Disclaimer: I own nothing but the general plot and OCs
IMPORTANT AND ONLY WARNING:
This is probably not going to be an extremely dark story but nor is it light hearted and fluffy. I have little to no clue where this is going to go yet and thus can't say for certain what it'll contain.
I will say this: If it can be perceived for a person to do something/have something happen to them it may well be in this story
This may or may not include: Pairings of all genders and ages. Non consensual and dubious consensual content. Violence. Abuse. Character deaths. Angst. Plot holes. discrimination and prejudice. excessive fluffiness and icky romance. Much more.
That's not to say it will definitely have all this in it, however I'm not too interested in skipping or brushing over something because it's uncomfortable if it's relevant to the plot. If it's included I will try to do the topic genuine credit and treat it with the seriousness it deserves as long as it's not a parody/comedy or a character being politically incorrect.
The plot and characters do not necessarily reflect my own views and so if you are horribly offended by what's coming out a characters mouth/mind or their actions, that's fine.
Info you might want to know:
Okay! I don't know if this will end up being a Fenrir/Harry story yet. I'm leaning toward no at the mo, just so that I can avoid any sort very underage sexual tension between them, because that's not what I want to write about for this. I may change my mind later depending on where the story goes.
This doc has been sitting in my files for ages now, and I haven't uploaded it unless I was going to commit to regular updates, but I figured what the hell, I will never get round to updating it unless I upload.
Having said that, expect incredibly sporadic updates. I have a bunch of fics which are in the same state in my files and I will pick up and drop them again as time goes on, or favour one to the exclusion of the others for a while before I take a long break from it.
no beta btw
Finally let me know what works for you, what doesn't, or just what you think in general! As well as anything you'd like to see in the fic going forward.
Chapter 1 - Blood and Bite
When Petunia and Vernon Dursley had reluctantly and begrudgingly informed little Harry Potter that he would be accompanying them on their week long camping trip in Scotland, he had been gobsmacked. However, he'd barely had five seconds to stand there and gape at this unprecedented opportunity to go somewhere other than the dull streets of Surrey, before his aunt had snapped at him to hurry up and pack.
Apparently Mrs Figg had come down with something bad at the last second, and the Dursleys were reaping the rewards of their own vicious gossip mongering about the child, in that no one was willing to take him last minute. After all, who would trust a lying, criminal thief in their home for a week, even a six year old one.
Harry had known that Uncle Vernon was taking Aunt Petunia and Dursley 'wild camping' in Scotland along with his boss and the man's family. As soon as Vernon had mentioned it to Aunt Petunia he had known that they were only going through with it to get closer to Uncle Vernon's boss in the hopes of a future promotion. There was no way any of them would come with the idea to forgo electricity and their precious creature comforts in order to brave the wildlife of Scotland for a week. It sounded fairly exciting to Harry, who was not unused to the idea of sleeping on a hard ground or having to go without a few "necessities" like hot showers and three course meals.
But he had been resigned to not going. There was no way Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would allow Harry anywhere near any of his uncle's business buddies. However, whilst he had really wanted to see the woodlands of Scotland, he had also been glad that he wouldn't be forced to carry their tent and food, and set the thing up, and cook their meals, and clean up after them when they moved on and be forced to go without a sleeping bag. So when he was told at the last minute that he was going, he was simultaneously thrilled and slightly perturbed by the idea.
To say the journey was a nightmare for Harry was an understatement. It was almost a seven hour drive, during which Dudley decided to take his frustration and boredom out on Harry after two and a half. After getting bored of his gameboy, Dudley huffed and looked out the window, munching a packet of crisps.
"Mummy I'm bored. Can we go to the cinema?" He whined pathetically.
"Not now Diddykins, we're going to Scotland. I'll take you when we get back," Petunia soothed with a sickeningly sweet smile.
"Where's that?" He huffed irritably. Harry rolled his eyes at Dudley, and suppressed the urge to snort. Whilst he may not know exactly where Scotland was, he knew it was North of England somewhere.
"It's not too far sweetheart, although we have a long drive ahead of us. Why don't I give you some cake to help?"
Dudley grumblingly acquiesced and shoved his face with cake, spraying crumbs over Harry who was leaning as far away from the pig of a boy as possible. After that Dudley had begun whinging again.
"Are we nearly there yet? I want to get out."
"Not yet sweetums, we still have four and a half hours to go. Why don't you play with your gameboy?"
"I've completed the game," he snapped, his face going slightly pink, and Harry knew the boy was fully prepared to go into full temper tantrum mode.
"Why don't you play another one," he snidely suggested. He knew that Dudley would either listen to him or start bothering him, but at that point he'd rather be bothered than have to witness a full Dudley meltdown whilst being stuck in the car with him.
True to his predictions, after some sharp words from Petunia about respecting her Diddydums, Dudley turned his vicious boredom onto the skinny boy next to him. It started with whispered insults that made Harry grit his teeth, but say nothing. It moved onto repetitive sharp pinches and pokes that were irritating at first and downright painful after ten minutes. He was sure he was going to have bruises up and down his right arm and leg. From there it moved into solid thumps, at which point Harry snapped at Dudley and got thoroughly reprimanded for his troubles. The rest of the car journey was merely a game to see if Dudley could get Harry to react through any means possible.
By the time it was over Harry had been savagely pinched, poked, punched, pushed, pulled, kicked, stomped on, crushed, insulted, scratched, spat on, snotted on, had food flicked at, his clothes had been slightly torn, his hair pulled, he'd had things thrown at his head, he'd been shouted at thirteen times and to top it all off Dudley had eaten too much and gotten car sick in the last five minutes resulting in Harry getting puked on.
The last one had been the final straw for Harry and he had gotten out of the car in cold puke covered clothes with prickling eyes as Dudley was fussed over.
Vernon maintained his distance and eyed Harry distastefully.
"Boy! There's a river around here somewhere. Go and wash your clothes off and then come back here to grab the gear. I won't have you making a nuisance of yourself and lazing about during this camping trip. Us decent people are here to enjoy ourselves despite you, so I don't want any of your funny business and none of your cheek. One word out of line and we'll leave you here. Understood?!" He barked. Harry nodded and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, before wandering off in the direction he thought the river might be.
It took him half an hour to find it and wash his clothes in the freezing cold water, at which point he realised he hadn't brought any spares with him. He had to be frugal with clothing anyway, what with the huge, threadbare tattered cast offs that were all he had. That and a thin patched coat, plus a few pairs of old but thick socks and Harry knew he'd probably spend a fair bit of time shivering.
He gingerly put his soaking wet trousers back on and returned to the car, his teeth chattering. By the time he got back, Uncle Vernon's boss has arrived with his family and were busy sorting their gear out from the back of the boot.
Harry took one looked at them and heaved a resigned sigh. He knew he would get no help from that family, seeing the few disdainful glances they deigned to give him. It was clear they'd swallowed the Dursley's story of him being a troublemaker hook line and sinker. Uncle Vernon's boss, who the Dursley's were allowed to call David but Harry had to call sir, had a skinny blonde wife with way too much hair and makeup, as well as a son who was a year older than Dudley and although he wasn't as fat as him, carried the same obnoxious spoilt expression that Dudley did.
He was in for one hell of a difficult time with these people.
'"Boy, hurry up with our equipment! And don't cause any mischief," his Aunt snapped when he got close enough. Harry quickly swapped his clothes with dry ones and, teeth still chattering, he began to empty the boot of their bags.
Half an hour later, when Harry was just warming up again, during which his Aunt and Uncle had stood around chatting noisily with the sound of braying laughter reaching Harry now and then, and Dudley got to know the other boy Olli, he had finished loading up the bags onto his back and was already sweating.
He was by no means a weak boy, having spent so much of his life working and running from Dudley, but he certainly wasn't an athlete, and being loaded up with so many heavy bags like a pack mule was straining.
His Aunt and Uncle had only one backpack each whilst Dudley had a snack bag which he ate from as they walked. Both boys whined intermittently, whilst their parents coddled them and Harry struggled behind, lugging the bags. But eventually the boys bonded together by harassing Harry when the adults weren't looking, by throwing sticks and stones at him and trying to make him fall and drop the bags.
As sweaty and out of breath and frustrated he was, he was astounded by the nature all around him. He'd never seen anything like it before and being in the midst of such stunning sights was nothing like the pictures he saw.
His loose shoes quickly gave him blisters and his arms and back ached terribly from his heavy load, but he grit his teeth and persevered. He'd be doing this every few days each time they moved site, and he prayed that he didn't have to do too much in between.
His head swivelled from left to right whenever the scenery changed even slightly and was awed to be able to spot little creatures he'd only heard about. The others stomped ahead, chatting and laughing about boring gossip whilst the boys charged to and fro with no respect for what was around them.
The rivers and loch they passed were beautiful and sunlight dappled through the trees to gently warm his face. Despite his trembling muscles, Harry was content in those moments. There was something that felt so safe about the lack of buildings and people anywhere around. If not for the group walking ahead of him, he would be tempted to never leave. The sounds of birds chattering and little animals snuffling hear and there, the wind rustling through the leaves and the occasional gurgle of a stream relaxed his mind like nothing else had been able to before.
It was like a little taste of freedom.
When they reached the large loch some time later, which took Harry's breath away to see the trees lining the water all around and as far as he could see over the huge rolling hills, they stopped to eat.
Harry set up camp for both families and started a fire. It was his first time doing both things and so was snapped and snarled at and corrected more times than he could count. When he was finally done, he was so exhausted that he could barely lift the plates and stir the food on the pan. He was permitted a small can of soup, which barely filled him after his strenuous work, but he knew better than to complain. The light lowered over the trees and hills slowly, the temperature dropping to lower temperatures than he was used to. He pulled his arms in from his sleeves and held them close to his body, having been kicked away from the fire as the others made obnoxiously loud jokes and roasted marshmallows.
As much as it hurt him each time his family reminded him in their small and large ways that he wasn't wanted, that he was less than them, he liked it here. The air was cold but so fresh and it carried the smells of the wood and the water with them, and the lack of civilisation made Harry feel like he wasn't constantly being watched. It almost made him smile.
As the light finally dropped over the horizon and the Dursleys wished the other family goodnight in the shallow sycophantic way they had of talking to Uncle Vernon's work buddies, Harry huddled in his little corner of the large tent they had, looking out of the entrance, watching the absolutely gorgeous night sky that was so choked with stars he had never even knew were there and the moon, full and bright, illuminating the tree tops and water gently. In that moment, he wished he never had to go home.
His nose snuffling against the ground as he tracked the scent he had picked up a few hours earlier, the wolf rumbled in anticipation of the kill ahead of him.
Humans, a group of them. Prey.
The two members of his pack he had with him that night were excitedly darting amongst the trees, following the scent eagerly.
They hadn't had a human kill in weeks. Maybe a month or two. There was nothing quite like the fresh taste of warm coppery blood splashing over his muzzle and running over his tongue as his powerful jaws and claws sank into soft flesh, whilst the sound of his prey's fear ripped from their throat. The look in their eyes as they realised they weren't the top of the food chain, that they were going to die as their predator's meal. Delicious. The taste of the chewy meat, skin, sinew, muscle, bone. It made him drool. The blood though, that was what got his heart pumping eagerly. The beautiful deep crimson blood spilling across the ground, flecking his fur, steaming in the cool night. It was the most stunning sight in the world.
The humans wouldn't know what hit them.
He slowed as he approached their camp, his pack members slowing behind him on either side. All asleep, and unaware of the danger that was but a few meters away from them. Their deaths were imminent.
He took the right tent and the other two took the left. Quietly, carefully, stalking around the sides of the tent. Some humans were wary and he didn't want them to fall into any traps. Four humans inside this one, from the heavy sounds of their sleepy breathing. The faint smell of ash and smoke lingered in the air amidst the fresh scents in the wind.
At an almost inaudible signal from himself, the three wolves cautiously pushed the flaps aside and entered. There would be no escape for his prey tonight.
Two young boys lay asleep by each other, and he gave a wicked wolf grin at his luck. He'd save the children for last. Walking around them as silently as possible, he pushed another flap aside, and saw the two sleeping adults. One seemed lean and bony, but the other was rich and the meat fatty. Excellent. At the sound of two low growls coming from the other tent, he leapt forward, teeth bared, and struck.
The delightful sound of screams permeated the air, yells coming from the two children, hot blood spattering the tent walls and down his throat as his jaws clamped down and tore out throats and bellies. Loud barks and growls coming from both tents as the flimsy walls shook from the chaos inside. It was all over in a matter of minutes. They'd have their fill tonight, and then in morning they would carry their kills back to the den for the others and raid any food or useful equipment the campsite had.
Just as he finished picking the meat from the bone of the limb he was devouring, his belly now sufficiently full, he thought he heard something. His head snapped up and a warning growl exited his throat for the other two.
After a full minute of silence, he heard the sound again. It was an odd shuffling, too large to be any animal he could think of. Not a deer certainly, too loud. He silently padded outside, meeting his two pack members at the same time, and sniffed the air. His pack did the same. Another human.
They slunk around the side of the tents and crouched low in the deep shadows as they waited for this unfortunate human to appear. The little shuffling footsteps and rustling of bushes got closer and louder, as he got ready to pounce. His pack members mirroring his movements.
Just as the surprisingly small body came into his line of sight into the clearing, he leaped and knocked it over. A cry of surprise came from his prey's mouth as the other two flanked him on either side to ensure no escape. With his paws pressing into it's small shoulders, pinning them to the dirt he snarled low. Another child, he realised with relish. His lucky day.
Just as he opened his jaws to clamp down on the child's throat, a high whine exited the little one's mouth. The sound made them all pause. It was not the whine itself that confused him, but the pitch. It was the exact pitch one would expect a naughty pup to make when he realised he was in trouble.
He growled again, wary and disliking his own confusion. The high pitched whine came once more. Taking a careful look, he saw that the child beneath him was a little boy, his large eyes averted respectfully, his throat bared in a submissive manner. Another whine came from his small mouth. His pack members whined back in confusion, hoping action from him would clear up whether this was a wolf cub or prey.
He sniffed the little one's throat and armpits carefully. Human, but now he was closer, there was an odd undertone of wolf. And something else too. Magic, he realised. It almost made him want to attack regardless of this mystery, but the magic wasn't the same warm slightly electric smell as usual, it had an added tone to it. Wilderness, darkness, nature, predator, blood, violence, creature. He didn't know. None of those were quite it, but they were as close as he could come to explaining the extra scent in his magic. He didn't like having to think through things. He was a doer not a thinker.
The wolves whined uncertainly and growled. He snapped at them to shut them up. The high pitched whine came once again from the little human wolf below him. He'd bite the boy, and if he survived the night after the bite, he'd come back and close the wound once he was human with the small amount of dittany and powdered silver the pack kept around to close werewolf wounds on non werewolf beings.
He yanked the boys t shirt from his shoulder harshly with his teeth, slightly ripping the clothing, and the boy whined again, which he finally replied to with a rumbling growl that would both reassure him and tell him to shut up. He found a spot on the boy's shoulder where his claws had already punctured, and bit down.
The boy screamed and yelped, jerking to try to get away from the jaws holding him, but he had already let go. Pinning the boy down again with his paws, as the little one whimpered and yelped lightly in fear and pain, he licked the wound to clean it slightly, as well as ensure enough saliva transferred to it. The more he worked it with his mouth, the more likely the boy would survive.
Finally he stood back from the boy and barked sharply at his pack, before melting into the shadows of the wood to continue his run tonight.
What do you think? What do you think happened with Harry to make him smell unique? How do you he'll react to Fenrir, werewolves, the knowledge that the Dursleys are dead and he's stuck with the killers?