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Harry was several streets away before he collapsed onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging his trunk. Though anger was still simmering in his chest, the gravity of what he’d just done was beginning to set in. He’d finally left the house of his horrible relatives, which usually would have thrilled him, but it was summer, at night, and he’d just broken the Decree for Underage Magic--however accidentally--quite badly. He was stranded in the muggle world with no money, and he was most certainly expelled from Hogwarts. Harry had nowhere to go.
Harry buried his face in his arms, trying to slow down his breathing and calm down. He needed--he needed to make a plan. He had to get to London somehow. He had to...to…
Harry exhaled roughly. Despite his best efforts, a few tears were sliding down his cheeks, tears of fear and anger and hatred and grief. The foul words about his parents still rung in his head. It filled him with a hollow sort of longing, and he wondered again how it was possible to miss people he’d never met so much .
He raised his head to wipe furiously at his cheeks, and that’s when he noticed it. There was a soft sound approaching him from the side, and Harry was startled to find it was the soft patter of paws as a large, shaggy dog approached him. For a moment, Harry wondered if he ought to be afraid, maybe draw his wand to defend himself, but despite having no experience with dogs, something about the animal--despite its size--seemed nonthreatening. The dog’s head was low, sniffing, and it whined a bit as it pushed its great head against Harry’s shoulder.
Harry sniffed, wiping his eyes one more time before cautiously raising a hand to stroke the animal’s head. The dog’s tail wagged, encouraging Harry further. Before he knew it, his hands were sunk deep into shaggy black fur as he cried silently. The dog pressed its head into Harry’s chest, letting out a soft whimper every so often, though its tail never ceased its wagging. Finally, the tears stopped, and Harry dried his face with his sleeve.
“Sorry for crying all over you,” he told the dog. The dog nudged him with a cold nose, as if to say it didn’t mind. “It’s a long story, but I ran away from some awful people. I’m glad to be rid of them, but now I have nowhere to go.” He ran his hands around the fur of the dog’s neck, searching for a collar. He found nothing; the dog must be a stray. “What about you? Where’d you come from. Do you have a family?”
Maybe Harry was imagining it, but it seemed like the dog shook his head. He was taken suddenly back to talking with a large snake at the zoo. After last year, he now knew that was because he was a parselmouth, and could speak to snakes. He wondered if there was an ability that meant you could speak to dogs too. He’d ask Hermione when he got back to Hog...well, he’d ask her whenever he saw her next.
“Sorry...boy?” A quick glance at the dog’s belly showed his guess was correct. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t have one either.” The dog whined a bit, head tilting. “The people I ran away from. They were my aunt and uncle. They’re awful. All they ever do is insult me, or pretend I don’t exist. They hate magic.”
The dog pulled back from him, lips lifting to show shiny, sharp teeth. Strangely, Harry didn’t feel threatened, even as a low growl rumbled in the dog’s throat. It felt like the dog was angry, but not at him--for him. It was nice, even if Harry felt a bit as if he might have gone ‘round the twist. He stroked the dog’s head soothingly.
“It’s okay, I’m alright. Honestly,” Harry said. “My real home is Hogwarts. It’s wonderful, and I’ve got great friends. But...well, I think I might be expelled now. I accidentally used magic to blow up my uncle’s sister like a balloon. She floated to the ceiling and everything.”
The dog let out a short bark. If the dog was human, Harry would have compared the sound to a surprised laugh. He laughed as well.
“Yeah, yeah. It was illegal, and an accident...but still pretty funny.” Harry’s smile slipped, sinking back into an angry scowl. “She deserved it. She was saying awful things about my parents. They died when I was a baby, you see. I don’t really remember them any, but I still miss them lots.”
Suddenly, the dog careened backward and let loose a horrible sound. It was like a howl, but it sounded wounded, as if the dog had just been dealt a mortal blow. It was the saddest, most despairing sound Harry had ever heard.
“Hey, hey! It’s okay, boy,” Harry exclaimed. He reached forward to soothe the dog, hoping he wouldn’t get bitten. He didn’t, and he smoothed his hands through the fur of the dog’s back, feeling his spine against his fingers, and made quiet shushing noises.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said once the dog calmed. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
The dog whimpered and hid his face in Harry’s lap. Harry stroked the dog’s ears, smiling a bit when the dog’s tail gave a few little pats against the pavement.
“You’re great company,” Harry informed the dog reluctantly. “But I need to figure out what to do next. I need somewhere to sleep, and I need to get to London.”
The dog sprung to his feet, looked Harry in the eye, and began walking down the pavement. Harry watched him go, saddened. He lifted Hedwig’s empty cage and his trunk, glancing up and down the street, wondering which way he should go.
A bark from down the pavement caught his attention. The black dog stood a few meters away, staring at him. Huffing, the dog made his way back towards Harry. He walked a couple of circles around the confused boy, nudging him, before seeming to give up. To Harry’s surprise, he grabbed the handle of Harry’s trunk in his jaws and began trying to pull it down the pavement.
“You...you want me to follow you?” Harry asked, shooing the dog away from his trunk. The dog let him, and nodded, moving his head up and down just like a person.
“Do you actually know somewhere I can stay?” The dog nodded again.
For a moment, Harry pondered. Lacking a clearer option--and also reluctant to part from the dog--Harry figured it couldn’t hurt to at least see where the dog wanted to go. Whipping out his wand, he cast a quick feather-light charm on his trunk, so it would be easier to pull behind him. Plus, he had already done magic that night--a little more couldn’t hurt.
Dragging his belongings behind him, Harry and the dog walked alongside each other down streets, making several turns, for almost half an hour before the dog entered a mostly vacant lot of what seemed to be a cheap, mostly empty motel, if the car park was anything to go by. The dog didn’t pause, sniffing doors until settling on the one furthest from what appeared to be the front office.
Harry cautiously followed as the dog sat in front of the door, glancing back at Harry and pawing at the worn paint of the door. Harry wondered if someone was inside, but all the lights seemed to be off, and a glance through the gap in the curtains showed an empty bed inside. It had every appearance of being vacant.
The dog let out a short bark at Harry, nudging the handle with his nose.
“Uh. Okay?” Harry reached out and tried the handle. “It’s locked.”
The dog gave Harry what he interpreted as an unimpressed look. After another few moments, the dog huffed and stuck his nose against Harry’s pocket, where the end of his wand stuck out. Thinking of Hermione, Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the handle.
“Alohomora!”
The click of the lock was audible as the door cracked open. The dog pushed inside, wagging his tail. Harry watched as the dog jumped up a bit to push the light switch with his paw before settling onto the bed, head raised proudly.
“You’re a very smart dog,” Harry said as he crossed the threshold. However, he left the door open, not putting down his things. The room certainly seemed empty, but what if the motel owner came and saw them in here? They were breaking and entering. The dog might not get arrested, but Harry certainly would.
“You know I’d have to pay for this, right? I don’t have any money, so I can’t stay here.”
The dog snorted, shaking himself. Harry looked around the room again. It was slightly dusty, like no one had stayed there in a while. The walls were drab, the paint chipped like the door, and the whole place smelled faintly musty. There was only a bed with a single lamp on the bedside table. A sink was on the far wall, under a slightly cracked mirror. A door to the side led to what was probably a bathroom.
“I’m serious. What if the owner comes down and sees us in here? It’s illegal; I’d get in trouble.”
Again, the dog shook his head, staring Harry down. Harry sighed, glancing out into the car park. There was barely anyone here. They were in the furthest room down, it was possible they’d be able to stay all night without anyone noticing. Harry knew he shouldn’t, but it was late, very late. He’d been walking and outside for over an hour now. He just wanted to sit down, rest.
He glanced back to the dog, who hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Are you sure we’ll be safe here?”
Slowly, the dog nodded once, making a pleading sound. Harry gave in, shutting the door and locking it behind him, setting his trunk down on the floor. He pulled the curtains closed, and shut off the main light, only turning on the dim bedside lamp. The less light, the less likely they were to be noticed.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” he told the dog, who had settled onto the end of the bed, head pillowed on his paws.
The bathroom was not nearly as manky as Harry had feared it might be. The pipes of the shower/bath combination and of the toilet were rusty, but the fake porcelain was clean and free of stains or grime. A couple towels hung on the wall. There was a wooden cabinet with chipped paint beside the toilet. A look inside turned up a couple cheap bottles of soap and a cheap plastic brush. After relieving himself, he gave the bathtub a second look. In the light of the motel, it was easy to see how dirty the dog was; shaggy black fur dirty and tangled, paws caked with dirt. It would probably be nice to be clean, but Harry wasn’t sure he could give the dog a bath without him running away or biting Harry. True, he’d shown Harry no aggression thus far, but a bath was an unknown element.
Harry reached over and turned the tap. The water that came out was clear and smelled only faintly metallic, and it warmed quickly enough. Twisting the water off, Harry resolved to at least try. The dog was strangely intelligent, and clearly understood most, if not all, of what Harry said to him. He could probably just ask.
When he reentered the main room, however, he was distracted from his plan by the sight of the dog, still on the bed but standing on all fours, with Harry’s wand in his mouth. Startled, Harry pulled the wand away, checking in for teeth marks and chastising himself for leaving it on the bedside table unattended. Thankfully, his wand was undamaged. He breathed a sigh of relief, shoving his wand back into his pocket. The dog huffed, nosing his hand as if in apology.
“It’s alright,” Harry said. “But don’t play with that. It’s important for me, and you could get hurt.”
The dog sat back down, enjoying Harry’s pets to his head.
“You’re rather dirty, aren’t you?” Harry asked. To Harry’s surprise, once he finished his sentence, the dog jumped immediately off the bed as if burned.
“Oh, no you don’t have to get off it,” Harry said. “I was just wondering if you might like me to give you a bath. There’s a tub and soap in the bathroom. It’d probably feel nice to wash up your fur.”
The dog tilted his head, seeming confused. Harry wondered if he had overestimated--maybe the dog didn’t understand him after all; what a crazy thought--when the dog shuffled past Harry and into the bathroom. The dog sat on the ground, eyeing the bathtub. Taking this as agreement, Harry turned the water back on, making sure it was nice and warm as it filled the tub.
When it was full enough, the dog jumped in without Harry’s prompting. With nothing to scoop the water with, Harry simply cupped his hands and scooped water onto the dog’s back, slowly but surely soaking the long black fur.
Though the water wasn’t cold, the dog shook quite a bit, ears pressed against his head.
“Don’t like water much, do you?” Harry asked. The dog whined quietly in response.
“Shh, it’s okay boy,” Harry reassured, one hand scratching under the dog’s chin while the other reached behind him for the cheap shampoo bottle. “You’re safe, I promise.”
The sound of his voice seemed to calm the dog, so as Harry squeezed soap onto the dog’s back, he regaled him with stories of his friends and their time at Hogwarts.
“--and I caught the Remembrall, but McGonogall saw me! I thought for sure I was going to be expelled, but instead she made me part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, as Seeker.”
The dog made a surprised bark, more of a yip than anything. Harry laughed
“I know! McGonogall says I’m the youngest player to make the house team in a century.” Harry said, giggling and sputtering as the dog leaned forward suddenly and licked Harry’s nose. “Okay, hold still, you’re almost done.”
As Harry rinsed the last of the soap from the dog’s fur, he realized for the first time how truly thin the dog was. Harry would trace every protruding rib with his fingers; he suspected it was only the shaggy coat that kept them from being starkly visible. Harry was no stranger to being hungry; he would have to find the dog something to eat.
“Okay, you can get out,” Harry said, standing out of the way so the dog could climb out of the tub. Harry tossed one of the towels from the wall over him, bending down to dry his fur, using the plastic brush to get out whatever tangles he could. The dog held still, letting him work. Some of the tangles were bad enough they probably would have to be cut out; Harry didn’t even attempt to work through those with the cheap brush he had. Still, the dog’s black coat looked much cleaner and healthier when he was done. The dog shook himself lightly and licked Harry’s hand a couple times, in what Harry assumed was gratefulness.
Leaving the tub to drain, Harry and his new canine friend left the bathroom. Harry, hit by a wave of exhaustion, kicked off his shoes and did a quick cleaning charm on the bedclothes before he collapsed onto the bed. He expected the dog to join him, but instead he put his head on the mattress, the rest of his furry body remaining seated on the floor.
Harry’s stomach grumbled. The dog huffed, pushing his cold nose gently against Harry’s shirt.
“It’s okay, I’m used to it.” The dog whined, distressed by his answer. “Don’t be like that,” Harry said fondly, scratching behind the dog’s ears and listening to his tail thwap against the motel room floor. “I’ll find something to eat tomorrow morning. I’ll either need to find some muggle money or wait until I get to Wizarding London. Will you come to London with me?”
Since Harry’s only plan for getting to London currently involved riding his broom under the cloak, he had no idea how he’d get a dog there with him. Still, he found he wanted the dog to come with him very badly. He’d find another way if he had to, even if it took longer.
However, his scheming was halted when the dog shook his head slowly. It could’ve been Harry’s imagination, but the dog seemed very put out about his own answer, his ears drooping.
“...Oh,” Harry said, feeling very put out indeed. He had grown very attached to the strange dog in the few hours they’d known each other. “Are you sure?”
The dog nodded with a tiny, barely audible whine.
“Ok,” Harry said in a small voice, trying to conceal his disappointment. “Well, I won’t keep you. But you’re welcome to come with me to London if you change your mind. You should at least let me find you something to eat before you go. I bet you’re hungry too.”
The dog did not give any indication of an answer. Harry sighed, removing his glasses and settling down against the pillow. It still smelled faintly of lemons from the cleaning charm. The last thing he heard was the rustling of fur as the dog curled up on the floor beside the bed, Harry’s hand dangling over the side to sleepily pat the dog’s head as he drifted off to sleep.
It was morning when Harry was woken up by the sound of the shower running. He sat up as quietly as he could, looking around. The door was still locked and bolted, the curtains still drawn. All his belongings were undisturbed. Only, the dog was gone, and there were a few wrinkled bills of muggle money on the bedside table under Harry’s wand.
And of course, someone using the shower. Harry wondered if the dog could have somehow turned the tap with his mouth. But the dog didn’t seem to like water at all, and that also left no explanation for the money that had appeared overnight. And there was no way the dog could have gotten through the locked door to leave the room overnight.
Harry considered gathering his things as quietly as he could and running away. It would be the smart thing to do; he could take the money and buy breakfast, then fly to London as he’d planned. But he was also incredibly curious and couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t in danger. He should have been frightened, but he wasn’t. However, there was definitely something strange going on here, even by Harry’s standards.
He slipped on his shoes as silently as he could, in case he wound up needing to run. The sound of running water from the bathroom abruptly stopped. Harry stuffed the money in his pants pocket and stood, wand at the ready, waiting to see who--or what--left the bathroom.
A few seconds stretched into a couple minutes before the door creaked slowly open. Harry watched in wide-eyed surprise as a man with long, tangled hair still dripping water emerged, dressed in ragged clothes and pale as death. The man froze when he saw Harry standing there watching him, eyes widening in his gaunt face.
“Shit.” The man said, and his voice was scratchy and rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in weeks, or months.
“Hello,” Harry said, his wand raised. “Who are you, and what did you do with my dog?”
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” the man said, hanging his head and averting his gaze. “I meant to be gone before you woke up.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Dull grey eyes flicked up to look at him through a tangle of black hair. Something about the man’s face was familiar. Before Harry could place it, however, the man was gone, and the same black dog from the night before was seated where the man had stood, hanging his head in much the same manner and whimpering softly.
Harry’s jaw dropped, his wand hand lowering in shock.
“It’s you,” he said, gobsmacked. “You were the dog all along.”
The dog blurred, changing in an instant from the ragged dog to the ragged man.
“Yes,” the man said. “Again, I’m sorry, I didn't want to involve you in all this. But, well,” the man waved a hand, gesturing vaguely between them. “It’s a little late for that. So, anyway,” the man straightened his posture, meeting Harry’s gaze. “Hello, Harry. My name is Sirius. And I’m...well, I’m your godfather.”