Dance of the Full Moon

Sakura Hanamoto

Chapter 1: Bite to Break Skin

Eight-year-old Harry Potter had long since learned to keep out of the way of his relatives throughout the week. It had become a part of his daily routine, and they knew and just let it be, after all, the less they had to look at the "freak", the better.

Every morning, during the school year, Harry would get up early enough to get ready for school and make breakfast. He'd also figured out that the Dursleys always seemed to know when he snuck a piece of bacon, or a bite of eggs, so he settled for a single slice of sparsely buttered toast for breakfast. Once the table was set for breakfast, he'd wash the dishes as the rest of the household awoke. Just when the pounding of Dudley's fat feet began to resound coming down the stairs, Harry bolted from the house, running to school, an old notebook, with yellowing paper held in his hand, and a pencil with a worn down eraser in the pocket of his over-sized jeans.

He didn't have to see Dudley until class actually started, and only had to put up with the blonde boy and his gang during recess and lunch. Harry never ate lunch, instead he just sat, staring into nothing and ignoring the growling from his stomach.

Once class was over for the day, Harry hurried to the nearest library, Dudley, and none of his friends would ever set foot in a library, so he was safe from them there. He settled in at a table near the back and got to work on his homework. On occasion, the one librarian, Mrs. Miller would help him with something he didn't understand, but usually, she left him to his own devices, knowing the boy wouldn't get into any trouble. When the school work was complete he'd browse the shelves for something to read.

Harry had discovered the library purely by accident about two years before; he'd been running from Dudley, he was exhausted and there was a stitch in his side that was slowing him down. He'd wished to reach somewhere safe, and as if by magic, he'd somehow ended up standing before the front entrance of the library. He practically slammed into the doors in his hurry to hide. Dudley had never found him, nor did he ever figure out where his smaller cousin went everyday since then.

Although his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were convinced that Harry was an idiot and would never amount to anything, just like his useless mother and dead beat father, Harry was reading at the adult level, and capable of using vocabulary most average adults had never heard of. He simply chose not to, if only to avoid unnecessary attention being brought on him. If anything, most other people who knew of this could have called him a genius, or a prodigy in just about any field.

Mrs. Miller was attempting a new recipe she'd acquired from a friend, she'd spent close to twenty years begging for it, and when she finally got her hands on it, she had a hard time getting it right. Following the directions to the letter didn't seem to help either. She approached Harry with the silence and grace of a cat, which was an accomplishment for her age.

"Harry dear, could you give me some advice with a recipe that I just can't seem to figure out?" she requested. Harry looked up from the fantasy novel resting in his hands and smiled.

"Certainly," Harry closed the book and slid it back onto the shelf. Mrs. Miller led him to the back room where Mrs. Miller had been eating. She sat the raven haired boy down and he lifted the fork and took a bite. He frowned thoughtfully as he chewed before taking two more bites. Mrs. Miller handed him the note card the recipe was written on, and he skimmed over it. He took one more bite, chewed slowly and swallowed.

"Well?" Mrs. Miller waited expectantly, but patiently.

"Did you put enough salt and basil?" Harry asked her as he examined the plate of food before him. It was delicious of course, but it felt incomplete to him in some way. The recipe was for some kind of casserole that was supposed to be a full meal on its own.

"Yes, the exact amount," she replied. Harry thought for a moment longer, leaning back in the chair.

"Add a pinch of paprika, to give it a little kick," he said slowly. Mrs. Miller nodded, and Harry went back to his browsing.

XxXxXxX

Harry always left the library at five thirty sharp, any later would get him in trouble. His aunt and uncle didn't care if he never came home, but he was supposed to make dinner every night, unless there was company, then Aunt Petunia did it and locked Harry away in his cupboard. He shivered and pulled his shirt closer to his body, winter was coming in fast, and as a result, the sun was nearly completely set.

Harry turned the corner and glanced up at the sky, it was a clear moonlit night. The moon was full, casting an eerie pale glow over everything. He was on the street that Mrs. Figg lived on. She was the batty old woman who owned a ridiculous amount of cats. She used to baby-sit Harry when the Dursley's didn't want to take him with them to some event. Harry paused when he heard a few leaves crackle, but passed it off as nothing. He continued on his way. There was a rustle in the hedges in the nearby alley and a deep, low growl accompanied it. Harry halted and stared fearfully.

From the bushes, the largest dog he'd ever seen in his life stepped forward, maw agape, and saliva dripping in large rivulets from its long teeth. Harry took a step back as it slowly advanced on him. It stepped into the light of the moon and Harry bit down on his lip to keep from screaming, this couldn't possibly be a dog. It was just too large, and its anatomy was nothing like a normal dog's, the legs were overly long, and by the shape of its hind legs, it could stand on them without much difficulty with balance. Harry continued to retreat, his hands brought up in a surrendering gesture.

"N-nice doggy," he murmured quietly. His breath coming out in puffs of steam. It continued to come closer, Harry stepped on a twig and its growling increased in volume and took on a far more threatening tone. "That's a good doggy." Harry continued. Honestly, he saw no point, a dog couldn't understand him, and this one showed no signs of running off. Harry continued to back up until he ran into a light post. The dog halted for a moment, and then it pounced.

XxXxXxX

Jennifer Thomas was a woman that could not be surprised or horrified by any type of injury. Being a doctor for the last twelve years had seen to that, but what she found on her front lawn as she stepped outside to head to work would haunt her for the rest of her days.

A small, thin boy, dressed in what looked to be old, ratty, baggy clothing lay on her lawn. But what shocked her most was that the blood-stained clothing on his entire right side had been torn away to reveal the skin underneath. Adding to the picture was a horrendously large bite on his bicep and long, deep scratches on his chest.

"Oh my God," she dropped her briefcase and her thermos of coffee and ran across the wet lawn towards the boy. Kneeling by his side, she checked for a pulse, trying to calm her racing heart. Upon finding a very weak pulse, she ran into the house and called to her husband. "Ben, call an ambulance!" She cried. Her husband, who had been sitting at the dining room table, finishing up a cup of coffee leaped up to see what was wrong. The sight that greeted him made him pale and run back inside. He grabbed the phone and dialed.

Ten minutes later, and ambulance was blaring down the street. By now, a rather large crowd of people had gathered as Jennifer did her best to stop the bleeding. It was a miracle the boy was even alive. The crowd parted for the paramedics rolling the gurney across the lawn. Jennifer rose and spoke to one of them.

"I'm Dr. Jennifer Thomas," she introduced herself.

"Dr. Thomas, how is he?"

"Barely alive, the fact that he's still breathing is a miracle, please, hurry, I'll follow behind you in my car," she told the paramedic. He nodded and helped load the small boy into the back.

XxXxXxX

Vernon Dursley was a man that refused to be called a "looky-loo", but he couldn't quell his curiosity as he passed by the Thomas home to see an ambulance parked outside. He parked his car and hopped out, if anything, at least he'd have something of interest to tell Petunia when he got home from work. He pushed through the crowd just as the paramedics were loading a small form into the back of the ambulance. He caught a glimpse of wild black hair and the remains of Dudley's hand-me-downs.

"Boy!" he snarled as he approached the paramedics. The three men loading the boy looked up as they were securing the gurney.

"Sir? Do you know this boy?" the one that had been speaking to Jennifer asked.

"Know him? That's my nephew; he never came home last night!" Vernon roared, his face slowly turning red. The paramedic raised an eyebrow.

"You never bothered to call the police and tell them that your nephew was missing?" he questioned the larger man. Vernon looked away from Harry's still form and turned his heated gaze to the paramedic.

"I hadn't thought of it, it's probably his own fault," Vernon muttered. "He's been nothing but an inconvenience to me and my wife since the day he was dumped on our doorstep when his good for nothing parents died." His face had gone from red to an interesting shade of maroon in his agitation.

"Very well, what is your name sir?" the paramedic questioned while the others rushed to finish and jumped into the back, closing the doors as they did. The driver started up the ambulance and turned on the siren.

"Vernon Dursley," the large man said through gritted teeth. The paramedic nodded before jumping into the passenger side of the ambulance and it drove off, taking Harry with it. Jennifer pulled out of the driveway and followed behind the ambulance closely.

XxXxXxX

Harry felt numb, everything was fuzzy, but the lights made his head throb uncomfortably. The bed he lay on was much more comfortable than the pile of rags and blankets he used as a mattress at home. Just as he finished his thought, he attempted to sit up, only to cry out in pain. A nearby door opened and the sound of foot steps approached.

"Try not to move Harry, you're too injured still," a kindly female voice spoke to him. He allowed himself to relax a bit.

"What happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me that. I was leaving for work yesterday morning and found you on my front lawn," the voice spoke. "I'm Dr. Jennifer Thomas by the way." She told him.

"Harry Potter," he responded, his voice coming out in a hoarse croak. Jennifer picked up a paper cup with a straw inserted in it and held it to the boy's lips. Harry drank the water greedily, glad to quench his thirst. Memories from two nights ago came flooding back to him. "I was attacked by a really big dog." Harry told the doctor once he finished drinking.

"Can you describe it?"

"Its legs were really long, and it was skinny and tall. It was a grayish color, but it was dark so I couldn't really tell. And its teeth were really long."

"Tell me Harry, was it having a hard time standing, was it falling over, or foaming from the mouth?" she asked him softly.

"No, it looked healthy, I guess, I don't think it had rabies anyway."

"I see, thank you Harry, that saves us a bit of trouble, you rest for now, you lost a lot of blood, I'll come back once you're awake again," Harry nodded and closed his eyes, allowing sleep to claim him.

XxXxXxX

Jennifer walked down the halls of the hospital. Harry had been drifting between life and death since he'd been loaded into the ambulance. His condition hadn't stabilized until yesterday afternoon when the blood transplants had been completed.

She closed the door to her office and wasn't surprised to see a tawny owl sitting on the ledge of her open window, a scroll of parchment tied to its leg. She took the scroll from it and the tawny nipped her finger affectionately as she reached for an owl treat. It took its reward gratefully and munched on it. Sitting down she unrolled the scroll and opened it up.

Dear Jennifer Thomas,

Thank you for informing me of this new development. I'm grateful to you for finding him before it was too late. Please let me know when I could come and pay him a visit, and also keep me informed of his condition.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Jennifer sighed, based on Harry's description; the "dog" was a hell of a lot more than just a dog. She got up and pulled a book from her shelf and flipped through it. Unlike most other books, this one related certain types of bites that one didn't find often in the Muggle world. She found what she was looking for and massaged her temples. The dog that had attacked Harry wasn't a dog at all, it was a werewolf.

"Bloody hell, this boy is in for a rough life," Jennifer murmured before reaching for a clean sheet of paper and a pen on her desk and began to write.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

There has been an unexpected development; the bite Harry received was from that of a werewolf. If it is possible, I would like a professional to come and take a look to see if he has contracted the Lycanthrope Virus, and where we should go from here if he has.

Sincerely,

Jennifer Thomas

She folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope. Addressing it to the old man, she tied it to the owl's leg and watched it disappear into the afternoon sky.

XxXxXxX

When Harry next awoke, it was to the sound of his stomach rumbling loudly. 'So hungry.' He thought as he turned his head in search of someone. The first thing he noticed was that he was seeing everything with crystal clarity despite the fact that his glasses were not present. The next thing was that the smells of the room and the area nearby was beginning to overwhelm him. Harry winced as he sat up and looked down at himself. His chest was bare, while five long gashes trailing from just below his left collar bone down to his belly were stitched up and thick heavy bandages were wrapped around his midsection and right arm.

"Oh, Harry, you're awake," Harry turned to see the female doctor he had spoken to before. She looked to be in her early forties, with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She smiled at him and stepped forward. The boy noticed a man standing behind Jennifer, he was dressed in a white lab coat like the one Jennifer wore, and underneath it was a button down shirt and a pair of jeans.

"Hello Dr. Thomas," Harry said. Jennifer approached his bed and moved to the side so that Harry could see the man clearly.

"Harry, this is Dr. Edward Blackmoore, he's here to perform a test on you," Jennifer explained.

"What kind of test?" Harry asked her.

"It's a simple test to see if you've caught anything from that dog that attacked you," Dr. Blackmoore spoke up. "Don't worry son, it's perfectly harmless and shouldn't take any more than five minutes." Harry nodded.

"Okay then," Harry said.

"Great, Dr. Thomas, could you please shut the blinds," Dr. Blackmoore requested. Jennifer quickly drew the blinds of the window that looked out into the hallway and stepped outside to speak to a nurse before reentering.

"Okay Dr. Blackmoore, go ahead," she gave Harry a reassuring smile when his eyes told her that he was a little nervous.

"Now Harry, I need you to lie back down and close your eyes," Dr. Blackmoore told him. Harry quickly did so. As his eyes closed he caught a glimpse of a vial Dr. Blackmoore was pulling from his pocket, whatever it was, it was bright silver. He felt some cool liquid dripping lightly onto his chest. "Don't worry Dr. Thomas; this won't affect his stitches at all." The man told her. "Now then, here's the moment of truth." The doctor drew his wand from his other pocket and held the tip to the pool of silver liquid on Harry's chest. Whatever he murmured was too quiet for the other two in the room to hear. "Oh my, Dr. Thomas, please contact the Professor, I'll explain things to young Harry here." With a flick of his wrist, the silver disappeared from Harry's chest and tucked his wand away. "You can go ahead and open your eyes now Harry." Harry did so and sat up again.

"So, what's wrong?" the black haired boy asked softly.

"Well Harry, the dog that attacked you wasn't a dog at all," Dr. Blackmoore told him as he pulled the chair against the wall towards the bed.

"It wasn't?"

"No, it was a werewolf," the man told Harry.

"A werewolf? But they don't exist!" Harry exclaimed.

"They do exist Harry; I wouldn't expect you to believe me since you've grown up with Muggles, but rest assured they really do exist."

'Muggles? What's that?' Harry asked himself. He didn't ask the question aloud but chose to listen to the doctor instead.

"But, you're quite lucky though, a special medicine has recently been perfected that you can take to help with your problem."

"Will it get rid of whatever I have?"

"No, no, we haven't come far enough to curing the Lycanthrope Virus yet, however, this medicine will at least make you a tame werewolf when you change," Dr. Blackmoore told him.

"Change? Like at the full moon?"

"Precisely, I'm certain that Dr. Thomas can provide the medicine for you. Now, I'm sure you're quite hungry, I've noticed that IV drips are hardly satisfying to the appetite, so I'll go ahead and have someone bring up some food."

"But, what is this Lycanthrope Virus? Does this mean I'll always be a werewolf?" Harry asked.

"Unfortunately yes, you will remain a werewolf. Unless a cure is found during your lifetime, then this is your fate. But to answer your first question, the Lycanthrope Virus is an infection that can be passed on in two ways. First, is if you bite someone while in werewolf form, they will contract the virus; it is very rare for it to not happen. The second method is if a werewolf and another normal person have a child together, there's a chance that the virus will pass on to the child. It is because of this that the werewolf population is not permitted to marry or have children.

There are many laws concerning werewolves, so many people see them only as monsters, prejudice is still very strong in this world, you will find when you get older that there are some people would only want to kill you because of what you are." Dr. Blackmoore rose and have Harry's uninjured arm a reassuring squeeze. "You will also find people who will accept you for who you are, myself, and Dr. Thomas are two of those people. Now, I will get you something to eat, and I wish you luck in the future Harry Potter." The older man stepped from the room and disappeared.

XxXxXxX

When Harry was released from the hospital, the Dursleys had been reluctant to pick him up. However they did, not wanting to get in trouble for neglecting the boy. When they arrived, Dr. Thomas spoke to his aunt and uncle about changes in Harry's diet and what they needed to do in order for him to remain under their roof. Once it was time to go, she gave Harry a hug. Harry gave no response, unsure of what to do. She released him and smiled.

"I'll be by in two weeks to give you your medicine, I'll see you until then Harry, and remember, no one is supposed to know about it, okay? You and your family can get in a lot of trouble if anyone else is to know."

"I understand," Harry told her. "Until I see you again Dr. Thomas." He waved to her as he slid into the seat beside Dudley and the family drove off.

Okay, so this is my first attempt at a Harry Potter fanfic, so please don't be too hard on me. All types of reviews are welcome, including flames. Insults don't bug me too much. Anyway, each chapter title will be the title of a song that either the title or the lyrics have something to do with the chapter. First person to guess correctly will get a cookie! Please review and tell me if I'm doing something wrong, but don't just say that this story sucks or something. That pisses me off. Thank you for reading.