Notes: This is obviously based on Ylvis: "The Fox" and a very strange plot bunny.
Beta-read by Lillielle (my wife).
Everyone in the wizarding world has heard about the wizarding wars and He Who Shall Not Be Named (it would have been difficult to miss). Few, however, have heard about another tale passed down through the ages. Harry never intended to set out on yet another adventure in Hogwarts, but like all the others, it seemed to fall into his lap.
"You see, Harry," Dumbledore said, glancing down at a dusty tome on his desk. "No one has ever found out. We know that dogs go woof and cats go meow. That's elementary. We've even found out that birds go tweet and mice go squeak, which was a challenge. There is one thing that has eluded us for centuries, though." He peered up for a moment through his spectacles. "What does the fox say?"
A chill ran up Harry's spine at that revelation. "I heard Voldemort speak of this…" Harry mused. "Something about 'he who knows the fox holds the ultimate power in their hands', that it was more powerful than even that of the elder wand!" He looked at a painting of a fox hung upon the wall. "I will find out."
Harry set out with nothing more than his wand. Hermione wished him good luck, calling him stupid for not knowing something so simple, that even a troll knows what the fox says (and that the Headmaster was more than a bit mental). Ron told him to not worry, that she couldn't possibly know. After all, with knowledge so old, how could she? Even she's not that intelligent.
Still, Harry thought, I will find out. I have to.
Harry entered the forbidden forest just as the sun was setting. Damn.
"Lumos!" A trickling light emitted from the tip of his wand, barely keeping the shadows at bay. His hands shook a bit, knowing of the creatures that lurked beyond the cracks of blackness surrounding him. It's a good thing Ron isn't here.
Harry walked for what seemed like hours. He rubbed the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead, confused. Something seemed… off. There was light up ahead, but darkness all around him. How is that possible? He crept forward slowly, wand held aloft. That light led into a strange opening. He peeked through and could see a horse in the middle of a meadow, grazing.
"H…arry."
Harry winced, his scar burning.
"H…arry! How? How will you communicate, Harry? How would it communicate?"
He didn't understand. How would what communicate? The horse? He had heard of unicorns communicating via telepathy but that was different! A unicorn was magical, and it made sense for a magical means of communication. But he'd never heard of a horse being able to do it.
"F…ool! Remember."
Harry leaned against a tree and tapped his wand against his brow. Remember what? He thought. What was there to remember? It was just a damn horse!
He let out a long winded sigh and then it hit him (rather literally).
"Of course! Morse code! The secret is Morse code!"
After a long series of clicks and whinnys (and the horse looking at Harry like he was insane), he finally had his answer. This particular horse was quite familiar with the fox and didn't mind spilling his secrets.
It is true that the secret of the fox is an ancient mystery. On this day, though, Harry would have his answer, strange as it might be.
And when he returned to the Headmaster, feet sore and fingers cramping, the Headmaster asked, "So what does the fox say?"
Harry looked him right in the eyes, and said, "Jacha-chacha-chacha-chow! Chacha-chacha-chacha-chow! Chacha-chacha-chacha-chow!"