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When six-year-old Harry had managed to finish his garden chores it was starting to get dark outside, he quickly made his way to the front door, and found it locked, frowning, he went around the back and tried that door, only to find that it too was locked.
It was cold and growing darker by the minute, but he didn't call for his Aunt or Uncle, knowing that disturbing them would get him in a lot more trouble, instead he walked over to the shed, hoping the small building would keep him sheltered from the chill.
Luckily there was an old duvet in the small building, and he wrapped it around himself, ducking under a shelf where there was just enough room for him to comfortably fit.
He managed to drift off to sleep but kept waking up thanks to the sounds he kept hearing, then at one point, long after the streetlights had turned off, he heard a scraping at the shed door.
He held his breath as the door creaked open and something walked in, sniffing at the air.
Their eyes met and everything after that moment was a blur as the creature ran at him, grabbing his arm in its teeth, biting down enough to break his skin.
Harry refused to scream, but he felt tears in his eyes as fear clawed at his chest.
A noise outside of the shed seemed to distract the creature as it looked out of the door, and at that moment, he felt heat spread from his arm, where it had bitten him, to his entire body.
He groaned in pain as it seemed to consume him, gaining the creature's attention, as it dropped him from its jaws and sniffed him.
It seemed to grow alarmed, licking where it had bitten him and gently pushing him back to the area it had pulled him from, before looking out of the shed and wandering out.
Harry didn't have time to wonder what was happening as his tiredness and pain pulled him back to sleep.
Bitten
Harry was awoken the next day by his Aunt screaming.
He groggily blinked up at her and was confused as to why she looked so scared.
He followed her gaze to the bite on his arm, it had stopped bleeding but was still very much a fresh wound.
Frowning, he stood up, and walked over to her, blinking when she scrambled backwards from him.
"Aunt Petunia?"
She stared at him in silence for a moment, before shakily pointing to the back door, "in."
Bitten
About a month after the incident, his Uncle was out in the shed, making room in it and placing actual bedding, his Aunt kept looking at him with guilt, and even his Cousin knew something had happened to him that shouldn't have and was leaving him alone.
The bite on his arm hadn't healed up and was still fresh looking, as well as still being rather sore and itchy.
At dinner, which he didn't have to cook anymore, they made sure he ate enough, and then when it began to get dark, his Uncle took him out to the shed and locked him in.
Harry didn't understand what was happening to him, when it grew darker, pain gripped his entire body, and he screamed.
He didn't know how long the pain lasted, but when it finally stopped, he felt funny, his brain was foggy, and he was certain that he shouldn't have fur, but he did.
He was hungry, he walked over to the door on all fours, stumbling every once in a while, before standing up on his back legs to open it.
Oh, that's right, it was locked.
Placing his paws back on the floor, he huffed, before pacing.
And then the door was broken down from the other side and the creature from the previous month was there, staring at him.
Harry didn't put up a fight as it grabbed him by his scruff and walked off with him.
Bitten
Harry woke up the next day without fur, in the middle of the woods, with feathers in his mouth.
Frowning, he spat them out, then looked around, before catching sight of the bite on his arm, which had become a scar overnight.
Sighing, he stood up and tried to find his way back to Privet Drive, making sure he was careful with his steps, as he had no shoes on.
After a walk that lasted a few hours, as he occasionally went in a circle, he emerged from the woods and into the back garden of Number Four, where his Aunt was staring at him with wide eyes.
Mud, sticks, leaves, and even a bit of blood, likely from the bird he'd apparently eaten if the feathers had been any indication, were stuck to him.
Face pale, she pointed to the back door, "in."
Bitten
Harry read a lot of books in the library, trying to find out what was wrong with him.
In one fantasy book, he came across Werewolves, which sounded right, but he wasn't a wolf, and neither was the creature that had bitten him.
In another book about different types of wildlife around the world, he discovered Cheetahs, big cats with lots of spots.
The creature that had bitten him looked almost exactly like a Cheetah.
Tilting his head to the side as he looked at the picture of the Savannah, he wondered if it would be better to call himself a 'Werecat' or a 'Werecheetah'.
Bitten
There were lots of little things that Harry discovered had changed about himself after his first transformation, the first being his senses.
They'd grown much stronger, to the point where even during the rest of the month, he could hear his relative’s hearts beating, could smell their scents, including some, but not all, of their feelings.
His eyesight had become much better, to the point he no longer needed his glasses, and could even see in the dark to a certain degree.
There was a deep longing to go back into the woods, to find the one who'd bitten him, to stay with him, his instincts, changed from that night, urged him to go back to him, that he would look after him.
At lunchtime on a Thursday, sitting by the wall outside his Primary School, he looked into the woods and saw him sitting there, watching him.
He beckoned him to come to him.
Harry went.
Bitten
At the age of thirteen, Harry was very much in tune with his instincts and feline self.
The man that he'd grown to call his dad over the years had taught him a lot about himself, even if he himself didn't quite remember how to act human.
His Aunt and Uncle had long since given up trying to make him act like a human, after the first time he'd come home transformed on a non-full moon day, it had become rather obvious that he'd let go of his humanity.
However, when Harry had hit eleven, a lot of things had happened, first, his Dad went missing, then he'd been accepted to a Magical School.
Despite wanting to stay and search for the man, he'd eventually given in and gone to the school, which was turning out to be both amazing and awful.
But this year...
Oh, they really had to employ a Werewolf, didn't they?
The wolf stunk and from what he'd observed through the months, he used Wolfsbane to control his wolf overnight, because he wasn't in tune with it, he and the wolf were not the same, and he feared it.
The wolf would also keep himself locked up during those nights in a small shack nearby.
Harry would often walk around it, chirping and meowing just to hear the wolf try and break out to chase him.
It was just Harry's luck that Sirius Black tried to capture Pettigrew on a full moon, it wasn't a problem for him, but for the wolf that forgot to take his medication, it definitely was.
As the man began transforming, he pushed his human friends and Sirius back, making sure Pettigrew was still in their grips, before walking between them.
He heard them call out to him, but ignored them, letting his own transformation come forth.
He snapped at the wolf's heels as his transformation finished, dodging its claws as it went to strike him, then ran off into the woods, making sure it followed him.
The next morning, he ignored their questions, and just smiled when Sirius informed him that he'd been cleared of his charges.
Bitten
"Oh, shut up, wolf," the Doctor frowned as he entered the house, glancing at Albus, who just sighed.
"It would appear that Mr Potter is having another disagreement with Remus," he informed his two guests, one of which was glaring at the floor with his arms crossed.
"Look Harry, I've told you that's not how Lycanthropy works," they walked into the dining room where a teenager was sitting at the table, a mug in his hand as he watched a man pace, his hands up in the air, "you can't just transform when you please!"
The teenager scowled, "and I've told you, it does work like that, you're just-" he cut himself off as he noticed the people in the doorway, "oh hello, Professor... and guests."
Albus smiled at him, "hello, Harry," he looked over at the other man, "hello, Remus."
The man just lifted his hand in greeting as he slumped down into a chair opposite from Harry.
"Having another argument?"
Harry looked up at him, "we wouldn't be, but Werewolves are stupid."
In the corner of his eye, the Doctor could see the Master tense up as he stared directly at Harry and frowned.
Albus frowned, "You are aware, Mr Potter, that you both have similar conditions, correct?"
The teenager scowled, "but I'm not a Wolf, and in my experience, it's the Wolves that are stupid."
The conversation was cut off, as the Master walked up to the teenager, causing him to stare up at him.
The Doctor watched in tense silence as the two held a staring contest before, to his surprise, Harry pointed at him.
"Where the fuck did you go? I was looking for you for weeks and you never came back!"
Silently, the Master pointed at the Doctor, who realised the man's eyes had gone yellow, just like they had when he'd been taken over by the Cheetah virus, and to his surprise, and mild horror, the teenager's eyes had gone the same shade.
"He decided to come and find me."
Harry narrowed his eyes, and the Doctor gulped, and looked at Albus Dumbledore, "what exactly is he a 'Were' of?"
"I suppose you would call him a 'Werecheetah', Doctor," the Master answered instead, lifting a hand to cover his mouth, sarcastically muttering; "my bad."
"Wait," Remus interrupted, "is this the 'Dad' you said went missing before your first year?"
Harry looked at him, "yes."
The Doctor gaped and pointed at him, "you... Dad?"
"Yes," the Master agreed, "Dad."
Harry snorted, and then shifted into his much smaller and fluffier form, he was still very young in this form, if stood up on his hind legs, he reached about the same size as a six-year-old, just as he had been when he'd been bitten.
Chirping, he hopped into the Master's lap, who'd sat down in the chair he'd vacated, and began purring as he pet him, knowing now wasn't the time to catch up with each other.
The Doctor pulled a chair out and sat down, gaping at them, "I thought you didn't remember much of what happened when you had the Cheetah virus?"
"I don't, but you can't exactly forget biting a child and watching them change forms at least once a month, I just couldn't remember when or where it happened to return to him."
The Doctor frowned, and looked down at Harry, "I'm sorry if I'd known..."
Harry chirped at him and pressed his head further into the Master's hand.
Remus pointed at him, "Lycanthropy doesn't work like that!"
Albus sighed, it was going to be a long year.