Chapter 1: Cats and Fangs
It was raining on Privet Drive, and had been for most of the last two weeks. An ankle-deep river ran down the street and the prim, tidy gardens had been turned to miniature swamps by the unrelenting rains. Aunt Petunia had wept when her well-trimmed flowerbed began to float downstream.
Harry continued to stare out the window. He had spent the entire day like that, praying for the storm to let up, just long enough for an owl or two to get through.
He ached for news of the wizarding world, but Hedwig hadn't returned in almost a month, no doubt because of the weather. It was his birthday, so he knew someone would send him something, but only if the winds died down.
A glance at the alarm clock told him it was a quarter to three. Maybe he should go see if Mrs. Figg had heard anything. He'd go crazy if he stayed here staring at the storm. Of course, he'd have to BE crazy to actually go out into that storm. But Harry had always had an overabundance of courage, and he wasn't going to let a little rain (or a lot of it) stand between him and possible news.
Three o' clock found Harry plodding down Privet Drive in one of Dudley's old slickers. Even a raincoat specifically tailored for someone Harry's size would have failed to keep him dry in these conditions, and, as it was, he was completely soaked and quite numb by the time he reached Mrs. Figg's.
"Oh, you poor dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Figg upon opening the door. "Come in, before you catch your death of cold!" She quickly ushered him inside before calling out to someone in the house. "Charlie! Be a dear and get a fire going!"
Harry was idly wondering if she could possible mean Charlie Weasley, when he entered the living room and there he was, dressed in a dark green shirt which sported a dragon on the front. He was poking at a violet fire with his wand, but stopped as he saw Harry.
"Harry!" Charlie said, gesturing for Harry to come sit by the fire. "What on Earth are you doing here?"
Harry laughed. "I could ask you the same thing." He sat down and held his hands out towards the fire. Instantly, he felt the warmth sink into him, driving away the cold. A dark black kitten climbed onto his lap almost as soon as he had settled, and promptly fell asleep.
"Caught up with Lucius Malfoy down in Athens a few weeks ago," he said with a grimace. "I managed to capture him, but he did a number on my leg in the process." Charlie lifted up the hem of his robe to reveal a heavily bandaged leg. "They sent me here for some R&R just before the storm hit."
Harry looked up at Charlie, as something struck him. "What were you doing in Greece?"
"Don't really know," Charlie shrugged. "I was just following the prat. I've been following him ever since the latest Azkaban breakout. He's led me halfway across Europe."
Harry leaned forward, keen to hear more. This was exactly the type of thing he had been hoping to learn. "So what was he after? What's in Athens?"
Charlie shook his head. "I wish I could tell you, but we don't really know what Voldemort's after. I was sent here to recuperate before he was ready to be interrogated. Mad Eye's taken over." Charlie looked upset, and Harry could guess why - Charlie had gone through all the effort to catch Lucius Malfoy, but the same storm that kept Harry out of the loop prevented Charlie from learning anything either.
A thought occurred to Harry. "Couldn't you just apparate back to Athens and find out?" he asked. He had spent much of the last two weeks wishing he was old enough to apparate with that very goal in mind.
"No good," Charlie said with a sigh. "Too much energy in the air." As if to demonstrate his point, the sky rumbled with thunder. "It's too dangerous to apparate or use portkeys. Flu network's down, too." he added as an afterthought. "Hell, I couldn't even go down the street to wish you a happy birthday with my leg the way it is."
"That's okay," Harry said, feeling slightly guilty. "If I had known you were here, I'd have come by sooner."
"Probably better that you didn't," Charlie replied, solemnly. "Now that the prophecy's gone, Voldemort's likely to focus on his original goal again."
Harry blinked. "His original goal?"
"Killing you," Charlie said, fixing his gaze on Harry. Then he shook his head. "Let's move on to brighter topics, then. I got you something. Hold on and I'll go get it."
He bustled off, and Harry sat basking in the heat of the fire, while Mrs. Figg told him all about her cats. Apparently, Mittens had a litter of kittens, and now Mrs. Figg was trying to find homes for them.
"It's not easy," she confided to Harry. "These are scryling kittens, so I can't sell 'em to muggles, and all the wizarding folk are all paranoid and nervous, what with You-Know-Who about and everything. But I have to find people to take them, before they're too old to Bond. You've heard about Bonding, haven't you?"
Harry hadn't, but he had a guess. "It's like with Filch and Mrs. Norris, right?" Mrs. Figg gave him a confused look, and Harry realized that she probably had never met Filch or his cat. He looked down at the ball of black fur curled up on his lap.
"Can anybody bond with them?" Harry asked, attempting to break the awkward silence. He hadn't really thought about it before, but a cat like that could be useful.
"I think so," Mrs. Figg said, pursing her lips in thought. "It's mostly squibs that get them. I don't think the Bonding is quite as strong with full wizards, but I'm not really sure." Then a smile crept slowly onto her face as she realized the implications of Harry's question. "You want one, then?" she asked. "Your aunt and uncle won't mind?"
Harry was pretty certain that his aunt and uncle WOULD mind, but that was their problem. It occurred to him that they might even tolerate something as seemingly ordinary as a cat.
"It'll be okay," he assured her. He stroked the kitten on his lap, who purred affectionately. "How much for this one?"
"Oh," Mrs. Figg declared. "I could never charge a friend, especially on his birthday. It'll be worth it to know she's in a good home."
"Really?" Harry asked. "Thanks! Does she have a name yet?"
Mrs. Figg looked almost appalled. "Dear, no! Naming the kitten is how you start the Bonding process. I've only named two of them: Chloey and Marbles. The rest I'm trying to find owners for. So what are you going to call her?"
Harry studied the kitten, who stared up at him intently. Her eyes were a very dark blue, almost black, with white pinpricks that made Harry feel as if he was looking into a starry sky.
"I think I'll call you Midnight," he told the kitten. She mewed and rubbed her head against his hand. The moment they touched, he felt a sudden surge of emotion, in the back of his head. He could feel the kitten's appreciation for the name, her desire to please and protect him, and to be protected by him in turn. It was completely unlike anything Harry had ever felt before. Then Midnight leapt off his lap to chase a ball of yarn, and the feeling vanished.
"There's nothing quite like seeing somebody Bond with a scryling," Mrs. Figg said with misty-eyes.
"Did I hear someone's giving away free kittens?" Charlie asked, grinning as he stuck his around the corner. "Where do I sign up?"
"Just take one!" Mrs. Figg said exasperatedly, although there was a smile across her face. "Believe me, you'll be doing me a favor."
Charlie surveyed the multitude of kittens scattered across the room. Then, quite suddenly, he spun around and grabbed the dark purple kitten that was in the process of pouncing at his shoelaces. Harry was impressed. He wasn't sure if those fast reactions were a necessity when dealing with dragons, or if they were remnants of Charlie's days as a Seeker. Probably a bit of both, he decided.
The purple kitten let out a confused meow as it dangled from Charlie's hand. Then it spotted the dragon on his shirt, and tried desperately to claw at that, its current situation completely forgotten.
"That's it," Charlie laughed. "You're Dragonbait." Then a strange look came over him, and Harry knew he was experiencing that same wave of emotion Harry had felt only moments before. Harry's thoughts turned to Midnight, who tried to impress on him the gravity of the situation as she stalked the ball of yarn across the floor.
"Oh," Charlie said, still a little dazed from the Bonding. "I almost forgot your present, Harry." He reached into his pocket and removed a small package, wrapped in blue paper. "Happy birthday!" he grinned, handing the parcel to Harry.
"Thanks!" Harry said, as he excitedly tore the paper from the box and opened it. Inside was a necklace with six black fangs on it.
"It's a dragon tooth necklace," Charlie explained. "From the Horntail you beat two years ago." He sighed. "She went wild and had to be put down. Been happening a lot since Voldemort came back." He shook his head as if to cast off the depression and continued. "Anyway, that necklace will help protect you, especially from fire. It won't do anything drastic, like let you stick your hand in the fireplace, but every little bit counts, right?"
"Certainly couldn't hurt," Harry laughed.
The three of them spent the next few hours talking about scrylings, and dragons, and anything else that crossed their minds. Although both Mrs. Figg and Charlie would change the subject whenever Harry brought up Voldemort, it had been so long since he was able to talk about ANYTHING magic related that it didn't bother him much. They probably would have kept on talking for hours more if the grandfather clock hadn't struck six.
"Oh my!" Mrs. Figg exclaimed. "You should go. Your aunt and uncle will be worried."
"Yeah," Harry said wryly. "Worried I'll come back." But he got to his feet and called to Midnight, who scampered up the back of a chair and leapt onto Harry's shoulder.
"Hold up a moment, Harry," Charlie called out, struggling to his feet. He walked Harry to the front door. Rummaging through the closet, he emerged, not with the slicker Harry had brought in, but an old, weatherbeaten red coat. It glowed slightly in the dim light, like the embers of a dying fire.
"My old drycoat," he said, offering it to Harry. "It's seen better days, but this coat will keep you dry as a bone in the middle of a monsoon." Harry began to protest, but Charlie cut him off. "This is a loan. I'll want it back. I can't use it right now, so it might as well be keeping somebody dry.
"All right," Harry said, sliding into the coat. It was a bit broad around the shoulders, but all-in-all it was a much better fit than Dudley's old slicker. It was warm, too, as if it had just been run through the dryer.
Harry was about to leave, when Charlie grabbed him by the shoulder.
"Harry, I want you to promise me that you won't come visit me again."
Harry blinked in confusion. "Why not?"
"Privet Drive isn't safe right now. If there was an attack, there'd be no way to get help. Until this storm blows over, I want you to stay at home. If something happens, use the muggle telefun lines to contact me. Got it?"
"Tele-PHONE lines," Harry corrected, forcing a smile. Charlie didn't return it.
"Promise me, Harry."
"Fine!" Harry wrenched his arm from Charlie's grasp. "I'll stay at home and be a good boy. Happy?" Midnight, sensing Harry's anger, hissed at Charlie. Tucking the scryling into one of the coat's large pockets, he stormed out the door.
His anger faded when he discovered what a useful gift the drycoat was. Despite the pouring rain, Harry was warm and dry, as if he was still sitting in front of the fire. It was tempting to just walk around in the storm, but something in the back of his mind told him to hurry home.
His heart began to race as he made his way towards number four. The rains masked everything more than a foot away from him in a gray haze, and he began to feel claustrophobic.
Was he hearing things, or was there a splash behind him?
'Stop it,' he told himself. 'You're getting paranoid.' Yet all the same, he quickened his pace.
He had never been so relieved to see number four, Privet Drive before.
There it was again. There was definitely a splash.
Harry bolted, running as fast as he could for the door. He wrenched it open, and flung himself inside. As he turned around, he saw the silhouette of a man, barely visible in the endless rain. He gulped nervously, and quickly closed the door.
It was raining on Privet Drive, and had been for most of the last two weeks. An ankle-deep river ran down the street and the prim, tidy gardens had been turned to miniature swamps by the unrelenting rains. Aunt Petunia had wept when her well-trimmed flowerbed began to float downstream.
Harry continued to stare out the window. He had spent the entire day like that, praying for the storm to let up, just long enough for an owl or two to get through.
He ached for news of the wizarding world, but Hedwig hadn't returned in almost a month, no doubt because of the weather. It was his birthday, so he knew someone would send him something, but only if the winds died down.
A glance at the alarm clock told him it was a quarter to three. Maybe he should go see if Mrs. Figg had heard anything. He'd go crazy if he stayed here staring at the storm. Of course, he'd have to BE crazy to actually go out into that storm. But Harry had always had an overabundance of courage, and he wasn't going to let a little rain (or a lot of it) stand between him and possible news.
Three o' clock found Harry plodding down Privet Drive in one of Dudley's old slickers. Even a raincoat specifically tailored for someone Harry's size would have failed to keep him dry in these conditions, and, as it was, he was completely soaked and quite numb by the time he reached Mrs. Figg's.
"Oh, you poor dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Figg upon opening the door. "Come in, before you catch your death of cold!" She quickly ushered him inside before calling out to someone in the house. "Charlie! Be a dear and get a fire going!"
Harry was idly wondering if she could possible mean Charlie Weasley, when he entered the living room and there he was, dressed in a dark green shirt which sported a dragon on the front. He was poking at a violet fire with his wand, but stopped as he saw Harry.
"Harry!" Charlie said, gesturing for Harry to come sit by the fire. "What on Earth are you doing here?"
Harry laughed. "I could ask you the same thing." He sat down and held his hands out towards the fire. Instantly, he felt the warmth sink into him, driving away the cold. A dark black kitten climbed onto his lap almost as soon as he had settled, and promptly fell asleep.
"Caught up with Lucius Malfoy down in Athens a few weeks ago," he said with a grimace. "I managed to capture him, but he did a number on my leg in the process." Charlie lifted up the hem of his robe to reveal a heavily bandaged leg. "They sent me here for some R&R just before the storm hit."
Harry looked up at Charlie, as something struck him. "What were you doing in Greece?"
"Don't really know," Charlie shrugged. "I was just following the prat. I've been following him ever since the latest Azkaban breakout. He's led me halfway across Europe."
Harry leaned forward, keen to hear more. This was exactly the type of thing he had been hoping to learn. "So what was he after? What's in Athens?"
Charlie shook his head. "I wish I could tell you, but we don't really know what Voldemort's after. I was sent here to recuperate before he was ready to be interrogated. Mad Eye's taken over." Charlie looked upset, and Harry could guess why - Charlie had gone through all the effort to catch Lucius Malfoy, but the same storm that kept Harry out of the loop prevented Charlie from learning anything either.
A thought occurred to Harry. "Couldn't you just apparate back to Athens and find out?" he asked. He had spent much of the last two weeks wishing he was old enough to apparate with that very goal in mind.
"No good," Charlie said with a sigh. "Too much energy in the air." As if to demonstrate his point, the sky rumbled with thunder. "It's too dangerous to apparate or use portkeys. Flu network's down, too." he added as an afterthought. "Hell, I couldn't even go down the street to wish you a happy birthday with my leg the way it is."
"That's okay," Harry said, feeling slightly guilty. "If I had known you were here, I'd have come by sooner."
"Probably better that you didn't," Charlie replied, solemnly. "Now that the prophecy's gone, Voldemort's likely to focus on his original goal again."
Harry blinked. "His original goal?"
"Killing you," Charlie said, fixing his gaze on Harry. Then he shook his head. "Let's move on to brighter topics, then. I got you something. Hold on and I'll go get it."
He bustled off, and Harry sat basking in the heat of the fire, while Mrs. Figg told him all about her cats. Apparently, Mittens had a litter of kittens, and now Mrs. Figg was trying to find homes for them.
"It's not easy," she confided to Harry. "These are scryling kittens, so I can't sell 'em to muggles, and all the wizarding folk are all paranoid and nervous, what with You-Know-Who about and everything. But I have to find people to take them, before they're too old to Bond. You've heard about Bonding, haven't you?"
Harry hadn't, but he had a guess. "It's like with Filch and Mrs. Norris, right?" Mrs. Figg gave him a confused look, and Harry realized that she probably had never met Filch or his cat. He looked down at the ball of black fur curled up on his lap.
"Can anybody bond with them?" Harry asked, attempting to break the awkward silence. He hadn't really thought about it before, but a cat like that could be useful.
"I think so," Mrs. Figg said, pursing her lips in thought. "It's mostly squibs that get them. I don't think the Bonding is quite as strong with full wizards, but I'm not really sure." Then a smile crept slowly onto her face as she realized the implications of Harry's question. "You want one, then?" she asked. "Your aunt and uncle won't mind?"
Harry was pretty certain that his aunt and uncle WOULD mind, but that was their problem. It occurred to him that they might even tolerate something as seemingly ordinary as a cat.
"It'll be okay," he assured her. He stroked the kitten on his lap, who purred affectionately. "How much for this one?"
"Oh," Mrs. Figg declared. "I could never charge a friend, especially on his birthday. It'll be worth it to know she's in a good home."
"Really?" Harry asked. "Thanks! Does she have a name yet?"
Mrs. Figg looked almost appalled. "Dear, no! Naming the kitten is how you start the Bonding process. I've only named two of them: Chloey and Marbles. The rest I'm trying to find owners for. So what are you going to call her?"
Harry studied the kitten, who stared up at him intently. Her eyes were a very dark blue, almost black, with white pinpricks that made Harry feel as if he was looking into a starry sky.
"I think I'll call you Midnight," he told the kitten. She mewed and rubbed her head against his hand. The moment they touched, he felt a sudden surge of emotion, in the back of his head. He could feel the kitten's appreciation for the name, her desire to please and protect him, and to be protected by him in turn. It was completely unlike anything Harry had ever felt before. Then Midnight leapt off his lap to chase a ball of yarn, and the feeling vanished.
"There's nothing quite like seeing somebody Bond with a scryling," Mrs. Figg said with misty-eyes.
"Did I hear someone's giving away free kittens?" Charlie asked, grinning as he stuck his around the corner. "Where do I sign up?"
"Just take one!" Mrs. Figg said exasperatedly, although there was a smile across her face. "Believe me, you'll be doing me a favor."
Charlie surveyed the multitude of kittens scattered across the room. Then, quite suddenly, he spun around and grabbed the dark purple kitten that was in the process of pouncing at his shoelaces. Harry was impressed. He wasn't sure if those fast reactions were a necessity when dealing with dragons, or if they were remnants of Charlie's days as a Seeker. Probably a bit of both, he decided.
The purple kitten let out a confused meow as it dangled from Charlie's hand. Then it spotted the dragon on his shirt, and tried desperately to claw at that, its current situation completely forgotten.
"That's it," Charlie laughed. "You're Dragonbait." Then a strange look came over him, and Harry knew he was experiencing that same wave of emotion Harry had felt only moments before. Harry's thoughts turned to Midnight, who tried to impress on him the gravity of the situation as she stalked the ball of yarn across the floor.
"Oh," Charlie said, still a little dazed from the Bonding. "I almost forgot your present, Harry." He reached into his pocket and removed a small package, wrapped in blue paper. "Happy birthday!" he grinned, handing the parcel to Harry.
"Thanks!" Harry said, as he excitedly tore the paper from the box and opened it. Inside was a necklace with six black fangs on it.
"It's a dragon tooth necklace," Charlie explained. "From the Horntail you beat two years ago." He sighed. "She went wild and had to be put down. Been happening a lot since Voldemort came back." He shook his head as if to cast off the depression and continued. "Anyway, that necklace will help protect you, especially from fire. It won't do anything drastic, like let you stick your hand in the fireplace, but every little bit counts, right?"
"Certainly couldn't hurt," Harry laughed.
The three of them spent the next few hours talking about scrylings, and dragons, and anything else that crossed their minds. Although both Mrs. Figg and Charlie would change the subject whenever Harry brought up Voldemort, it had been so long since he was able to talk about ANYTHING magic related that it didn't bother him much. They probably would have kept on talking for hours more if the grandfather clock hadn't struck six.
"Oh my!" Mrs. Figg exclaimed. "You should go. Your aunt and uncle will be worried."
"Yeah," Harry said wryly. "Worried I'll come back." But he got to his feet and called to Midnight, who scampered up the back of a chair and leapt onto Harry's shoulder.
"Hold up a moment, Harry," Charlie called out, struggling to his feet. He walked Harry to the front door. Rummaging through the closet, he emerged, not with the slicker Harry had brought in, but an old, weatherbeaten red coat. It glowed slightly in the dim light, like the embers of a dying fire.
"My old drycoat," he said, offering it to Harry. "It's seen better days, but this coat will keep you dry as a bone in the middle of a monsoon." Harry began to protest, but Charlie cut him off. "This is a loan. I'll want it back. I can't use it right now, so it might as well be keeping somebody dry.
"All right," Harry said, sliding into the coat. It was a bit broad around the shoulders, but all-in-all it was a much better fit than Dudley's old slicker. It was warm, too, as if it had just been run through the dryer.
Harry was about to leave, when Charlie grabbed him by the shoulder.
"Harry, I want you to promise me that you won't come visit me again."
Harry blinked in confusion. "Why not?"
"Privet Drive isn't safe right now. If there was an attack, there'd be no way to get help. Until this storm blows over, I want you to stay at home. If something happens, use the muggle telefun lines to contact me. Got it?"
"Tele-PHONE lines," Harry corrected, forcing a smile. Charlie didn't return it.
"Promise me, Harry."
"Fine!" Harry wrenched his arm from Charlie's grasp. "I'll stay at home and be a good boy. Happy?" Midnight, sensing Harry's anger, hissed at Charlie. Tucking the scryling into one of the coat's large pockets, he stormed out the door.
His anger faded when he discovered what a useful gift the drycoat was. Despite the pouring rain, Harry was warm and dry, as if he was still sitting in front of the fire. It was tempting to just walk around in the storm, but something in the back of his mind told him to hurry home.
His heart began to race as he made his way towards number four. The rains masked everything more than a foot away from him in a gray haze, and he began to feel claustrophobic.
Was he hearing things, or was there a splash behind him?
'Stop it,' he told himself. 'You're getting paranoid.' Yet all the same, he quickened his pace.
He had never been so relieved to see number four, Privet Drive before.
There it was again. There was definitely a splash.
Harry bolted, running as fast as he could for the door. He wrenched it open, and flung himself inside. As he turned around, he saw the silhouette of a man, barely visible in the endless rain. He gulped nervously, and quickly closed the door.