Chapter 1 of A Wolf's Way.

Disclaimers: I don't own HP, wish I did. Bla, bla, bla, it's all J.K's.

Chapter 1.

With a blinding flash, Harry was back in the cupboard. 'Bastard, absolute bastard,' he muttered, rubbing his scar. 'Merlin, what time is it?'

I've no idea, lad.

Harry sat up in surprise, nearly banging his head on the ceiling of the cupboard. 'Oh, right, you're here,' he grumbled. First item on the list: Get away from the Dursley's.

Got a clippy-thing? There's an old trick we can use.

A paper-clip? Harry could almost feel the old wolf nod. 'Right,' he muttered, fumbling around for one of the battered paper-clips he remembered having. Finding a blue one, he unravelled it as Wulthric instructed, slowly picking the lock. Why he was trusting the creature was a little hazy, but it was either that or him sitting in a cupboard, then a hut, before being rescued by Hagrid.

We should be fine, Wulthric rumbled, I can taste the nightlight.

The lock soon opened with a satisfying "click" and he pushed open the door carefully. But, honestly, taste? He shook away the thought and crept out into the hallway. Harry did his best to ignore the pictures – he didn't need to be reminded of their putrid faces just before he left. Hold on, I think Uncle Vernon left his watch on the table. Correct in his thought, Harry grabbed the watch and strapped it to his right wrist. (Check the time: 11 o'clock sharp.) He snatched some odd bits of money that had also been left on the table as well. Slinking back down the hallway, he repeated the same lock-picking trick on the front door. He opened the door fervently and dashed out of it, not bothering to close it. Wulthric inquired about the action and Harry told him, 'I'm not coming back, am I? Let them be stripped of every item for all I care.'

He stumbled out into the night, already shivering from the cold.

Were you ever an Animagus in the last life, lad?

Yeah, I was a stag though.

At least it's four-legged; transform then.

After some struggle, Harry managed to – much to his pride. He was a large timber wolf and, after looking into a reflective enough puddle, looked just like Wulthric (apparently). To a zoologist, he'd be easily recognisable as his species: a blackish-grey back, gingery-white legs and a white belly, ginger snout and with some light ginger markings around his face. The only difference was that he had a ginger marking on his forehead, a lightning bolt obviously. After some inspection, Harry realised he was quite fluffy and had good, broad face and stocky build.

The question of where to go next preyed on his mind. After some rummaging through old memories, Harry'd decided,

We'll go down to the bus-stop, I swear there's some odd buses around this time.

He galloped away, howling and barking into the night. It felt just like flying: absolutely fantastic. The wind in his fur made Harry go faster and faster, his paws snapping twigs upon twigs.

Harry?

Mhm?

What should we do about the third side?

Dunno, depends on what house we go into.

Which ones are we ruling out?

Slytherin 'cause there's too many Dark supporters; same with Gryffindor but for the Light.

That leaves Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.

Honestly, I don't think I'd survive in Ravenclaw. There's no way I could convince the Hat to pet me in Hufflepuff though. I had a hard time getting out of Slytherin as it is.

Harry could hear Wulthric chuckle. It was deep, like the wolf's in the room. It managed to carry a baritone sound though, while the other's was much more scratchy.

Use me. I'm a dog, y'know, the loyal and trustworthy ones? Some might consider us hard-working even.

You're...you're going to trick the Hat into thinking I'm the Perfect Hufflepuff?

Thousand-year old dog versus thousand- year old hat, s'not a bad cop.

Brilliant! And with my influence, I'll be able to eventually get the House on my side.

S'not a bad cop, s'not a bad cop.

Harry agreed, quite fervently. After their chat, they soon arrived, so he made a quick stop to transform back before walking to the Little Whinging bus-stop, wrapping his rags around him tighter to alleviate some of the cold. It took some time for a bus to arrive and Harry got on it with eyes on his back. The driver seemed suspicious, but money shut the man up. Ah, humans, so greedy.

It was Oh-clock by the time they got to London (the trip had required two more buses and most of their money), then another 15 minutes until Harry arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry cursed quietly to himself, sweeping some hair over to cover his scar.

Entering the pub, Harry approached the sleepy bar-man. 'Eshcuse me shir? I was wonderin' if you are offerin' a room until the morning',' he said in a high-pitched voice, putting on a slight lisp. Tom peered down at the boy, wondering why in Merlin a small man like him was doing at his pub at midnight. 'What're yer doin' 'ere, young'un?'

'Oh! Uh, I dunno know, shir. I jusht woke up outside and I remembered about Da tellin' me to go to the Leaky Cauldron if I get losht.'

Tom sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'Alrigh', alrigh'. Yer can 'ave a place just 'til the morning', then I'll open up the alley so yer can go to the Ministry and report yerself lost, aight?'

'Yesh-shir!' Harry squeaked.

'Follow me then, lad.'

He did and was led up to a small, rickety room with an over-sized bed and bare, wooden walls and flooring. Tom brandished his wand and a mug of hot chocolate appeared in his hands. He handed it to Harry, telling the boy to "drink up".

Good act, lad, Wulthric muttered.

Harry nodded, slurping down the last of his hot-choc. He moved into the bed, wrapping the thin sheet tightly around himself. 'Night.'

Night.

And that's a roll! If you feel inclined, drop a review or comment. It's my first story so I'd enjoy feedback.

Mervyn out.