Disclaimer: Standard stuff (I don't own anything, I won't be making profit, any resemblance to previously published content is purely coincidental, JK Rowling is the coolest, etc.). If I make any legal errors regarding copyrighted material, inform me and I will correct them immediately.

Harry Potter and the Lightning Scar

Harry awoke on Monday, July 4th to the sound of revelry in the street below. Crowds were already gathering throughout the city for the parades, tours, and general merrymaking in the spirit of independence from Britain. Harry would have been more inclined to join in the masses of star-spangled humanity, but was still somewhat recovering from the blazing tongue-lashing that Sirius and Remus had given him the night before. Somehow, starting out the conversation with "Before you get too mad, let me first point out that I'm still alive" had failed to blunt their fury, especially when he was forced to recount all of the times during the adventure that he should have taken as signs to retreat.

It had gotten worse after Harry had let slip the general contents of chapter thirteen of On Combating the Darker Forces of this Earth and Beyond regarding the Jersey Devil and its hunting habits. According to Crane, the Jersey Devil preferred to eat its prey by scooping out and eating all of the internal organs while its prey was still alive (apparently because whatever hell had spawned it had somehow decided that everything else about that demon was not quite horrible enough already); this revelation alone would have led to Harry being recalled to London, if Sirius and Remus had been available to keep watch over him. As they were busy hunting Pettigrew, though, they simply established a new rule regarding any side-trips that Harry wanted to go on—specifically, he had to thoroughly research any dangers associated with a prospective destination, and then convince the two older men that he would be able to keep himself safe. This new restriction did not bother Harry, as he had already resolved to be more cautious; it was abundantly clear to him that he was quite alone here, and he wouldn't always have anyone watching his back—he would do his best to avoid the darker places in America, which in many cases were more dangerous and savage than those of Britain. It did hurt, however, that the incident appeared to have damaged the trust that Sirius and Remus had for his judgment.

His thoughts coming back to the present, Harry—with a few helpful pecks on the back of the head from Hedwig—got out of bed, and began his last day in Philadelphia (as he would be portkeying to Wisconsin after lunch the next day) with bacon and eggs from the inn's breakfast buffet, before turning his attention to the Crane text. His appetite for excitement still had not quite recovered from the events of the weekend, and he was also still nursing several cuts and bruises from the mad dash through the woods. He spent the next several hours in his room, reading and practicing utility-type spells (as the setting was obviously inappropriate for practicing combat spells). It was not until he broke for lunch that he felt any inclination to venture outside.

At roughly 12:30 PM, Harry walked the short distance to Chinatown, and had lunch at a small restaurant. As he washed down his Lunch Special #13 with a can of root beer, an obviously magical (easily identifiable by the way the eyes tended to slide past it, if not by the store's name) pet shop caught his eye. He paid for his meal, tipping generously, and walked across the street to the "Philadelphia Magical Animal and Pet Supply Co." The 19th-century styling of the building was not unique in the city, but it stood out in Chinatown, even compared to other shops serving the magical community.

The ting of a bell on the door announced Harry's entrance into the store, and he took a quick glance around. It was at least thrice the size of the Magical Menagerie on Diagon Alley, where Hermione had purchased Crookshanks. The selection also appeared to be more diverse, and signs posted around the store proclaimed that, upon request, orders could be placed for creatures not normally in stock. It was somewhat cleaner than its British counterpart, and several attendants scurried about, feeding the animals and speaking to customers.

Harry passed the owl aisle (as Hedwig was more than sufficient for his postage needs, and a rather faithful pet as well), and avoided the monkey cages altogether, as their simian faces reminded him rather unnervingly of the statue of Salazar Slytherin in the Chamber of Secrets. Plus, he didn't quite fancy spending all of his time running around Gryffindor tower apologizing for whatever disgusting mischief a pet monkey would inevitably perpetrate. He also bypassed the cages of cats and rats, having been put off both creatures entirely in the past year; the former by Hermione's nigh-psychotic half-kneazle, and the latter by Pettigrew's treachery.

He soon came upon a series of terrariums containing amphibians and reptiles. There were frogs and toads, ranging in size from an inch up to well over a foot in length. Some purportedly had powers that would put Neville's toad Trevor to shame, as his only magical power seemed to be his uncanny ability to escape from Neville. As soon as Harry's eyes came to rest on the snakes, though, he knew that he would almost certainly be leaving the store with one of them, as his mind blazed through the arguments in favor of and against such a companion.

On the one hand, magical Britain almost universally considered snakes to be untrustworthy, and those with the ability to speak to them were often painted as potential dark lords. On the other hand, it was already a matter of public record that Harry was a Parselmouth, so there was little left to lose on that front. Also, a pet with which he could actually exchange conversation would be excellent; as much as he loved Hedwig, she couldn't talk to him, and Harry was, in general, quite lonely. The idea of having a friend that he wouldn't have to share with anybody else, therefore, appealed to him greatly. Perhaps most importantly was that having a snake would be a statement; Harry was a Parselmouth, and he didn't care what anyone else thought about it, because he was done proving over and over again that he was not a dark wizard.

Harry looked at them, trying to decide which to choose. There were a few cobras, a black mamba, and a boa constrictor, all hissing at him to choose them over the others. However, one snake in the back of the large terrarium stood out. The dark, distinctively-patterned diamondback rattlesnake—the only snake not practically begging to be chosen and fed fat mice—raised up its triangular head, and stared into Harry's eyes.

"Do you not wish to be chosen, rattlesnake?" Harry asked in Parseltongue, quietly enough that none of the other customers or attendants could hear. Every snake immediately all fell silent—it was almost unheard-of for a human to be able to speak their language.

After a long silence, the snake answered. "I know what I can offer you," it hissed. "I can slither unseen, guard your secrets, and kill your enemies. You have not made any offer to me."

Harry stared back into the snake's eyes. "You have a steady supply of food here, but I can let you hunt. You have a warm rock here, but I can offer you the sun. And you have glass walls here, but I can offer you freedom. All I require is your loyalty."

There was another long silence before the rattlesnake lowered its head in a sort of bow of submission, and gave its reply. "You will have it, master."

"Do you have a name, snake?" Harry asked.

"Snakes have no use for names, except with humans," it replied. "If you are to be my master, it is for you to name me."

"Come with me," Harry said. "And I will give you hunting, the sun, freedom, and a name."

Harry smiled, lifted the lid of the terrarium, and allowed the rattlesnake to slither up onto his shoulders. He drew numerous incredulous stares from other customers, and even the cashier who took his money looked more than a little unsettled. Harry didn't care; as he walked out of the store, his thoughts turned to the flag he had seen at Independence Hall, just before leaving for the Pine Barrens the previous Friday afternoon. It was ironic, he thought, that an Englishman in Philadelphia on the 4th of July should choose the first symbol of independence from Britain as his companion; despite that, the same symbol was an accurate way to describe the entire underlying purpose for his trip to America. On the surface, of course, he was here to learn to be an animagus; however, that was just an expression of the true reason for the trip, which was to allow him to get out from beneath the yoke of Dumbledore and the Dursleys, spread his wings, and breathe free air for once.

With a crack, he was back in his hotel room. He put the rattlesnake down on the armchair in front of the window, where it promptly coiled up and hummed, clearly enjoying the way the sun's rays warmed its scales. Finally, he broke the silence that he had been holding while thinking such weighty thoughts.

"I have decided," Harry hissed. "Your name is Gadsden."

Harry spent the remainder of the afternoon catching Gadsden up on his life back in Britain, and the plans for the summer. By the time Gadsden was up to speed, it was time for dinner; for Harry, this meant pizza and a coke, while Hedwig and Gadsden each got a live mouse. Harry was glad that Gadsden had let the mouse run around for a while before hunting it down and killing it; if he had had to listen to its hissed exclamations of delight about the "squishy juicy mousey" while he had been eating, he would have lost his appetite.

After dinner, Harry went outside, following the tide of people towards the good viewing areas to see the fireworks display. Once he arrived, he apparated to the roof of a nearby building, to have a better view, just in time for the opening salvo. Amid bursts of color and blasts of sound (set to renditions of several popular and famous American songs, including the national anthem), Harry spent the better part of the evening basking in the glow of the fireworks. Around 10 PM—by then thoroughly impressed by the show, but too weighed down by fatigue to stay out any longer—he apparated back to his room, brushed his teeth, and crawled into bed, falling asleep nearly the moment his head hit the pillow.

Author's Note

So, there's the answer to the cliché pet question. As Harry reasons, a snake is a good companion for him both for its usefulness and as a symbol of his growing independence. Haters are always gonna hate, but Harry doesn't give a shit.

Kairan1979 brings up a good point—it is not my intent to bash magical Britain and Dumbledore; rather, I'm using magical America as a counterpoint to Harry's life in Britain. I've shown with the Pine Barrens (and I'll try to show in later chapters) that America has its dark side as well; even though it's more modern, it's a huge country, with vast, savage wildernesses chock-full of all manner of dark creatures, cults, and magical criminals; it just so happens that he's not super-famous in America, so not every nefarious plot ends up centered around him.

The idea is for Harry to use the opportunities offered in America to improve his lot back in Britain—rather than taking Dumbledore's will as his commands, he will instead be his own person. That doesn't mean that Dumbledore is evil; far from it. He's just meddled unduly in Harry's life, and has been largely ineffective in his various positions, and Harry is finally learning how to put this information together and come up with his own ideas of how his life should be run. My feeling is that once he's had the chance to be responsible for himself, he won't be so quick to allow his will to be subsumed by that of his professors and the Dursleys.

Boba Fart also brings up a good point, but I think comes down on the wrong side of it—Harry is weird. He visits museums alone, and stays in his room alone, and goes camping alone, because he has always been alone. He spent the better part of his formative years in a dark, spider-filled cupboard, and in three years at a boarding school with hundreds of other magical children, he has made two friends, and maybe ten or so acquaintances. In canon, Harry is a naturally introverted, emotionally closed-off person, and I've dumped him in a strange land, in a city of millions, where he is an outsider, and trying to keep a low profile to boot, since there's always the chance that someone will spot the "Boy-Who-Lived," and connect the dots (and if Dumbledore finds out that he's not at Privet Drive, he'll be hunted down, and the whole trip is over). On top of all that he's a Brit in Philly on Independence Day—all told, he's going to be uncomfortable getting to know people, and it's not like he can go to a bar, because he isn't even 14 years old. I think it's completely in-character for him to spend most of his time in relative solitude.