Harry Potter and the Fox Goddess.
By Aerial Frogg
Summary: A new girl comes into Hogwarts, but because of her mom's Job she
probably won't stay for long. Will it turn out to be long enough to be
thrown into Havoc? (Notice not a romance.)
Disclaimer: Screw You (to the disclaimers of the world)
Harry Potter walked onto the platform of nine and 3/4, while looking down at his feet. The summer had been a memorable one, for all the wrong reasons. Dudley, who had began to get to the Size of Mr. Dursley, Had decided to color Harry's hair white about a month ago. For some reason it was as if his hair had turned on him in its magical ways, because not even the slightest sign of black hair was showing. Somehow, by some higher power he had managed to avoid killing Dudley or involuntarily using his magic. Aside from coloring his hair, Dudley kept a distance from Harry as did Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.
He spent all summer locked in is room, at Number 4 Pivot Drive, doing his homework in the quiet dim light. He had spent days at a time in there, he wanted to be alone and the Dursleys were happy to oblige him. After days on the inside he would slink into the kitchen, making sure that the Dursleys had no guests. They had all the neighbors convinced that they had, out of the compassion of their hearts, allowed him to stay at a rich friend's house for the summer. Harry of course had no rich friends, nor did he want to go to anyone's house. The letters had slowed two weeks after school, and finally stopped after the fifth week. So for the rest of the summer he had allowed himself to slip into a dark depression.
Soon after the letters stopped, while Uncle Vernon was planning a trip to London, Harry decided to ask for shutters. He made a good delivery with impeccable timing, adding all the reasons the Dursleys should be happy to get them, including that they would help prevent suspicion among the neighbors if he was seen. The Shutters were bought and attached to the inside, so he could open them easily, within a week. The real reason for the shutters he kept to himself, and his big book but we'll get to that later. Really, he just wanted to keep from having to hear the children playing in the street. A sight that all the previous summers he loved to watch and write to Snuffles or Ron about. But now the shutters were on, thanks to the reminders from Aunt Petunia. She hadn't become really an extremely nicer person, in fact Harry was quite sure she acted just the same to all the snobby neighbors. Including the new next door neighbor, who was a lawyer for children, who was always ranting about quiet child abuse in suburbs. This had of course put the Dursleys on their guard, and they had, in turn, began to get Harry things that any good adoptive parents would get, like contacts, which he hardly wore, and nicer clothes, still cheap of course but not hand-me-downs at least. Sometimes though while Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen cleaning, while Vernon and Dudley went out on daily errands, Harry would walk into the kitchen and ask her for something to do. She always had some menial task for him to do at the table. He would sit and quietly talk to his Aunt about just about anything that crossed his mind. Since he was beginning to enjoy being able to talk to someone, though she rarely said anything back, he cut most of the magic out so that she wouldn't get angry and make him leave.
And so over the summer she had heard stories about his friends Ron and Hermoine, and how that they stopped writing him. She learned of a horrible teacher, she thought she might like to meet, named professor Snape. Also he told her of the horror of watch a friend die and his God- Father Sirius getting pushed into a black curtain. Things also about the pretty Cho Chang and the evil teacher Dolores Umbridge.
After weeks of her being gone and finally returning, he had sent Hedwig to stay with Ron, he decided it was most likely better for her at Grimmauld Place. His aunt had duly agreed with the decision. She kept quiet about the talks with Harry from either son or husband, in her older age she began to feel sorry for being mean to the young Man his whole life, and they had reached an unspoken agreement that with these times in the kitchen they would put hatred of the other to rest.
Harry had found other ways of releasing his thoughts, pain, and other parts of the teenage roller coaster of emotions after losing someone close to them. Other than talking to his aunt, he had begun to write down his thoughts and anything else he felt in a large black parchment book that Hagrid had sent him at the beginning of the summer. At first he thought it was girly and crazy, but it did make him feel some relief. So in this book he began to write letters, some were just simple thoughts of the day, others were all out emotional rampages, here and there he would write little stories of a hero beating the bad guys, always bearing a resemblance to Voldemort or Tom Riddle, all letters were addressed to Sirius. He saw no reason to disguise it as he had for so long. Sirius Black was Harry Potter's God-Father and he was proud of it.
Spending all that time alone in his room writing and working, had taken its tole on his body. Harry had become incredibly pale, and skinny. However, when Dudley got a new weight set the old one got shoved into Harry's room. It was, of course, practically brand-new, so since Harry still had hours of free time between home work and writing. So he was surprisingly strong, despite his thin frame. Had he ate more and gotten more other exercises, he probably would have returned to Hogwarts, looking very much more the part of a young man who had taken on Death Eaters the year before.
But he hadn't, he was a pale and thin young man, and when you added his white hair and emerald eyes, he looked very much like a ghost. Or a Slytherin, he couldn't decide which was worse at first when he had looked in the mirror while trying on his new Hogwarts robes, at last he decided he would definitely rather be a ghost.
All of his clothes all ranged from black to grey. Grey because he had started to run out of black dye. It wasn't so much that he owned so many clothes. It was more the fact that he couldn't afford very much of the black dye. So this didn't help his wanting to look a little less Slytherin, but he didn't want to have to wear colors. No reason to hide wanting everyone to keep a distance from you. Which they did, while sending dirty looks at him.
So there he stood, in the middle of the platform, very early, hoping to avoid the looks at least for while. His long sleeve shirt was a dark shade of grey while his cargo jeans were a deep black. Harry's eyes crossed as he looked at the white hair partially blocking his view, then at his shirt, if he hadn't wasted some dye trying to get his hair not white, this shirt would probably be black like his jeans.
Finally the train pulled up to platform nine and three quarters, so he began to quickly load his luggage and searching for a compartment out of the way and usually empty. He found one after about ten minutes, it was on a car that was incredibly old and was rumored to had been around since before Dumbledore went to Hogwarts. Harry seriously doubted the rumor but the car was obviously broken down. It was part of the reason the train was always "full", no one wanted to go in here. Harry found out soon enough when the train started and began to move. The squeaking had started out small, but now it was loudly droning as the train began to move at full speed. Despite the squeaking and one interruption from a red head, who was obviously lost,. when she came in for a second before seeing Harry and leaving. When he looked up he noticed that she had dropped some sort of a blue toy. He picked it up and examined it.
It fit into the palm of his hand, it had a very small screen on it. He had seen one of these somewhere, but where? When he decided that he probably wouldn't get it out while straining his brain, Harry decided to turn his attention to the Daily Prophet. There was little traces of He Who Must Not Be Named, all through the paper. Not nearly enough fear was in the words, not enough for his liking. The Ministry had done a very good job of toning down how serious the attack was. They were giving people the impression that they had complete control over the situation. The whole thing made Harry sick to his stomach. So he tossed the paper on the ground to lay down in the seat to sleep.
(~^*^~)
He woke up with one thought on his mind: Dudley. Quickly snatching out the toy he looked it over. Yes, Harry was sure that this was one of the Digimon toys that Dudley had for a year or two when they were younger. This looked a little different though, this one had a card slot, well he thought he saw commercials for one like that, after it wasn't quite as popular and Harry began to get the toys. This one was also much heavier and appeared to be sturdier to. Maybe the lost girl had been a first year who still had toys passed down from her older siblings.
After toying with the thought of keeping it for a few seconds, he decided it was best to return it. If it was a first year surely, she had heard the rumors and had come to this car in pure desperation. So he began his search for the girl in this car. Without the squeaking, that had gotten louder when stepping out into the hall, it would have been dead quiet. He stepped slowly, looking in each compartment for the girl, he had a brief look at her, she had red hair, he couldn't remember much but if he saw her he would recognize her.
He had just about given up hope when he was almost to the end of the car. Looking hopefully into the next compartment, he saw just what he needed, the girl. He was about to open the door when he noticed the last thing in the world he needed, Ron and Hermoine. Oh crap.
By Aerial Frogg
Summary: A new girl comes into Hogwarts, but because of her mom's Job she
probably won't stay for long. Will it turn out to be long enough to be
thrown into Havoc? (Notice not a romance.)
Disclaimer: Screw You (to the disclaimers of the world)
Harry Potter walked onto the platform of nine and 3/4, while looking down at his feet. The summer had been a memorable one, for all the wrong reasons. Dudley, who had began to get to the Size of Mr. Dursley, Had decided to color Harry's hair white about a month ago. For some reason it was as if his hair had turned on him in its magical ways, because not even the slightest sign of black hair was showing. Somehow, by some higher power he had managed to avoid killing Dudley or involuntarily using his magic. Aside from coloring his hair, Dudley kept a distance from Harry as did Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.
He spent all summer locked in is room, at Number 4 Pivot Drive, doing his homework in the quiet dim light. He had spent days at a time in there, he wanted to be alone and the Dursleys were happy to oblige him. After days on the inside he would slink into the kitchen, making sure that the Dursleys had no guests. They had all the neighbors convinced that they had, out of the compassion of their hearts, allowed him to stay at a rich friend's house for the summer. Harry of course had no rich friends, nor did he want to go to anyone's house. The letters had slowed two weeks after school, and finally stopped after the fifth week. So for the rest of the summer he had allowed himself to slip into a dark depression.
Soon after the letters stopped, while Uncle Vernon was planning a trip to London, Harry decided to ask for shutters. He made a good delivery with impeccable timing, adding all the reasons the Dursleys should be happy to get them, including that they would help prevent suspicion among the neighbors if he was seen. The Shutters were bought and attached to the inside, so he could open them easily, within a week. The real reason for the shutters he kept to himself, and his big book but we'll get to that later. Really, he just wanted to keep from having to hear the children playing in the street. A sight that all the previous summers he loved to watch and write to Snuffles or Ron about. But now the shutters were on, thanks to the reminders from Aunt Petunia. She hadn't become really an extremely nicer person, in fact Harry was quite sure she acted just the same to all the snobby neighbors. Including the new next door neighbor, who was a lawyer for children, who was always ranting about quiet child abuse in suburbs. This had of course put the Dursleys on their guard, and they had, in turn, began to get Harry things that any good adoptive parents would get, like contacts, which he hardly wore, and nicer clothes, still cheap of course but not hand-me-downs at least. Sometimes though while Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen cleaning, while Vernon and Dudley went out on daily errands, Harry would walk into the kitchen and ask her for something to do. She always had some menial task for him to do at the table. He would sit and quietly talk to his Aunt about just about anything that crossed his mind. Since he was beginning to enjoy being able to talk to someone, though she rarely said anything back, he cut most of the magic out so that she wouldn't get angry and make him leave.
And so over the summer she had heard stories about his friends Ron and Hermoine, and how that they stopped writing him. She learned of a horrible teacher, she thought she might like to meet, named professor Snape. Also he told her of the horror of watch a friend die and his God- Father Sirius getting pushed into a black curtain. Things also about the pretty Cho Chang and the evil teacher Dolores Umbridge.
After weeks of her being gone and finally returning, he had sent Hedwig to stay with Ron, he decided it was most likely better for her at Grimmauld Place. His aunt had duly agreed with the decision. She kept quiet about the talks with Harry from either son or husband, in her older age she began to feel sorry for being mean to the young Man his whole life, and they had reached an unspoken agreement that with these times in the kitchen they would put hatred of the other to rest.
Harry had found other ways of releasing his thoughts, pain, and other parts of the teenage roller coaster of emotions after losing someone close to them. Other than talking to his aunt, he had begun to write down his thoughts and anything else he felt in a large black parchment book that Hagrid had sent him at the beginning of the summer. At first he thought it was girly and crazy, but it did make him feel some relief. So in this book he began to write letters, some were just simple thoughts of the day, others were all out emotional rampages, here and there he would write little stories of a hero beating the bad guys, always bearing a resemblance to Voldemort or Tom Riddle, all letters were addressed to Sirius. He saw no reason to disguise it as he had for so long. Sirius Black was Harry Potter's God-Father and he was proud of it.
Spending all that time alone in his room writing and working, had taken its tole on his body. Harry had become incredibly pale, and skinny. However, when Dudley got a new weight set the old one got shoved into Harry's room. It was, of course, practically brand-new, so since Harry still had hours of free time between home work and writing. So he was surprisingly strong, despite his thin frame. Had he ate more and gotten more other exercises, he probably would have returned to Hogwarts, looking very much more the part of a young man who had taken on Death Eaters the year before.
But he hadn't, he was a pale and thin young man, and when you added his white hair and emerald eyes, he looked very much like a ghost. Or a Slytherin, he couldn't decide which was worse at first when he had looked in the mirror while trying on his new Hogwarts robes, at last he decided he would definitely rather be a ghost.
All of his clothes all ranged from black to grey. Grey because he had started to run out of black dye. It wasn't so much that he owned so many clothes. It was more the fact that he couldn't afford very much of the black dye. So this didn't help his wanting to look a little less Slytherin, but he didn't want to have to wear colors. No reason to hide wanting everyone to keep a distance from you. Which they did, while sending dirty looks at him.
So there he stood, in the middle of the platform, very early, hoping to avoid the looks at least for while. His long sleeve shirt was a dark shade of grey while his cargo jeans were a deep black. Harry's eyes crossed as he looked at the white hair partially blocking his view, then at his shirt, if he hadn't wasted some dye trying to get his hair not white, this shirt would probably be black like his jeans.
Finally the train pulled up to platform nine and three quarters, so he began to quickly load his luggage and searching for a compartment out of the way and usually empty. He found one after about ten minutes, it was on a car that was incredibly old and was rumored to had been around since before Dumbledore went to Hogwarts. Harry seriously doubted the rumor but the car was obviously broken down. It was part of the reason the train was always "full", no one wanted to go in here. Harry found out soon enough when the train started and began to move. The squeaking had started out small, but now it was loudly droning as the train began to move at full speed. Despite the squeaking and one interruption from a red head, who was obviously lost,. when she came in for a second before seeing Harry and leaving. When he looked up he noticed that she had dropped some sort of a blue toy. He picked it up and examined it.
It fit into the palm of his hand, it had a very small screen on it. He had seen one of these somewhere, but where? When he decided that he probably wouldn't get it out while straining his brain, Harry decided to turn his attention to the Daily Prophet. There was little traces of He Who Must Not Be Named, all through the paper. Not nearly enough fear was in the words, not enough for his liking. The Ministry had done a very good job of toning down how serious the attack was. They were giving people the impression that they had complete control over the situation. The whole thing made Harry sick to his stomach. So he tossed the paper on the ground to lay down in the seat to sleep.
(~^*^~)
He woke up with one thought on his mind: Dudley. Quickly snatching out the toy he looked it over. Yes, Harry was sure that this was one of the Digimon toys that Dudley had for a year or two when they were younger. This looked a little different though, this one had a card slot, well he thought he saw commercials for one like that, after it wasn't quite as popular and Harry began to get the toys. This one was also much heavier and appeared to be sturdier to. Maybe the lost girl had been a first year who still had toys passed down from her older siblings.
After toying with the thought of keeping it for a few seconds, he decided it was best to return it. If it was a first year surely, she had heard the rumors and had come to this car in pure desperation. So he began his search for the girl in this car. Without the squeaking, that had gotten louder when stepping out into the hall, it would have been dead quiet. He stepped slowly, looking in each compartment for the girl, he had a brief look at her, she had red hair, he couldn't remember much but if he saw her he would recognize her.
He had just about given up hope when he was almost to the end of the car. Looking hopefully into the next compartment, he saw just what he needed, the girl. He was about to open the door when he noticed the last thing in the world he needed, Ron and Hermoine. Oh crap.