Harry got up groaning from the floor of what appeared to be the Great Hall. Looking blearily around him, he shrunk back from the sheer size of things and attempted to put his hands behind him. It didn't work.

After numerous blinking attempts to bend his elbows in a way they firmly refused to bend, Harry looked down—and yipped. Yipped? Sitting before him were two perfectly proportioned paws-- wild black fur outlining their distinctively animal shape. Harry jumped to his feet after that, sprawling majestically and feeling a heavy weight shift on his back. He ignored it, courtesy of the oddness of a new body, before more carefully placing each foot separately. He wobbled, and tentatively lifted up his—groan—tail.

Great, I must look like freaking Bambi, Harry grumbled in his head as he cautiously took two steps forward. Not only did I magically transform into what appears to be an overgrown Sirius, I can't even walk properly. Harry almost performed an eye roll—then got his first glance at the Great Hall.

Harry couldn't see much from this angle, but from what he could see the Gryffindor side was completely destroyed. He barked, leaping away from a herd of elephants looking dangerously unstable, and step by step the view began to clear. Hogwarts had been transformed into what seemed to be a zoo for disabled and mentally unstable animals of all shapes and sizes. Climbing jerkily onto a table, his blunt claws not being all that much help, he took a look at the room as a whole—and was amazed yet again.

Underneath each flying House banner was a parade of animals, and Harry smiled despite himself. Birds galore had taken to the air, reminding him of his own experience with the hundreds and hundreds of flying projectiles courtesy of the owl postal service. Looking down, he was pretty sure he saw McGonagall and a large array of cats sitting on the head table watching them. Wincing at what could only be Professor Snape, a vulture of massive proportions screeching the students down from the skies, he thought he spotted Dumbledore as well—as a snowy white owl with sparkling blue eyes looking on cheerfully. The fact that he didn't descend despite Snape's mad cawing added nicely to this conclusion.

Harry watched curiously as animals were dragging themselves to their feet unsteadily, and only then remembered Ron and Hermione. Spinning dangerously, he leapt down, wincing at the roll of fat that seemed content to settle on his shoulders and fly back with every move he made. Ug, you'd think that whatever this Ministry spell was—wait. The Ministry's spell?

The slight panic that had been developing after he had noticed Ron and Hermione's absence flared right into sprint-hard adrenaline, shooting away the brief amusement like it was never there. "Hermione?" Harry called frantically. "Ron?"

His voice only emerged in a painful yowl, and Harry tried to focus, his brain churning steadily along to adjust to yet another new dangerous situation, new world. Okay, this time, he couldn't speak with anyone, and they were all in animal shape. Harry was in some kind of lookalike Sirius get-up, which meant that the shape was individual to each person.

Harry quenched the voice in his head that was hissing no DUH and tried to think of magical moments when he had seen people transform into animals. Remus as a werewolf was definitely out—but wait! He was in a Sirius get-up--Animagus! This must be an animagus spell! Except he didn't know what Ron or Hermione's animagus shapes were— Harry squinted his eyes in frustration. The sheer amount of animals around him didn't allow individual investigation! Still, this was only the Gryffindor table—which made it all the harder. Harry squeezed his eyes shut only to open them again to stare cross-eyed at his new muzzle.

Okay Harry. You've been in this situation more times that you can count. This time—no, this year-- their shapes are going to reflect their personalities—and Hermione's going to be the easiest to identify there. She likes knowledge. Thus, she's going to be something curious among all the brave and noble animals here.

Harry forced himself to do more than a casual sweep, and really looked at the animals nearest him. They'd been sitting together on the benches, so they couldn't be far away. There was a parrot… no… a horse… ouch, and no… a weasel… huh, like Malfoy… and ahah! Terrier being helped up by a bushy tailed, brown otter. Ron and Hermione! Harry bounced off the table happily, loping around them and sticking his muzzle in their faces.

Slap!

Harry instinctively jumped backwards, his hackles rising and ears flying back with a growl. Snarling, he shuddered when a sharp stinging erupted from the end of his muzzle. Harry whipped his head directly toward the two of them, helping each other up. Except Ron and Hermione were no longer helping each other up. The otter and terrier were erect, growling fiercely and both cowering slightly in the face of his greater bulk. They—they couldn't be scared of him, Harry thought doubtfully, only then realizing the picture he must make. Relaxing with an effort, Harry lowered his tail and slowly began inching closer. But when the dog shot forward and bit him hard, eyes fairly rolling with fear, Harry backed up again, flattening his ears unconsciously and growling before becoming horrified. They—he—he was Harry! He wasn't going to hurt them! Ron, Hermione—it was him! Stop it, he didn't mean to--!

Ron and Hermione cowered some more from the mad barking and yowling that was emerging from Harry's mouth, and they turned tail and ran when Harry frantically leapt closer, gesturing to himself with his head. Desperate, Harry flew after them, quickly overtaking them. But then they vanished under the Ravenclaw table, and as much as Harry tried to fit his new body in, he could not. Left outside with only his head underneath the bench, he felt his tail tuck and he whined. Ron? He whimpered. Hermione?

But the otter only glared at him hard behind the terrier's protective stance, and when the tail came flying towards him once again, Harry scrambled away. He still got slapped though, and left feeling stung in more than his muzzle.

…

"Rejected once again, Potter?" was hissed in his ear. Harry jumped, immediately assuming his rapidly accepted crouch. He checked his corner once again, but there was no one there. Only him, him and his newfound desolation. Harry fell to his stomach once again, looking dazed at the gradually organizing mess that was Hogwarts. This Monday was going to be so nice, too…

"Ah, feeling sorry for yourself. A very Gryffindor trait, if I do say so myself--" suddenly was hissed again, and Harry faintly glowed with newfound anger, throwing what he had first believed was a sliding bunch of fat. It remained sturdily on his back, and he growled deep in his throat.

"Whoever you are, get off, now." He issued, and was momentarily astounded when a faint "For you, your idiotic Gryffindor majesty," reached his ears and—something-- slid neatly off his back. He found himself cornered by the meter-long, pure black snake looking menacingly back at him, and he cowered faintly before remembering he was the bigger animal.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," the snake drawled sardonically, as Harry growled and crouched, mentally calculating the distance of the leap above the snake's waving head. "I spit, my dear Golden Trio reject, and I don't only spit, I spray venom."

And just like that, Harry was back to why he was hiding in a corner in the first place. Sagging at the combined reminder and threat, the anger he was holding on to all but evaporated. How many times have I been in this kind of dangerous situation? How many times have I been abandoned to do it all on my own? Harry fell on to his stomach, stilling at the sting he could still feel from the slap. Hermione—no, the otter, glaring at him balefully from over the dog's defensive position, Ron—no, not Ron, looking at him with determined but outright terror. Harry's stomach turned over and his head fell to his paws. That's what he was now, a Golden Trio reject. Harry's eyes were the only things opened now, gazing desolately at Malfoy. If a snake could look surprised, it did.

"You must be feeling lucky that you can understand me even as a cross-species," the snake declared after a brief silence, with a slightly unsure edge. "Still kept your Parseltongue even as a wolf. Though it's useless now," the snake announced with a sneer, apparently recovered from Harry's unexpected behavior. "because as a snake, I can understand snakes now. Your only good Slytherin quality—worthless now," Malfoy finished with a flourish.

"And you think that matters?" Harry answered blankly in reply, knowing he should care when the snake deflated slightly.

"Of course," the snake snapped back, raising itself haughtily. "Always in the spotlight, our Boy-Who-Lived, the Speaker of the Snakes. Now you're only a wolf, and an extremely ugly wolf at that—your eyes are disgusting in that state. Even you're scar's gone, hidden beneath all that horrid fur. And to top it off, your so called 'loyal' friends abandoned you. Oh, the loveliness of living life as a Gryffindor."

Harry almost smiled, his teeth emerging from his gums in a show that was utterly chilling in anything but a human. "Malfoy."

The snake's head immediately jolted to Harry's face. Stopping the gentle swaying it had begun during the rant, it glared, contemplating. Finally lifting himself up again, Malfoy fanned out in the distinctively cobra flare. "Yes?"

Harry smirked at the brevity of the reply, lifting his head arrogantly and flicking his ears sideways. "You finally managed to push the right wrong buttons. Stop stalking me."

"But I can't, your clueless highness and now my horrifically bad-insulting partner!" Malfoy shrieked, in a mockery of worried fright. Tossing his head to the ceiling in search of idiot-mocking deities, Malfoy continued on in a snarky, taunting tone. "Because you see, my dearest highness, while you were sulking, I noticed something very particular! I can understand you, without such a cheat as Parseltongue, where others cannot. Thus, you are stuck with me, as your sole link to the outside world of popularity. Do you see any other wolves that you might talk to around here? I think not. More importantly, you seem not to have the slightest clue in how to operate previously mentioned wolf, so necessarily you need me. I, however, am stuck with you as well, as I need a communicative ride and discrete hiding place. This whole thing is mutually beneficial, you see. "

"When have you even been mutually beneficial, Malfoy?" Harry snapped, getting angry despite himself. He had just been rejected by the whole of his world, and the monstrosity that was Malfoy wants to use him so he didn't have to slither?! The attitude towards him, the animal shape, the outright cruelty and gesturing– it was so blatantly Malfoy that Harry was astonished he hadn't seen it earlier. Rising slowly to his feet, a glint appeared in expressive green eyes. "And I'm a dog, not a wolf," he threw back, just to further prove Malfoy wrong.

But Malfoy didn't take the first bait, being the type to only pay attention to the last of the sentences stated. Watching Malfoy posturing ridiculously, Harry just became more and more livid as the sheen of black before him began swaying in tune with a song of mockery only Malfoy knew the words to. "Of course you're a wolf, you idiot. What else did you thing you could be? With the gigantic fangs waving in front of Mudblood's and Weasel's face—what, you think they'd be scared of a dog? The Grim, the GRIM!" the snake sang melodramatically, adding even more swing to his half-foot off the floor waving. "Though, then again, they are Gryffindors," the snake finished, snapping his gaze back to the barely-controlled Harry "thus, I suppose they would be scared by a big, black dog…and of course, they might have become the slightest bit more terrified when your fellow snake began rising dutifully above your head as the embodiment of evil… " Malfoy finished, a cruel sneer evident in his hissing.

That was all Harry could take. "YOU DID WHAT!?" Harry roared, "YOU—YOU—" almost induced to incoherency, the rage was thundering so strongly in his bones, Harry could only scream "DEATHEATER CHILD!" before his body was moving on its own and the writhing black snake was pinned beneath him. Screaming his rage at this new world, this terrible, new, PREDICTED world, he almost missed the quiet hiss beneath him, the only subdued words he had heard today from the now still snake.

"Potter, I warned you not to."

And then he was jumping back as Malfoy reared and venom came streaming out of his mouth in an explosive spray. Scrambling madly for his wand with a paw, Harry howled and retreated, crouching and blinking green eyes as rapidly as he could. He saw the enemy, a long, purpled strand of black in a corner of black, and he drew upon the power that had always saved his life. One paw reached out, ready to cast and expel all the power he had inside through a wand that was emotionally and magically his-- but he encountered nothing.

Draco could never describe the depths of exhaustion that entered the black wolf's eyes then. When it was happening it was like a thunderbolt, so sudden and terrifying that he lost all the power of the breath of poison he was about to release. When he was older he recognized what made it so, the combination of desolation, resignation, expectance and exhaustion, all rolled together in one terrible glaze, just too much to bear. But Draco was never, never able to describe it to anyone, not even himself, not properly, and when Harry slumped and his head went back onto his front legs, Draco's body followed him without a thought.

They sat in silence for a long moment, then Draco, always the first, finally spoke.

"Potter."

No response.

"The world is not over because you lost an argument with me," Draco tried.

Still no response, though Harry's head twitched a little.

"I will breathe a puff of poison on you that will kill you before you can even blink."

Harry's head didn't even shift this time.

Alright, that's enough, Draco thought, annoyed that he cared. But his ride was right here, and it wasn't getting up. In addition to that, despite all his protests, Draco had meant what he said about needing Potter as a ride—he'd grow nowhere politically in his current body. Only the Slytherins would listen to a snake, and there were more venomous and greater than him present within them. And, as much as he hated to admit it—Draco had witty, cutting banter, but Potter had charm.

"Alright, don't answer me," Draco stated flatly, drawing himself up and snapping his tail imperiously. "But I'm going to answer you, because though your question was very badly phrased, I believe it needs to be addressed." Draco didn't even wait for an answer this time, though he did blow a bit on Potter with only the tiniest amount of venom. Potter started and Draco snapped his tail again. "To you, no, I am not a Deatheater's child, in the idea being that Father is a Deatheater. I don't know where you got that impression, but it needs to be set straight. In addition to that, your statement—excuse me, question—could be interpreted as I am a Deatheater, as a child. Impossible. I do expect more out of you, Potter. You of all people should know that no animals are evil, snakes included."

As Draco had somewhat hoped, the insinuations that Harry was being biased, among numerous others such as his father not being a Deatheater, roused Harry from his stupor. Draco happily received a glare, though as a snake it was easily to not outwardly show it.

"I didn't judge you because of your shape or even your House, Malfoy, I judged you because of your character. Now shut up and let me mourn the loss of my magic, friends, and life."

Now Draco would be having none of that. "Life can't be lost if you're still living, Potter," the snake said cheerfully, and the tone was so clear that even Harry heard it. "Now, what's say we go do a look around at our new home slash world slash life? I need to go curse my father for not warning me in advance."

Harry picked himself off slowly, placing each paw deliberately on the ground before settling himself and shaking his fur off slightly. He was surrounded by figurative devastation—but as even Malfoy had brought up, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, had expectations placed upon him, so many expectations. And one of these obligations was that he'd get up from every situation, abandoned or hurt or even, as he occasionally received the hint, dead and fight it with his all and win. Even Malfoy—even Malfoy was expecting him to get up and help. How ironic, that one of the people who ruined his life wanted his help, and he had to give it so he could face all the other people who had ruined his life. Not that it could be ruined, Harry admonished himself, looking up at the familiar surrounding and not the inside of a cupboard. Even the stabbing pain of the betrayal of his friends—no, he'd experienced worse. It seemed Malfoy was right in the first experience of Harry's life—not that he'd needed Malfoy's help, obviously, to know that life could always be alright if he worked at it.

Draco was downright flabbergasted when Harry offered his back to him. He wasn't exactly offering it, persay… but Harry was not moving, having stationed himself just besides Malfoy, and it was sitting there, waiting for him. Despite all he had done—scared the Golden Leeches away, mentally dehabilitated Potter to the point where even Draco was pushing at his conscious, Draco's general I-HATE-YOU attitude for years, combined with this last, hateful goading against someone who wasn't feeling so good in the first place—Harry was still going. Was following his advice. Knew that life wasn't over until you dropped. Offering himself to a potential enemy but a useful resource like a Slytherin. Draco's life was ending—people like this did not exist in this world—and he knew it. It was thus with great trepidation that Draco mounted Harry's back.

Fortunately for Draco, Harry had just pep-talked himself and was shining with optimism, meaning he started trotting off without a word to Draco or otherwise. This meant that Draco was being ignored, and being ignored was something Draco was very used to, and very much detested—resulting in Draco recovering himself in the space of approximately two seconds. He decided to place his head on one of Harry's ears, a fact Harry did not much like and after a brief twitching tussle it ended in words, Draco's specialty.

"Malfoy, stop it."

Draco just settled himself more comfortably on Harry's head.

"Golden Trio reject. You wish."

Harry snarled.

A/N--

Hello everyone! It's nice to see I have some readers… reviews are appreciated too! I'm hoping my writing will get better and better as this goes on—and comments on it (transitions are fluid/off, phrases are clear/unclear, ect) are very helpful to keeping me writing. Anyway, some notices on where I think this fic is going…

First off—this is planned slash. Albite very light slash, but it's going to be there.

Secondly—I edited a few key pieces of info in chapter 1, such as what kind of snake Draco is, so if you have time to look back feel free!

Thirdly—oh yes, and the characters aren't mine. I'm disclaiming—it's all, as we know, Rowling's. And Warner Bros too, if they're included. Thanks for reading!