Disclaimers: I own nothing. I do not own these characters or a lot of the places mentioned in this story. They belong to all those who hold rights over them in all forms. I am just using them for the purpose of fanfiction.
It was a warm, slightly breezy day in Little Whinging, Surrey. In number four Privet Drive, Harry Potter was getting in after his morning run. Ever since summer began, and he had heard the prophecy, he had been training hard. Whenever Moody was on duty, he taught Harry some advanced dodging techniques that were not normally taught until the second year of Auror Academy. So far his summer had seemed pretty normal, all things considered, but this was not a normal summer. However, no one had told Harry that.
Outside number six Privet Drive, a moving van was parked up, with no sign of a moving crew. Harry Potter looked out his window at it, with a questioning look on his face. When did Mr. and Mrs. Next Door finally move out? And why? Did they finally get tired of Aunt Petunia spying on them? Seeing a boy about his own age carrying box's from the van, Harry decided to go down and help. It would do to make a good impression before Uncle Vernon's slanderous statements about where Harry went to school reached the new neighbours ears. It would also help to take Harry's mind off Sirius's death. Once outside, Harry took a deep breath, and felt the hot air burn his lungs. Other areas of the UK were experiencing a mysterious fog, but Little Whinging was having another heat wave. Approaching the boy, Harry cleared his throat, causing the boy to turn at a slightly alarming speed and with great balance. Cobalt blue eyes, under black and purple hair, seemed to strobe over Harry's appearance and soul, and then flicked towards Harry's exposed scar.
"Do you want a hand?" Harry asked, slightly surprised that there were no moving men around, and at the boys sudden eye movement to his scar. It made Harry a little weary. Behind him Harry heard Moody move forward slightly. This caused the boys eyes to flick towards Moody's general direction.
"Um… yeah, if you don't mind," the boy said. He had a thick American accent. Harry smiled to himself. If there was one thing Uncle Vernon dislike more than layabouts and wasters, it was teenagers, particularly American teenagers. They were, to his mind, the opposite of everything that was respectable. To him, they were guilty of everything that was wrong in the world. Also, they were guilty of not been Dudley.
Harry smiled, and grabbed the nearest box to him, deciding that if this was a Death Eater in disguise, Moody would have dragged him away before he had even opened his mouth, or else he would have been carted off to Voldemort.
"My parents should be back shortly. My dad is after getting a new job as regional manager at Grunnings and that fat pig of a director wanted to meet mum and the rest of the family. He meet me yesterday, and I think my appearance put him off. What a stuffy idiot."
They were now in the living room, with Moody stomping behind them, unheard to Harry. Harry got his first good look at the boy. He was tall, slightly taller than Ron, with a large, powerful build. His black hair was spiked, with purple tips. His eyes were cobalt blue, and he had a ring in one eyebrow. His cloths seemed to scream 'Goth', and Harry could make out the bottom of a tattoo poking out from under one sleeve of his t-shirt. No wonder Vernon had taken a dislike to him. This teenager looked the precise opposite of Dudley, and Dudley was, to Vernon, the personification of a perfectly normal life. Once they had put down the boxes, the boy extended a hand.
"Don't think I introduced myself. Xanther Bishop," he said with a large grin. Harry noticed that his canines were longer than normal.
"Harry Potter."
"Really? Thee Harry Potter? The-boy-who-lived?" Xanther looked slightly stunned, with just a hint of hero worship in his eyes.
"I take it you are a wizard?" Harry groaned.
"Yeah. Sorry. I can't believe it. You are like a hero to some of my friends back home. Well, you are a hero...." he said, trailing off.
"Well, that's fun to know. Wonderful to know," Harry said sarcastically. Seeing that this had made Xanther seem uncomfortable, and not wanting to give credit to whatever rumours Xanther was likely to hear off his Uncle or at Hogwarts (for Harry was sure that this stranger would be going to Hogwarts, as he was living in close proximity to it), Harry added, "Sorry. Maybe I can make up for that little outburst?"
"Well, could you get your friend to take off his invisibility cloak? That would help. It's really annoying."
Grudgingly, Moody removed his cloak.
"How did you know Moody was there?"
"I…. um…. have very good hearing and smell."
For some reason, he looked uncomfortable again. Harry just smiled.
"Come on. Let's move the rest of these boxes inside. There are only a dozen or so left."
(Later that night….)
Harry got comfortable on the plank that his aunt and uncle called a bed. He had spent the evening with Xanther. After getting all the boxes in, they had unpacked some of them under Moody's watchful eye, and left the rest 'as a surprise for mum and dad.' They had spent the rest of the evening talking and listing to music that Xanther termed 'techno rave.' Moody called it noise. Harry enjoyed it.
Harry learned that Xanther's mother, Rachael, was to be the new Runes Professor at Hogwarts, and that she had only taken the job because her husband, Xanther's step-father, had gotten the job at Grunning's. Xanther had two younger brothers, and a little sister. They had talked about their lives, what positions they played on their respective Quidditch teams (Xanther was a beater), and generally everything that they ever wanted to achieve. It was the most in-depth conversation Harry ever had with someone, even more personal than any conversation he had with Ron or Hermione. By the time Harry went home, about the time Xanther's family and Uncle Vernon were arriving home, Harry was left with the impression that a great friendship was ahead of him. He even had an invite to come round the following evening.
"Not the morning," Xanther had warned him. "I'm not a morning person. I might end up biting you." By the looks of it, he wasn't joking.
When Harry got home, not even Vernon's snide remarks put him off.
(Meanwhile in number six….)
Xanther stared fearfully out the window. The full moon was rising, and fast. His mothers wards would hold, they always did. As long as no one entered the back yard of the house, Xanther had no reason to fear. Quickly, he bolted down the stairs, shedding his cloths as he went. His step father and the rest of his family wre safe in their rooms. Slowly, he felt his mind ebbed away, as pain coursed through his body. Within moments of him entering the yard, a large werewolf, larger than any seen in any part of the world for some time, stood on its hind legs, and howled. It was confused by its new surroundings. There were no familiar scents here. Except one. Another wolf was in the yard, a female, his subordinate. His mother.
(Next morning….)
"Their bloody dog was howling all night long, now a bloody crazy drunk in the garden. What's next? Satan and his twelve vampire brides? This used to be a respectable neighbourhood, and now drunks and obsessive dog breeders."
This rant was what Harry woke up to the next morning. Harry snuck downstairs, avoiding his family, and stuck his head out the front door, just in time to see Dung Fletcher been helped into the back of a police car.
"Bloody werewolf….. Dumbledore…… or Figgy. FIGGY, HELP," Dung screamed.
"Alright sir. Calm down. The men in white coats have been called, and they are bringing you a nice jumper with extra long sleeves. You'll like that, wouldn't you?" said a young officer.
"Any chance of a stiff double whiskey?" Dung groaned.
"I think you have had quite enough sir," said the officer, after an amused look was shared with his fellow officer.
Harry smiled, and made his way back up to his room, in order to get ready for his morning jog.
(Some time later….)
When Harry finally heard Tonks wheezing behind him, he decided that enough was enough and he turned back. Another twenty minutes brought him back to number four, and a hot shower. Once he had changed into some cargo pants and a light sweat shirt, Harry realised that there were three letters waiting for him. Opening the one with the Gringotts seal, Harry began to read.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Our condolences on the passing of your godfather, Sirius Black. We would like to inform you that, on the twentieth of this month (July), the reading of Mr. Blacks will is scheduled to take place. As you are the main beneficiary of the will, you are required to attend. If you wish, a goblin can be sent to escort you to this meeting and back again, just tick the box at the bottom of this letter. Be advised that, if you are unable to attend, then the reading of the will can be put back, unless you instruct your legal guardian otherwise. If you tick the box below, then you are agreeing to come, and even if you instruct your legal guardian otherwise, you are expected to attend.
May your gold flow and your heirs be many,
Broketooth, Black Family account manager.
Harry sat stunned for a moment before ticking the box. He then reached out for the second letter, which turned out to be from Dumbledore.
Harry,
You may not have been informed, but the reading of Sirius's will is to take place this month. If you get a letter from Gringotts, decline to go, despite what they say. Your safety is paramount. I will take care of everything.
Humbly yours,
Albus Dumbledore.
Harry just tossed this letter aside, before moving onto the final letter.
Harry, IGNORE any letter Dumbledore sends you in regards to the reading of Sirius's will. He is a manipulative old man that will try and scam you, that is why Sirius invoked the old pure blood right that the beneficiary is compelled by old magic to attend. Dumbledore has been using the Weasley's, and lately, Hermione, to spy on you. Take care of yourself cub, Remus.
This took Harry by surprise. Lying back on his bed, Harry began to ponder the letter sent by Remus. Now that he thought back, several things did not make sense. His first year for example. The Weasley's were a pure-blood family, why would Mrs. Weasley have difficulty finding the way onto platform 9 ¾, she had gone to Hogwarts herself, and had several children who were either attending, or had attended, the school. And why would she go shooting her mouth off about muggles in a train station full of muggles? It was convenient that they just happened to be passing Harry at the time, and that Ron was starting Hogwarts at the same time. It was also convenient that both Ron and Hermione made friends with him—the 'only' two people who were able to help him get to the Philosophers Stone, plus all the bad stuff he had heard set forth from Ron and Hagrid about Slytherin. As for second year, why would someone like Ron stick with Harry if he knew that Harry could talk to snakes? Ron had said it himself, that was a trait of the Dark side, and Ron's family were firmly on the light side. Hadn't Ron proven it in later years, during the Triwizard Tournament, that he was capable of dumping Harry if he thought Harry was even slightly less than reputable? When it came to Hermione, a brown nosing, by the book goodie-two-shoes, why was she so eager to break the rules by making the Polyjuice potion, something that not only broke school rules, but was also against wizarding law, unless you were an auror or a licensed potions master? It was also convenient that she was the only witch, beside a select group of sixth and seventh years, who was able to make it. And why was it only Hermione that had made the connection between Slytherin's monster and Harry's apparent 'dark' gift? Surely Dumbledore would have been able to do that?
As for third year- again, bad things set forth about Sirius, but had Dumbledore, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, ever thought of ordering a retrial for Harry's godfather, under truth serum, if he knew it was the wish of Harry's parents that Sirius should take him? Then there was the bit about Sirius been the secret keeper for the Potters. Did the Longbottom's have a secret keeper as well? And if so whom, and why did he or she break the charm if all the death eaters were not captured. It was also convenient that Remus Lupin was on hand to explain various things to Harry, and that the Dementor's were on hand also, forcing Harry to spend so much time with Remus. As for Remus himself, surely the Board of Governors knew before they hired him that he was a werewolf? Or was this just a ploy by Dumbledore, to drip feed Harry information and then dispense with the person doing the informing if they posed some sort of threat? (What form of threat Remus posed at the time was unknown to Harry. It was hardly the fact that he was a werewolf).
Rolling off the bed, Harry made his way out of the room, his temper at boiling point. He didn't want to go on like this, thinking ill of his first friends. He stormed out to the back yard in order to start his chores. He was part way through weeding the rose bushes when a shadow fell over him. Looking up, he saw Xanther grinning down at him. Harry narrowed his eyes at him. He looked a little ill. Like Remus did after the full moon.... which was only last night.
"Hey, are you coming over? Mum can't wait to meet you, and she wants some help finding this Diagon Alley. She is out talking to your guard now."
Harry grinned. It was amazing how fast he and Xanther had fallen into the feeling of being old friends, and how casually Xanther talked about Harry's guard. Standing up, Harry noticed slight bags under Xanther's eyes.
"Just let me get changed."
Inside, Harry pulled on the only clothes he had- Dudley's old cast offs, while thinking about Xanther. Could he be a werewolf, and did it really matter to Harry if he was? There were ways to control it now; people did not have to lose their minds anymore. Taking the stairs two at a time, he walked into the kitchen still pondering the 'Xanther Problem,' as he had come to call it.
"Look at him," Petunia was hissing at Dudley. "He is not as respectable as you Duddykins. Look at that hair, and that HORRIBLE ring in his brow. And what sort of name is XANTHER??"
"Better than Duddykins," Harry muttered under his breath. This earned him a dirty glare from Petunia, and a confused look from Dudley.
Harry strode out of the house and straight over to Xanther, grinning. Why not give him a chance?
"Well, I'm ready to meet your mom and show you Diagon Alley," said Harry, throwing a smirk over his shoulder, and happy to see a look of surprise on his aunts face.
Xanther gave Harry one of his strobing looks. "We definitely need to get you some new clothes man. Elephant skin is so out of fashion. Actually, was it ever in fashion?"
Author note: O.K. People, this is the edited version of the first chapter of my story. Similar yes, the only big difference is that I have added some things to it, edited some things, or extended some things. Wasn't happy with how it read overall, and I have to thank some people for pointing out some mistakes, which in turn brought about the extension of this chapter. Firstly, The-Resident. After reading your review, I am planning on giving Xanther's mom a bigger part in later chapters (those focused around Hogwarts). Secondly, to David305, who seems to have infinite patience with this story, and I would like to say, I got a Beta, who is the third person I would like to thank. Live long and party.
