PAWS

"Lord is it?" the old man asked slowly, turning his nose up in disgust, "Well then, I don't think much of your manners, my Lord. Turn around and face me, like a man why don't you?"

"Ah…" the 'Lord' said coldly, his words barely audible through the slurred hiss to his voice. "But I am no man, Muggle," he corrected, the old man shifting slowly on his feet suspiciously, "However… why not? I will face you. Wormtail".

As the nervous rather plump man staggered forward, foot scuffing at the rug and pulling an angry hiss from the snake basking before the fire, the rat-faced man quickly began to turn the high-backed chair around to face the old man.

"Do you see, oh foolish Muggle?" the thing in the chair asked smugly, scarlet eyes boring deep into the old man's soul. "I am much, much more than a man. And soon, I will be a God!"

As his walking stick fell to the ground, slipping through his suddenly limp fingers, the old man could only watch in horror as a long twig was raised in the creature's hands and a flash of green light exploded from the tip. Light burning in an afterimage in his eyes, a strange rushing sound in his ears, and a sharp stabbing cold in his chest.

Frank Bryce was dead before he even hit the floor.

And around two hundred miles away, a boy woke with a start, a screamed "No!" trapped within his throat. Moving on some sort of primal instinct, Harry Potter struggled in sheer panic, fighting to free himself from whatever it was pinning his arms to his sides as white-hot pain burned his head – only feeding the panic he felt.

The world around him was dark, unfocused, and try for the life of him Harry couldn't see anything beyond the sight of the dead old man nearing as he slithered like a snake across the floor towards his body. His arms trapped at his sides, Harry thrashed about trying to get free, a startled noise fleeing his throat as he rocked and began to fall when whatever he was lying on just vanished.

His body twisted and warped, the world growing as if he were shrinking.

But then his arms and legs were free of their bindings and he was off, scrambling across the floor and – following instincts he thought he'd grown out of by now – diving under his bed with a strangled sob.

He couldn't see it. He couldn't see the snake slowly devouring the old man. He couldn't see what he wished was a dream but was so clearly more. He couldn't. His limbs trembling with exhaustion, Harry just shook his head, unwilling to allow himself to fall back asleep in fear he'd dream of the man's death once more. As he eventually collapsed onto his stomach and curled up, the image of the man dying in a flash of green light and the sound of cruel laughter faded from his mind. He didn't want to remember, but he knew he would.

And it was with that morbid realization – that he'd seen his first death at the age of fourteen – that Harry's eyes drifted shut against his will and he passed out. Flashes of green haunting his nightmares.

It was to his Aunt's loud shriek that Harry awoke the next morning.

Sleepily struggling to get his feet under him, he stood and promptly let out a rather concerning ep-ing noise when his head struck something he was fairly certain wasn't supposed to be there.

His Aunt's voice ringing shrilly in his ears, Harry absently recognised he'd somehow crawled beneath his bed in the night. You could take the boy out of the cupboard, but you couldn't take the cupboard out of the boy it seemed, what with Harry's instinctive seeking out of a cramped dark place.

The dream… nightmare… vision…

Something cold gripped at his stomach as he remembered the reason for his apparent regression, green light the same colour as his eyes flashing through his mind. The dull thud of the old man – for there had definitely been an old man – as his body hit the ground limply. The feeling of the wood against his scales as the snake moved towards its next meal.

What did he do? Did he contact the Aurors to go check out the property? No… even if he knew where it was it wouldn't help anyone, the body was long gone and if he was right in his fears then the Auror's bodies would be soon in joining it. Did he tell Dumbledore? Dumbledore was the only one Voldemort ever feared after all, and Harry was sure to recognise the Dark Lord's voice anywhere after their meeting during his first year at Hogwarts. He could imagine telling his friends, they'd both tell him to tell Dumbledore while they looked something up themselves.

But then…

But then what would he tell Dumbledore? He could imagine it now…

'Dear Professor Dumbledore. Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning and I had a funny dream last night. Yours sincerely, Paws'.

Wait… paws?

PAWS?

Said paws sliding out from beneath him as Harry jerked back in shock, the ground flew up to meet him as all four of them went in different directions, a muffled yelp escaping his muzzle – his muzzle – as he hit the floor and started flailing once again.

Why did he have paws?

How did he have paws?

And how the bloody hell did he control the paws?

Mind filling with panic again as he somehow managed to get all four fe- paws underneath him, Harry slowly and hesitantly rose to his full non-human height. He had paws, and if he concentrated he could see a muzzle stretching out in front of his eyes. Shifting on his fe- er, paws – again, Harry carefully turned his head to stare down his fur-covered body at the tail held limply tucked up between his legs.

Okay, okay.

Struggling to calm his rapid breathing, Harry tried to take a Hermione-esque approach to his current situation. What did he know? And how did he know it? Merlin he wished he had hands to write this all down with!

He was a dog… a wolf… he was a canine. He knew that at least.

He also knew that people turning into animals wasn't impossible. There was both wizard-to-animal transfiguration, and the animagus transformation. His godfather Sirius had completed the animagus transformation, and he's witnessed Professor McGonagall performing both wizard-to-animal transfiguration and the animagus transformation before.

Those two possibilities meant that either someone had snuck into his room in the middle of the night to turn him into a dog-wolf-thing, or that somehow… could the stress of the dream he'd had have somehow triggered the animagus transformation?

Neither of those options sounded particularly good enough to Harry, but in all fairness it wasn't like he was Hermione. And it wasn't like he could send Hermione a letter about it either, it was hard enough to stand on four paws let alone try write with them. Besides, Hedwig had gone out to hunt last night and seemingly hadn't returned yet, so that option wasn't available until she came back.

"BOY!"

Harry whined deep in his throat as his Aunt screamed through the door at him, his hearing feeling like it had tripled in strength.

"I SAID 'BREAKFAST'S READY'! IF DUDLEY EATS YOUR FOOD THEN YOU'RE NOT GETTING ANYMORE!"

Oh right… breakfast. If one could even call what was doubtlessly waiting on his plate 'breakfast'. At least once upon a time he was given soup, or microwave porridge, even buttered toast. Now however, to accommodate Dudley's forced diet, he'd be lucky if he was given half an apple for breakfast. At least he'd have a proper lunch to look forward to, and by a 'proper' lunch he meant he'd sent emergency SOS letters to his friends who'd responded remarkably quickly with shrunken packages of sweets and pastries. (And Hagrid's rock cakes, but Harry figured he'd save those until he was absolutely starving).

Turning to head towards the door, Harry promptly tripped over himself, hitting the floor with another of the strange yipping noises. How in Merlin's name did Sirius deal with having four feet? Or the tail? Harry founding himself adding as he stood up and fell again, his tail leaning his entire body over to the right.

For a moment he thought of sending his godfather a letter the moment he turned back. It would serve dual purposes after all, he'd be able to tell someone he trusted (sorry Professor Dumbledore) about the dream he'd had, as well as get some advice on the whole 'walking on four legs' thing. That was of course, assuming that Harry could even turn back, or that if he did that he'd even be able to turn into this canine form again.

Finally managing to get back to his feet, Harry shot his bedroom door a look for a moment before letting out a loud doggy sigh. It wasn't like he'd be missing much if Dudley ate his breakfast, and he could quite easily just feed himself with some of the food stored beneath the loose floorboard. Besides, even if he managed to open the door and get downstairs in time, there was the small matter of him being stuck in the body of a rudding dog! If Petunia didn't chase him from the house screaming, then he still wouldn't be able to eat breakfast in the first place would he? Did dogs even eat fruit? He'd only ever seen Fang, Hagrid's dog, eating bloodied meat and the chocolate he and Ron had slipped him when Hagrid and Hermione weren't looking.

Sighing again as he realised that he probably couldn't transform back without knowing how he'd transformed in the first place, Harry raised a hand to comb it through his hair, pausing to scratch at a spot on the back of his neck. "This really sucks, Hedwig," he murmured to himself quietly, conveniently pretending that his first ever friend was in the room with him, "Being an animagus is cool, I'd wanted to ask Sirius about it anyway. But this? I don't know what this is".

Pushing the breath from his lungs as he poked at his blankets with his foot, it took Harry a lot longer than he was willing to admit to realise that he was staring down past his naked human body at his feet. Jumping slightly as he quickly patted himself down, Harry froze for a moment as he heard footsteps downstairs, scrambling to throw on yesterday's clothes before rushing downstairs.

"I told you that if Dudley eats your breakfast that you weren't getting anymore," came his Aunt's smug greeting as he barrelled into the kitchen.

"And I'm sure you told Dudley that he could eat my breakfast before you even came up to tell me it was served," Harry shot back rudely, having had enough of his Aunt's attempts to ruin his day before it had even begun. Yesterday she had 'accidentally' crushed his orange when she picked it up, and the day before she'd mushed his banana up before she'd 'forgotten how big he'd gotten'. "I'm having dinner now," he added as his Aunt half-stared and half-glared at him, "I won't eat for the rest of the day but I'm having dinner now".

"Fine," Petunia agreed in a huff as Harry moved on automatic and started snatching fruit from the well-stocked bowl on the bench. "But don't you come running to me later whinging about how hungry you are. If you do then I won't hear it," she declared.

"I won't," was all Harry said in response, more interested in stockpiling some food so he could remain in his room all day trying to figure out the transformation.

"Good. Because I won't hear it," Petunia countered, sounding a little hesitant.

"Alright then".

"I won't let you take more than your fair share of food from this house," Petunia continued loudly, "You won't be getting two dinners".

At that Harry paused, slowly turning to face his Aunt and tilting his head in confusion. Was she trying to tell him something? She wasn't normally so dense, that was something she reserved for Dudley. Shrugging it off, since he didn't really care about his family on a good day, Harry turned back to grab an extra banana before smiling at the stiff-looking woman.

"I think this will be a lovely dinner don't you?" he asked the woman who was pretending to ignore him, watching him from the corner of his eye. "I'll be spending the rest of the day in my room okay?" Harry added, pulling a disinterested noise from his Aunt.

Shrugging again when it became obvious she wasn't going to reply, Harry headed towards the door, only for his Aunt's voice to ring out behind him. "I do hope you haven't lost your glasses again boy. Vernon and I can't afford to buy you new ones and pay for you to go to that freak school of yours".

Blinking slowly in confusion, because the money to pay for Hogwarts came from his parent's vault, Harry glanced over at the woman who was daintily reading one of her girly magazines before slowly beginning to make his way towards the staircase.

Something was seriously wrong in this house, he just didn't care enough to figure it out.

Reaching the staircase in time for his Uncle to stomp into the house, his face a vivid red, Harry bit back a groan as Vernon's fury-filled eyes locked onto his. "What the ruddy hell is this?" his Uncle demanded as he slammed the door in the chuckling mailman's face, "It's a letter! About you!" the large man answered for himself.

Faltering as he realised both his arms were full, Harry looked around for a place to dump the fruit before having a better idea. Reaching forward, he caught the letter his Uncle was waving about between his teeth and easily tugged it out of the yelping man's grasp. Making what he hoped was a thankful noise, he turned and started up the stairs, not stopping again until he was tipping his breakfast/dinner onto his bed. Kicking the door shut, Harry tore open the stamp-covered envelope with a snort, glancing over the letter as he grabbed a piece of fruit at random and bit into it.

The Quidditch World Cup was next week? Sweet, he'd almost forgotten about that. And the tickets were prime ones too, could that mean a box seat or something?

So, he'd write the letter to the Weasleys instead of Sirius. And should he find himself still transforming back and forth – because something told him it wasn't over – then he could just ask the Weasleys, who knew more about magic than Harry ever could. Although… perhaps he should still write to Sirius… just in case.

Chucking the letter onto his desk, Harry went to take another bite of fruit, freezing as he realised what he was eating. Licking his lips awkwardly, he probed around in his mouth for the orange peels, before grimacing as he realised he must have eaten the peel as well without even noticing.

This dog-wolf-thing was affecting him more than he thought.

PAWS

Based off my own "The Potter Zoo" challenge.