"Then off we go." Sirius wrapped an arm securely around Harry. He checked the spells he had placed on the motorcycle, not unlike the kind on modern brooms, the ones that should make sure that Harry would stay relatively warm. He had no time to lose. "I got you," he promised, then he started the motor and backed out of the house. He waved his wand and the wall started to repair itself. Putting one hand on the handle, he tightened his hold on Harry.

"Now we fly." With that said, he took off with him, right up into the night sky, not bothering to even spare a glance for that horrible house. And the horrid, now ruined flower beds. He was flying, he had Harry. This elated feeling, it was happiness. Strange, but he loved it. Enough the he whooped, laughing loudly now. "It's wicked, Harry, don't you think?"