Icy Destiny

By: xxlostdreamerxz

Disclaimer: No I do not own HP. No Slash.

A/N: Sorry about the long wait. I kinda forgot that I finished this chapter.

Bold Flashback

'thoughts'

Chapter 2: A World Apart

When the world has turned its back to you, who could you turn to?

December 1, 1987: (2 hours later)

The hours dragged on at an agonizingly slow rate and though each being cooler than the last, it had not yet reached an intolerably freezing temperature yet - or so he thought. At the moment, Harry was too busy mopping about (and crying for the matter) to truly take note of the rapidly darkening sky and the howling wind. Harry, with his simple five-year-old mentality, had yet to truly accept the fact that his father had left him. But, all the same, he was not dim enough not to understand the implications of his temporary abandonment - it was a punishment.

He had done something wrong.

And yet, try as he might, Harry couldn't seem to fathom what in the world he had done wrong. His last memory consisted of him and his father taking a boat trip on their private lake. His father had seemed slightly distant, but was still the warm, caring person that he'd grown to love. He...

'...he broke his promise,' a voice in his mind stated darkly. 'He left you...'

Harry frowned. No, that wasn't right. His father wasn't like that! His father was a great man! (At least in Harry's eyes). His father had always been there for him ever since his mother had been killed by a rampaging Muggle murderer. He had always been there to help him up whenever the world became too dark and cold. Harry loved his father! His cheeks, which were already flushed from the cold, turned cherry pink as he flushed in shame. Was he so ungrateful that he would turn against the only person who'd ever cared about him without a second thought?

The voice snorted. 'Your father doesn't deserve your loyalty, boy.'

"He'll come back for me when he's finished his task," Harry said, as he ignored the voice. "I know that he wouldn't leave me!"

"Foolish child," the voice chided. "Loyalty is a double-edged sword. Do not listen to your heart..."

Harry shook his head. "Father will come back," he shot back stubbornly, "I trust him. I know him. He wouldn't do such a thing! He is better than that!"

The voice chuckled softly at Harry's words. "You are just as stubborn as that mule of a father of yours," it stated in mild amusement. "Very well, may you welcome the future with open arms, childe." And at those words, Harry felt the slightest tickle as the voice left his mind.

Much to say, Harry couldn't help but feel slightly unnerved. It was never a good thing to hear voices in your mind was it? Especially one that referred to him as 'childe.' But...from what he remembered, his father had once mentioned to him (out of the blue that is) that such voices were slightly prophetic. They were the voices of the Fates, the three witches in charge of managing the mortal affairs. These witches were powerful. So much that should someone accidentally anger them...

...well lets just say, it wouldn't be pretty.

But, none of this made sense. What business did one of the three Fates have with a little squib like him? Harry knew that he was nothing special. Heck he couldn't even do magic! (much to both him and his father's disappointment). With a soft sigh, Harry decided that it would be more prudent to concentrate with the matter at hand. He could reflect upon the Fates words some other day. Right now, he had a task to do. A stubborn glint entered his emerald green eyes. He'll show his father that - squib or no - he would be able to survive in such a terrain.

Harry shivered violently as he felt the bitter wind tear through the thin sapphire blanket of his. It was cold, he noted dimly for the first time today. Horribly cold that is. The snow which had been falling down peacefully, was now swirling about in a mad frenzy. Distantly, he heard the sound of wolves howling in the background.

'A werewolf?' Harry thought worriedly, as he quickly scrambled to his feet. If there was anything in the world he feared, it was a werewolf. A year or so ago, his father had agreed to take him to Knockturn Alley (due in part to Harry's persistent pleads) and it was there that Harry had met his worst nightmare. Somehow while his father had been making purchases, Harry had wandered away and had gotten lost. And unfortunately for him, Harry had accidentally entered a notorious bar for werewolves and vampires. Though, Harry had to admit now that he looked back - he was bloody lucky that his father had shown up. Or else, he thought with a shiver, he'd most likely have ended up as 'dinner.'

Without missing a beat, Harry quickly grabbed his blanket and the silver knife that his father had left him before hightailing out. If it was a werewolf, he sure as hell wasn't going to stay and find out...

X

Flashback 1 year ago

"Delicious," a voice whispered huskily near his ear, causing Harry to flinched backwards in both fear and surprise. "Young flesh is absolutely delectable," the man muttered half to himself, as his feral yellow eyes glowed with hunger.

Harry's eyes widened in fear as he hastily backed away from the 'crazy' man.

"Aww...leaving so soon?" the golden-haired man said in a mockingly gentle tone, as he made to block Harry's path. "We haven't gotten to know each other yet."

"I...I..."

A slow cruel smile grew upon the man's mouth as he smelled the boy's fear. "My name is Garou, pack leader of the Ceyx," he whispered softly, as he clasped his hand tightly upon Harry's shoulder. "And you are?"

"No one to you," Harry said defiantly, as he met the werewolf's eyes. "And if you don't mind, I will be leaving now," he said as politely as he could, before ducking under the man's arm and bolting. Only to be caught by one of the man's companions.

Garou bared his teeth into a dark smile. "Well as a matter of fact, I do mind," he said cruelly. "After all, from this day and out, you will be my personal...playmate."

Even though Harry did not understand what the man was saying, he knew well enough that it was something bad. His emerald green eyes darted about the perimeter of the club as he searched desperately for an exit. He had to get out...

"What if I don't want to play with you," said Harry, trying to buy himself some time. "I need to go home..."

Garou and his men let out a dark bark of laughter. "Well child, that's just such a shame," he said in between chuckles. "Because you really don't have a choice in the matter." The man bent down so that he could look eye to eye with the child. "You are mine," he said possessively as his eyes darkened with lust.

"No," retorted Harry, as he shook his head violent. "I belong to no one but myself. Daddy told me so."

"Oh, well then you 'daddy's' a liar," the man murmured, as he leaned closer and closer to the child. "After all, you will serve me until the day you die."

Harry flinched away. But, his eyes widened in relief as he noticed a familiar figure strolling through club towards him. A pair of older, wiser, emerald green eyes met Harry's, urging him to remain silent and continue with the game.

"You're lying," he whispered fearfully, as he backed away. "You can't make me," Harry said defiantly, his voice gaining strength and power. "I was told that we are all in charge of our own futures and that there is no one in heaven or hell powerful enough to say otherwise."

The werewolf chuckled at the boy's words, as he turned towards his companions. "Aren't innocents just so...delectable?"

Without knowing why, Harry's stomach churned in disgust at those words. "You're nasty," he spat, making sure to spit in the man's face. "No wonder people hate werewolves..."

There was a moment of silence, as the werewolves glared at Harry with a mixture of anger and fury. No one, wizard or no, had ever insulted them in their face before...

Garou was the first to recover from the shock. "You filthy rat," he roared, as he backhanded Harry, causing the boy to fly off his feet towards the wall. "I'll show you..." the werewolf stopped short, as he noticed for the first time a tall aristocratic man standing in the corner.

"Who are you?" he demanded instantly, all thoughts of the boy disappearing from his mind. "How did you get in?"

The dark-haired man did not reply.

"Answer me, wizard!"

The dark-haired man tilted his head back slightly as his cold emerald green eyes met Garou's startled yellow ones.

Ice. That was the only word Garou could use to describe those frosty chips of emerald. Never before in his entire life, had he ever met a wizard who scared him. After all, as far as he was concerned, wizards were weak, foolish, wand-waving idiots...

...but, this wizard was different. He was powerful.

"You have 3 seconds," the wizard stated coolly, his face a stony, unreadable mask. And at that, the wizard gently hoisted a bundle of shaking robes into his arms before disappearing with a soft 'pop.'

It took a second for Garou to realize that said 'bundle' that the wizard had taken away happened to be his new green eyed child-toy.

It took another second, for him to recall and puzzle over the wizard's last words...

However, by then it was too late. A dark green glow enveloped the entire building killing all those who were unfortunate enough to be within the perimeter of the club. All those, save for one individual, were killed or burned to crisp. And it was here, that the legend and wrath of the imminent Dark Lord Voldemort first began...

X

A small white falcon shivered lightly as it flew defiantly against the strong winter breeze. He knew that he had to find shelter fast - his instincts demanded it. He released a loud squawk of desperation as he scoured the white landscape for a sign. At the moment, he would have appreciated pretty much any form of shelter. It was cold...so cold...

There! His sharp golden brown eyes narrowed as he caught sight of a unusual fleck of blue in the large sea of snow.

And with his eye fixed upon the now visible blue bundle, the falcon began a steep dive. Momentarily allowing the icy wind to bolster his speed, the falcon shivered as he tried his best to stay awake. And at that, the falcon managed to successfully land abet a tad nosily into the soft fluffy snow, causing the 'unusual blue bundle' to jolt upright at the sound.

Harry looked up hopefully. The soft 'poof' sounded almost like Apparation. 'Had father returned?' A slow smile grew on his lips as his puffy red eyes surveyed his surrounded with renewed vigor. Hastily he wiped away his tears, now feeling slightly embarrassed at his moment of weakness. He should have known better! His father would never desert him!

"Daddy?" he called out, as the wind screamed in his ears. "Daddy are you there!" Idly, Harry pulled the sapphire blanket tighter about himself as he shakily rose to his feet. His eyes sparkled in delight as small white snowflakes began descending from the sky. He had always wanted to see a genuine snowfall ever since he was a child. It had been a sort of dream of his; he had always held a passion for snow. Harry's lips widened into a cheery smile. So that was why his father had left him here! So that he could see the snow, so that he could experience the beauty of the weather! Shivering lightly, Harry hugged the blanket tighter.

It was so cold!

Harry frowned lightly. As much as he loved the weather, he couldn't help but wish his father would stop hiding. After all, what fun was it to marvel at the landscape by yourself. He wanted someone to talk to. Someone to share his thoughts with. "Come out wherever you are!" he called out loudly as he spun about cheerfully, waiting impatiently for a pair of familiar strong arms to lift him up. "I heard you 'pop' in Daddy! Stop hiding!"

The silence was deafening.

A sense of helplessness gathered in his chest. 'Was I hearing things?' he thought numbly, as all his doubts and fears crashed down upon him once again. He didn't want to be alone.

Not again...not like before.

Mustering up all his courage, Harry pushed away his doubts. His father wouldn't do such a thing! His father was a great man! Ever since his mother had died, Harry had looked up to him for support. And not once had his father let him down. His father had always been there for him to pull him up when he fell. He had always been there to offer a kind word whenever the world became to dark and cold.

Harry felt a flicker of shame. Was he such an ungrateful child that he'd turn against the only person who'd ever cared about his in a matter of seconds? Harry felt his stomach churn both in apprehension and disgust. He shouldn't have doubted his father so soon. He respected his father...and for that alone, Harry knew he should have been able to see through his fears and reveal the truth. His father would never leave him in such a fashion. It just wasn't his style.

:Caw:

A small frown glanced Harry's lips at the sound. 'A...crow?' his mind supplied hesitantly, as it noted the absurdity of such a statement. Crows were temperate creatures. They needed warmth and a plethora of bugs in order to survive. And during winter, Scotland did not provide either in even the barest minimum. 'Crows could not live in Scotland especially in this weather,' his mind concluded firmly.

:Caw:

Harry tilted his head slightly, as he caught the sound of another weak caw. Now hit with an extreme case of curiosity, Harry slowly followed the noise. Taking care to watch his step (after all, it would do him no good to accidentally kill the creature), Harry slowly made his way towards an unusual medium-sized hole within the snow. Cautiously, he carefully scoured the ground for any potholes before stepping closer towards the hole...

And froze mid-step.

A tiny white falcon laid on its side, as it desperately tried to crawl back onto its feet. The ice was so slippery that its tiny talons couldn't manage to get a firm enough grip to get up. And Harry noted with a flicker of sadness and pity, that the falcon was almost at death's gate. As the falcon caught sight of Harry, it flinched backwards and tried to fly away. However, due to the ice and water, the falcon's wings were heavy...much to heavy for flight, causing it to flap about like a headless chicken.

A surge of compassion and guilt flooded Harry's veins. He felt sorry for it - for the beautiful creature who had to suffer such a cruel fate. A creature who would not even receive a peaceful death due to its fear of him. Not knowing why, Harry stepped forward and carefully leaned down against the edge of the hole. His emerald green eyes staring meeting the falcon's panicked golden ones.

"Shhh..." Harry whispered softly, as he stared down at the poor slowly dying falcon. "I won't hurt you," he said gently, as his emerald green eyes glowed enticingly with warmth. "I want to help you...," he paused as he corrected himself "I will help you, but I need you to trust me..."

The falcon paused as it glanced deeply into the boy's eyes. He did not trust humans, ever since his own beloved dam was slaughtered by hunters a winter ago. He had hated humans since. But, this child was different. The child's innocence and goodness radiated for it like a beacon. He could feel the child's magic pulsating at its core - different but pure. He felt the magic throb warmly, as if recognizing his attempt to study it. For now, he decided, he would trust the child...

"See?" he said warmly. "That's better now isn't it?"

The falcon shot Harry a wary glance but gave the bird-like version of a nod, before cawing weakly.

Making sure to keep his movements slow so he would not startle the falcon, Harry reached down and scooped it up carefully. "Now I'll...I'll..." he paused, as he tried to figure out what to do next. For the first time since he caught sight of the poor falcon lying eagle-spread at the bottom of the ditch, Harry realized how hopeless the situation was. He couldn't do magic! How in the world was he suppose to save it? He had gotten so used to depending upon his father for any magical assistance...

As if feeling Harry's uncertainty, the falcon withered about nervously.

Interpreting the falcon's flinches as shivers due to the cold, Harry quickly wrapped the bird up with his blanket. Just enough to keep the bird warm, but not enough to suffocate it. "There!" he said cheerfully, as he surveyed his work with pride. This was pretty much the first time he'd ever successfully wrapped something up.

The falcon breathed in the boy's magical scent. It was so warm and invigorating. Slowly as time passed, the bird's shivers decreased with each successive breath the boy let out. The falcon didn't understand, but he knew that the boy's very breath was life. It was magic at its most basic form. It made him stronger both physically and mentally. It made him feel as if he was now strong enough to take on those horrible winter winds and win. Cooing in delight, the falcon scooted closer to Harry who in turn giggled lightly and petted the 'beautiful bird.'

"Are you alright now?" he asked gently, as he eyed the bird critically.

The falcon cawed brightly and nipped Harry's finger lightly, as is saying his thanks.

Harry smiled sadly, as the snowstorm began to worsen. "I guess we'll just have to face this together..."