Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Harry had always admired professor Mcgonagall, ever since his first transfiguration lesson, when she had shown off her animagus form. It was something he was dying to achieve and so when he got the opportunity to enter diagon ally alone, he took it.

~

Entering the small, second hand bookshop, Harry was bombarded with smells, mainly that of fresh parchment and through his thick wire framed glasses he could see the tall stacks of books that almost reached the ceilings. He wondered how they were stable but quickly dismissed the thought with the simple explanation of magic.

Looking around he realised his assumption was correct, no one was in the shop, as it was tucked away in the far corner of Diagon alley. It was perfect, as he didn't want too many people asking questions.

He gathered his quickly waning confidence and pottered to the front counter. The man at the counter was middle aged, with greying hair and glasses at least an inch thick, he looked at Harry curiously before asking "May I help you son?"

Harry put on his most charming smile and replied, "Yes sir, I was hoping you'd be able to help me find some books about anamagi."

This must have raised some questions to the man, who had stared at him suspiciously for a few seconds, however he must simply like business more than some random kid, and so Harry was led towards the book that would change his life forever and alter history.

~

Settling on the creaky bed that he had called his since arriving in diagon alley, Harry opened the book he had gotten in the bookshop, excitement flooding him. 

As with most second hand books there were names in the front cover, though these must be nicknames as they weren't ones Harry had come across before (though wizards were weird, they could just be names), the book read...

'This book belongs to 

Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs'

Harry didn't have a clue who they were but if they had successfully become animagi then they were cool in his books (pun intended). Anyways, he would have to resume reading in the morning, he'd already wasted most of his afternoon trying to contain Hagrid's book.

Chapter Text

While Harry hadn't quite understood everything in his new book, he as usual, was extremely enthusiastic, so obviously he had jumped right into the method. 

That was how he'd ended up unable to talk, with a mandrake leaf under his tongue, rapidly searching through his books for the sticking charm. Where was Hermione when he needed her?

~

Harry had been enjoying his freedom during his stay at diagon alley, had he still been at the Dursleys, he would be locked in his room, waiting for his aunt to stop withholding food as a punishment. 

Tom the barkeeper didn't know that though, which is why he would send him strange looks every time he caught Harry stuffing food in his pockets at tea. He didn't understand. It was just in case.

~

Harry really regretted choosing Care of Magical creatures, it wasn't that he didn't like them and he did truly love Hagrid but the book that had been on his list was terrifying.

The first time he'd opened it it had snapped at him and chased him onto his bed, luckily the housekeeping lady had come in and used a freezing charm on it. He'd felt a bit stupid after that.

He hadn't dared open it since but he really needed to study, he'd hated arriving in his first year and not knowing anything so he'd tried to read all his school books before getting to school and he'd be damned if he stopped now; he didn't want to give Malfoy more reasons to make fun of him.

~

His second trip into Diagon alley that summer had gone quite differently to the first, the first thing he'd done was get the Daily prophet -he wasn't sure why but the moving pictures and shifting headlines did fascinate him- but then he'd seen Ron on the cover, in Egypt.

That was why he hadn't been sending letters? Because he was on holiday. Surely he could spare a few minutes, Harry had thought he'd been forgotten.....again. At least he still had Hermione who sent him a letter every week.

Chapter Text

Hedwig had run out of owl treats, she obviously believed this was a disaster, which was why Harry was now in  the Magical Menagerie.

He had been hovering by the shelves, wondering whether she would prefer mice or vole (she can be a picky eater), when  he heard a voice. He groaned in annoyance, the thought 'not again' quickly swimming to the forefront of his mind. So being the curious child he is, he picked up the mice and decided to follow it.

Horror flooded his slightly gaunt features, when he listened intently and began to hear hissing. 

He walked forward to the tank in the corner of the shop, to see a small snake, with obsidian scales that glinted beneath the heat lamp, a dark void swirling within them.

Switching to parseltongue Harry began to speak ~Why have you called me here snake?~

~A speaker how lovely, I was simply asking that wretched two-legger for food, however, I do believe he's too afraid of me and my fangs,~ and obviously the snake decided to punctuate that sentence by rearing back and flashing his long and very sharp fangs, it was a good thing no one was here.

~I can get him for you, do you perhaps have a name?~ He'd never really met a snake before and he hadn't had time to ask the one in the zoo it's name (did the basilisk count as a snake?).

~Yes speaker, my name is death-chosen-scales but I've never met a speaker before, would you allow me to go with you?~

Harry was speechless, someone actually wanted to go with him.

 Even if he didn't desperately want to keep him then as someone with a massive hero complex (That was what Hermione called it anyway) he probably would've ended up taking him anyway.

 That was how Harry ended up returning to his room in the leaky cauldron with a snake, much to Tom the barkeepers displeasure. 

Hedwig was not happy.

Chapter Text

Harry, unsurprisingly, was well accustomed with gossip, he had dealt with it all of his short life. From his teachers thinking he was a no-good troubled youth, to his closest friends thinking he was the heir of Slytherin and abandoning him...

It was why he could tell something was going on. He was minding his own business (a sign something was going to go wrong), eating treacle flavoured flavoured ice cream at Florean Fortesque's, having decided he needed a break from reading because he was apparently turning into Hermione. Somehow his attempt at a peaceful afternoon had failed spectacularly. He could feel their glares burning into his back from here.

In all fairness, Death-chosen-scales -or Thanatos, as Harry had taken to calling him- was nestled around his shoulders, his face tucked into the crook of Harry's neck, nuzzling into his warmth, and the general wizarding public tended to think snakes and anything related were pure evil. Not much Harry could do about that though, he certainly wasn't going to leave Thanatos behind.

~

Harry's wand was currently looking a bit worse for wear but he'd run out of polish so with great reluctance he dragged himself out of bed, dressed himself and pottered over to Ollivander's. On the way there, his thoughts drifted over to their first meeting and a violent shudder racked over his body, he could feel those pale eyes boring into his own, searching his soul. Definitely not a pleasant experience.

~

Harry was climbing the stairs to his room, nose buried in a book, something that had become a common site as of recently, when a voice caught his attention, it was familiarly high pitched and possibly nagging someone. Hermione.

Harry dropped the book at the top of the stairs and rushed down them, only to be stood still, caught like a deer in headlights once he reached the bottom.

Hermione was there like he had expected, but surrounded by the Weasleys, he probably wasn't wanted here then. A downtrodden expression on his face, Harry turned to leave, only to be engulfed by a pair of arms.

He breathed in the smell of old parchment and fresh mint, relishing in the contact he had missed this summer without his friends present. Hermione looked at him concerned when she saw his expression and began questioning him until it slowly morphed into his 'usual' lopsided grin.

When he turned to the rest of the Weasleys, he greeted Ron with a sharp nod before he was scooped up into Mrs Weasley's arms and greeted cheerfully by Mr Weasley and Ron's siblings. It was a familiar scene, Percy scolding him for running down the stair saying how it was 'dangerous' -if only he knew-, Fred and George smiling, mischief twinkling in their eyes and Ginny nervously looking around, eyes flitting from one thing to another, bashfully avoiding his gaze. 

Ron might not like him or want to send letters, but they did and that thought filled him with sadness and guilt, just a few days ago he'd been thinking they didn't want him but they'd come back, they must want him, right.

Chapter Text

Harry was absolutely fuming, why did Mr Weasley think he knew best, why did he think Harry would go looking for trouble? Why did no one ever believe him...

Harry sank to the floor, the rough grain of the floor scraping his knees on the way down, frustrated tears gathering in his eyes, his stubborn facade melting away as they drew salty tracks down his cheeks.

A quiet sob left his mouth but he quickly stuffed his fist in his mouth to muffle the sound, he wouldn't let anyone see him like this, even the Weasleys, he'd be broken to them if they saw. 

They didn't know he was already gluing the pieces together. H̶e̶ c̶o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶'t̶ t̶r̶u̶s̶t̶ a̶n̶y̶o̶n̶e̶ t̶o̶ d̶o̶ i̶t̶ f̶o̶r̶ h̶i̶m̶. He didn't need them to do it for him. Settled with that conclusion, Harry curled up on the hard wooden floor, at home among the dust and cobwebs -f̶o̶r̶g̶o̶t̶t̶e̶n̶- and slowly drifted of to sleep despite the quiet sobs racking his body.

~

Harry's dreams that night were blurred as though he couldn't fully remember the full scene, even his brain is lazy.

~~~

"Prongsey come quick, come on, prongslette's said his first word," A figure with dark hair bellowed to someone he couldn't see.

Harry could vaguely hear the man shout to someone just behind him, and he turned to see a large figure (come to think of it he was pretty small) rushing closer,

"Come on prongslette say a word for your papa..."

Harry's mouth opened on its own, a peculiarly familiar word being spat out, followed by giggles from both him and the shorter man "Pa'foo."

Harry heard a long-winded sigh from the taller man, despite the  others obvious -though blurred- shit eating grin.

"Padfoot, I left you alone for ten minutes, how do I explain this to...."

~~~~

Harry woke from the dream with a small smile on his face, recalling the people from his dream. Though their names were vaguely familiar, he just couldn't remember where he'd heard them. Despite that, it seemed whoever Padfoot and prongs were they had loved him. n̶o̶t̶ e̶n̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ t̶o̶ s̶t̶i̶c̶k̶ a̶r̶o̶u̶n̶d̶.

~

Harry couldn't bring himself to leave his room that morning despite how loud his stomach rumbled, he could deal with it, he'd had worse. Instead he spent his morning curled up in a blanket, Thanatos wrapped around his arm, book pressed right up to the rims of his glasses.

He had presumed the Weasleys would leave him alone and so was shocked when he heard a soft, almost shy knock on the door. "Come in," Harry called out weakly, his voice cracking slightly.

Ron flitted into the room, a tray of food in his hands "Thought you might be hungry,"

"Thanks," was Harry's curt reply, he was still mad at Ron, some food wasn't going to change that.

"Look mate, If this is about not sending any letters then i'm really sorry, I thought you wouldn't want to be bothered by me, you know after how rude I was about the parseltongue thing and you have a snake now so you probably hate me even more and you're Harry Potter and i'm just Ron and I knew Hermione was writing to you so i thought you'd prefer not to have loads of people writing, you know with those muggles of yours and..." 

Ron must have realised he was rambling because he quickly fell silent, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Harry got it though, Ron was clearly dealing with some issues, luckily for him Harry was too, they could deal with them together. "No, Ron it's okay, I understand."

Chapter Text

On Harry's final trip to Diagon Alley that summer, he flitted from place to place, feeling particularly untethered, perhaps his and Ron's conversation the previous night had something to do with that. 

In the end he broke off from the group, having already done all of his back-to-school shopping, and went into Quality Quidditch Supplies, dragging Ron and Hermione with him to ogle the newest brooms.

It was then that he saw it, The Firebolt, it was the most perfect thing he'd ever set his eyes on, more so than the solid gold cauldron from his first trip here. It was streamlined and aerodynamic, made for precision and speed. Each twig hand selected and all the iron work done by Goblins.

Hermione had rolled her eyes at Harry's starstruck expression and very expensive taste (though secretly she was happy he was smiling,) and Ron joined him in rambling about the newest features but to one secret onlooker, it brought bitter sweet tears to his eyes as he thought on what could've been and what will probably never be.

~

It was the night before they would be returning to Hogwarts and Harry's mind was running in circles. He just couldn't sleep, the maelstrom of anxious and restless thoughts making him snap his eyes open every time he was close to sleep.

Thankfully he wasn't at their house so he didn't have to worry about being silent and not moving a muscle for fear of p̶u̶n̶i̶s̶h̶m̶e̶n̶t̶   correction. His current freedom a very present thought in his mind, he picked up his animagus book, resuming one of the final chapters.

He had come surprisingly close to finishing the transformation, so close in fact that he was sure his sight and hearing had gotten sharper and he could've sworn his pupils had been slits for a second when he'd looked in a mirror earlier.

According to the book, he only had one main step to complete and it required a thunderstorm to work, it being summer time meant it wasn't in the cards for now, so Harry was biding his time, better to be prepared for when he can finally complete it.

~

Harry had never actually had someone to wish him goodbye before he left for Hogwarts, though last year that was more to do with a certain house-elf-who-shall-not-be-named. Therefore he was completely out of his depth being smothered to death and cried on by Mrs Weasley.

As usual with the Weasleys, it was a chaotic red-haired mess, children scattered across the platform and luggage being tossed between siblings due to mix ups (Molly had forgotten to name the cases again). Harry was pretty sure that George and Fred had even set Lee's tarantula free somewhere on the train.

It was nice in a strange, homey way, that only the Weasleys with their hand-me-downs and many children could accomplish. It was also strange and unnerving to harry, who's entire childhood had centred around being quiet and staying hidden or else, though he guessed he would deal with the hugs and tearful goodbyes for Mrs Weasley's peace of mind, it was the least he owed her.

Chapter Text

Harry collapsed onto the seat, the firm cushion soft and welcoming beneath him, and sighed in relief at the familiar spot. As unused to affection as he was, hailing from the Dursley family, he was feeling rather tired from just seeing Mrs Weasley crying. 

Luckily, Hermione had managed to find the compartment they'd had last year, the one where the lock actually worked, though there was some guy sat on one of the benches. Hermione was convinced he was a professor, obviously the trunk was a dead giveaway but Harry just couldn't see it, he didn't look like a teacher at all.

The man looked weary, even in his sleep the lines of his face were drawn tight and the scar across his face was not a kind that Harry recognised (he was familiar with many kinds of injuries, V... ver... he had made sure of that) it was thin, silvery and aged him several years. His mousy brown hair was peppered with grey and he wore thread bear clothes that reminded Harry a lot of himself.

Hermione however, decided to break him out of his musings by asking him about his summer.

Obviously Harry couldn't tell her about his relatives, so he told her of the gardening he did completely  voluntarily, and his decision to leave for diagon alley to focus on his studies, conveniently leaving out the fact the focus of his studies was completely illegal and extremely registered. His parent would be so proud.

~

Around three quarters into the journey, Harry could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up and and a cold sweat trickling down his back, something was wrong on the train.

A few minutes later the brakes slammed on and the train screeched to a halt.

~

Harry was panicking, and Hermione would later tell him that he had curled in on himself and his pupils had dilated slightly, the carriage lock had come undone with an audible click and frost had glazed over the windows, scrawling delicate patterns up the fogged panes.

 The man who was supposed to be a professor had moved almost imperceptibly, no one else had noticed but he had grown up very paranoid (due to his relatives) so he had. He was just sat there a cloak draped over him but his posture was ever so slightly tense. Definitely not a good thing.

That was when the voices started, he could hear a woman crying out and pleading but whenever he tried to focus on what she was saying the voice disappeared. Harry wasn't sure how he knew but whatever was causing this was getting closer.

Ron and Hermione hadn't felt anything like that, they'd only noticed the chill in the air when the train had slammed on the breaks and even then they seemed unaware of the impending sense of doom -t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶f̶o̶l̶l̶o̶w̶e̶d̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶- . 

Hermione did, however, scream when a gnarled, cloaked hand wrapped itself around the door and the stench of rotten flesh filled the compartment. 

Harry was a bit too preoccupied to notice the stench however and only recalled a woman's desperate pleas and screams before the muscles in his legs gave way and green lit up the darkness behind his eyes and he was welcomed into unconsciousness's warm, tender embrace.

Chapter Text

Harry awoke to very overprotective friends, asking him if he was okay and the looming figure of his newest teacher, shoving a piece of chocolate in front of him and claiming it would help with the banging headache. 

He was sceptical but the throbbing of his head was getting on his nerves and well, he didn't often get the excuse to have sweets so he crammed the piece into his mouth.

He was still rather disoriented, having woken about a minute ago but he could feel the fog of sleep and pain slowly lifting. Tentatively sitting up and leaning against the door of the carriage, Harry looked around, eyes narrowing as he gazed up at his friends.

"What was that?" he choked out, voice gravely and hoarse. "A dementor Harry, now eat up." A rough voice replied, causing Harry to turn his head to peer at the owner of said voice. 

Turns out Lupin was pretty no nonsense and explained to Harry what a dementor simply in an easy to discern way, despite Hermione's eye rolling at Harry's lack of knowledge (It wasn't his fault his relatives shut away his books in the summer, besides he could only do so much catch up reading.)

Apparently the 'dementor incident' was an isolated one because the rest of the journey continued without a hitch, regardless of his painful headache, it was punctuated with pleasant conversation about this years curriculum and previous teachers they'd had, in darker times yet to come, Harry would look back on it as a fond memory.

~

It was a great relief to Harry when they got to Hogwarts and even more so when they sat down to eat.  The great hall looked spectacular as usual, candles flickering in the grand ceiling and ghosts flickering through as usual. Dumbledore looked unusually disheartened but after his speech Harry could see why, the dementors were more atrocious than he'd first thought.

When Professor Lupin was introduced Harry and his friends made sure to clap loudly in support of the tired looking man. Defence was going to be great this year, Harry knew it.

He'd eaten scraps all summer again, courtesy of his relatives. The food as usual was perfect, a roast dinner with the option of chicken, beef, pork and a few vegetarian choices.  Harry himself went for a juicy piece of beef along with almost a dozen Yorkshire puddings and by the time dessert appeared, he was stuffed, his world a haze of friendship, comfort and contentedness.

The chatter around the table had been the usual catch up, punctuated with thoughts about the kids their house had gained this year.  Seamus had avidly explained going to watch a football match as Ron quizzed him on the sport, reminding Harry of himself learning about quidditch.

Hermione had chatted animatedly to him about transfiguration and an interesting text she'd read over the summer, ecstatic he was showing in interest in his studies. "Maybe I've finally rubbed off on him," were her exact words.

The warm feeling surrounding Gryffindor table was swiftly drowned when Malfoy and his entourage appeared, jeering at Harry about his fainting spell on the train and various of their other favourite jabs. Draco's insulting of his rather rough looking uniform seemed particularly annoying as he had been so fixated on the animagi transformation that he'd completely forgotten to buy a new uniform, Hermione had already been on his case about it he didn't need Draco, the slimy git, nagging him too.

The disruption from Malfoy was the trios queue to leave so they trotted back to Gryffindor tower amicably, discussing timetables and the next days lessons.

~

Harry, out of habit, rose with the sun, much to Ron's disapproval. The first day of lessons were no exception, however he was feeling quite a bit more restless than usual, probably the nerves of starting a new year. 

Harry shook the distracting thoughts out of his head and got up to his feet determinedly, he had lain staring at the ceiling for ten minutes after he'd woken and had been bored out of his mind, he may as well do something productive.

So gathering his things for the day and one of the extra books on animagi he'd gotten, he climbed down the tower stairs and made his way out to the grounds.

 His original plan had been to see Hagrid but after casting a quick tempus, he'd seen it was much to early for even Hagrid to be up.

He eventually found himself sat by the Black lake, wrapped in his thick winter coat and shivering slightly at the Scottish winds as they blew by. The grounds were rather beautiful at this time of year he reflected, admiring the suns lowly reflected rays, as they cast a glitter over the inky water and its unfathomable depths. He was usually so wrapped up in a murder plot he'd never really stopped to take in the view, a shame but here's to hoping for a peaceful year.

The minutes flew by as Harry found himself absorbed in the book, tearing through each scrap of information with the hunger of a starving man, mind running overtime to take in the information.

 He was jolted from his trance by a gentle nudge on his arm.

Chapter Text

Harry looked up startled, to see the face of an extremely mangy, black dog. He couldn't exactly pinpoint the breed but he smiled a toothy grin at the dog and patted the ground next to him, beckoning it to sit down.

Despite his bad experiences with dogs, Harry was inexplicably rather fond of them and was quite happy when his new furry companion snuggled under his arm. The next few minutes were spent in silence, both of them taking comfort in the other.

For Harry this shared warmth gave him hope and a peace he hadn't felt in over a decade, in fact the nostalgia was slightly unnerving but in favour of the moment, He ignored it. Harry's book, the one he had been absorbed in just minutes ago lay forgotten on the dew covered grass. 

Eventually, they moved, Harry to his first lesson and Snuffles - as Harry now referred to him- back into the forest, but they had both agreed to meet the next morning, the feeling of comfort too great to not experience again

~

Harry was confused.

Divination was a joke he knew that, everyone knew that. Even Hermione had now given up the class and yet, as soon as professor Trelawney had read his tea leaves he had felt warning bells go off in his head. Even the hairs on his arms had stood up as a chill snaked its way through him.

Even worse, the symbol of his death was something he already knew, Snuffles and it had put him on edge. Harry thought he was probably just overreacting but he decided he would increase his studying, he needs to be prepared, he can't die yet.

~

Care of Magical creatures was amazing, despite the slow start to the lesson and Hagrid's obvious nervousness. First of all Harry had flown on Buckbeak and frankly he had never felt better.

They had soared high above the grounds and when they finally dove down, it was exhilarating and more liberating than even flying on his broom. The views were beautiful and far beyond even the beautiful sunrise he had seen that morning.

To make the lesson even better, Malfoy, the foul git, had been put in his place. Harry thought it was hilarious if he was honest and a vindictive part of him hoped the injury left a scar to remind Draco to respect people.