Within just a day or so, everyone was getting ready for the end of term.

The Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students stuck around, probably because it was easier than moving everything back to their own schools and then going home just a few days later, and Ron finally decided to go and get Krum's autograph after – apparently – agonizing over it for most of the year.

Harry couldn't say he'd noticed, and he wondered if Ron's threshold for agonizing was different to his.

"This is going to be kind of a weird question," Conal said, in the last society meeting of the year. "But… do we actually have to take the train back to London?"

He tapped a hoof on the floor with a tchak tchak noise. "It seems like it's a long way to go just to then be Apparated back near home again."

"It's traditional," Harry replied, giving it some thought. "But I don't think that means it has to be done."

He considered. "How do you do with the Floo?"

"I'm no good with it," Conal said.

Tiobald's hands flicked through some quick signs, and Harry watched closely.

"That was… it's not good in a wheelchair, either?" he checked, and got a nod. "Yeah, I have a bit of trouble with it myself."

"It's not so bad if you're low to the ground," June said. "But I imagine it wouldn't be easy for you."

"It really wasn't," Conal agreed. "When I went to get my things from Diagon Alley, Professor McGonagall Apparated me back instead because it had gone so badly."

Harry felt glad he'd managed to get on with Floo somewhat, now, because Apparating simply wasn't an option for him.

"What about a Portkey?" he asked, then shook his head. "No, that wouldn't work because what you're concerned about is going that far, not how to get back."

"I think a Portkey would help," Conal said, thinking about it.

He looked over at Tanisis. "Am I right that you don't need someone to take the trouble to wait for you with a Portkey?"

"That's what I've heard," Tanisis told him.

"Then… should I talk to Professor Sprout about it?"

Harry nodded. "This is exactly the sort of thing to talk to Professor Sprout about," he said. "Now you know what the options are, and she can see what works best for you, and speak to Professor Dumbledore if you want."

Conal smiled, then put a hand to his mouth to cover a snigger. "I think I will take my things back home first, though."

"Watch out," Tyler said, lounging on one of the desks – it was actually the first time Harry had seen what one of the Smiths looked like when they did one of the in-between transformations that kitsune could do but animagios couldn't.

(Harry still wasn't sure what the plural of animagus was, but he didn't think it was that.)

"Why?" Conal asked, suddenly looking nervous again. "Is something wrong?"

"I've heard there are wolves in the forest," Tyler warned. "There might even be one stalking you right now."

Conal's only response was a long, heartfelt sigh.

"So we are sure that Quidditch is going to be back to normal next year, right?" Ron asked, as they pulled out of the station. "I think that's our last chance to have a team that's more than fifty percent Weasley."

"Well, unless the Triwizard Tournament gets in the way again," Fred observed. "...hmm, tricky one. If they held the Tournament next year, would Fred and I go?"

Ron blurred into Nutkin, sniffed, then blurred back into his human shape. "You mean George and I, Fred."

"Drat!" George said, snapping his fingers. "We hoped you wouldn't work it out so quickly."

"It's been more than a year," Ron said, frowning. "I feel like an idiot for not getting it already. How is that quickly?"

"We were aiming for never," Fred clarified. "That sounded reasonable."

"Blimey, you don't have a high opinion of me, do you?" Ron asked.

"Mate, you're seriously trying to work out how to get into space for your OWLs," Dean sniggered. "Something about you is high."

Neville groaned. "And now I remember we've got our OWLs next year."

"It probably won't be that bad," Harry said. "We'll have to pay attention, and so on, but there wouldn't be much point in those tests we have to do at the end of each year if they were so much easier than the OWLs that they don't give you a good idea."

"That is a good point," Ron admitted.

"Now can you stop talking about OWLs?" Ginny asked. "If you keep it up for much longer I think you're going to wake Pigwidgeon, and the quickest way to get him to shut up again is to give him a letter to deliver."

"Can't you put a cloth over his cage to make him go to sleep or something?" Dean checked.

"Not for an owl," Ron supplied. "Well, it works on Errol, but that might just be that it's hard to get him to wake up some days."

"Isn't that because they normally sleep during the day?" Harry asked.

"That's what I was saying-" Ron began, then frowned and started writing in the air with his finger.

"You all right?" Neville asked him.

"I think I just managed to checkmate myself," Ron said.

"So, who or what do you think the most surprising new student next year is going to be?" Dean asked.

"I think a what is still a who," Luna told him placidly. "If they're able to come to Hogwarts, I mean. Though I suppose if there was an owl who could come to Hogwarts, they might think it was a bit offensive to be talking about who they were."

"I can't tell if that's a terrible owl pun or being completely sincere," Fred observed. "You're good."

"I try not to be evil," Luna smiled.

"So we've got a suggestion for owl," Dean said, writing that one down.

"I said not to talk about them!" Ginny reminded them all. "If someone does set him off, I'm making whoever did it write a letter for him to carry off and get him to shut up."

"How long is Rita Skeeter going to be in prison?" Dean asked. "I don't know how long you get for illegally being an Animagus."

"Well, she got a bit more time because of all the libel," Neville replied.

He opened up his trunk and rummaged around. "Where did I put… aha!"

Harry leaned down to look from his bag-rack perch, and read the article as Neville unfolded an old Prophet.

"She's out already," Neville told them, summarizing it. "But she's on probation for a while, and because she did so much spying and reporting on things she's also not allowed to use her Animagus form to get anything she reports on."

"Blimey, how are they going to track that?" Ron asked.

Harry could already see, and he had to grin a bit. It felt like one of the bits in a David Eddings book where they were explaining an ironic punishment, only a lot less nasty so it was easier to smile about when it actually happened.

"Basically, she has to prove how she got the information she reports," Neville summarized. "And if she can't prove how she got it – either because she got it through being an Animagus or, you know, it's just not true – then it's just assumed she used her Animagus powers to get it and she gets a nasty fine. Or prison if she keeps doing it."

Hermione frowned. "So that means that if she actually does her reporting job properly then she's fine?"

"Exactly," Neville agreed.

"She does sometimes deal with gossip and stuff, though," Ginny pointed out. "Won't that mean she can't use anonymous sources?"

"Oh no," Neville replied, completely without inflection. "What a pity."

Hermione looked conflicted. "I'd say that that's sort of interfering with the freedom of the press, but she's really been abusing it so I don't actually think it's that much of a problem."

She did have a good point, but she also had another good point so they cancelled out a bit. Or that was what Harry thought.

"In a way, it's sort of a pity you're the one who lives in north London," Dean told Hermione, as the Hogwarts Express rushed through Harrow and Wealdstone and Wembley Stadium came into view on the left.

"I don't think it's a pity from my point of view," Hermione replied. "Though I suppose it would be nice if there was another Hogwarts student close enough I didn't have to take the Tube to go and see them."

"No, I mean, we're not that far from where you live, and we get a bit closer before we go into the station," Dean tried to explain. "So if you had your stuff all loaded into a backpack, maybe one of those ones that's bigger on the inside like the Tardis, and you were the one who turned into a crow, you could just jump out the window and fly home."

"I see," Hermione realized. "Because I'm a dinosaur, and you live in east London."

That made perfect sense to Harry, though after a moment he realized that that really didn't say much.

He was certainly going to fly home, and after a bit of thought Harry realized that Dean could probably fly home as well more easily – or more cheaply – than going home on the Tube, if he could fit his things into a backpack.

It was a pity he hadn't realized that earlier, but he did now know what to get Dean for his next birthday.

Once they'd actually pulled into Euston, or Kings Cross (depending on whether you paid attention to what the train was doing or what the people who got out of the train were doing), everyone said their goodbyes and Harry took off to fly home.

It was a gloriously hot day, which meant Harry could turn right back around and gain lots of height from the thermals over Euston. He kept climbing until he could see right across the river and a long way past it, including the big Canary Wharf Tower off in the distance, then banked his wings and turned for home.

4 Privet Drive wasn't really his only 'home', at this point, he felt quite at home at Hogwarts and at both of the places where Sirius lived – which with the Floo were almost one place, really – but he was still quite happy going back to Privet Weyr and spending a month or so immersed in the perfectly-normal. Living up in his magical tent pitched in the attic with a window he could fly out of whenever he wanted.

Well, normal was relative, and at least his relatives were normal.

Once he'd arrived back at Privet Drive, and set all his things up upstairs, Harry went down to help with preparing dinner and was told proudly about how Dudley had got into boxing.

It hadn't actually made it so Dudley lost very much weight, Harry's cousin was still almost as big as he'd been before, but it seemed like more of it was muscle. That sounded much healthier, and Harry congratulated Dudley for it quite seriously over their evening meal – which in this case happened to be a large chicken and vegetable pie, albeit one with a dish instead of a pastry base because Harry hadn't quite worked out how to do the pastry base and side walls bit.

He was also careful not to eat the base, or the cutlery, because Aunt Petunia wouldn't be happy.

Then Dudley took him into his hoard room – which Harry thought was a reasonable label, even if Dudley called it just his 'other' room – to show off something that Uncle Vernon had got him specially from Japan late last year. It was a new games console, one which Dudley proudly said hadn't even arrived in Britain yet, and he rummaged through some CDs before putting one into the CD drive and turning it on.

Harry had to admit, he was quite impressed. The game was a sort of plane fighting one, where you flew a fighter plane around shooting down enemy aircraft and not being shot down yourself, and loud music played while you did it.

It looked like you had a lot more missiles than Harry thought was really feasible, but it meant that Dudley could fly around shooting down a lot of aircraft instead of having to go back home for more after shooting at just one or two.

One of the strangest things about watching the game was that a lot of it was in Japanese, but then again it wasn't like you needed to understand everything that was being said in a game that was mostly about shooting down lots of enemy planes. And Harry liked the way that Dudley's aircraft were painted (which it showed whenever he won a mission), with sort of red streaks on an otherwise white aircraft.

Harry started wondering whether maybe he should tell Sirius about it, to see if Sirius was interested. Once the console came out in Britain, anyway.

Since it was July, and he was at Privet Weyr, Harry's main – though not only – focus was chores during the day and homework usually in the evening.

It was sort of a routine by this point, as this was Harry's fourth summer with homework and so on, and it made Harry vaguely wonder how normal it was to have a 'routine' on the scale of an entire year.

Probably people who worked in shops had one? In some parts of the year, like now, it was all ice cream and sun hats – then in the winter it was all Christmas things and woolly hats. So maybe that counted.

Regardless of that, Harry got steadily through his homework, mixing up the subjects a bit so that he wasn't just doing History for days on end.

The way he thought about it, he'd have to do the work either while he was at Privet Weyr or while he was at Grimmauld Place, and of the two it was Grimmauld Place where he was more likely to have other fun things (like going to meet friends, or trying to enjoy Sirius' latest bit of Muggle technology) to take up his time. So doing it now was the best option.

Much to his delight, Harry discovered a new book set in the world of the Belgariad while he was in a bookshop in London one day.

It was the story of how Belgarath the Sorceror had actually become Belgarath the Sorceror, starting with how he'd originally been called just Garath, and Harry was up to the point Garath had just met Aldur before realizing somewhat sheepishly he couldn't actually read the whole book in the bookshop. It did make buying it a simple decision, though, and he read through it as far as Poledra's first appearance (as a wolf who liked to say the word 'Remarkable' about things, rather than as someone actually called Poledra) in between doing homework that night.

He'd have gone further, but he was slightly worried that his essay on Transfiguration might start to include examples from the magical system in the book rather than the real one.

Harry felt like he hadn't ever read something quite like Belgarath the Sorceror before, because it was a book about how someone who'd always appeared as a crotchety old man who was also one of the world's strongest wizards had got that way to begin with. He'd certainly read books where someone was one of the world's strongest wizards, like Gandalf, and a few where someone had ended up one of the world's strongest wizards, like Pug or Sparrowhawk, but this was the first time he'd read a book where he'd first encountered someone like that as their powerful self and then read about their history.

It made Harry wonder how Dumbledore had become Dumbledore. It had obviously been a long time ago, because from what Dumbledore had once said Tom Riddle had been scared of him even when Dumbledore was his teacher, but it must have been a sort of process.

Maybe Dumbledore had been in love with a warg in the past. But if he had been, that was the sort of thing which Harry didn't feel comfortable asking about, because it was Dumbledore's past and not his.

Towards the end of July, and with his homework nearly done, Harry got two letters on the same day – one delivered by the hyperactive Pigwidgeon, the other by his own much more stately Hedwig.

The first letter was one from Charlie Weasley, and it was officially letting him know that they'd tested the dragons raised according to 'Hagrid's methods' in Romania as well as the dragons raised according to both Hagrid's methods and the usual methods at other magical locations.

The results were that dragons raised by Hagrid's methods were calmer around humans, and less likely to set them on fire, but only Ollie, Sally and Gary were actually able to speak Dragonish. Charlie said that that more-or-less proved that Hogwarts was where you had to raise a dragon to make them intelligent, at least at the moment, and that the next test would probably be in a few years when Nora was old enough (and independent enough) that they could have her help raise hatchlings away from Hogwarts.

The way Charlie was writing in an earnest spirit of discovery and trying to work out this puzzle made Harry feel sort of guilty, because he knew the answer – it was Empress – but it wasn't really like he could tell Charlie that. And even if he did tell Charlie, he couldn't actually say the explanation either.

Harry wasn't even sure if Charlie knew, or if Dumbledore would have told him.

The other letter was from Dean, which made Harry look up at Hedwig with a frown.

"How did you know he wanted to send me one?" he asked, and Hedwig fluffed her wings a bit and looked pleased with herself.

Smiling, Harry read the letter. It had a little sketch of Harry reading a book, which was nice, and Dean also asked if it'd be okay for him to come around Harry's place. He said that he knew Harry's aunt and uncle didn't really like magic, but pointed out that they didn't actually need to know if Dean specifically came to visit – because if Harry sent his address and left the loft window open, Dean could just fly (if it wasn't too far, as the crow flies) and visit that way.

Harry wasn't sure whether to be impressed or annoyed at the joke about how the crow flew.

It didn't sound like all that bad an idea, so he wrote back saying where his house was and asked Dean to make sure he was careful.

After thinking about it a bit, he scratched that bit out, and instead wrote that Dean should probably just follow Hedwig back. Then he added a guess at how far it was, based on measuring on a map, and eventually just collected up all the adjustments he'd made and wrote a new letter that included them all.

Dean arrived early the next evening, flying up through the open window into Harry's loft not long after dinner and swerving right to go through the opening of the tent.

He alighted on a chair Harry had left out for him, tilted his head slightly, then shifted back to human and let out a long sigh.

"Phew," he muttered. "That was more tiring than I thought."

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, worried.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean waved off, then shrugged. "Well, kind of hungry?"

Harry promptly started boiling some water for pasta – pasta was nice and easy to keep stored for a long time, so he had some available – and cutting up an onion into slices to make the sauce to go with it.

"You're weirdly good at that," Dean said. "I've never actually seen you do it before."

Harry shrugged his wings. "I've been doing it for a while. Aunt Petunia likes me to help with the cooking."

He shot a jet of flame at a pan, heating it up, then put the chopped onion in to simmer.

"I got a look as I was coming in," Dean went on. "And I think your house has, what, four bedrooms? Your aunt and uncle must be pretty well off."

"I suppose they must be," Harry agreed, thinking about it. "Uncle Vernon has a drill company, but I never really thought about that sort of thing. And my cousin always gets a lot of presents."

He pointed down. "That's actually what one of the bedrooms is used for. Then there's Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's one, my cousin's one, and the last one's a guest bedroom."

Dean snorted. "And then there's another two bedrooms up here, as well. When does it turn into a hotel?"

"When someone stays the night and pays for it, I think," Harry replied, adding some garlic to the pan and putting the pasta into its own pot. "I'm not sure if you're planning on flying back at night or waiting until tomorrow, but I won't ask you to pay."

"I could pay in sketches?" Dean suggested, grinning. "My bedroom window at home is open enough for Upstart to get inside, but Mum and Dad know I might be here overnight."

Harry thought the resulting pasta worked quite well, and he was glad for how much he'd made because Dean ate considerably more than half.

"I'm kind of surprised how hungry I was," he admitted, as Harry washed the dishes. "You don't want help with that, do you?"

"It's fine," Harry waved off. "You're a guest."

He put them in a rack to drip dry – there wasn't much dirty, so he didn't need it all put away – and sat down at the table.

There was a short pause.

"So… what exactly do people do when they're round at someone elses' house?" he asked. "Normally when we're at Neville or Ron's places it seems really obvious..."

"Well… chat," Dean shrugged. "Play games, but you've not got a games console except that game boy. Does your cousin have one?"

"We might keep my family awake if we did that," Harry decided, regretfully. "The same's true of watching films, really."

"What about a board game?" Dean asked.

At that, inspiration struck, and Harry snapped his claws together.

He had just the thing.

"I really don't think this is how Monopoly is meant to be played," Dean sniggered, as he rolled the dice and moved his token forwards.

It landed on a hotel, and Harry groaned.

Reaching into the box, Dean took out four houses and replaced the hotel with them. Then he paid himself money out of the bank, equal to how much it would cost to turn the houses into a hotel in the normal rules, and piled it all up with the rest.

He had quite a lot by now, but so did Harry.

"I've always sort of wondered why it is that so many dragons do this kind of thing," Dean added. "Not the game, I mean, real life."

He thought about that for a moment.

"Or in stories, at least."

"Well, shiny things are nice," Harry said, looking over his shoulder towards his hoard room. "But I don't think even a normal dragon from a reserve would go burning buildings down except by accident, or if it was very hungry."

He rolled his own dice, and went over Go before landing on Old Kent Road. That meant he had to pay two hundred pounds back to the bank, which they'd decided was because of a Hero robbing them while they were out, but he did at least make some of the money back by destroying a house on Old Kent Road.

"There's that old story, isn't there?" Dean frowned. "The one about the German dragon who had a hoard. Maybe that's where it comes from."

"Maybe," Harry agreed, as Dean took his turn to roll the dice. This time he landed on another hotel, but when he reached into the box there were only three houses left.

"What do I do now?" he asked.

"You can't raid it," Harry answered. "Eventually someone is going to land on a house, and when that happens the lost house becomes available again."

"Right," Dean agreed. "Okay, your turn."

Harry's dice landed him on a Community Chest place, and he read it before sniggering.

"Huh?" Dean asked, and Harry showed him the card.

"You have won second prize in a beauty contest," Dean read off, then sniggered as well. "I want to know who the other contestants were."

"Maybe what's going on is that the whole city was built on top of dragons," Harry suggested, taking ten pounds and pushing the dice over to Dean.

"With Gringotts I'm pretty sure that's more or less right," Dean replied.

He landed on a chance card, which contained the silliest result so far – a speeding fine.

"So… does this one get reversed or not?" he asked. "Would you like to be the policeman who fines a dragon for driving too fast?"

"Or flying too low," Harry pointed out. "What about if the policemen try to stop the dragon and the dragon steals their car, and gets twenty-five pounds out of it?"

"Not much for a car," Dean frowned, then realized. "Oh, right, of course, since we're playing your sort of dragon he just ate most of it."

"Yep," Harry agreed, taking the dice back and shaking them.

He thought that playing Monopoly as a hoard game was a lot better than as a board game.

By some sort of undiscussed teenage alchemy, and not the sort Dumbledore was an expert in, neither Dean nor Harry actually decided to stay up until two in the morning but that was what happened.

Harry had remembered to warn Empress ahead of time that he probably wouldn't be able to read any more of their current book, so that eased his conscience, but mostly what happened was that he and Dean just talked about things.

Lots of things.

It was a nice way to spend the evening, especially over mugs of hot chocolate.

The next morning, Dean set off again – with Hedwig flying overhead, carrying a letter to Dean's mum telling her how much he'd enjoyed Dean's visit – and Harry waved until they were out of sight before getting back to his homework.

It was about all the planets and moons, this time, and Harry was quite good with all the big ones but once it got to the fiddly little moons of Jupiter and Saturn and things like that he still had to look some of them up.

Doing the bigger asteroids took some time as well, and by the time he was done Hedwig had returned. She got a treat for that, which seemed acceptable, and Harry smiled before checking what else he had to do in Astronomy.

There was just an essay about how stars could die, so Harry started with novas and worked his way up.

It was the day before his birthday that Harry found a brand-new or nearly-brand-new book which looked interesting.

He knew you weren't supposed to judge a book by its cover, and he did do his best, but sometimes the cover could help because it showed that someone involved in writing or illustrating the book had had some really interesting ideas.

In this case, the book's cover had a kind of golden watch on it, with three big black hands and one smaller spindly hand, and instead of having twelve hour numbers on it it had thirty-six symbols showing all kinds of things. One of them was a set of compasses, then next to it was an old style lute, and as Harry picked up one of the books and turned it around he was just impressed that every single one of the symbols was different and a lot of them were – well – symbolic.

Someone had to have put that much effort in, probably the author, and if they'd put that much effort into something to go on the cover it had to be a good sign.

It was only after Harry had already bought it that he belatedly realised someone might have got it for his birthday. Then he shrugged, because really it was possible two people had got him the same thing – which was true any year – and it was the thought that counted.

Opening it up to see what it was like, Harry made his way past the bits about how this was a first edition and reached the first actual page.

"Lyra and her daemon moved through the darkening hall," he read, and then had to stop and look at that again.

He had no idea what a daemon was, but he was already interested.

By the morning of his birthday, Harry was at least halfway through the book and was already quite sure what a daemon was.

It was sort of fascinating. A daemon was almost like an Animagus form, but outside the body instead, and everyone had one. Or maybe it was like your Patronus, but always there and real and (again) everyone had one.

It was always – or it seemed to be always – the opposite gender to you, and when you were young it kept changing shape from one thing to another but once you were old enough it settled down into being one thing that represented you.

Just that idea by itself was fascinating, but in the book there was also a kind of strange version of Earth – a lot closer than most fantasy books set somewhere like Midkemia or Arda, but not quite the same like in the SERRAted Edge books. Oxford was very important but there was no mention of Cambridge, at all, and Harry wondered if that was because the Fens (which was where Cambridge was, and where Slytherin was from in fact) hadn't been drained in this world. And there was someone who was Texan but not American, apparently, and – well, Harry was really interested and it was sort of a shame when he had to stop.

At least he hadn't had to do breakfast, even for himself – Aunt Petunia had made a lot of scrambled egg with bacon, and there'd been enough for him as well – and he was on his way back up to his loft when Dudley coughed.

"Uh… Harry?" he asked. "Got a minute?"

Harry agreed that he did, and Dudley opened the door to his first bedroom to invite Harry inside.

"Look, um..." Dudley began, after a minute or so of awkwardness where Harry didn't know what Dudley wanted and Dudley didn't seem sure either. "What are your sort's birthdays like?"

"Well… I think you've seen all of mine," Harry said, after thinking a bit. "We get each other presents… friends come round, sometimes. You know."

"Seems pretty normal," Dudley admitted. "Get anything good?"

"It's mostly arriving today, I think," Harry frowned. "Or tomorrow. I'm going to my godfather's house for the rest of the summer."

"Didn't know you had a godfather," Dudley said. "How come you live here and not there, then?"

He paled slightly. "He's not that one who was in prison, is he? Mum said he only got out on a technicality."

Harry assured him that Sirius had just been being silly, and that 'technicality' meant 'he didn't do it' in this case.

"Right, right," Dudley sighed in relief. "And, you… don't think that I'm nasty, do you?"

He kept talking before Harry could answer. "Because, um… there was this film that me and – that Piers and I went to see around Archie's house yesterday, about this girl who's one of your sort who gets bullied, and… it doesn't go well for her bullies?"

He looked a bit shifty. "Don't tell Mum and Dad, it's… a bit more of an adult film. Archie had to get his brother to get the video for him."

Harry frowned for a moment, thinking.

"I won't tell Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon," he assured Dudley. "But I don't think it's a good thing if you think you're acting like the villains in a film like that, whether or not the person you're treating that way is magical."

Dudley looked thoughtful but a bit confused, and Harry decided to try explaining a bit more. "If you knew that any of my sort could do that, would you treat them that way?"

"No!" Dudley replied quickly.

"Well, then, would you treat my sort better than anyone else?" Harry added.

"...oh," Dudley said. "Right."

He blinked. "But… wait, wouldn't you want your sort to be treated better?"

"I'd like my sort to not be treated worse, that's about it," Harry said.

Then he pointed at the nest of consoles around Dudley's bedroom TV. "Is there one of those you'd like to play two-player?"

"Sure!" Dudley agreed, sounding deeply relieved for the change in topic, and rummaged around for a bit before coming up with a cartridge for a racing game.

"I get to play Mario," he added. "But you can be whoever else you want."


Dudley may be the apple of his parents' eye, but he's still a teenager and someone like him has to find a few boundaries to exceed.

And I continue my trend of "showing things appropriate for the time period" with the first Ace Combat game, His Dark Materials, and so on.