for some device or method by which Harry was accomplishing this.

The bird hummed then retook his perch, and Harry took that as his queue as well and returned to his seat and picked up his drink.

"Well, alright, mabye he isn't a human, he still looks like one though."

"Maybe his wings and feathers are invisible?" suggested Lurl.

The parrot huffed, still giving Harry the stink eye, "suppose."

"If it makes you feel better, I've been told that if I ever step foot in Antarctica I'll turn into a penguin," he conceded reluctantly. (20)

The parrot huffed, "those feathered fish eaters can't fly…though I suppose a little bit bird is a step up, and means I don't have to kill you."

After awkward titters all around, though Harry was left with the distinct impression that the parrot had not been kidding, talk soon degenerated into idle chit-chat before Harry got up the nerve to ask the prickly bird what exactly he was.

"What do I look like to you? A frog?" Ferdis snarked.

"Um, well, you look like a parrot actually," Harry replied, not offended by this point.

The birds snorted in a very un-birdlike manner.

"Of course I'm a parrot you knit brain!," the bird's feathers ruffled in annoyance.

"Um…" was Harry's intelligent reply.

"I think what the boy means, is how you are conversing as wittily as you are my friend," Lurl cut in.

The bird stuck his beak in the air, but after a bowl of pineapple cubes was passed his way, he grudgingly explained.

"Nearly all parrots are much more intelligent than humans and other sentient creatures think," the bird huffed, "though I, of course, am a bit above the rest of the flock."

Harry took this in. then he realized that what he had assumed were normal, mundane animals, were in fact secretly as intelligent as any human!

"…Not that Humans are allowed to know of course, the only reason I am even speaking in front of you is because your obviously some sort of bird at least, despite your horrible taste in appearance, and the fact that blabbermouth over there compromised me," he shot a glare at Lurl who shrugged around another finger sandwich.

"But why don't you talk to humans?" Harry asked curiously.

The bird ruffled his feathers agitatedly, but sullenly explained:

"It was a very long, long time ago," Ferdis took a quick gulp of water before continuing, seeming resigned.

"… In ancient times, it was not the parrot which first roosted in the human's home that was not for the purpose of their food, it was another bird called the Lorikeet. They thought this bird rather grand, as humans thought that they could teach it to make sounds in a way that they do.

This, of course, was a guise that the Lorikeet wore so as not to intimidate humans with their greater intelligence, because a human was still rather simple and chick-like in those times so, like with any chick, Lorikeets believed that they should amuse humans by making them think that they were smart enough to teach another being to speak as a way to encourage their co-operation. At the same time, the Lorikeets benefited from man, for while they were rather simple at times, they did utilize sturdy shelters and gather enough food in excess to feed an entire flock throughout a season, so they were at least useful…"

Ferdis paused to spear a tangerine slice onto a talon and nibbled it with his beak.

"… There were a group of Lorikeets in one village though that thought that Humans were wiser then they gave them credit, so while they continued with the game, they decided to share their own thoughts and ideas with humans as well.

" This seemed to work for a time, both delighted with one another, but then one day, a farmer in a village that one of these Lorikeets dwelled with happened to have a buffalo wander into his rice field.

" Now the farmer knew very well that this bovine, a truly stupid creature in my opinion, belonged to his neighbour. Despite this, the farmer killed it anyway and prepared the meat, eating some of it and hiding the rest of it away on top of the rice house.

" Not too much later, the neighbour did come around and asked the farmer if he happened to see his animal. The farmer claimed to have not seen his buffalo. Before the farmer could leave however, the honest lorikeet told the neighbour that the farmer had taken his buffalo, killed it, and ate and stored some of the meat."

" The neighbour found the meat where the bird said It was, but the farmer proclaimed that the meat was already his and the spot where he always stored his meat.

" The neighbour didn't know who to believe, the bird or the farmer, so the matter was brought before the human's council of law at the time.

" the evening before the day of the trial, the farmer was feeling rather incensed that his word should be questioned over that of a bird, displaying that common human quality of prejudice of "like with like", so he took the poor lorikeet and put him in a brass jar and covered the jar with a cloth so that no light can get inside. It was clear evening that night and the full moon was out but it was completely dark for the poor lorikeet in that pot, who was unaware of the current weather because of this, an ignorance for which is what the despicable farmer was after.

" All night he banged carefully on the pot to simulate thunder and sprinkled water on the cloth to simulate rain.

" When the day of the trial came, the Lorikeet was removed from the jar, and he and the farmer attended the trial.

" During the trial, the neighbour testified to what the Lorikeet had told him and how he had found the meat right where he had claimed it was.

" The lorikeet was then made to repeat what he had said to the neighbour, which he did.

" Then the farmer gave his testimony and claimed that it was the meat of another animal that was stored there, then he enacted his treachery upon his former winged companion and asked the judge presiding over the proceedings, "how can you take the word of this bird over that of your neighbour?"

" The judge did point out the obvious that the Lorikeet was indeed intelligent, and thus likely to be telling the truth because he knew enough to tell a deceitful act was taking place. The farmer replied that the bird spoke nonsense more than truth, no matter the conversationalist, and that he could prove this.

" So he asked the judge and the neighbour to remember how the weather was the night before. The two nodded, remembering how nice and clear it was outside.

" Then the farmer turned to the bird and asked him how the weather was that night.

" The Lorikeet replied that the weather had been horrid, raining and thundering all night.

" The judge hearing this was convinced after that nonsense sounding reply, and the farmer was proclaimed innocent.

In those times, such a crime as stealing a neighbour's livestock could be punished by death, and the judge was not happy that a seeming witless testimony from a bird had nearly cost them a seemingly innocent man's life.

" So the Lorikeet was expelled into the forest, along with his fellows, tending to their own needs and such.

" Eventually humans versed in the ways of magic who wished to hide all manner of what they considered magical or unusual swept through the country and found out about the rumours of Lorikeets that had once spoken as humans do. They thought Lorikeets magical, but could find no outright evidence of it, so deciding to be safe, thus they cast great magic to take the memory of the Lorikeets speech from the minds of humans and then cast a spell on all Lorikeets that made them unable to speak to humans as they once had, making their minds stupid in the presence of humans, leaving the mindless echo of words, like the games they once played.

" Then one day, my kind came to the Lorikeet's forests, and looked with interest upon humans and there shelters and abundance of food. And we thought to ourselves that it would be grand to live in harmony with humans and share in the food and warmth of fires and companionship.

" The Lorikeets, upon hearing of this, warned my kind, telling us the story of their relationship to humans and what humans were like, and the spell that made them mindless in man's presence.

" My kind were determined to still try, but we took heed of the warnings, and instead played the games of the Lorikeets with humans, but never let on that we were more intelligent then they.

That is how things have been since." (21)

There was silence as Harry digested the story, and his sandwiches, before saying "so all those studies done on parrots to determine their intelligence…"

"Complete fabrications on part of those who sacrificed their sanity, time and lives to keep the secret alive," Ferdis nodded gravely.

"Wow," Harry exclaimed, impressed by the sheer scope of the conspiracy,

"What other birds are like parrots and Lorikeets?" He asked wearily, feeling ill at the notion he might have accidently eaten something that was sentient.

"Very few," the Parrot reassured, obviously catching on to Harry's worry, giving him a disproving huff, "even birds have their evolutionary version of monkeys."

After that, the conversation which included a list of birds for Harry to avoid eating, it changed to Ferdis' flight from Thailand, messages from a few other of Lurl's kind and so forth.

Eventually, a fascinating as this all was, Harry decided to end his visit.

He promised his new friends that he would comeback someday and solemnly promise to Ferdis to not reveal the secret of the parrots or the tragic fate of the Lorikeet.

Ferdis didn't seem reassured until Harry thought it was only fair to give him a secret in return, so he turned himself into a bear then back…then quickly got dressed in a set of cloths again, grumbling about not being able to keep his cloths and how that was his second favorite pants.

Both creatures were rather startled at this, and the presence of Harry's tail, which had been hidden before hand down his pant leg, placated Ferdis further. A secret for a secret Harry said. A Flying boy with a tail who can turn into a bear should be more than enough reassurance.

Before he left, he asked Lurl if he was inclined to peaches. Lurl had never had a peach before, though Ferdis had, and was partial to them, so Harry pulled out one of his peach pits and tossed it onto the ground on the edge of Lurl's property.

"There," Harry proclaimed, "all the peaches you could want. There really good, thanks for the sandwiches!"

Goodbyes and promises to one day return exchanged, Harry took to the air and moved on to his next destination.