A/N: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters other than those I have made up myself.
3 years later
Seven-year-old Harry Potter walked into the lounge room, to where his mother was seated, reading the Daily Prophet. The room was spacious and cosy at the same time, the fireplace blazed merrily with a bag of Floo powder on top of the mantelpiece. Hanging from one wall was a series of pictures of the Potter family, though Harry was usually not present within the photos, mainly focusing on James and Anthony.
Harry had always wanted to play with his mother or his father like a normal boy but whenever he asked either of his parents, they always claimed to be busy, or too tired. Yet their actions revealed at how they really felt. They only had no time, or they were too tired for Harry, because whenever a four year old Anthony walked into a room, his parents would drop everything to satisfy whatever he wanted.
He sat next to his mother, her long red hair falling past her shoulders, her beautiful face looking tired as she read the important happenings of Britain.
"Mum, can you play with me?" Harry asked.
"Not now Harry, can't you see I'm busy?" Lily snapped back.
Harry merely sighed. He had almost predicted the words Lily had said, and she didn't disappoint.
Every day, Harry would try and do something to simply gain the attention of one of his parents, from simple things, like copying his father's habit of running his hand through his messy black hair, to extremes.
He would scream at night, even though he had no nightmare, just for his parents to come rushing to his room and comfort him, but they did no such thing. He even doubted they knew where his room was.
He would hurt himself so that his parents would hold him while he cried, reassuring him everything would be alright, giving him looks of sympathy. But whenever he broke his arm, or cut his leg, he would get no compassionate gestures from his parents. He had to deal with the injury by himself.
He would try daring things, hoping his parents might see and congratulate him for pulling such a stunt, or at least tell him off, saying it was dangerous. But no such reaction occurred. He merely received indifference.
Nothing Harry did was worth the attention of his parents. He was trying less and less to be noticed, he was caring less and less about how his parents thought of him. Harry was about to leave the room when his younger brother walked in.
"Mummy! Can I has a cookie?" little Anthony asked, his innocent face, looking imploringly at his mother.
Lily Potter looked up from Daily Prophet and without a seconds hesitation she responded. "Sure thing sweetheart, mummy will bake you a big batch of chocolate cookies."
Harry was sick of the affection that was lathered upon his little brother. Getting everything he wanted whenever he wanted it. As Lily got up to make the cookies, for a fraction of a second, her eyes lay upon her other son. Harry saw the look, and instantly knew it was not one of love. It was almost an accusatory glance, saying 'Why couldn't you be a hero like your brother?'
Harry slowly walked to his room, going up a set of stairs and a ladder to the attic. He looked around and felt a sense of pride. Whenever he went to his room, Harry would always feel he had accomplished something. After all, Harry had basically created his room from an empty, plain space.
After the burning of the house at Godric's Hollow, the Potters had bought a huge 2 bedroom house, as they had 'no need' for a third bedroom. It was complete with 3 bathrooms, a duelling platform, a training room and many other extravagant accessories. Harry was forced to find a liveable space on his own, and after an extensive search of the house, he discovered the attic.
It suited Harry just fine, as it was relatively clean, nothing a bit of elbow grease (or magic) could remove and it was out of the way of the normal hubbub going around the house. After a day of cleaning and tidying up, Harry had succeeded in making the attic sleep-worthy, and a few days more, it was spotless, comfortable and cosy.
However it was not perfect. When winter arrived, Harry understood the true meaning of cold. The biting wind seeped through the thin layer of insulation, the regular downpour of rain leaking through minute holes in the roofing, forming puddles within the attic.
Harry had to clean up the puddles before any mould could set in, plug up the leaks in the roof and reinforce the pitiful insulation. He did this over two weeks, discovering all the holes and where the insulation was thinnest, and during it, each night became a battle just to survive, huddling against a wall, covering himself in blankets, trying desperately to keep warm.
He had refused to go down from the attic, to the main house despite the freezing temperatures, for that would show he was weak, dependant on his family. Harry wanted to be independent; he needed to be from the way his parents acted. He would be in the wide world on his own, without any support from his family.
And during the summer, the conditions were no better. The sun, ever relentless, made sure that the attic became a boiler room, only a single window to ventilate the stifling heat. Harry had to resort to a Muggle method of staying cool, an electric fan. He had tapped into the neighbour's wiring and was literally stealing their electricity, albeit only to power a small fan; it would barely be noticeable to the Muggles.
It ventilated the stuffy air, a fake breeze ever blowing through. Harry had even thought of trying the put another window in, but it would require too much time and would raise too many questions as why would a small kid would order a pane of glass and everything needed to build a window. And it would leave him vulnerable to the elements as the window would be installed and Harry didn't want to risk it.
Harry was brought out of his thoughts when he heard someone banging on the front door. He knew that his mother would be in the kitchen making the cookies and Anthony wouldn't be bothered to open it. His father was out at work in the Ministry and wouldn't be back until late.
Harry sighed and climbed down from his room and trudged to the door. He opened it to reveal a tall man, his long black hair framing a handsome face, eyes alight with mirth.
"Uncle Padfoot!" Harry shouted, before launching himself at Sirius Black.
Sirius laughed as Harry tackled him with a hug. "What has my godson been up to today?"
Harry's face, so happy and cheerful, suddenly shifted, becoming distant and sad.
"I tried again to get their attention but they still don't do anything for me and they constantly fawn over Anthony."
Sirius grimaced at his bad choice of words. The news of the continuous mistreatment of the Potter's first-born infuriated him. What kind of parent would ignore a child just because his brother is a celebrity? Ever since Anthony had defeated Lord Voldemort, Harry had been cast aside, disregarded and neglected.
Sirius took every opportunity to visit Harry, but alas, the love of a parent can never be replaced. Harry was deprived of the affection every child should experience. Each time Sirius visited, Harry would be a little more withdrawn than before. The effects were barely noticeable but over time, it would build up and who knows what Harry would do when he couldn't take it anymore.
Sirius had wanted to say hello to the Potters, as they were good friends but he realised Harry needed some cheering up.
"Come on Monsoon," Harry chuckled at the use of his nickname which had come about during the experiences fighting the elements when he was working on his room, "what do you say we go to Diagon Alley for ice-creams at Fortescue's?"
"OK!"
Sirius held out his hand, which Harry held onto tightly.
With a loud pop, Sirius and Harry disappeared from the Potter House.
Walking down Diagon Alley with his godfather will always be a memory Harry would keep forever. If fact, any time spent with Sirius would always be memorable. Harry had a lot of fun, probably more than seven years with his parents.
Sirius took him took him to Flouish and Blotts, Quality Quidditch Supplies, looking at all the different brooms, Eeylops Owl Emporium and many other stores. He even treated him to a grand lunch at the Leaky Cauldron and bought him a gift.
As Harry sat on his bed, late at night after Sirius had taken him home, he admired his new companion. A peregrine falcon with silver edged wings, fastest living animal on earth, reaching incredible speeds, stood sleeping on a perch Harry had bought at Magical Menagerie. He clearly remembered the occasion of when he had bought his companion.
-*Flashback*-
Sirius had brought him to Magical Menagerie where Harry browsed, amazed at all the different animals, staring at the assortment of cats, lizards, fish, toads (although he wasn't very interested in them), all the weird and wonderful kinds of birds and all the other different pets.
At the back of the store, Harry found a magnificent vicious-looking bird, perched on a log in a cage. He stood enraptured by it, staring at its silver edged wings, like they were reinforced with steel. The bird in turn regarded him coolly, indifferent to the hand reaching out towards him.
Suddenly a voice shouted a way behind Harry. "Be careful! That bird will claw your hand until you won't have one anymore."
Harry quickly withdrew his hand from the cage. Spinning around he saw the store owner rushing towards him, Sirius right behind him, concerned. Harry turned back to the bird.
"Why is he so dangerous?"
"Because," the store owner replied, "That it is a unique and very special bird. I'm Aaron by the way."
"Hello, it's nice to meet you, I'm Sirius Black and this little person is Harry Potter."
"Hello there." Aaron said kindly. Harry didn't respond, not hearing what the man had said, instead he was mesmerized by the bird.
Aaron smiled, knowing the reason for the silence.After a few seconds, he frowned. "Potter did you say? As in the Boy-Who-Lived-Potter?"
"Yes." Sirius answered shortly, his expression turning guarded.
"I wasn't aware that there was another Potter child besides Anthony"
Sirius' face turned a little angry. "Not many do."
Aaron noticed the anger, wondering its source but before he could say anything, Sirius changed the subject.
"So what's so special about that bird?" Sirius asked. "Besides being a bird of prey, it doesn't look unusual."
"Well," Aaron responded nervously, looking at the bird as if it might suddenly break out and attack them, however it was just watching them with intelligent interest, "for one this bird is a peregrine falcon, a master of the skies, almost never missing its target, fastest animal, magical or Muggle. Its uniquely special for it is a Muggle species but for some reason, it has magic within its veins."
"That's incredible. A Muggle animal having magical properties? That's just… incredible." Sirius repeated, unable to think of a word to describe what he was thinking.
"It has lived over a hundred years too." Aaron said as-a-matter-of-factly, ignoring the look of disbelief on Sirius' face.
"My family has run this business for a long time and my father and my father's father have both seen this very same bird, sitting in the store. And it won't take just any master. My father told me would tell me stories of how problematic this particular bird has been. Whenever he sold it, the customer would bring him back the next day bearing horrible claw marks and wounds where he pecked at them. It's quite an interesting bird."
Harry ignored the two adults talking and focused on the bird, walking slowly towards its cage. It certainly looked very fierce. Striking grey eyes stared right into Harry's emerald ones, as if looking past him into his very soul.
"Greetings child"
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin in shock. He sensed the voice was in his mind and he looked around for its source. His eyes fell upon the bird, who was still staring at him.
"Was that you?"Harry thought, directing it towards the bird.
"It was. You need not fear my beak or claws. I can sense a great turmoil within you. You seek to be accepted but you know within your mind it will not happen while you are home, yet your heart still pushes on. You have great potential, your heart filled with nobility and courage, a mind seeking knowledge and wisdom, immensely loyal to those you call friends and possess cunning in vast amounts."
Harry blinked in surprise. It seems this bird truly was very special.
"Of course I'm special. I'm talking to you through your mind now aren't I?"
He shook his head and remained silent, keeping his head clear of thoughts to prevent the bird from reading his mind.
"You have the beginnings of a great wizard Harry Potter. I would like to accompany you on your journey."
"What?"
"I would like to become your companion, or your familiar, which ever you a more familiar with."
Harry could sense a smile in the words even though the bird physically did not.
"How does that work?"
"I need blood."
Harry looked alarmed, suddenly fearful of some ulterior motive.
"Do not worry, a few drops should suffice. Put your hand through my cage."
Harry did so, and as soon as his hand was within reach of the peregrine falcon, he stuck quickly, his claw slashing across the back of his hand. Harry could hear Sirius and Aaron shouting in alarm but he could barely feel the injury. The bird put his beak into the wound and proceeded to drink the blood oozing from the cut flesh.
After a small flash of white light, Harry's hand quickly began to heal itself.
"It is done." The peregrine falcon said.
Harry turned to see a stunned Sirius and Aaron, both knowing of the ritual magic used for the bonding of an animal companion.
"Harry, what did you just do?" Sirius asked.
"The bird talked to me, and it said it wanted to accompany me in my life journey." Harry responded.
Sirius was just shocked while Aaron just smiled. For someone to have a companion such as this peregrine falcon, he would have to be a great wizard. For a child barely 7 years old to bond to this particular bird will be special indeed.
"If you are going to buy the bird, it's usually 1400 galleons but since you are bonded, I'll give him to you for 500 galleons. There are also standard bird accessories.
Harry and Sirius had walked out of the store with a new peregrine falcon on Harry's shoulders and laden with many bird-care items, a shrunk bird perch, a large cage, claw and beak treatment kit among other things.Sirius had paid for it all, saying it was his gift, although for what Harry didn't know, but he couldn't be happier.
-*End Flashback*-
Harry lay his head down on his pillow, still facing Jupiter, for that's what he called his peregrine falcon right then and there. Jupiter, the roman god of the sky; it seemed appropriate for a falcon, so at ease flying through the air.
A/N: Sorry for the slow update, but I have upcoming end-of-year exams and I am busy studying and my internet crashed so I couldn't update for a few days until it restarted. I'm also wondering, what is a reasonable length for a chapter? Please Review, Favourite and/or Follow! Thankyou!
