Hey folks!
When I was trying (and failing) to fall asleep last night, my mind turned to a fic I read a few weeks ago that was a series of one-shots for Nightcrawler and Shadowcat, who are an awesome XME couple. Primarily, it focused on how life went for Kurt because of his appearance and abilities, both pros and cons therein.
Of course, I couldn't let this go. Throw in a bunch of random plot elements I've thought up with no actual story for them to go to, and this is the result. I'll be taking a few liberties here and there, so roll with the flow if something is noticeably different from canon.
I've already decided on a pairing, though it will take quite a while to develop. My motto is to let the characters get through puberty before throwing that kind of drama into their lives. This story will focus more on friendship and family rather than romance, with some amounts of humor and angst here and there.
And with that, on with the show!
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Chapter 1: Revelations
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"Filius, are you positive this is the right place?"
"Absolutely, Minerva, the compass has never lied before. In fact, I would be more likely to agree that previous attempts at contact have failed because of this location."
The two professors were standing on the sidewalk in front of an abandoned an rundown apartment building in a shadier region of London. The windows had been boarded over, and graffiti spray painted over much of the lower story brick walls.
"I still don't understand why Dumbledore's instrument would bring us here," McGonagall spoke with some frustration as she stared at the crumbling structure. "This place is obviously unsafe for anybody to inhabit, let alone a child!"
"Only one way to find out, I suppose," Flitwick responded, discretely unlocking the front doors. He held the door for his compatriot and followed her into the entrance hall. She'd already cast a soft Lumos to light the way after noticing the electricity was shut off.
After checking his silver compass (Dumbledore had been long in parting with it, even for a day) that was charmed to point towards hard-to-find students, he led the way up two flights of stairs. He winced at the loud creaking sounds the boards made under his small frame.
"It's strange that there are no footprints through the dust," he observed as they came to a landing and headed down a hallway. Indeed, theirs were the only disturbances in the layer of dust save for the tell-tale tracks of mice and rats.
Neither professor commented on their growing concern for their elusive charge. This building was obviously a health risk, and it did not bode well for a child to live in such a setting.
"He must have a different way of entering then," McGonagall replied stiffly. Her nose was overly sensitive thanks to her animagus form, and dusty places like this made her eyes water. "How much further until we're there?"
Right as she asked that, the compass went from pointing down the hallway to their immediate left. With a nod at each other, they schooled their expressions and prepared to meet the son of two of their favorite students.
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Harry Potter was sleeping.
Despite it being 10 in the morning, there was nothing very unusual about it. He was primarily nocturnal, and only required about 4 hours of sleep a day anyways. Energy was something he had in spades.
But from 7-11 AM each day, Harry slept. He would enter his room after a night of exploring London before eating and falling asleep almost instantly. Harry's metabolism was through the roof, and luckily he could usually find something to eat while still out on the town.
So it was a rude and unexpected awakening when he heard someone knocking at his door. "Who the Hell could that be?" he wondered with some amount of nervousness. He quickly scrambled to cover himself with his customary baggy, threadbare clothing even as he heard a voice call from the hallway.
"Mr. Potter, are you in there? I am Professor McGonagall, and with me is Professor Flitwick. We represent Hogwarts, a school tailored for individuals with talents like your own. Could we please take a moment of your time to discuss the situation with you?"
Harry stopped a second before he ported to the back alley. "There are others like me? Is this a trick? But if it's true..."
Deciding to hear out the professors, he silently bounded across his small apartment and began to swing on the bare rafters to sit directly over the door. After one more check to make sure his scarf was correctly covering his face and his arms and three-fingered hands were still bandaged up (luckily he forgot to remove them the night before), he cautiously reached down with his tail to unlock and open the door.
He watched with vibrant green eyes as two people entered the room. Both wore black robes, and the taller had a pointed witch's hat on. Harry was momentarily disappointed that neither one of them showed ant obvious difference in appearance, but pushed that thought away thinking maybe they had disguises on like the one his now-lost amulet once afforded.
"Mr. Potter?" the shorter man spoke up with a stereotypically high voice. "Are you here? We promise that we pose no threat to you."
Harry felt himself grin slightly at what he planned to do. He figured the woman was a strict, non-nonsense type of person who was not accustomed to being spooked. Well, they were playing on his turf now...
After both had cleared the doorway and taken a few steps into the room, Harry silently dropped to the floor and slammed the door shut. Both whirled around and brandished similar sticks at him, and Harry instantly had second thoughts about his little prank.
"Umm, hi there!" he said hesitantly as he put his hands up in a calming way. "I'm Harry, you said you wanted to talk to me? And careful with the sticks, you could poke someone's eye out with one."
He laughed inwardly as he noticed the woman develop a twitch above her right eye as both adults stowed their sticks away. "Gotcha!" he happily thought to himself as he walked past them to crouch on the windowsill.
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It had been a long time since someone had gotten the drop on either Minerva or Filius, so it was no surprise they almost cursed Harry into oblivion when he seemingly popped out of nowhere. It was only habit that neither of them commented on his odd appearance, though it did spark their curiosity.
After the older professors' hearts had slowed somewhat they took a moment to look around the apartment. Neither one was impressed by Harry's living space.
There was a single medium-sized room as a combination kitchenette, dining space, and drawing room. The former of those looked in extreme disrepair, and the other scattered pieces of furniture all looked to be reclaimed from a junkyard. Two other doorways had been boarded up, what they assumed led to a bathroom and bedroom. Clothes were strewn haphazardly around the room, all of them baggy and faded.
Filius smiled slightly at several large stacks of books shoved into a corner, and was surprised that most were textbooks or dictionaries written in various other languages.
But it was the messy pile of old blankets and a few pillows lying on an old futon that had them the most upset. Minerva was slightly heartened to see a plush wolf in the pile, the only sign of the occupant's age so far.
"Do you mind if we sit, Mr. Potter?" Flitwick asked him before gesturing to a pair of faded and patched chairs. "This discussion is liable to take some time."
"Oh, of course," he replied, some of the boy's confidence fading after the excitement had worn off. It was painfully obvious to the professors he didn't have much experience interacting with other people. "Now, you said that you represent some kind of special school? And how in the world did you know where I was?"
"That relates directly to what we're about to say," McGonagall had done this speech dozens of times, and knew how to breach the subject: bluntly. "Mr. Potter, have you ever done something strange, something unexplainable? Have you ever wondered to yourself 'Why do I seem different from other people'?"
Harry's eyes widened noticeably, though that was the only reaction they could see due to his baggy clothing. "Maybe..." he said slowly, "but what does that have to do with this school?"
"Hogwarts is a school for individuals with these special talents," Flitwick took over explaining even as he passed an envelope over to Harry. "It is a school of magic, and we've come to hopefully convince you to attend and thereby prepare you for introduction to the magical community in Britain."
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Harry took the news better than they expected him to, and guessed he'd already witnessed enough cases of accidental magic to not be too shocked. After that they began to outline a bit about the courses offered at Hogwarts, and both demonstrated a bit of their own discipline as an example. The two professors thought they had completely reeled him in, until they hit the first snag of several.
"We had a tough time tracking you down, Mr. Potter," McGonagall was saying. "After all, the address listed at the school stated you were living in Little Whinging. How did you come to be living in this old building? And where are your guardians?"
This time Harry's reaction was more obvious. His eyes narrowed in anger before he stood up with fists balled at his sides. "How do you know about that?" his voice came out almost in a snarl, and both swore he was actually growling somewhere deep in his throat.
"Peace, Harry," Flitwick tried to placate him. "We were just curious because it is anything but normal to find an eleven year old living alone in an abandoned building. In fact, we were told you were raised with your mother's family in secret after the night you defeated You-Know-Who after he attacked your family."
Harry's blank stare was their answer for several moments, before he slowly said, "An attack? No, my parents died in a car crash."
After a shared glance, Flitwick and McGonagall sighed and began to illustrate the events surrounding Voldemort's (and what a process it was to finally get one of them to say his name!) bid for power. And that led to the second snag...
"What the bloody FUCK do you mean my parents are still alive!?"
"Mr. Potter! Please calm yourself!" McGonagall tried to take control of the situation again.
Harry outright ignored her. "If my parents are alive, why in the seventh circle of Hell was I not raised by them? Why would they place me with those fuckers at Privet Drive?"
Flitwick tried to calm him down. "Harry, your parents were put into a magical coma that night. They've been placed in a private ward at St. Mungo's-Britain's magical hospital-and the very few people that actually know about them have taken a magical oath of secrecy. Your aunt was supposed to tell you this, as well as your true history, but it's becoming rapidly obvious she did not fulfill her duties as a temporary guardian."
Harry had been pacing this whole time like a caged animal, shoulders and twitching every few seconds as he tried to reign in the impulse to bound around the place. He was getting claustrophobic just staying in the room as is.
"I want to see them," Harry's voice was iron and eyes harder than stone. "Today. I want you two to take me there."
McGonagall sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She was supposed to deliver another three letters that day, but that seemed out of the question at this point. "After we collect your school supplies, we can show you how to reach St. Mungo's by yourself so you may visit them at any point afterwards." She raised her hand to stall his oncoming objection. "I can't claim to know how you feel right now, Harry, but believe me that leaving the sickbed of a loved one is near impossible, and you will be in no mood to shop afterwards if we visited them first."
Harry had stopped pacing, and instead turned his emerald eyes on her. She inwardly noted that they were just as vibrantly green as Lily's own, but that Harry's actually seemed to shine with some inner light. Perhaps she was assuming too much, but she would have wagered that they would glow in the dark.
After another minute, Harry gave a slow nod. "Fine, we do it your way. Now let's go, every second we waste is another that keeps me away from my parents."
Flitwick was wearing a grim smile, happy that they were able to turn the boy's anger before it became truly a problem. "Alright, we'll depart shortly via Apparition. Muggles would call it teleporting, if you're familiar with the concept. You may test for a license when you turn 17, the age of majority in the magical community."
Harry gave a dry laugh. "Do I ever," he thought to himself. "Better keep this all secret though, it sounds like it's pretty strange for a kid to have controlled magic at my age and I don't want any more attention than what I'll likely receive."
McGonagall offered her arm, and he cautiously approached before placing his hand in hers. "I'll bring you with via side-along Apparition. Be sure to keep a tight grip, and be ready for a slight squeezing sensation. This is usually disorienting for first-timers, though you get used to it eventually."
Harry had no time to think or respond before it felt like he'd been sucked through a very, very narrow tube. He tried to breathe, but there was no air and the pressure was crushing the breathe from his lungs. He tried to move, to escape the feeling that had already thrown his claustrophobia into hysterics, but there was too much force...
And suddenly it was over, and he fell to the ground gasping as he instinctively curled up into a ball. It was only through sheer force of will that he didn't port away on reflex. "Jesus! That was worse than the time I had to dive into the Thames after my knife! No way am I ever doing that again!"
After a few moments he composed himself and shakily stood up. Both professors were giving him sympathetic looks, remembering their own first experiences with side-along Apparition (which was much worse than when one actually directed their own destination) but worried on the obviously stronger impact it had had on the boy.
"Professors, I'd just as soon walk a thousand miles than ever do that again," Harry finally found his voice, strained by the sudden shock to his system. "If there's any other possible way for us to travel around later, let's please use that instead."
"Noted, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said. She directed him down the plain alley they had appeared in. "We just landed at one of the Apparition points for Diagon Alley, the primary magical shopping district in Britain and best place to locate your school supplies. But first we'll need to stop at Gringotts, the wizard bank."
At his confused look, she continued, "Your parents set up a trust vault when you were an infant to provide funds for schooling. You can draw from those to shop, but I must caution you on the proper use of your money. It would be a shame if you went broke before graduating, now wouldn't it?"
"Gringotts is run by goblins," Flitwick cautioned him as they neared the alley exit, where Harry could already see people bustling back and forth in a shopping rush. "Never, ever try to double-cross or cheat a goblin. Don't waste their time either, as they are always extremely busy. Now try to stay close, this will be a bit hectic."
That was an understatement. As soon as they rounded the corner, Harry's sensitive nose and ears were assaulted by a barrage of new smells and sounds. Harry swung his head back and forth trying to catalog it all before he became overwhelmed, all the while sticking very close to the professors to not be caught up in the crowd.
On one side, a witch was haggling with a shopkeeper over the price of frog livers ("Four Sickles per half pound! Absolutely outrageous!") while on the other side several teens were clustered in front of a shop window advertising the new Nimbus 2000 broom ("Sweeps all the old competition away!").
Every angle provided a new experience, and Harry was feeling quite overwhelmed by it all. Still, he managed to grin to himself under his protective scarf. "I can' wait to come back here at night to explore!"
McGonagall called his attention to the massive white marble building in front of them. After another word of caution and for him to not wander off, she began explaining wizarding currency and conversion rates to him. It was confusing, but Harry did his best to remember the odd rates between Knuts, Sickles, and Galleons. Money usually wasn't an issue due to his talents, but it never hurt to be careful.
He got his first glimpse of a goblin as they passed through the wide doors. Two warriors were standing at guard, pointed faces seemingly locked into permanent scowls. They narrowed their eyes at his full-body coverings, but did not comment on them.
After a short wait in line, they approached a surly looking teller and requested to visit Harry Potter's vault. Grumbling under his breath, the goblin inspected the key they presented for any trace of being a forgery before barking for another to take them down.
Griphook, as his name tag presented, was just as passively aggressive as the teller. McGonagall looked hesitant to get in the cart, though Flitwick appeared excited. Harry asked them why.
"The ride down to the vaults is usually less than settling," the witch replied as she sat down on one of the lightly padded seats in the minecart. "You'll have to forgive me for not being so passionate about experiencing it as others."
Griphook pulled a lever just seconds after they were seated, and Harry immediately knew why McGonagall looked sick at the thought. With stomach-dropping falls and extremely tight turns at a speed more suitable for the Autobahn, most people were likely to get sick. Harry was not most people, and indeed absolutely loved the feeling of whipping around at such a high speed.
In no time at all, they arrived at the vault. Harry handed over his key when it was requested and stood back as the door to his vault swung open slowly. His breath hitched at the massive pile of gold within, trying and failing to come to terms with the wealth he had compared to how he'd been barely scraping by for several years.
But even more important was the small pedestal set up about 15 feet into the vault. It tapered at the top to resemble a neck, and looped around it was an amulet Harry hadn't seen for three years, not since the accident when his cousin had stolen it from him and broken his disguise in front of his uncle.
Harry bounded forward faster than ever before, scooping up the charm and inspecting every part to make sure it was his amulet. It was simple, a teardrop-shaped ruby surrounded by an extra half inch of stainless steel on all sides connected to a similarly steel chain.
Even as he touched it, he could feel the magic within calming him, reaching out to try and fulfill his purpose. When he was younger he assumed it was just a silly feeling, but now he could recognize it as powerful passive magic keyed to his magical signature.
Aside from the necklace, there was a letter set on the pedestal that suddenly caught his attention. It was simply labelled "To Harry", and he gently placed it in one of the many pockets on his cargo pants before turning his attention back to the red and silver pendant.
"Mr. Potter, what is that?" Flitwick asked in a genuinely curious voice. "You seem to recognize it."
Harry looked back at the shorter wizard and taller witch, trying to come to a decision. The last time someone had found out his secret, he'd been severely beaten for it. Still, Harry could at least understand the need to have somebody holding his secrets in case he needed another to cover him in case of another accident.
After a few moments of fierce internal debate, Harry sighed and addressed the goblin. "Mr. Griphook? Would you mind giving us just a few minutes of privacy?"
Griphook raised an eyebrow in a questioning gesture, but nodded with a slight scowl. "Don't dawdle, please, I'll be needed at the surface shortly." With that he turned to leave the vault, waving a small hand dismissively at Harry's word of thanks.
"What was that about, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall's inner animagus was showing its curiosity.
"Professors," Harry began seriously as he turned to them, emerald eyes gleaming almost as bright as the torches set along the walls, "is there some kind of binding promise you can make? I have something I feel I need you two to know, but I don't want it to be spread around to anyone else."
The professors shared a significant glance. "You realize what you asked of us is an extremely serious subject," Flitwick asked him. "Magical oaths are not given lightly."
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't think this was important enough to justify it," Harry spoke, and for the first time they could hear the raw desperation in his voice. "Please, you'll understand in a minute."
Flitwick met Harry's eyes, and after a moment relented. Raising his wand, he spoke, "I, Filius Flitwick, swear on my magic to not divulge the secret which Harry Potter is about to reveal to me, so mote it be."
With a small burst of light from the wand's tip to signify the oath in effect, McGonagall repeated the actions. After her wand responded in kind, Harry began to speak again.
"Thank you both. I have a...well, a kind of secret that I think you both should know about. It's gotten me into trouble before, and it would make me feel a great deal more secure knowing you're able to help in case I ever slip up."
With that, he gently set the amulet back on its stand and began to remove the baggy sweatshirt. It revealed that there were cotton bandages covering the whole of his torso, which he then began to unravel to reveal navy blue fur underneath.
The professors watched in shocked silence, now understanding why Harry covered himself as he did as more and more of his body came into view. He was very lanky, and the fur covered every inch of him though it was very short and smooth along his face. Three-fingered hands worked deftly to remove the scarf, letting loose his shoulder length midnight black-still with a trace of blue-hair. Two pointed ears almost had McGonagall gasping, as much as Harry's fangs shocked Flitwick.
Harry stood before them, very much not looking like an eleven year old boy any more. Neither adult knew what to compare him to, but he closely resembled an elf based on lingering descriptions even centuries after they went into hiding. Their shock only increased when a spaded tail began to wave back and forth behind Harry.
"So you see, I'm not normal," he spoke with what sounded like bitterness mixed with resignation. "This amulet though, I think it was left to me by my parents. I'd always had it, but it was...lost...three years ago. I never thought I'd see it again."
Harry grabbed the necklace and placed it around his neck. Within seconds his appearance shifted to that of an ordinary human, looking like a small copy of James Potter still with his mother's ridiculously bright green eyes. The hair had darkened to pure black, ears rounded off, and his hands appeared as though he was simply holding his fingers together.
McGonagall gasped, and Flitwick grit his teeth at the next thing they noticed. A great deal of his upper body, both arms and torso, were covered in small scars. Harry seemed to notice, because he immediately threw his sweatshirt back on, followed by wrapping some of the cloth strips around his hands.
"Harry! What was that?" McGonagall was beyond shocked. "How did you come by that many scars?"
Harry grimaced, before his expression twisted to one of barely contained anger. "You asked me before why I wasn't living with my aunt and uncle any more, and I avoided the question. Now you have your answer."
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Fin.
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So, what do you think?
Like I said before, this is the result of a few different plot themes, though I'll take credit for being the first one to do a Harry-is-Nightcrawler fic. If that isn't true, let me know, and I'll concede to being second.
I hope to update this once a week, maybe once every two or three once the fall rolls around. I'm already super busy (two jobs, captaincy for the cross country team, and figuring out graduate school stuff), so adding schoolwork and my girlfriend back into the mix (she's working out of state right now) will be a bit much. Hopefully you'll like this enough to keep me motivated to keep writing.
A few things I want to address really quick:
Vaults. Harry only has his trust vault, that's it. Yes, I put the necklace back in there and a letter, but that's what he gets. He's not suddenly super rich in this story, nor does he really know what to do with the money he now has.
Dursleys. Harry hinted there was an accident there when he was 8. This will be revealed at a later point, probably when it makes the biggest impact. It was hard enough for him to show his appearance to the professors, he won't suddenly confide in them for everything, and they won't miraculously be on his side despite all the shenanigans he'll get up to.
James and Lily. Yes, they're alive and at St. Mungo's. No, they will not suddenly wake up the first time he goes to see them. I aim to have them be a big part of Harry's motivation at school, but I promise that eventually (very eventually) they will play a larger role in the story. What role that is, you'll have to read to find out.
OCs. I will introduce a few characters here and there, usually based partially if not entirely on characters from other series. I won't add an OC unless they serve a distinct purpose. That won't always be evident right away, but please trust that I do have at leat somewhat of a plan in mind.
Bashing. My theory is that a character doesn't deserve to be bashed unless they've done something prior to the start of this story, so don't expect Harry to suddenly trounce Ron or Draco or anyone upon getting to Hogwarts. For characters with some mistakes under the belts (Dumbledore) or outright crime (Lucius), it might catch up eventually, but not as a constant string of ridiculous situations that always put them is the worst light.
I think that's it for now, hope you think this is something worth reading. Leave a review if you can, constructive criticism is appreciated.
Rock on, doods! Gotta run!