Wolfblood

*** Author's Note ***

Firstly, I do not own Harry Potter or any of the wonderful things that J.K. Rowling or the people at Warner Bros. created for the novels or the film franchise. Secondly, this is the first story I'm trying that really has no romance or sexual content in it whatsoever as part of the main storyline. I have never seen anything like this so I'm quite proud of myself for thinking of it and I hope you enjoy reading Wolfblood as much I am going to relish writing it. I do have to say that reviews make my day and are so important to me as a writer, so please do leave them, even if they're really short or really long, even if they're to tell me you hate the story or what you think I'm going to do with the story next. Whatever is fine with me…just something would be stellar! I would like to point out from the off that I will be using bits of the books and bits of the films as I basically rewrite the third instalment of the series with a double epilogue set later on. Please do treat this story a bit like a commentary, so there is – especially in this chapter – lots of paraphrasing the book and film, but I do omit a few irrelevant parts of the third instalment so if it isn't here it is as it was written by Rowling. The premise of this story is a little bit hard to grasp and I bet it's even harder to get behind but if it's something you are intrigued by and would like to see play out, do stick around and read.

DaenerysTargary3n

Prologue: HARRY'S HOME

"Harry? HARRY!"

Harry's heart leapt.

This was an unusual event, for the Boy Who Lived seldom experienced the exhilaration required for such a rhythm to strike up within his chest. However, it had been days since his eyes started to peer through the crowds and the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron where he was staying for the unkempt ginger hair of Ron Weasley and the bushy mane of brown hair belonging to Hermione Granger – the two people he longed to see before he had to go to King's Cross tomorrow.

He had seen Neville and his other friends from school, yet he only felt truly at home and comfortable with the pair he had battled the tasks set down by the teachers in his first year and then last year those who had been instrumental in ensuring that Tom Riddle's Diary did not take a life once more.

Now, crossing across the alley towards Gringott's, sitting at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, he revelled at hearing the loud, abrupt voice of Ron calling him. The delight was only increased by the sight of a freckly, tanned teenage girl sitting beside her redheaded friend enjoying what looked to be a hot fudge sundae.

Once he sat down between them and Ron flew into his tale of how the pair had searched high and low for their friend, commencing at the Leaky Cauldron and continuing their quest through many of the stores, never once relenting the narrative to Hermione. She sat serenely and picked at her ice cream while Ron chatted away, quite satisfied now that their quarry had been arrested. Harry noted as he listened to Ron but observed of Hermione that she appeared different and…he couldn't put his finger on it…more unwound and unburdened than she constantly seemed at Hogwarts. It was an odd and unexpected, but pleasant atmosphere.

Harry suddenly readjusted his concentration and was surprised that they knew where he was lodging.

"How did you guys know I'm at the Leaky Cauldron?" Harry asked.

"Dad."

Harry could have thumped himself on the head. Naturally, Mr Arthur Weasley would be well aware that Harry had…overinflated his Aunt Marge and that this unfortunate circumstance had rendered him temporarily homeless, so the Leaky Cauldron had been serving as a residence over the rest of the holidays.

"You really blew up your aunt?" Hermione asked, quite obviously reining in her desire to give him the third degree and worry herself to death over consequences.

"I just lost control! I didn't do it on purpose!"

Hermione sighed, having lost the battle with her nature, "You could have been expelled!"

"Or even better, killed!" Ron blurted out, taking a brief respite from his loud guffaws at Harry's treatment of his relatives.

Harry and Hermione both knew what Ron was referring to in that jibe, but while Harry suppressed a giggle, Hermione's eyes became distinctly catlike and both boys wondered silently if she hadn't retained a little bit of her feline self from last year's Polyjuice Potion debacle. Harry, upon sensing danger, shrugged off his laughter and regained a serious expression.

"Forget expelled, 'Mione! I thought I was going to be arrested!"

Their banter dissolved into witty remarks about Harry's fame and special consideration, Ron's dire fate at the hands of Mrs Weasley should he 'accidentally' blow up an aunt and the probable inability of the Ministry of Magic to take him to trial alive in the aftermath.

"You can ask dad whatever you like tonight, mate," Ron said jovially, "cos we're staying at the Leaky Cauldron too."

Harry couldn't have been happier; or so he thought. That is until Hermione piped up that her mother and father had dropped her in Diagon Alley with her trunk and she would be staying the night in the Leaky cauldron as well.

Ron then showed off his new wand, and Harry grimaced as he recalled the reason behind the purchase. Hermione, being more interested in impending studies, was encumbered with three bulky bags of literature. Apparently, she was overloading herself with new courses, but Harry didn't know why he was so surprised to find his female friend laden with books and already timetabled to her back teeth. It was, in fact, so commonplace and in-character, that he put the thought to the back of his mind, only with a slight note to himself that should he notice Hermione straining under the pressure, he would call her up on it. Since Merlin only knew what they would face this year and if Hermione was too fried to save their collective behinds, they'd be up the creek without a paddle!

As Hermione answered Ron's questions and their discussion over Hermione's extensive course load changed into responses to Hermione's desire to acquire an owl and Ron's rat looking peaky, they paid for their sweet treats before going to the magical menagerie.

After a very arduous hour and a half of the witch behind the counter prodding and poking at Scabbers while Harry and Ron looked on, they were given the news that the rat was most probably on his last legs and had quite remarkably a long lifespan…for a rat. Hermione meanwhile had discovered a wild kind of monster that was labelled as a cat, but she postulated that it probably had some kneazle in the mix. She was quite taken with the hybrid and gave over willingly the ten galleons her parents had given her for her early birthday present. It was quite clear, however, that the creature she dubbed Crookshanks was not going to give the ailing Scabbers a peaceful period of decline.

With both humans and pets engaged in scuffles with themselves – Ron and Hermione using their words, while the animals fought tooth and claw with their owners making sizeable efforts to keep them apart – Harry accompanied the witch and the wizard to the pub to see the rest of the Weasley clan.

"Hello, Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley," Harry greeted upon entering the drab interior of his temporary home, "how did you enjoy Egypt?"

"Ooh, it was lovely, Harry dear. We saw ever such a lot and it was wonderful winning that prize from the Daily Prophet. For years, I thought those things went to fake families that the paper paid to pose afterwards – I mean, you never think that these things will happen to you, dear – but everything was very upfront and we had a lovely time with Bill."

While his wife was speaking, Mr Weasley was nodding along, quite content to allow his wife the right of speech. He usually looked cheerful and full of glee, yet Harry noticed there was something on his mind creating a distinct line between his eyebrows. It was unnerving to say the least.

"Harry," Ronald bellowed across the pub's dining room, "now we're back I can show you the Daily Prophet."

Harry waved his best friend off, "I've already read today's copy, Ron."

"Yeah, but this one isn't today's and you obviously haven't seen it otherwise you'd have mentioned it already."

Ron then disappeared into the back of the pub for a bit and returned a few moments later carefully clutching a well-folded newspaper.

"Look at this, Harry," Ron said with a smug grin plastered over his face, "you'll never guess!"

Fred and George then passed by and yelled that he might guess, and that Ron needed to stop showing his prized paper to everybody who passed him on the street and had the misfortune to clean his room at the Leaky Cauldron.

The centre of attention which Ron proceeded to show Harry was the centrefold of the paper with a large moving photograph of the Weasley family standing before the Pyramids of Giza, all happy and without a care in the world on their paid-for holiday. He was naturally pleased for his friend, but a part of his brain couldn't help but be envious of Ron, who despite being poor had the thing Harry desired most in the world – the love of family. He never got to go to exotic places, or visit relatives. No, the Boy Who Lived had to escape from his own house without a clue of who would take him in and then live out of his trunk.

Just then, he became aware of a tingling sensation in the middle of his back. Turning around, he was surprised to see Mr Weasley tapping him and when the older man had got his attention, Arthur beckoned for Harry to follow him.

Quite perturbed by the man's unusual desire to be alone with…well, anyone, Harry became even more certain something was wrong with Mr Weasley when he guided Harry into a dingier part of the pub behind a pillar so that they were utterly obscured from view from the rest of the pub's clientele.

"So, Harry," Mr Weasley began hesitantly, "what I'm about to tell you is said against my better judgment and certainly against what the Ministry would have me tell you about the situation, but I think you deserve – and need – to know. You are in danger, Harry. Grave danger."

The boy in danger had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the ginger-haired man who was now staring at him with wide eyes and a pallid complexion. It seemed that ever since he found out he was a wizard he was always in danger and Arthur was wasting his breath reminding him of the fact.

"Sirius Black?" Harry asked, having seen the posters for the escaped prisoner all around Diagon Alley.

"What do you know of Sirius Black?"

Harry thought, "Only that he's a fugitive."

Arthur seemed to calm down slightly at that revelation, but Harry could not surmise why.

"Do you know why? Why he was imprisoned? Why – we believe – he's escaped now?"

Harry shook his head.

"Thirteen years ago you stopped You-Know-Who and with his death, Black lost all he had worked and fought for. He was captured and sentenced to life in Azkaban prison. Although his master fell, he still is a faithful servant to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. To his belief, there is only one obstacle to his master's return to power, one thing to be eliminated for his master to regain full strength – you. This is the reason Black has escaped; he has escaped to seek you out and…"

With a grimace, Harry mumbled despondently, "To seek me out and kill me."

Mr Weasley acknowledged his correct estimation of the circumstances he was in and in his most serious tone ordered, "Harry, you must swear to me, promise me that whatever you hear, whatever you might feel, however angry you are, you will not seek Black out."

Harry had never been so confounded by an order in his life, and that was saying something as Aunt Petunia and Dudley had some truly mindboggling requests in the past. Yet Mr Weasley appeared genuinely scared by the notion that Harry might go looking for Sirius Black for whatever reason. It was as if Arthur Weasley expected Harry to suffer an extreme bout of stupidity in the future and was already guiding him away from such reckless and suicidal behaviour.

He asked, "Mr Weasley, why would I go looking for someone who wants me dead?"