SIYE Time:4:47 on 5th December 2024 SIYE Login: no | | |
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Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf? By mjc
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Category: Animagus Challenge (2013-1), Animagus Challenge (2013-1)
Characters:None
Genres: Action/Adventure
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: G
Reviews: 8
Summary: One hot summer day, a couple of books, a new insight on how to meditate and the infamous Harry Potter 'luck'. Just how much trouble can one teen cause in an afternoon?
Hitcount: Story Total: 3362
Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.
Author's Notes: This was started back when the animagus challenge was going on, but due to hard drive problems, it was not finished in time to be entered. It languished in oblivion for a while, until I finally decided to finish it.
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Harry looked at the letter in his hand, for the third time.
“...and since you've lost the only father figure you've ever known.”
A sound, somewhere between a grunt and a scream passed his lips.
'What's with these people?' he thought. 'I've spent what, about a month, give or take a few days, with Sirius, since I've been old enough to not puke on him? Hell, I've spent more time, overall, with Remus...and if you really want to be depressed I've spent more time with that bloody rat, than with both of them combined. It's official, magic rots the brain, worse than television!'
Dear Hermione,
You are the sister I never had, but come on. Did you really write that tripe? If so, then it's official, magic rots the brain worse than all 'that damn Yank pap' they try to show on the telly. (Uncle Vernon said that. And yes, you can check me into St. Mungos, to keep Lockhart company, but I agree with him on that.)
Yeah, I'm upset he's dead and all, but well it isn't THAT bad. Come on, really, how much time did I get to spend with him? I'm not even sure I really knew him enough to figure out if I liked him or just the idea of him. I think I'm more upset over the fact that I'll never know, now, than him being dead.
And before you begin. Yes, I realize that it wasn't my fault it happened. I'm firmly placing the blame where it belongs on that bitch who cast the spell and that bastard who fooled me into going there, in the first place.
Besides, I've got bigger things to worry about. Things I can't discuss in a letter. Big things.
Your should have been brother,
Harry
Harry carefully blotted the page, before rolling it up and tying it to Hedwig. “That's the last of them, girl. No rush, but do get that first one to Remus, as soon as you can. Ron's and Hermione's can be done at your leisure. I've got to weed the back flower beds today, again.”
Hedwig hooted quietly before taking flight. She had just left when Harry was called by his Aunt.
“Coming, Aunt Petunia,” muttered Harry, already knowing today wasn't going to be one of the better days of the summer. It was already oppressively hot and promised to be even hotter later in the day.
Arriving in the kitchen Harry was greeted by his very irate looking aunt. She was standing by the cooker, facing the table glaring at the three large cardboard boxes sitting on the table.
“What is the meaning of these,” she hissed, pointing at the boxes.
“I don't know,” said Harry approaching them. He saw that they were addressed to him, but instead of a return address or a shippers address there was a very familiar family crest on them. He started undoing the tape on one of them when his aunt let out a stifled shriek.
“Not here, you dolt! Take them out of here and get back down here and start on breakfast.”
Shrugging, Harry gathered them and made it to his room, before Vernon emerged from the bathroom. Vernon shot Harry a glare that would have curdled fresh milk, had any been in the vicinity.
After breakfast, but before Harry could start weeding a thunderstorm moved into the area. Scowling and muttering, Petunia banished Harry to his room. Harry, was glad to be sent there, so he could actually examine the boxes. Once in the room he eagerly tore into them, finding a thick letter in one. The letter, was a short note, explaining what the contents were and a rather detailed list of those contents. There were several books, all heavily annotated (doodled in), a couple of dozen scrolls and scraps of parchment, and even a couple of bound muggle notebooks, in one box. A second was full of small, labeled jars, paper wrapped bundles, strips of various hides and feathers. The third box was the most interesting of all. It contained a small stone bowl and several vials containing a silvery liquid, all wrapped in cotton wool.
By the time Harry was done going through everything, the storm had passed. Knowing that, even though it was wet and muddy, his aunt would demand the weeding still be done, he put everything back in the boxes, except one of the more interesting looking books. This book, a small leather bound tome, fit neatly in his pocket. He then raced down the stairs and out the door, before his aunt said a word. He removed the small wheeled bin and various tools from the small shed and started looking for the nonexistent weeds, as he had weeded this same bed the day before yesterday. It didn't take long for the temperature to return to its previous levels, now with extra moisture, from the storm, it soon became sweltering.
After about half an hour, Harry retreated to the shade of the garden shed and started to read the book. Two books, really. The first was a short Ministry published pamphlet on the Animagus transformation. It was rather simplistic and didn't go into much detail, but, according to the Forward, was the 'one and only instruction manual needed' to successfully complete the transformation. Between the Forward and the section dealing with registration procedures and the penalties involved for not registering there was a grand total of three hundred and twenty seven words of 'how to' instruction and seven of those were one word section titles. The notes and doodles in the margins were more interesting and longer than the text of the pamphlet. The only thing of note, was one sentence, circled in bright red ink. 'Do not attempt to perform without a duly qualified instructor present.' Sirius had added a short note saying, 'This is the ONLY item worth memorizing.' Harry agreed.
As he was reading, the temperature continued to climb, easily making it the hottest day in years. Thinking it was too hot to actually go back out and weed some more, he opened the actual book. It too was about the animagus transformation, except it was published in France. The left hand page was written in French, while the right was in English. Thumbing through it, Harry noticed many notes and illustrations. There were whole chapters devoted to each aspect of the process and detailed diagrams and charts. Sirius had penned a short note stating that this was the official manual, provided by the French ministry, to all those seeking to become animagi. The note also went on to admonish Harry to heed all warnings, especially about trying it on his own.
Harry was startled when he heard his name being called. Glancing around he realized that it must be lunch time, so he stuffed the book back into his pocket and made his way into the house. After dropping the book off in his room and washing up, he sat down to what passed as lunch...a little plain tuna smeared on two slices of something that resembled bread, but looked like it was actually sawdust and bird seed. There was a thin pickle spear and a couple of stringy celery sticks on the plate, too. The only good thing was, Dudley's plate was exactly the same. It appeared as if Dudley was as excited about the meal as Harry was, that is to say, he'd rather be having root canal surgery instead.
“It's supposed to rain, again, this afternoon,” said Petunia as Harry was putting his plate in the sink. “I want the mowing done before that happens.”
Harry nodded and ran up to his room. There he grabbed a couple of books, a few scrolls, a small notebook and biro. He tucked it all into his pack and went back downstairs. He asked for and to his surprise received a five pound note, to go get petrol for the lawnmower. As he passed through the play park he saw Dudley stuffing the last of a store bought pasty in his mouth.
After returning with the petrol, he pulled the lawnmower from the shed. He also dropped his pack in the shed and quickly started mowing, as the sky was darkening and the wind picking up. He finished about half the mowing when the rain started. Since it was supposed to be over quickly, he just ran into the shed. He pulled a scroll from his pack and sat down to read. This scroll was another method of becoming an Animagus. It went into great detail about the method used by the native shamans of North America. It looked like the easiest of all and since it involved mostly meditation, or at least that's what it sounded like to Harry, which he found out was what he should have been doing to clear his mind, he was now familiar with the technique.
Finishing that scroll, he put it back in his pack and chose another. This one was a fairly in depth article on the use of Runes in everyday applications. It was interesting, but the continuing rainfall and the last scroll made it hard for Harry to concentrate on it. Before he knew it, he found himself drifting off. So he gave up on reading, closed his eyes and started to clear his mind. Without realizing it, he fell asleep.
The next thing he knew, he was being awakened by the shrill screaming of his Aunt and the slamming of the shed door. Expecting that some sort of wizardly attack was occurring, he jumped to his feet, reaching for his wand. But all he did was fall to the floor in a tangle of feet and tail. This caused him to pause and look down at his hands. But instead of seeing hands, he saw paws.
“Oh shit!” he muttered, but all that he heard was a low, throaty growl. That caused him to back up, until he ran his backside into the wall of the shed. This caused him to sit...painfully, on his tail. “Oh shit!”
'Right,' thought Harry, 'What happened? I was meditating on...oh shit.'
He looked around for his pack, but didn't find it. In fact, there was nothing that would indicate that he was Harry and not some sort of canine, or at least that's what he thought he was. His hands, paws...whatever, didn't look very cat-like to him. He was prodded from his musings by the sound of approaching sirens. Getting to his feet, all four of them, he started looking for a way out of the shed, realizing it wouldn't be a good thing to be caught by the local police and probably animal control agent. He nudged at the door, but it wouldn't open. Knowing his aunt, she probably locked it, before calling the authorities. He didn't get very far when someone approached the shed. He heard someone fumbling with some keys and the lock being opened. The door opened a crack. He jumped at the door trying to push it open, but whoever was opening it must have been the size of a barge, because it was like hitting a wall.
“Bloody hell!” bellowed Vernon, before slamming the door shut, again. “Get your arse over here and bring that gun.”
Harry heard more scrambling on the other side of the door and a short while later, it was thrown open. Kneeling in the doorway was a man, in what looked to be some sort of 'riot gear', pointing a rifle straight at Harry. He had no time to react before an almost silent 'pffft' was heard and something hit his chest. It was a couple of inches long and had brightly colored fluff on one end and a sharp needle, on the other. Harry took a few steps forward, before falling over and knowing no more.
Harry slowly awakened, this time. His mouth felt funny and he had trouble focusing his eyes. This was accompanied by a host of foul odors and many sounds, a large number of which were barking. When he finally had control of his senses, he took stock of his surroundings. After a few seconds, he knew exactly where he was...the local pound.
'Great, just what I need. Now how do I get out of here?'
Just then, a man, in a white lab coat, and two others, in suits, entered the room.
“Yes, that really does look a bit like a wolf,” said one of the suits.
“Can't be,” answered the lab coat. “The last wolf was killed in Scotland, over a hundred years ago. There hasn't been one in Surrey for much longer than that.”
“An exotic pet that escaped?” asked the second suit.
“Most likely. But, he's not neutered, so...”
“Yes, that would be a violation. But if the bloke hadn't been licensed in the first place, that wouldn't exactly matter now would it?”
“True enough.”
“Take your sample and get down to the lab, because if it isn't a wolf, I want him neutered and out of here by morning,” said suit number one.
“Yes, sir.”
Harry was glad that they hadn't been looking directly at him when they were talking about neutering him. It had taken all his control not to yell out when they said that, but he knew that the shock and surprise had to have registered on his face.
The man in the lab coat approached the cage and slowly circled it. Harry watched him carefully following him. When they were facing the opposite direction that they started from, Harry felt a sharp pull on his tail. He spun around, growling.
“Get's them every time,” muttered lab coat, “And dogs are supposed to be so smart. Give me a cat any day of the week, though the wife's budgies wouldn't like it much.” Both men, laughed as they left the room.
With nothing else to do, Harry settled down and took a nap. A short while later, he awoke with a start, once again wondering where he was. What woke him was an increase in the amount of barking. It was an excited barking. He noticed that there was a boy pushing a cart, dumping dog food into the bowls in the various kennels. As he got closer Harry finally recognized the boy as one of Dudley's gang, Malcolm. When Malcolm got close enough to pour the food into the bowl, Harry jumped up against the side of the cage, growling fiercely. Malcolm stepped back, quickly. Harry lunged again, this time letting out a long, haunting howl, followed by a deep rumbling growl. This started all the dogs barking, many also whimpering in terror. Malcolm paled and backed up even more. Harry lunged a third time, starting the cage rocking. Malcolm turned and fled, a puddle now on the floor where he had been standing.
A short while later, the man wearing the lab coat came in, muttering about how worthless Malcolm was and finished passing out the food. He broke out laughing when he saw the puddle on the floor. Not long after that, the younger of the two suit wearing men returned.
“Well, what happened to Malcolm?”
“Don't know, other than he was yelling 'I quit' as he ran out the door. Seems like Whitefang here scared the piss right out of him or something,” replied the man in the lab coat, indicating the puddle he was now mopping up.
“Well, find out anything?”
“Yes, I have a positive ID on the hair. It's definitely Canis lupus,”
The man in the suit smiled and said, staring at Harry, “Lucky for you old boy, no snip-snip.” Turning to the man in the lab coat, he added, “He'll need to be ready to transport in the morning. A trip up north. Talked to the head office and if it was confirmed, he's to be shipped up to the place near Dundee. Then it will be out of our hands and not a problem any longer. Did you hear the paper is interviewing the owner of the place he was found at?”
“No, why?”
“Seems like it's a big deal or something. It's not every day a wolf turns up in the middle of Surrey, is it?”
“I guess not, but it's not like we don't get our fair share of escaped exotics every year, though they do seem to be getting stranger and stranger. What's next a lion?”
The man in the suit laughed, “With your luck George, you'll be the one on duty when we do. Weren't you the one to handle that runaway boa five years ago?”
Harry let out a low groan and banged his head against the cage.
The next morning, George entered carrying a bowl of raw meat. He slid it through the slot in the cage and stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back. Harry sniffed at the meat and decided that something was 'off' with it, so he batted it with a paw, sending it flying. George had been expecting that, because as soon as Harry started sniffing, he moved closer to the cage and more to Harry's side. As soon as Harry batted the bowl, George lunged forward, jabbing what looked like a stick through the wire of the cage and into Harry's side. Harry yelped at the sudden pain in his side, but quickly succumbed to the tranquilizer.
Harry awoke to the sound of an engine and tyres running on the road. He had no idea how long he'd been out, this time, but obviously, it had been a while, because the light coming in, through the windows, looked like late morning or early afternoon. He figured, that if it was around noon, then they'd have another four hours or so on the road. He took the time to stretch, as much as the cage he was in would allow. There was a bottle of water attached to the side of the cage, with some sort of nipple like end on it. Feeling a bit thirsty, Harry played with it, until he was able to get some water. There was also a bowl of dry kibble, that while it smelled like dog food, didn't smell drugged. Figuring it couldn't be any worse than some of the meals he'd eaten before, he ate all of it.
Not long after Harry had finished the bowl of kibble, the van stopped. The driver and George left, after checking on Harry and refilling the water bottle. They were gone for about half an hour. Harry figured that it was lunch time and that was confirmed, when they came back to the van, smelling of fish and chips. Harry grumbled to himself, as he would have preferred the fish and chips over the kibble. George and the driver laughed at the growls coming from the cage.
“Shouldn't we give him something?” asked the driver.
George responded, “No, don't want to get him used to 'people food'. Probably just become a scrounger, then someone would have to put him down,”
“Never thought of that.”
“Well, you're paid to drive, not think; that's my job,” said George, with a chuckle.
Many hours later, they pulled into a graveled parking lot. A couple of men unloaded the cage and wheeled it to a large, open kennel. Once there, George opened the door and stood back. Harry had seen enough 'wildlife' shows on the telly to figure out what it was they wanted, so he cautiously, with lots of sniffing exited the cage. Once free, he ran to the far side of the kennel and settled down in a corner. The run had tired him more than he expected, but he figured it was probably from being cooped up for so long. George and several others stood around watching him and when he didn't do anything other than lay in the corner, they gave up and went inside.
After they left, Harry finally gave some thought to turning back, but realized a couple of very important facts. The first was that he was wearing some sort of collar. It was snug but not constricting. He wasn't completely sure, but those shows were coming in quite handy, again, that it was a radio tracking collar. He also figured that it would at the least be very uncomfortable if he changed back to a human. The other important fact that he discovered, one that if he had hands, he'd be hitting his forehead with one, was that he wasn't quite sure how to change back, especially with that infernal collar around his neck.
If anyone had been watching, they would have been amazed and amused by the various looks on Harry's face when he came to that realization.
After realizing that he now needed help, he began to formulate a plan. Since he was near Dundee and had a general idea where Hogwarts was, in relation to the town, that became his goal. But the first thing to do was to get out of the cage and into the forest surrounding the enclosure. So he started pacing around the perimeter of his kennel. It only took one complete circuit of the enclosed area to find the open gate. Harry just stood and stared out through the opening, wondering whether or not he was being observed. Deciding that it didn't really matter, he bolted through, before the boffins in the office changed their minds.
He ran. The feeling of freedom was incredible. The pace was brutal, but the long, loping gate of the species was exhilarating. He ran for hours, pausing or slowing, only to cross a roadway. He finally stopped, when he smelled food being cooked. He looked into a clearing in the woods. There were three men, around a fire, two seated and one standing, roasting what looked to be a rabbit over it.
“You ready for tonight?” asked the one crouched over the fire, turning the spit.
“As ready as I can be,” replied the one standing.
“No,” said the third.
“Why not, Remus,” asked the first.
“Because...”
“Because you are a wuss,” snapped the standing one. “One taste of that potion and you are a lapdog!”
Remus leaped to his feet and snarled, “Dammit, John. You know that's not it. Fenrir challenged me and if I'm there...”
“Sucks to be you, Remy, my boy,” said the one turning the spit.
“Go get stuffed,” said Remus.
Harry tried to back away, but a stick cracked under his foot.
Instantly, all three men were on their feet, with wands drawn. Harry tried to run, but a flash of red stopped him and blackness overtook him.
Harry slowly became aware of his surroundings. The tracking collar was being held in an iron-like grip of a large, wolfish man, keeping him both upright and from bolting.
The man said, in a deep, growling voice, “Sons of Fenris, this night is like no other. We have before us a sign that our cause is right. Before you stands the first wild wolf seen in this land for well over a hundred years. But look, those filthy Muggles, put a collar on him! Tonight we run with a wolf. Then next moon we avenge this pup and what was done to him.”
“At leas' they lef' 'im intact,” muttered someone in the crowd.
At that moment, the moon broke the horizon. The gathered crowd started crying out in pain, but within seconds, it had turned to howling. The last spoken words that Harry heard were, “You've big brass ones, Remy. Tonight you are safe, but next month you are mine!” And then the man holding his collar transformed, too.
And with that the pack ran into the forest. Harry, at first tried to keep up with Greyback, but soon fell behind. As he got further and further back from the front of the pack, a form that he knew to be Remus, fell in beside him. As they ran, Remus kept pushing Harry westward, away from the rest of the pack. Suddenly Harry was surprised to find himself running along a familiar path. Without any further prompting, he took the lead and headed to the ramshackle building ahead. Once he reached, Remus took the lead and led him around to a side of the building that Harry had never seen before. There was what looked like an overly large cat flap on the side. Remus ducked through. Harry followed. Seeing Remus curl up on the floor, Harry did the same.
Early the next morning, Harry was awakened by Remus laughing.
Harry stood and growled at him.
“Settle down, pup. Can't you change back?”
Harry brought up a paw and scratched at the collar.
“I suppose I should get that off you then?” asked Remus, laughing, again.
Remus took out his wand and with a quick flick, the collar fell to the floor.
“It should be safe to change now.”
Harry tried to remember what the book had said about returning to human form, but realized that was the part he was reading when sleep overtook him and that he never finished. After coming to that realization, he flopped on the floor and covered his head with his front paws.
At this Remus actually fell to the floor, laughing too hard to hold his wand. To make matters worse, three people came up the stairs from the passage to the Whomping Willow.
Tonks took one look at Remus and asked, “That's not Harry, is it?”
Remus started laughing even louder and could only nod.
“That's quite a mess you've got yourself into, there, lad,” came the rough voice of Mad-eye Moody.
Dumbledore soon joined Remus on the floor laughing.
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“And that, is how Uncle Harry completed his first transformation,” said Ron to a group of wide-eyed children sitting on the floor around the Christmas tree.
Harry, between glaring daggers at Ron and trying to sink into the cushions of the couch, was turning a brilliant shade of red.
“So, did Dad ever stop laughing? I thought he was a wolf, not a hyena?” asked Teddy.
“Can you show us?” came what seemed like a hundred little voices.
Harry just groaned and sank further into the couch.
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