Author Note: Sorry to all the followers of In Need of Love that I have disappointed, but I hope that you guys will enjoy this rewrite of the story. It does have a similar premise: Harry ends up in Zootopia... blah, blah, blah. But there are a few key differences, such as more development of characters, more thought put into the chapters, etc. You'll find out when you read it.

Just so you know, the dates in the HP world are set twenty years after what they were in the books. For example, the day Harry's parents died in the books was October 31st, 1981. Here, it's October 31st, 2001.

Chapter 1
The Truth of Words

"To the well organised mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"Stay strong, because things will get better. It may be stormy now, but it can't rain forever."

These were the sayings that Albus Dumbledore had repeated to himself many times in the past, and they had quickly become his mantra, replacing the quote he had once looked so fondly upon: "For the greater good."

He first remembered uttering them at his sister's, Arianna's, funeral many decades ago. It was the only thing he could possibly think of that could lift his spirits, even just a little, as he could now believe that maybe there was something after death for his little sister. Perhaps she was frolicking in lush, green meadows or enjoying a life she had never had the chance to experience. Either way, it brought hope into Albus's heart, and that was enough.

As time went on, more and more people close to the wizened old man died. The lucky ones passed away peacefully in their sleep, but most didn't. Some went out in a blaze of glory, fighting to their last breath in a futile effort to protect their loved ones. And others... their deaths were brutal.

With each funeral he attended, Albus repeated his mantra and for the first few times, people believed. He could see it in the eyes of the mourning, as if a beacon of hope had turned in their direction, shining small rays of faith into their lives. Faith that their loved ones could have some semblance of amity, and faith in the belief that someday their lives would get better.

But when the number of funerals in a week began to outnumber the hours in a year, the mourners lost their confidence in Dumbledore's belief that things would get better. For how could it? What with the threat of You-Know-Who looming over everyone's shoulders at each passing second, and with the terror that the Death Eaters might target them next? The chances were next to none.

Despite this, Albus held onto his belief even as the number of wizards dwindled each day. He continued to recite his mantra, more for himself than for anyone else, for even he began to lose his grip on the views he had circulated throughout the populace.

But when the day of October 31st came, even he had to admit that he was surprised by the outcome. And though he was deeply saddened by the lives that had been extinguished on that date, he couldn't help but feel grateful that whatever they had done to the Dark Lord had destroyed him, for now at least.

History would remember the day that a family of three; Lily, James and little baby Harry; had died, but in doing so, had allowed the rest of the wizarding world to live in a world without Voldemort or fear of the Death Eaters. Two of the three family member's bodies had been recovered, but the little toddler's corpse had yet to be found.

The wizarding world rejoiced for their newfound freedom, but they mourned one last time for the family that had sacrificed their lives to make the world a better place. In almost perfect unison, the witches and wizards across the land raised their goblets to the star-studded sky in respect to the fallen Potters wishing the best for them with whatever lay ahead in Death's plan for them.

And as Albus drank to the Potters' memory, he could only think of one thing to say.

"Lily, James, and little Harry," he articulated through his depressed, raspy voice. "May you truly find the next great adventure in death."

9:30 PM, October 31st, 2001
Canyonlands Orphanage, Zootopia

Ms Victoria Spencer ushered the children into their beds after a long night of trick-or-treating. She enjoyed it when a little child's face lit up in delight at the sight of so many sweets and chocolates. Although she knew she'd probably regret it tomorrow, when they were all hyped up on sugar, she couldn't help but feel content in the fact that today she had put a smile on every child's face. That was the real reason why she worked in the orphanage, to aid the poor souls without families and to hopefully bring a little joy into their lives. Thinking of this as she walked to her own room, a pleased smile of her own made its way onto her fur-covered face.

Lost in her thoughts, the old otter changed into her plaid pyjamas, went through her before-bed routine and was just about to hop into her slightly rigid bed when she heard a cry. A little annoyed, she seized her flashlight of the bedside table next to her and strolled out into the corridor. She may have had good low-light vision, but at this time of night she wasn't taking any chances.

At first, Ms Spencer thought that the crying was originating from one of the children in the building, possibly from eating too many sweets. But though she searched every dorm, she still could not find the source of the noise.

Until she passed the front doors on the ground floor, where the muffled cries were the shrillest.

She opened the entrance gingerly, the door creaking faintly as she did so. A mild gust of chilling wind blew through her fur when she stepped out onto the street, the breeze whistling in her ears. To the right, she heard the indistinct noises of Zootopian life, with the honking of trucks, the revving of cars and the chatter of mammals in the distance. But to her left, she caught the feeble sniffling of what sounded to be a baby.

Twisting her head sharply to the left, she found out, to her dismay, that she was right. A baby fox lay on the ground, clearly shivering beneath his black coat of fur and the blue shirt that encased him. Feeling a great pang of sadness, Ms Spencer looked up and down the street, searching for someone, anyone, who could possibly be this poor kit's parents. But the street was barren and empty, not a person in sight.

Knowing that the fox kit would freeze to death otherwise, she lifted the black bundle of fur off the cold, hard tarmac and brought him inside to the warmth and safety of the orphanage. The sniffling stopped the instant she crossed over the threshold of the door, being replaced with a soft cooing as the young fox snuggled up against the otter's chest. A tender, affectionate smile played across Ms Spencer's lips, as she couldn't even deny the overload of cuteness that the kit exuded.

A sharp blast of wind thrust the doors closed, making an awful racket as they did. Ms Spencer jumped in fright and the young kit began to cry once again. A rhythmic clip-clop of hooves resonated down the halls, which was soon revealed to be the footsteps of a bleary-eyed ewe in a white linen robe turning the corner.

"What's going on?" she groaned, futilely attempting to stifle the yawn that threatened to escape her mouth.

"Sorry, Dee." Ms Spencer apologised quietly. "Why don't you go back to bed? We've got a long day tomorrow, especially after tonight and the kits eating their candy."

The ewe rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, blinking twice afterwards to focus more. She squinted, before pulling out a pair of red-rimmed glasses out of the pocket of her robe and placing them squarely on her nose, peering at the fox Ms Spencer held in her arms.

"Vicky, is that a fox?" she sneered.

"Yes, he is." Ms Spencer replied, looking somewhat affronted at the ewe's reaction.

"Well then, get him out!" said Dee, shooing her away. "We can't have preds in here. This is a prey-only orphanage!"

"Dee!" Ms Spencer responded, appalled at her friend's prejudice. "He'll die out there on his own!"

The ewe narrowed her eyes at the fox, before turning back to Ms Spencer. "I don't care, predators shouldn't be mixed up with prey in any home. They're not trustworthy."

Ms Spencer stiffened in anger, before retorting "I'll have you know, Dee, that I am technically classed as a predator. And yet nothing has happened to anyone in all the time I've worked here." she paused to catch her breath. "But you would still call me untrustworthy."

Dee did not back down at this accusation, in fact it seemed to make her stand firmer by her point, however biased it may be. Disgusted, Ms Spencer trudged past her, the fox kit in her arms, to her room. She stopped at the door and turned back to her "friend".

"You know what, Dee?" she called out. "Times will change, and if you continue to be so prejudiced towards predators, you're gonna end up alone with no one around to offer you help when you need it."

And with that, she entered her room with not another word said to the ewe, the door closing silently to not wake the rest of the building. The second the otter was safe in the seclusion of her room, she sighed deeply. The little fox she held yawned feebly, before falling asleep in her arms, inadvertently drawing Ms Spencer's attention.

"So, what's your name, little kit?" she whispered to no one in particular.

As the kit tossed and turned in his sleep, she glimpsed that a word had been embroidered onto the kit's shirt. A word that she had not noticed before. The shirt simply read: Harry.

"Well, don't worry, Harry." she said comfortingly, aware that the kit could not heard nor comprehend her. "I'll take care of you for now."

August 4th, 2008
7 and 1/2 Years Later

The all-too-familiar taste of mud filled Harry's mouth and the scent of freshly cut grass overloaded his nostrils as he lay on the ground, small drops of red blood silently dripping on to the hard-packed dirt below. Small beads that were tears of pain ran slowly down his face, yet more and more blows connected with his body. He was used to this by now, but that didn't stop the pain. In fact, it only made the beatings feel even worse.

"Go back to your own kind, fox!" a spiteful voice shouted. "You don't belong here with us prey."

And with that, the gang of playground bullies left, hi-fiving each other as they left Harry's broken form behind, snivelling in the field. Gingerly, Harry pushed himself off the ground, a sharp sting of pain shooting through his wrist as he did. Inwardly, he cursed, knowing that this was going to hurt like hell when it healed. Cuts and bruises were fine, but dislocated bones were a nightmare of agony.

He could already feel the cuts healing as he stood up, knitting themselves back together as if being stitched by an invisible needle. With an almighty POP, his wrist set itself back into place, eliciting a small groan of anguish from Harry. Ignoring the pins and needles that were beginning to spread across his hand, he continued his trek back to the orphanage, hoping that he could wipe the blood from his fur before Ms Spencer saw. He honestly liked the otter, she was one of the few from the orphanage who looked out for him, but she could be so overbearing at times. He was grateful for the support though, God knew he could use it at times.

For despite Ms Spencer's best efforts, Harry wasn't really accepted by many in the orphanage. The clear majority of them looked down upon him and excluded him, simply because he was the only predator in an orphanage full of prey with the bonus of having a weird fur colour for his species. Only a select few were kind enough to not ignore, or worse belittle, him when he was around, but those mammals mainly consisted of a few older orphans who had taken a liking to him when he was a small pup.

As he arrived at the property, Harry noticed that a strange black car had parked outside the building. Somewhat curious, Harry sneaked in through the front doors of the orphanage to see what was going on.

At first glance, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. He could see, through the open doors, that some of the orphans had already gotten back from school and were lounging around on their beds, waiting for dinner. The ewe who had replaced Dee a couple months ago was trotting all over the place, checking in to make sure no fights were breaking out (as if she ever reported it when they did happen). But for some reason, Ms Spencer was nowhere to be seen, which was rather unusual as normally she would've been waiting near the door with a smile as the children arrived after school.

"What are you doing just standing around?" the old ewe said, noticing Harry for the first time. "Go to your dorm."

"Yes, miss." Harry replied quickly, complying to her orders.

He entered the dorm to find it in quite a lot of chaos, as per usual. The older, more mature, ones sat on their beds with books clutched in their paws, either a textbook or a novel, whilst the more energetic youngsters ran around like crazy, throwing small Hacky Sacks to and fro, barely missing other mammals' heads. Harry trudged through, ducking and weaving through the crowd, his focus on the small, rickety bed in the corner that was his. It was the only one that had been unoccupied when Harry had moved in and, frankly, no one else had wanted to sleep there (for good reasons too).

Harry ducked under the unoccupied top bunk and sat down, the mattress sinking slightly and the frame creaking slightly as he did. The noise gained the attention of the adolescent squirrel who lay in the bed next to him, taking the teen's focus away from the large (for the squirrel) textbook he held in his small paws.

"Hey, Harry." the squirrel said, offering a small smile.

"Hey, Nico." Harry replied, returning the favour. "Whatcha reading?"

"Ah, SAT prep for mechanical engineering." Nico replied, showing the cover to the much larger fox. "I have to know all of this by December."

"December?" Harry clarified. "But that's ages away, you don't have to study now."

"I do if I want to get into M.I.T." Nico sighed, before determination set into his blue eyes. "Enough about me, how was your day?"

"Fine." Harry lied hastily, looking down at the floor.

Nico looked at him suspiciously, disbelieving. "Oh no, what happened this time?"

"Nothing!" Harry insisted. "Nothing happened!"

Nico tested the air, sniffing it with his black muzzle. His eyes widened as his brain comprehended what he smelt.

"Is that blood I smell?" he asked, leaning forward to peer at Harry's face, where he could see the faint streaks of red glinting against the fox's black fur. "Dammit, Harry. You can't just let them walk over you. Stand up for yourself!"

"I can't." Harry responded, his voice cracking slightly. "It would only end worse for me."

Nico's expression softened a bit, understanding, to some extent, what Harry had to go through every day as a fox.

"Listen, Harry, I know it's hard for you." he said sincerely. "I really do. I was bullied too. Maybe not as bad as you, but it was damn close."

"I may not have stood up for myself physically," he continued. "But I didn't let them walk over me either. It doesn't matter how you stand up for yourself, but only that you do."

"Sure." said Harry sarcastically.

"I'm serious, Harry." Nico stated, looking at the now dry blood on Harry's fur. "Now, go clean yourself up before Ms Spencer finds out. I can cover you this time, but only if you promise to listen to what I said. Okay?"

"Okay, I promise." Harry conceded, towering above the squirrel as he got off his bed.

"Good." Nico nodded. "Now go wash up, okay?"

"Yes, mum." Harry snarked, leaving the dorm in a similar fashion to how he got in: ducking and weaving through the sea of kits.

He turned left, heading towards the bathroom that was next to Ms Spencer's office. He entered, and twisted the tap above the sink, letting the cold water pour out into his paws, which he soon rubbed in his fur, attempting to get the dried blood off before it stained. When he was done, he twisted the tap shut and glanced at himself in the mirror, contemplating what the squirrel had said.

Yes, tomorrow he wouldn't let himself get attacked and beaten. Tomorrow he would stand up for himself, he decided as he dried his face with a towel.

He left the bathroom and headed back to the dorm, passing Ms Spencer's office as he did so, when he heard the muffled sounds of two adults talking behind the thick, cedar door. Curious, he sneaked back and listened at the keyhole, trying to discern what they were saying.

"...he's quite a troublemaker." a deep voice said. "This will be his third home in a year and I believed that you might be able to handle him better than the rest of the caretakers I've left him with."

"Mr Savage," said the voice of Ms Spencer. "What makes you believe I'd be able to handle someone with his... abilities better than the rest?"

There was a pause, and Harry pressed his ear closer to the keyhole to hear.

"Because you're handling one already." the voice of Mr Savage whispered. "That young black-furred fox you found seven or eight years ago. He's one of us, though he doesn't know it."

Behind the door, Harry's eyes widened, and he had to stuff his fist in his mouth to prevent himself from gasping.

"Harry?" Ms Spencer questioned. "What do you mean "he's one of you"?"

"He's hidden it well," Mr Savage explained gruffly. "But you'll see some day."

"Now about Jake..." Savage continued, spitting out the name as if were toxic.

"Yes, fine." Ms Spencer agreed. "I suppose I can take him in. I think we still have an empty bed left somewhere."

"Excellent! I'll leave him with you then."

The door opened suddenly, and Harry froze like a deer caught in headlights. In front of him stood an adult hare wearing a suit and tie, holding the door open as he looked up and down at Harry. And then the hare smiled, chuckling to himself, before he walked off outside.

"Harry." said Ms Spencer, looking at him sternly. "Were you eavesdropping on us?"

Harry looked around dramatically, pretending to be lost. "This isn't the bathroom." he declared loudly, turning around and attempting to walk away.

"Get in here." she said, stifling a snicker at his antics.

"Yes, miss." he complied, entering the room to see a young red fox about his age standing in the corner, a solemn look printed on his face.

The door closed behind Harry, shaking in its frame as if it could feel the tension that was beginning to build up in the room. Ms Spencer sighed, putting a paw on her head as if to hinder the imminent headache that was approaching.

"As you probably would've gathered from your spying," she began, putting emphasis on the last word. "Jake here is going to be joining us at the orphanage from now on."

KSSSSSH!

The two turned their heads to Jake, who stood unmoving with an inhaler in his hand, looking somewhat sheepish. Quick as a flash, he pulled the inhaler out of his mouth and put his hands behind his back, quietly whistling as if nothing had happened.

"Anyway," said Ms Spencer, trudging on from the interruption. "It would be great if someone of his own species showed him the ropes around here." Harry opened his mouth as if to correct her. "Yes, you are the exact same species, Harry. Black fur is just a rare occurrence." Harry closed his mouth in response, nodding.

"So, could you make sure he doesn't get into trouble?" she finished, looking at him pleadingly.

Harry looked at the fox, weighing up the pros and cons. On one hand, Jake was the same species as him (which was good, considering there were no other foxes in the orphanage). But on the other, there was the fact that Harry didn't yet know what that rabbit had been talking about when he had listened in on their conversation (and from the sounds of it, it might be bad if he found out).

And in that split-second, Harry said a word that would change his life forever.

"Sure."

* Tell me what you think of this rewrite. Is it better than the original? Is there any way I can improve it? Tell me in the comments below. By the way, of the four "OCs" that were named, three of them are going to be involved with the Nighthowler case. Can you guess who they are?

Author Note: Thanks for reading this chapter, and I'm sorry to those who are still disappointed about my running into a wall with In Need of Love. I hope I can make it up to you by giving you a brilliant story with The Boy-Who-Lived-in-Zootopia.

Please review, and as always, tune in next time.