I'm so sorry! I messed up my schedule already! Sorry! But here's an update!

Lucky

Chapter Three: When Names Are Confusing And Harry Hates Bullies

When the light came back, and he opened his eyes, the first thing he realized was that he was awfully low to the ground, but that thought flew fleetly from his head when he saw perhaps his least favorite thing before him. A large, blonde teenager in a letterman jacket stood over another, significantly smaller teen with brown hair and a black backpack. As he watched, the blonde grabbed the brunet, who was sprawled on the ground and only held up by the bigger's grip on his white undershirt, and slammed his fist down on his nose, causing a trail of red to run down his face.

Harry opened his mouth to yell something at the blonde before pausing when he saw something reflected in the rubbish can lid that leaned against its counterpart. What he saw did not belong where there should've been a fourteen-year-old with glasses. Staring back at him was a cat. A black cat with intelligent bright green eyes and a lightning bolt shaped notch in its right ear. As Harry closed his mouth, the cat did too, hiding sharp little teeth and a rough pink tongue. As weird as it was, he figured it out immediately. Somewhere along the lines of him starting anew in another world, Death had forgotten to mention that she was going to turn him into a cat. He sighed, as much as a cat can sigh, and turned his attention to the pair of boys, who were now in the middle of a conversation with the skinny brown-haired kid raised off the ground and pressed against the alley wall.

"- leave the little guy alone, Flash, he didn't do anything to you!" Harry had tuned in partway through the sentence and could only assume that the "Flash" kid was planning on doing something to the cat – him. What kind of a name was Flash anyway? Or what exactly did he do to get that nickname? Harry hoped it wasn't what he was thinking.

"Wish you still wore your nerd glasses, Puny Parker," Flash growled in the now-named "Parker's" face. "Woulda liked to break 'em."

"And this is why I wear contacts," he murmured to himself, only to be shoved into the wall painfully. Harry decided he'd seen enough. Thanking Death for skipping the part where he stumbled over his own four legs, he leaped nimbly from his place in the corner to the top of a rubbish receptacle to Flash's head. The boy-turned-cat then proceeded to hang on for dear life as the bully let go of "Parker" and chose to instead flail around with Harry on his head, clawing and hissing at him.

"Ack! Get this crazy thing offa me!" he screamed as Harry ran his sharp claws down the back of his jacket, effectively tearing it to shreds. He then clambered back up Flash like a jungle gym, managed to get to the top of his head, and jumped gracefully to the ground as the large boy bore a stumbling retreat out of the back-alley, looking as smug as possible in his new form. He hissed once more at the scratched boy before getting up from his seat on the pavement and padding towards the other, who was leaning up against the wall with a tired smile on his face. "Parker" wiped the trail of blood from his nose and glanced at it on his finger before smearing it unnoticeably on his jeans.

(A/N: So sorry to interrupt my story, I really try not to do any of this, ever, but I have to this time. Okay, so since Harry is a cat, he can't really talk, so convos are going to be very one-sided. Meaning I'll be indenting when it's really the same person talking. Like that one time with Death. That I forgot about. So, just pay close attention. – Lucky)

"You won't claw my face off, right?" he asked jokingly, still smiling from his position. He seemed far too nonchalant and happy for someone who just got beat up. Harry stood next to him, though much shorter and on four furry legs, and let out a satisfied purr. "Okay. Who would've though Flash would be scared of cats?" "Parker" glanced down with a more mischievous smile and stage-whispered, "You know his real name is Eugene? Eugene Thompson."

He laughed, and Harry joined him with a chuffing noise, the closest he could get. He liked this boy. They were a lot alike, not that "Parker" would know it. Both picked on, formerly glasses-wearing, and on the scrawny side. So, he sat and laid his front paws on the high schooler's leg as a cushion for his head like all cats do, causing him to look down in surprise. "You're surprisingly friendly for a street cat. You've been alone for a while, haven't you?"

Figuratively at least.

"But you're a fighter." He had no idea how true that was as he fingered the lightning notch in Harry's ear and got a rumbling purr in return.

It felt good.

"Well, you know Flash now, even if he is a jerk."

He growled in agreement before allowing him to continue.

"I'm Peter Parker. Or as Flash loves to call me, Puny Parker. Valedictorian of Midtown High, nerd extraordinaire, and bane of Flash's existence, as you so obviously can tell."

The little nose twitched as the cat let out a snort at the sarcasm.

"That obvious? Yeah, Flash really doesn't like me. I don't like him much either." Harry let out a quiet yawn and they both glanced at the elongating shadows as their stomachs growled loudly in tandem. Peter braced a hand against the wall and groped his way to his feet, Harry dislodging himself from his comfortable spot reluctantly.

Pointed ears caught the brunet muttering to himself about his mental health, talking to cats, and that he was crazy anyway while he hopped from rubbish can to Dumpster and walked along the edge until it ran out a foot before the end of the alley. The person he was following had balked at the entrance to the rest of the city, spinning on his heel with a huge smile on his face.

The black kit – because he wasn't a kitten, no matter how human age looked on a cat – cocked his head, eying him curiously, as Peter hurriedly came back and started talking in a blur. "Okay, you're too nice to be out on the street, but I really don't have much time before I have to get back home before Aunt May lectures me about the dangers of the city and how I could get hurt," he said with a laugh at the end, seeming to find something about that ironic. "So, you're coming with me and I'm going to see if my aunt will let me have a cat and you're going to have to be extra-cute."

Before Harry could even begin to comprehend the first sentence, he was scooped up off the tall, metal container with a loud meow. Waving his little legs in panic, Peter laughing at his troubles, he was suddenly, but gently, placed in the open backpack that his new friend swung back on less roughly than usual. Despite his brief panic, he couldn't help but burrow in until only his head and front paws peaked out, purring and mewing at the people they passed.

Something about this teenager simply felt right and safe, which he attributed to a combination of approval from Death and his own honed instincts. After a while, his ride began bouncing, causing him to let out an involuntary yowl before he realized Peter was just jogging and he settled all the way inside his bag-cave. Inside, he could hear the muffled sound of keys clicking and a door swinging open, a warm greeting from a lady he couldn't see.

"Peter, dear, where have you been?" the voice enveloped him with a cozy, familial feeling that he used to associate with Mrs. Weasley.

The thought hit him like a train, as what had happened – to him, at least – less than a day ago. Harry immediately felt guilty. Here he was, happily riding along with an admittedly cute boy and maybe getting a new home, and they had died because of him.

Why did they die and not him? Why did he get the second chance? Death's words came back to him, though not comforting,

I only take the souls whose time it really is. Harry Potter, it is not your time.

So, it was their time? That didn't make him feel better at all.

But his mind wandered, and he could only imagine the tongue-lashing they would give him for denying himself his chance for a true home. He smiled and could almost hear Hermione complaining about wasting his one good opportunity and trying to back it up by saying it was illogical before Ron started berating him for thinking they'd blame them. Then he'd probably get his hair even more ruffled than usual by half-a-dozen people, including Sirius in particular. Maybe it wasn't so bad… he was still sad, indescribably so, but now there was more nostalgia than anger or blame.

"Peter, how about you put your bag down and come eat? You must be starving!" That must be the Aunt May Peter had talked about. The one that would lecture him if he wasn't home in time. She really did sound like Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Peter called back as he carefully leaned the pack – and Harry's hideaway – up against a wall and gave the cat the one-minute finger. He stood and turned at the same time, clasping his hands behind his back and crossing his fingers with a conspiratorial wink at Harry. "I have someth- ooone I want you to meet."

"Oh, I'd love to meet one of your little school friends," the woman in the kitchen agreed. He could see her brown hair twisted up on her head with silver hairs beginning to grow in and smile lines around her eyes when she turned around to face her nephew.

Peter groaned good-naturedly. "Aunt May, I'm not in second grade anymore. But…" He abruptly wheeled around and dipped down to pick Harry up, who had figured out by now to just roll with it. The kit went limp until the arms cradled him properly, then snuggling down contently up against the toasty and surprisingly firm chest. He wasn't sure what season it was here, but there had been a chill in the air when they were in the alleyway. "Meet this little guy."

"Aww," Aunt May cooed straightaway while reaching out to scratch Harry's back. "Where'd this little cutie come from?" Beneath her fingers, the cat trembled with a smug purr.

"I… found him in an alley," he hedged. "He's a very friendly little ball of fluff, so I thought we might give him a home?" Harry was slightly offended at being called a "ball of fluff" and maybe dug his claws in a little more than necessary when leaping onto the counter from Peter's arms. Not enough to pierce skin, but enough to prick him and for Harry to chuff at his reaction as he bouncily jaunted along the counter. Aunt May had a thinking face on, even as she watched the kit explore the kitchen from the height of the counter.

"I don't see why not," she finally gave in. "As long as he doesn't claw anything or anyone or do his business anywhere other than outside." Harry was now very offended and managed to convey that in the look he gave Peter, who almost laughed aloud at how put off the cat looked, at least to him. He was also hungry, sniffing at the edge of a short milk glass in the hope that they'd get the hint, or at least not want him to actually drink it. "Oh, I'll get him some milk. That's what cats like, right? I can pick up something more suited to a cat tomorrow at the store." Perfect. Though he was skeptical of the cat food idea… eh, he'd probably eaten worse at some point.

"Awesome! Thanks, Aunt May!" Peter accepted as he was already turning to run upstairs and chuck his backpack in his room. They heard a thunk, some rustling, then Peter's socked feet taking stairs two at a time. May rolled her eyes and smiled at Harry before finishing up his saucer of milk, which he lapped up gratefully as the two humans began their dinner. It was a nice affair, homey and comfortable, yet not as loud as a Weasley dinner.

Peter's aunt would ask about his day, to which Peter himself would go off on a ramble about some such science or something silly one of his classmates did before he asked the same question in turn. Harry finished his milk dinner, yawning as wide as he could as he settled down with a warm and full belly. He noted that Peter had picked him up again and purred his thanks as he was brought upstairs to somewhere that was probably Peter's room.

There was a grey-blue comforter bundled at the foot of a twin bed on one side and an old roll-top desk with its top rolled up next to a dresser on the opposite side of the small room. The last two walls were occupied by a window and a closet, which was hanging open, and every open space had something sitting on it. A computer whirred even though it was closed on the desk, papers that looked like schoolwork and some that didn't strewn about it, bits and pieces of various projects decorated a small shelf hanging on the wall. Other than the unmade bed and the nerd-style mess, the room was orderly, much more orderly than Harry's would've been had he had an actual bedroom.

Now very awake and very curious, the kit hopped carefully from the teenager's arms and began poking his twitching nose around the room. He slid a bit on the papers when he got to the desk, ending up riding them to the end and springing up to the dresser with a meow. He'd meant to do that. Peter was not as sure and chuckled a bit before stepping in front of his space on the dresser before he could go explore the closet.

"It's not much, but it's home," he said as if he needed to explain himself. "Aunt May's taken care of me since Mom and Dad died when I was six, or something. She's the greatest." Harry blinked in shock as he took in the new information. They really were similar. Though Peter's aunt was much, much nicer than Petunia could ever have been.

The boy went on, "I think I can get you a bed sometime, or you can just share mine…" Harry was struggling to contain whatever the cat equivalent of a blush was, though it was sure to be suspicious, by now. Although he was stuck as a cat, he was still very much a teenaged boy and he was still very much bi. And Peter was a boy. One that he was quickly realizing was rather cute.

So, he used Peter's head as a spring-board and launched into the crumpled blanket with a joyful yowl, in his mind a worthy distraction from the topic. The brunet let out a surprised noise and seemed to be reconsidering his reasons for talking to the kit like a human. "I'll find you your own blanket later, so you don't steal mine," Peter teased regardless, then paused, deep in a thought. "You need a name!"

Black ears poked out of where Harry was making himself cozy, followed by an inquisitive mrowr. He had a name… though now that he pondered it, that name had been the source of most of his life problems. A new name wouldn't be too bad, provided Peter valued his fingers and didn't name him "Fluffy" or something. That'd be just his luck.

Peter wondered aloud in the background via a series of mutters to himself. "Aha!" he exclaimed suddenly, and Harry let out the same curious sound as before. "Hiro!" He plopped himself down on his knees in front of Harry, apparently satisfied, and laid his chin on his folded arms so that they were eye-to-eye. The furry kit looked at him with an obvious "why?" expression on his face.

"Well, for once, you saved me earlier." Harry-Hiro gained a smug look and puffed up his chest. "But 'Hero' with-an-e is too demanding, you're a cat, you don't need any expectations."

He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be insulted or thankful at this point.

"And there's this Disney movie I really like and the main character – whose name is Hiro – is a boy genius with a marshmallow robot."

Hiro decided on the latter now.

"So, Hiro, you've got a new home, a new name, and new owner!" The adopted animal's eyes glittered with mirth and narrowed as he darted out a single claw, lightning-fast, and poked his "owner" on the nose, though not enough to draw blood. "Ack! Okay, okay! I don't own you!" This, Hiro thought with an internal laugh, was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Harry is a cat… oh joy. But I really think he's adorable. Also, Harry is no longer Harry, as you've no doubt noticed. Peter named him Hiro and he grudgingly admitted he liked it. So, he's Hiro now. There's a lot on this chapter. Hiro has a home and a family and maybe something more than a new friend. This is gonna be good. But credit where credit's due. There were 3 great authors who came up with this before me and these are their stories:

"Bruja" by sakurademonalchemist

"Master of Death" by Misaki June

and the aptly named "Wizard Kitty" by I. H. Scribe.

I know how similar it seems to some of these if you've read them, and I promise I wasn't trying to steal anything. I actually wrote this, then read these stories.

Lucky

P.S. You got the Big Hero 6 reference, right?