"Forma animale manifestate," Lily muttered. She felt an odd tickling, running all over her skin. "forma animale manifestate, forma animale manifestate" she repeated in a chant, eyes shut tightly in concentration. She could feel James' eyes on her. She was close, she knew it.
And then it happened. Quickly.
Her legs grew thinner, and her arms longer. Her spine fractured and refitted itself in a way that was somehow familiar and not as alarming as it should be, and her face grew long and pointed. Fur bloomed from every inch of her skin.
She was a doe.
For a few seconds, there was no sound but their breathing – that is, James' quiet breath, and her own awkward snorting. She twisted her head to look at her now very two-dimensional and colourless world.
Then her legs gave out, and she crashed to the floor.
"Mehh," she wailed in distress.
Lily Evans Potter was now an Animagus.
An unregistered one, at that.
The Ministry was compromised, and Dumbledore had made it clear that the more strengths Voldemort did not know the Order had, the stronger they stood. Besides, being unregistered had never been a problem for the Marauders.
(If it gave her and James a horrifying and godless way of spicing their up love life a bit (and if picturing the look on Petunia's face if she knew just how freaky her sister was getting was too hilarious to resist), then that was merely a bonus and had not at all been a contributing factor in her decision to become an Animagus in the first place)
It was really just Lily's luck that the compulsory animagi registry would be one of the admittedly few Ministry regulations that was actually there for a reason.
A very good reason, as things turned out.
The Healers were surprisingly cool. With the exception of one flustered novice, they all acted as though it was all par de course.
(Sirius and James reported that her wing of the hospital was also filled with Unspeakables who had been conducting some classified experiment and ended up simultaneously giving birth to clones, so she figured it probably was.)
"I'll try to figure something out," Dumbledore said, for once looking flustered.
They agreed to keep a lid on things until then, and Dumbledore took care of the Healers' memories.
Lily had not been particularly eager to explain to her parents why their most recent grandchild was not going to be bragging-to-friends material anytime soon anyway.
And so, with James beckoning Hairy forwards with a carrot and Lily sending Muggle breast pumps a thought of gratitude, they Flooed back home and immediately set to turning the nursery into a small stable.
(If Lily found herself loving the stumbling, squeaking fawn as much as she would any humanoid son, then that was really nobody's business. James and Sirius too were, if not as happy as they could have been, then at least having a lot of fun playing with Hairy in their animagi forms)
«He's here! Run, Lily!»
He heard a woman screaming and running, and then James Potter appeared in the doorway, wand in hand.
«Stupe-»
Voldemort was faster.
Stepping smoothly around the corpse, he made his way up the staircase. He could hear the woman scrambling around behind the only door that was closed. More than that, he could hear an odd clacking accompanied by squawking.
Eyebrows raised, he held a palm up at the door, smoothly vanishing it to reveal a poorly decorated nursery. At first it looked like they had taken the rustic cottage look too far.
Lily Potter was standing in the middle of the room, in front of a nervous-looking small deer. At the sight of him, it stepped backwards and to the left, a bit unsteadily.
"What is this?" he demanded.
She shook her head. "Please, please don't kill him…"
"The deer?" somewhere inside some realization was dawning, but he did not acknowledge it. "You care so much for an animal?"
The deer squawked, and she made cooing noises to comfort it.
Oh, no.
«That's your son?»
«Please don't hurt him!»
«How did you even- no, don't answer that.» Looking at that fawn was like looking at a kaleidoscope of ever evolving implications.
«Um,» she said, face reddening slightly. «I wasn't planning- um,» she cut herself off, remembering who she was talking to and that she was about to die. Her eyes flickered frantically about the goddamn stable, looking for some sort of escape, but escaping lord Voldemort would have been impossible even without a shaky-legged fawn in tow.
«Um,» he echoed involuntarily.
He became aware of his jaw hanging open. He closed it.
So much for «his equal».
The fawn whinnied and tried to walk around Lily, friendly and curious towards this new stranger. She stepped to block it.
For a few, brief moments, he was at a loss for what to do. Babies grew up and could pose threats later on, so even if the Potter child hadn't been prophesied he would probably still have killed him. It was only reasonable. Killing a deer, though, acknowledging it as enough of a threat to warrant death… He should have gone to the Longbottoms'.
In the end he cast the curse anyway. It wasn't like anyone would ever know.
By the next morning, the entire Wizarding world of Britain knew. So, for that matter, did the rest of the international Wizarding community too as the news spread.
"Is it true, Albus?"
Minerva knew that it almost certainly was, but rumors were rumors. She had to ask.
"I'm afraid so," he said, and the loss of the Potters was a fact.
She took a moment to collect herself.
«And- »
"He tried to kill Hairy too, but failed. The curse rebounded on him."
"He failed to kill a deer?"
Albus nodded solemnly.
When Hagrid arrived with the drugged little fawn fit into the sidecar, none of them had the heart to wake little Hairy, so he was levitated onto the yard with a horse rug, carrots and a letter to his aunt as his sole possessions.
100 DEER KILLED IN AUROR-UNSPEAKABLE COOPERATION EXPERIMENT
STILL NO ANSWER TO MAGICAL MYSTERY
Yesterday, in an experiment conducted by GODRIC, the investigative unit formed to find an explanation for the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named, fired killing curses at an assortment of deer to discover whether they possessed any kind of immunity. They did not.
«Obviously the fact that these deer weren't born of magical experimentation must be taken into account,» says Beaste Yalty, spokesperson for GODRIC. «Ideally we'd be experimenting with, um, similar creatures, but apart from eggs, we haven't been able to locate any.»
So far as the Ministry knows, Hairy Potter is unprecedented. Animagi are rare enough as it is, and for a couple to be male and female of the same species and to then produce offspring is almost unheard of.
Whether what happened when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's curse rebounded is a hitherto unknown reaction to beings such as Mr. Potter or if Mr. Potter himself is extraordinary, remains unknown. As the young hero has been placed under protective custody, interviews and experiments cannot be conducted.
We remind the public that any citizen willing to help further the research will be well compensated their donation. GODRIC promises full discretion and respect.
Nearly ten years had passed since Petunia Dursley had been awakened by the crash of a fawn knocking over her potted petunias, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same chewed-on garden and lit up the brass number four on the Dursley's front door; inside, there were lots of pictures of a fat kid doing things. There was no sign of any livestock living in the house.
Yet Hairy Potter was in the garden behind the house, grazing peacefully. Summer had come early that year, and with it fresh and juicy grass. Inside, the Dursleys were celebrating Dudley's eleventh birthday. Hairy did not know this, but if he had, he would not have cared. He was content.
At about noon, the door to the garden opened. Vernon Dursley stepped out, his wife Petunia lingering at the threshold. «See? He's bloody well glued to that damn grass. He's not going anywhere.»
«I don't know Vernon, he's wandered off before, he could get quite far…»
«He's got a collar!»
Hairy started at the shout, and stared at Vernon for a few seconds. Then he continued chewing.
Dudley appeared in the doorway, appearing bored. «Da-ad, Pike is gonna come any minute now! Can't we just throw some pellets around, so he can look for those or something?» throwing things into Hairy's garden or at Hairy himself was a favourite pastime of Dudley's. Usually it wasn't pellets, though.
Petunia squealed and engulfed Dudley in what would, had he not been very fat and she very thin, have been a suffocating chokehold, and Vernon grunted his approval at this wonderful plan. Dudley was a practical, based boy, no rubbish book smarts there.
Hairy spent about half an hour sniffing out all the pellets, and then another four sleeping in the shades. He was awakened by the noise of the Dursleys coming back home, happy and pleased with a lovely trip to the zoo.
It was a nice day.
In spite of his consistently deerlike behaviour and disappointing response to Petunia's awkward, half-hearted attempt to teach him to read or even Dudley's less ambitious attempts to teach him to play dead, Hairy Potter was no ordinary deer.
He did not look ordinary, for one thing. His fur was hazel brown, and had very long, soft, perpetually ruffled hairs. His tail was pitch black, an unusual colour. More alarming still were his eyes: rather than being brown and noble, as befits a creature of the wild, Hairy had somehow gotten himself saddled with bright, clear green. On a human that would surely have been an attractive feature, but on a deer this looked creepy. Strangest of all was the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. No fur grew there, it was grey and somehow a character statement.
(When asked about it, the inquired Dursley would inform the wants-to-know that a hunter had killed his mother, and then taken out a knife and carved a lightning bolt into his forehead. It was after this that the Dursleys had been forced to take him in.)
He seemed to have an unusually good memory and strong opinions as well. He remembered people: his usually blank gaze would turn reproachful when he looked at Mrs Figg, as the old lady kept trying to turn him onto his back to rub his belly and giving him cat food. He didn't care for Vernon's sister Marge either, and would in fact make a point out of being uncharacteristically affectionate towards the Dursleys when she was visiting, even if they did in no way appreciate the affection and never failed to push him away.
There was something about him.
(Sometimes Petunia would sit down in her favourite garden chair and stare at him, a thousand things and nothing in her eyes. She rarely sat for long, and never said anything, but whatever she was thinking was something she could not get past.)
One morning, Hairy was awakened by a letter floating down in front of him. He sniffed at it curiously, but having never learned to read or even any concept of what a letter was, he soon lost interest. He dozed off again.
An excited but confused Dudley later found this letter and waddled inside with it.
«Mum, look! Hairy's got a letter!»
The door closed behind him, but Hairy, now awake again could hear the thump thump thump of someone running down the stairs, and loud voices.
Dudley came back outside.
«They took it!» he yelled accusingly at Hairy, as though the deer had had any influence on his parents' deplorable actions.
Hairy started grazing.
A lot of letters started coming. Hairy ate some of them.
«We're leaving.»
Vernon scooped Hairy up into his arms and all but threw him into the car trunk and shut it closed. He then shooed Dudley into the backseat in a much more considerate, yet not entirely dissimilar fashion.
He heaved into the driver's seat with a heavy oomph, and started driving.
(It was during this trip that Vernon Dursley for the first time felt fear upon encountering a police control, as opposed to righteous smugness. Usually he loved nothing more than to see shady-looking fellows get pulled out of their cars and questioned, much like he, being one who always bought tickets, loved watching delinquents get fined at ticket controls, but this time he had a faulty ticket, which is to say he had livestock stuffed inside his trunk.
Unfortunately for his nephew's welfare, he was waved right past the control.)
It was Hairy's first time leaving Privet Drive.
It was on this surprise roadtrip that the Dursleys discovered that the only thing more difficult than getting a hotel to accept a deer, was getting a deer to accept a dingy in a stormy lake. The solution to the two problems turned out to be the same: tranquilizer darts. Vernon was glad to have replaced the old shotgun.
«Yer a magical creature, Hairy.»
Hairy continued to sniff at his coat, unconcerned.
«What?» said Dudley. Petunia drew him closer.
«A magical creature! What, yeh thought yer cousin was a normal deer?» The gigantic man rubbed Hairy's neck fondy. Hairy's knees buckled slightly and he had to take several small steps to regain his balance.
«My cousin?»
«Yes of course, he- » Hagrid's smile faded as comprehension dawned. He looked at Petunia. «Ye never told yer son about him?»
Petunia and Vernon were very quiet.
«How's it-» Hagrid started, before it dawned on him. His face darkened. «Yeh've been acting like he's an animal?»
«Well, of course!» said Vernon. «He is an animal, isn't he? Just because Petunia's freak sister gave birth to him does not make him a member of this family!»
Dudley's yaw fell.
An ominous red colour rose in Hagrid's face, much like all colour had left Dudley's. He got to his feet and growled, actually growled, at the Dursleys in fury. Petunia and Dudley shrank behind their man.
«Yeh bleedin' Muggles dare act like Harry Potter ain't nothing but-»
«An animal?» the apparently suicidal Vernon interrupted hotly. «Well, it is what he is. And now a very magical one either, from what we've seen,» he continued, likely under the impression that Hairy not being magical would lessen Hagrid's interest in him.
It did not.
«He's yer bloody family!» the giant cried, «'n of course he's powerful, what d'ye think he's got that scar for?»
«Hunting accident?» Dudley dared.
«HUNTING ACCIDENT?» Hagrid roared. Dudley stuck his head into his mother's arms with an audible squeak.
Hagrid, his face terrible with rage, picked up a pink umbrella and pointed it straight at Vernon. He looked more formidable than any savage wielding a pink umbrella had any right to do, and would possibly have done something unspeakable to the comparatively tiny man had a sudden crash! not distracted all the present literates.
Hairy had backed into the firepoker stand.
Hagrid forgot all about exacting revenge upon terrified civilians, and ran to Hairy's aid. «Don't listen to them Muggles,» he muttered, «they ain't got no clue. Of course yer magical.» He picked Hairy up like a dog and went to sit in the sofa with him. «Yer got more magic than most of us, I'd wager. Right powerful wizard you'll be, eh?» he cooed, rubbing the wide-eyed deer here and there. Hairy looked stressed.
Hagrid's face grew somber. «Them Muggles never tell ye about yer parents, did 'em? 'bout why yer a deer? 'bout yer scar?»
Hairy wriggled.
«I'll take that as a no,» Hagrid said, and, holding his leggy friend firmly to keep him still, started telling the tale of one wizard who terrorized a community, and of the fawn that stopped him. And, vaguely, of the fawn's origins.
«No one knows why ye survived,» he concluded, sniveling. Hairy was tense as a feather. «Ye were right terrified - I picked you out of that rubble myself. Yer parents-» he cut himself off with a sob.
Hairy saw his chance and lunged.
He did not get far.
Hagrid grabbed him mid-air, and the despairing deer was coiled right back into his quicksandlike embrace «It's alright to grieve,» he muttered, unperturbed by the deer's terror, hugging it even closer and kissing the little snout with wet puckered lips. «It's always 'em good people die young, and yer parents,» he cut himself off with a sob, «were some of the best I ever knew,» he concluded, his face now glistening with tears.
Hairy wriggled in an attempt to get his hind legs under him so that his next spring might be successful, but it was no use.
Hagrid wasn't bothered.
He turned to the Dursleys.
«I'll be taking him with me te Diagon Alley, to get him the things he needs for Hogwarts,» he said.
«You - you can't be serious!» Vernon exclaimed.
Hagrid released Hairy, who sprang to the other end of the room, and stood pressed into the wall, staring at him.
He stood. «Ye gonna stop me, Muggle?» he said, clenching his pink umbrella, again looking very intimidating.
Vernon was not going to stop him.
Fortunately for Hairy's sanity, Hagrid did not have the heart to force him into the dingy, nor the callousness required to knock him out like the Dursleys had. He ended up going to Diagon Alley alone while Hairy stayed in the shack.
(This was probably for the best. No way would a ride in a Gringotts cart not have given the hounded Hairy a cardiac arrest)
On the 1st of September, a loud crack was heard outside. Hairy, who had been grazing, started. The sound was very similar to Dudley's firecrackers.
Just as he'd started trusting the lawn again, a man came around the house corner. Hairy had never seen him before.
The man stood for a second, giving Hairy a long, disdainful look. His was the kind of man's face that instantly made you think unattractive!: intelligent beetle eyes that made you uncomfortable if they lingered too long, pale and clammy skin, sharp jutting features that lost all hope of ever being considered handsome with the hawkish proletarian nose, and the hair was grief. He was too thin, sort of gangly in spite of being an adult. His clothes were dark and somber. Amazingly, this thorough gloom was somehow reassuring, as it had to mean he had knowingly committed to this ascetic aesthetic.
In a way, the stranger aptly named Severus Snape had style.
The nauseated look he was giving Hairy was just another aspect of that.
Hairy stared back.
Brusquely, silently, he stalked toward the now slightly alarmed (Hagrid was not forgotten) animal, grabbed a fistful of its fur, and spun on his heel.
The two disappeared, leaving nothing but another loud crack!
A/N: I have no excuse for this.
(I wish that was all I had to say, but it isn't. This was supposed to be the short story of Hairy Potter's life, from his biblical conception to his inevitable death by broomkill, but it just kept growing and stealing time until I realized it was better to just release the first part, and then see about continuing this pixellated atrocity later on. Shame me in the reviews if you wish.)