Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and probably never will…
Once in a Blue Moon
A sharp crack announced Harry's arrival into a forest. A forest? Harry was speechless. All Uncle Vernon's talk about his freakishness was true! He never should have doubted him. Uncle Vernon was always right, wasn't he? After all, no normal person could grow their hair back overnight. No decent person could appear in a forest after simply thinking about the parents they never had.
Harry took a moment to glance around his surroundings. He was, to say the least, surprised.
He was in a large clearing in the middle of what seemed to be a densely wooded pine forest. It smelt like one of the candles Aunt Petunia would get for Christmas from her friends. Damp moss covered the floor, giving off a deep, earthy smell and pine needles snapped under his feet as he walked. The sky above was a beautiful cornflower blue, streaked with thin, wispy, white clouds. It was hot too, Harry's round, black glasses began slipping down his nose as beads of sweat formed on his brow.
When the Dursleys get back, Harry idly thought, I wonder if they'll notice I've gone. Not that it matters anyway. I can't very well go back now, can I! And that's if I wanted to in the first place…
Harry was pulled out of his thoughts by the most unusual thing about where he was: a little wooden hut. Well, it wasn't that little, but it was nowhere near the size of the Dursleys' house.
It was constructed of dark, vertical panels of wood with one small glass window and an old rickety stable door. Regardless of its rundown appearance, to Harry, it actually looked quite welcoming. Above the door, a small hand carved sign declared it to be the 'sanctuaire de la lune' – whatever that meant. Harry supposed it was French from the little he had learnt at school.
Did that mean he was in France? He certainly hoped not – it would take an awfully long time to get back to Little Whinging if he was. Uncle Vernon would go purple with anger, and that was never good.
Deciding that his best option was to see if anyone was home, Harry skipped over to the hut. He was excited, having never been on an adventure before. Rapping his soft knuckles on the hard wooden door, Harry hissed in pain as several splinters dug into his delicate hands. He'd worry about that later, he decided, there was an adventure to be had first.
After several minutes, lots of knocking and no reply, Harry reached up for the door handle. For all its benefits, there were times when Harry's height, or lack of it, was more of a burden than a gift. He twisted the handle and pushed the door, but to no avail: the door would simply not budge.
A wave of tiredness washed over him, which was strange because it was still morning. Now that Harry thought about it, he'd been tired ever since he got to this… place. It suddenly seemed like a brilliant idea to have a nap. Resolving to begin his adventure when he awoke, he wandered around to the back of the hut and lay down on a particularly soft, but dry patch of moss.
Harry fell into a deep but restful sleep, disturbed only by seemingly random images that his mind conjured up of a greying man. The man wore a smile on his face that reached all the way up to his amber eyes, making them twinkle as though they contained an entire galaxy. His smile was so real and encompassing that it made a dreaming Harry smile too. The man looked carefree, regardless of the tales of hardship and worry that were told by the creases in his face.
Harry instinctively trusted this man. He felt as though he could pour his heart out to him without hesitation, and have no regrets.
But something felt wrong. Like the man was missing something. Like something was holding him back. Like something…
Harry awoke with a gasp as an eerie howl tore through the woods. The darkness in the forest was so thick you could feel it, and Harry could only see his hand in front of his face because of the light of the full moon above. Surrounding the moon were millions of stars.
Harry had always loved the stars. He loved the idea that there was something more than what he could see around him, that there was more than this. The possibility of another Earth with its own people intrigued him. He felt that mankind was destined for the stars. There was so much out there just waiting to be explored. The concept of infinity amazed him to. It was difficult for him to get his head around, that there could never truly be nothing. But he took it in his stride. To him, it simply meant that he would never run out of places to explore
The sky above him was the most beautiful he had ever seen. Granted, he rarely ever left Little Whinging, but he often studied the stars whilst Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon sipped tea in the living room in the late evenings.
It reminded him of the man's eyes, the man from his dream.
Another heart-wrenching howl ripped through the trees, dragging Harry back to the present. It was much closer than before, perhaps 50 yards away, maybe less. Harry was frozen to the ground in terror – this adventure wasn't as fun as it first seemed.
Ever since Aunt Marge's dog, Ripper, had chased him up a tree, he had developed an aversion to canines, both great and small. This was obviously a large animal, which just made it worse.
In a panic, Harry stumbled out of the clearing and into the woods, away from the animal. He ran, tripping over tree roots and brambles, but always running. After several long, arduous minutes he stopped and collapsed by the side of an old, knarled tree. Panting, he gradually caught his breath back and slowly stood back up on two trembling legs. He was safe. The thing wouldn't chase him this far. He felt along the trees for guidance as he slowly, quietly continued his walk away from the wolf.
A rustling in the bushes about ten feet away from him caused him to go deathly still.
The branches parted with staccato snapping sounds, like fireworks, as a russet wolf bounded towards him.
The animal stopped, pausing for a moment to smell the surroundings. Its wet, black nose twitched almost unperceptively and its calculating amber eyes darted around. Moonlight glinted off its dark red fur. Its red gums were pulled back, revealing a myriad of needle-like fangs.
It was unlike any wolf Harry had ever seen before. It was red, not the usual grey, and had captivating, mesmerising golden eyes that twinkled with human intelligence.
A growl ripped free from the wolf's throat. It shook Harry to the bone. It was almost as though the air around them was trembling and crackling with sparks.
In the moment that the wolf took to lean back slightly, ready to pounce, Harry took off into the woods.
He sprinted as fast as his adrenalin-fuelled body would allow him. He was shooting through the forest quicker than he ever had before. But the wolf was still gaining.
With every stride he took, his glasses threatened to fall off. He hurriedly pushed them back up his nose with one hand as he continued on his path through the trees. If Harry had been calm enough to notice, he would have seen that every branch, bramble and tree root that had previously obstructed his path was rapidly receding away from him, as if by magic. For all the good it did, it wasn't enough. The wolf was gaining.
He heard the unmistakeable sound of tearing fabric as the wolf's claws tore through the back of his shirt, barely an inch from his skin. Harry kept running. He was determined to escape the inevitable.
Mere seconds later, the claws found their mark and he tumbled to the ground. Flashes of pain seared through his back. His eyes were clenched shut in a futile attempt to alleviate the agony. Blindly trying to stumble to his feet, he heard a skittering behind him and jaws clenched around his shoulder. Warm liquid was flowing freely down his back. He wished for the pain to end, but the blissful release of unconsciousness eluded him.
A deep, angry, yet mournful howl reached Harry's ears. It was different from the one he had heard before: it was filled with betrayal.
The wolf holding him stopped moving. Its ears pricked up before it flung him to the side. Harry flew through the air before his outstretched arm collided with a tree. A pain-filled crunch told him that it was broken. He slid to the floor in a messy, excruciating heap. His glasses smashed beneath him, the glass slicing his face.
He watched with blurry eyesight as another bigger, brown wolf with grey streaked fur entered his vision. It wasn't glaring at Harry's unmoving form, but the wolf to the side of him. Howling once more, framed by the pine trees, it charged at the first wolf, which fled in terror. The two wolves bounded off into the trees, snarling and growling aggressively at each other.
Harry tried to roll over, but the pain in his shoulder sent his vision swarming with black spots.
He let the darkness carry him away.
