For the umpteenth time, Harry inwardly thanked Marvolo.
Without him, he would never have learned to cast spells without wands, and therefore undetectable by the Ministry and more particularly this compulsion spell. A relatively innocent and completely legal spell, far removed from the Imperium. It was regularly used by wizarding parents to encourage their children to behave or put their things away.

Used daily for almost two weeks on Uncle Vernon, the Incitamentum spell allowed the young boy to put a signed Hogsmeade slip safely in his trunk.
Oh, sure, Vernon hadn't willingly signed something that pleased his good-for-nothing nephew. No, the spell wasn't about signing a permission to go to the village, it wasn't powerful enough to go against the Dursleys' hatred of Harry. It was simply about not reading the details of the document. And when the trembling young child, head bowed, shoulders hunched, showed a piece of paper which he presented as parental authorization for the use of corporal punishment in the event of offenses justifying such punishment, the fat man jumped at the chance and signed with a big smile.
Without the spell, he would still have taken a look, to be sure. But swayed as he was, his joy at imagining his nephew receiving a good trashing overcame his meager caution.

The summer was starting out pretty well, according to Harry, until he learned that Vernon's sister was coming to spend part of the holiday with them.
To be honest, it hadn't been heaven so far either. No spell lighter than the Imperium could force the Dursleys not to mistreat their nephew. But at least they hadn't been worse than the previous year.

The arrival of "Aunt Marge" would change that. Of all his torturers since his earliest childhood, she had always been the worst. Marge was as big as her brother but seemed to have better stamina when beating a child. She could administer slaps and kicks for a quarter of an hour without weakening unlike Vernon who was panting like a buffalo after three minutes. And she had trained her favorite dog, Ripper, to attack the boy on cue.
One time, she had let him growl under a tree Harry had taken refuge in. He had to wait until midnight for the shrew to call back her hound. And all of this, of course, with a nice bloody bite on the calf. Unlike Vernon and Petunia, she didn't care that the abuse was on visible parts of the body and didn't mind proving it.
And all of that was just the physical aspect. The psychological and emotional abuse she was showing would have been enough to get her arrested and spend a few years in prison, if anyone ever cared to take an interest in Harry.

The dreaded day of her arrival seemed to come too soon.
Arriving in the house, she threw her luggage on Harry who fell when a corner of the suitcase collided with his cheek. The four Dursleys laughed for a few seconds as the young boy got up and started carrying the luggage up to the guest bedroom. While the youngest was at work, the fat woman quickly kissed Aunt Petunia before greedily throwing herself at "Duddykins" pinching his cheeks. She put, as discreetly as she could (that is to say, as much as a load of saucepans falling from a shelf) a wad of cash in his hand at the same time as she launched an acerbic remark on the young delinquent who was taking too long unpacking her luggage and threatening to send Ripper after him to make him hurry.

.oOÔOo.

It's been three days that Marge was present. Three days that Harry tasted again the blows of the belt of his uncle who did not want to pass for a weakling with his sister. Although he seemed determined to stay above the clothes, visibly uncomfortable with the idea that the "monsters" could see the traces in September. Three days since the insults on him were permanent, and two days since the insults on his parents had surfaced.

The mask of "Harry, the broken, submissive and obedient boy" had never been harder to hold than now that he had tasted easier masks like the "Harry Potter, brilliant and friendly pupil of Hogwarts" or " Harry, the nice boy who befriends a first-year Gryffindor." The Weaslette's incessant chatter, painful as it was, was incredibly sweet in comparison to "bastard", "degenerate parents", "completely stupid" and other compliments made in Marge Dursley.

So Harry had got into the habit of spending as much time as he could away from the house. As soon as his chores were done, he would slip away to the nearby park. News of Sirius Black's escape on the news kept the Dursleys on edge, forbidding their little whale of a son any outings. So Harry was sure he had peace.

He hadn't yet heard from Marvolo about delivering the diary to Fenrir, but he thought it would be soon.

As the day began to decline, he decided to go back to prepare dinner. When he reached the garden, he saw the door open and Marge come out. She wasn't sober if you were to believe her slight stagger.

- Ah, there you are. What are you doing outside? You deal drugs, right? Like your father? Or are you a whore, maybe, like your mother? As useless and worthless as your parents, carrion. And to think that my so nice brother was obliged to welcome you. He would have done better to drown you. It would have prevented you from ruining the life of this family and creating so much trouble for my perfect Duddykins. Twelve years since they took you in and how do you thank them? Going out while an assassin is out there? AND FOR WHAT? Your dose of drugs? You're sacrificing my brother's goodness for your bullshit!

She moved slowly as she spoke, her vicious gaze fixed on the boy. He was slowly backing away at the same pace. Marge sober was already something. Drunk Marge could get really…twisted. The last time it had happened, after a drunken New Year's meal, she had locked him in the garage all night after leaving him nothing but his underpants and a thin t-shirt. And that was after twisting his wrist to the point of breaking it and dousing it with ice water. The unheated garage had become hell for Harry who spent the night huddled in a corner of the room where he had found old car mats. Only his Magic had saved him from hypothermia.
It was also the only time Marge seemed to regret what she had done. Not out of the goodness of her heart, of course, but because she didn't want to be accused of murder. It was a line she didn't want to cross. Since that day, she had never drunk more than was necessary. Except tonight, obviously.

- You know, boy… You're a bit small and frail, like the runt of a litter. There is always one smaller than the others. This one, I immediately undertake to put an end to his suffering. Ripper loves to play with them a bit before breaking their necks. This may be the solution with you, after all. A stray dog passing by while you were out doing what delinquents do. It's not like anyone would miss you. Yes, it's perfect, Vernon will finally be free from you, Petunia will finally be rid of the last memory of his failure of a sister and Dudley will finally have all the love of his parents. Yes... RIPPER, ATTACK!

The dog came out from behind the towering woman, lips upturned, ready to end the life of this puny human as he had done with many puppies. If he had been rather hesitant with the first ones, he had taken a liking to this game of death.

Harry ran off in the opposite direction. He knew that in case of a threatening dog, he should not run, but Marge had simply ordered her hound to kill him. Whether he was a little more excited about the hunt or not wouldn't make much difference.

Panic invaded his brain, blocking all thought. He was no longer a wizard capable of being saved by a spell, he was no longer the Harry who had escaped so many times from his cousin and his friends, he no longer saw the landscape passing by around him, he heard nothing more than Ripper's grunts, the sound of his paws whose claws scraped the asphalt and came closer and closer. His ribs ached as he breathed rapidly and his leg muscles burned from the exertion.

His footsteps unconsciously brought him to the park. There, he heard a second growl from who knows where.
He jumped over the barrier, knowing he wouldn't gain even a few precious seconds if he made it to the gate. It was then that, from behind the slide, a huge black dog appeared.
With a fierce growl he threw himself at Ripper pinning him to the ground and biting his side. The bulldog got up quickly and a battle full of fangs and blood took place.

Harry couldn't do anything but fall to the ground. He was too out of breath to run away, his body was at its limit. He had scratches on his forearms and knees from his fall but it could have been so much worse that he didn't pay more attention to it. He turned on his back before sitting down painfully and observed the two hounds who were fighting. Clearly the black dog had the advantage, Molar bled abundantly from several wounds while the unknown animal seemed to have suffered only a few light bites.

With a pathetic groan, Molar finally collapses. For another dog, Harry would have felt sorry for those hurt animal whimpers. For this one he had nothing but contempt. It wasn't entirely his fault, of course, he had been trained by Marjorie Dursley. But considering the number of scars he possessed that had been spawned by those fangs, he couldn't feel pity. Maybe he would have if he hadn't been one of his victims.

Harry's gaze shifted to the black dog. He stared at the dying dog, licking his wounds absent-mindedly. His fangs were stained with his opponent's blood. Then, slowly, as if having determined that Ripper was no longer a threat, he turned to the boy.

Harry gulped, unsure if the dog had protected him or if he was its next victim. Seeing the child back away, the dog let out a whine and then lowered itself onto its front legs, wagging its tail slightly in a non-aggressive and rather playful posture.

- HARRY!

Both the boy and the dog jumped at the deep voice. Harry didn't have time to turn around when he felt himself grabbed by two strong, warm arms. His green eyes bore into two visibly worried amber eyes.

- Fenrir!

Harry didn't quite know what to say. He let the big man examine him from every angle, stopping at his scratches as if to judge their severity. Once his examination was complete, the man closed his arms around him, wrapping him in a strong embrace.
The dog that had been watching Fenrir with fangs shown up so far seemed to calm down immediately. His head was tilted to the side as if he found the situation very curious.

- I'm fine, Fenrir. This black dog helped me, he defended me against Ripper.

- I know, Cub, I know. Still, you must have been quite scared. Luckily that mutt was there to save you, I wouldn't have arrived in time.

Harry could only nod. Now that the adrenaline was beginning to drop, he realized that he felt horribly weak, both physically and morally. A stinging sensation had appeared in his eyes. He then realized that he was starting to cry. He hadn't cried for a long time, but the fear he'd felt followed by the tall man's almost fatherly embrace had released a pressure inside him that he hadn't been aware of before.

- Shhhht, everything is fine Cub, chhhh.

Feeling the younger boy's legs drop, Fenrir lowered them slowly, sitting down on the ground and taking Harry to his lap. The dog approached them and lay down, keeping his head up to observe the scene.

- Nah, it's not okay! She wanted to kill me! That whore! Fuck!

Big sobs came out of her throat.

- Who, Cub? Who dared unleash that beast on you?

- My uncle's sister! I... I always knew she hated me. They all hate me in this family but... But shit! Fuck! That bitch wanted to kill me, really kill me!

- Shhhh… You know what, kid. You will come with me. Don't give a fuck what the old goat or our mutual friend wants. I won't leave you another second with this garbage.

- My things are over there…

- Hmm… I can't come near your house. There's like a barrier around against people like me.

- Like you?

- When are your uncle and aunts going to bed?

- Oh, in at least two or three hours.

- Hmmm… When they're in bed, you'll go to the house and you'll get your things back. Then you come back here and I'll take you.

Harry looked at the man. If, during their first meeting, he had felt a certain fear towards the man, he now felt completely safe in his arms. But he was still someone rational enough to insist. Trusting blindly was not his style.

- What do you mean by "people like you"?

- Ah, you're not letting it go. Well, a hint, I couldn't come last week because of what I am.

Last week? Harry thought, frowning. What was different between last week and this week? Something natural, of course, if it had anything to do with what he was. Was Fenrir a creature? If so, what kind?
He put the puzzle pieces into perspective with what he had read about humanoid magical creatures. Amber eyes, great physical strength (he had lifted him as if he weighed no more than a leaf, a few minutes before). Not a vampire, it was broad daylight the first time he'd seen him. And... but of course! Ever since he had known him, Fenrir had called him "cub" and it was a full moon on Wednesday last week. Harry have facepalmed in frustration as to his blindness. It was so obvious!

- Werewolf?

- Yup, werewolf. I have no idea why a werewolf barrier was put up around your house, though. Against the Death Eaters, I understand, and it exists, I'm sure, but against the Weres... We're not that many and we don't give a fuck about the Boy-Who-Lived, without wanting to vex you.

- Hmm… When I was in the vault at Gringotts, I found a diary of my father and his friends. Apparently one of his close friends was a werewolf.

- Oh? Who? I definitely know him.

- Remus Lupin. And... Oh I'm stupid. Sirius Black was a friend of my father. I knew I had heard of him somewhere! He is listed as my adoptive godfather on my inheritance test.

The dog seemed to prick up its ears, as if surprised at what Harry had just said. The boy's gaze fixed intently on the animal.

- Adoptive?

- Long story, later.

- Ok. Lupin… that means something to me. I know I intentionally infected Lyall Lupin's son, it must be him.

The dog seemed to growl lowly but seemed to be waiting for something.

- The kid was sick. Heart defect. Incurable. He should have died before his tenth birthday. I knew becoming a werewolf would save him but his father was a jerk. According to Lyall, werewolves were "soulless, diabolical creatures, only deserving of death" and never mind if his kid died when I could save him. I can't stand the pain of children, my wolf can't stand a young one suffering. So I bit him.

The two discussed many things for a long time. Harry learned more about the nature of the werewolf and his instincts, realizing that what he had read had been written by people who knew little about it. From what he understood, Remus Lupin should have had an instinct to protect Harry as if he were his own cub. And yet, the boy had never seen or heard from him.

When midnight struck, the three got up and headed for Privet Drive. Fenrir stopped at the end of the street, he couldn't go any further. He asked Harry to take the dog with him. This one seemed intelligent and seemed to have quickly become attached to the boy. If his horrible uncle or aunt woke up while he was in the house, he would be protected.

Harry snuck up to number 4 and opened the door to a wandless Alohomora. The dog followed him without hesitation into the house, sniffing wherever he went. Harry had to suppress a chuckle when the animal decided to relieve his bladder on the shoes in the hallway. At worst, they'll believe Marge's dog was even more disgusting than they thought.

With light steps, accustomed to making as little noise as possible in this house where pretending he didn't exist was the norm, he climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Grabbing his trunk, he returned it to its normal size in order to store the few things he had taken out during his stay.
Once the trunk was shrunk and stowed in his pocket, Harry dropped to one knee, getting level with the dog.

- Thank you, Sirius.

The dog seemed to jump.

- No, stay like that. We'll have time to talk later. But I wanted you to know that I don't think you were the one who betrayed the Potters. But you also need to know several things about me before you decide to accompany me or not. And if you decide not to come with me, that's not a big deal either. I would just ask you to keep everything I'm going to say to yourself if you reject me.

The dog whimpered a little.

- Earlier, I said that you were my adopted godfather and it is the truth. Before my first year at Hogwarts, the goblins made me do an inheritance test. I'm not the Potters' son. Lily was indeed pregnant but lost the baby in mid-July. I was born in June with my twin. Lily and James adopted me on July 31, when Henry Potter should have been born. I don't have a clue what happened but my biological parents don't even know they had two sons and not one. This is not an abandonment but a kidnapping. I don't know if the Potters are the ones who kidnapped me, I was told it didn't look like something they'd do, or if someone else took me and entrusted me to them… Still it's... it's fishy.

Harry gave Sirius a few minutes to digest the news. He finally nodded, as if to say that it didn't change anything for him.

- Oh wait, that's not all. I suspected that wouldn't be what would scare you away. My biological father is a Death Eater, Sirius, a member of the Inner Circle. And… Let's say I am very far from being a Dumbledore fan.

The dog's hair stood on end.

- Oh, don't be like that. Who do you think put me here after the Potters died? Dumby is perfectly aware of what is going on here, it cannot be otherwise, I am too important in his eyes. And he doesn't care. Worse, he seems okay if I'm to believe all the times someone got worried and mysteriously changed their attitude a few days later. And then I actually read the diary you wrote. You don't think it's weird that Dumbledore accepts a werewolf at Hogwarts, just like that, out of the goodness of his heart, and the others werewolves aren't given the same chance? Why make an exception for the son of Lyall Lupin, a man who has an unspeakable hatred of werewolves if not to put him in his pocket? And why put up barriers against werewolves if the last friend of my father free to come see me is a werewolf? Fenrir is not a tender man, it shows and it feels. But you saw how he reacted tonight when he thought I was hurt. And, don't kid yourself, we're not longtime friends. In fact, we saw each other for less than a quarter of an hour last summer.

The dog seemed to calm down.

- I'm not asking you for an immediate answer, of course. But if you really want to be part of my life like you seem to want, you're going to have to question and rethink a lot of things.

The dog nodded sadly. Everything was not settled but Harry had the impression that Sirius was going to think seriously before making a decision.