Chapter 2. My Only Friend

Nearly ten years later…

Harry Potter woke up to cold water splashing his face. Gasping, he bolted up, hitting his head on the bottom of the stairs. His recurring dream of a beautiful woman with red hair and a flash of green light, faded into nothing. Groaning, he rubbed his forehead. How did he sleep in so late? He was always up before any of his relatives, or things like this happened.

"Thought you'd be lazy today, you freak?" Harry's aunt hissed, "Get up and get breakfast ready."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia,"

Harry searched for his glasses and shoved them on his nose. He crawled out from the cupboard under the stairs, which had been his room his whole life, and stretched. His back popped as he twisted, and he sighed as the kinks from being in a cramped position for so long, loosened.

Brushing off his pajamas and placing a wolf spider back into his cupboard for its safety – his aunt would kill the poor thing instantly if she saw it – Harry made his way stiffly into the kitchen. Opening the door, he dodged her daily attempt to hit his head with a frying pan.

"Hurry, Freak, and don't burn anything," Petunia sneered as she sat down at the table with a cup of coffee. She kept a close eye on Harry's movements.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia,"

That was how Harry always answered. Anything else would get him a clout across the head. Freak was how his relatives addressed him. They never used his given name, it was either Freak or Boy, but Harry never complained about it. That would have gotten him ten lashings.

While Harry was turning the bacon, his uncle Vernon came waddling through the door and gave Harry a glare. Harry kept his eyes down, he was never allowed to look at them, as the sight of his freaky glowing green eyes made Vernon Dursley angry.

"Still alive, are you?"

That was his uncle's morning greeting. That or telling Harry to get a haircut. Harry was sure that his uncle kept hoping to wake up and not see him in the kitchen. It was probably Vernon's fondest dream. Harry quickly got his uncle a coffee and returned to cooking. He was almost finished when his cousin made his grand entrance. Strutting to the table, he was kissed and hugged by Petunia.

"Good morning, Dudders. How is my precious boy?"

Dudley just grunted, then sat at the table and looked expectantly at the television. Petunia hurriedly turned the channel to his favorite show. Vernon smiled fondly at the scene before sipping his coffee.

Rolling his eyes, Harry started bringing the platters of food over to the table. Once everything had been set down, Harry went back to the kitchen to wait, in case they needed anything else during their meal.

Harry never ate with them, freaks were not allowed, and Harry knew better than to try. The first time he had tried to sit at the table and eat with them after placing the meal, Vernon had thrown his scalding hot coffee in Harry's face and dragged him down, screaming from pain, onto the kitchen floor, where Vernon had slapped him.

"Freaks don't sit at the table with decent folks! Stay where you belong!"

Harry was five at the time and did not understand. He had laid on the laminate floor screaming, his face burning from the blisters made from the hot coffee. His aunt had scolded Vernon about the work she would have to do now to fix him so the Freak would be able to do his chores that night.

She had slapped some smelly paste on his face, complaining about how worthless he was, and threw him in his cupboard. Harry was kept there, tears of agony leaving a stinging trail down his face, until it was time for him to do his chores and make dinner.

Mentally shaking his head to rid himself of those memories, Harry looked at his 'family' as they ate. Vernon was a big, beefy man with barely any neck, though he had a very impressive mustache to take away the attention from it.

Vernon had a quick temper that always flared whenever he saw Harry. He would be nothing but smiles and compliments to his family until he saw Harry, then the glares and insults would come. To Vernon, Harry was the reason for everything that went wrong in their life.

Petunia, Harry's mother's sister, was thin and blonde and had twice the usual amount of neck and a horse face, at least according to the neighbors she loved to spy on. Harry inwardly smiled at that thought, as he agreed with those neighbors.

That was Petunia's favorite pastime. Craning that long neck over the fence to watch the neighbors. Their dinner conversations were always about so and so's problems, and then gloating at how much better they were than everyone else.

"If only everyone knew what these people were really like. She couldn't gloat about anything then,"

Harry's eyes then landed on his cousin. Dudley was a lot like Vernon, barely any neck and as big as a whale, or an elephant. It was hard to compare since he had never seen either of them in his life, but it sounded about right.

Dudley was always shoving food into his mouth, food Harry himself made but did not get to eat. Dudley's parents thought he was the perfect child and could do no wrong. They called him things like 'Ickle Diddykins' 'Popkin' or 'Little tyke'. To Harry, he just looked like a pig in a blonde wig.

Oh, how he wanted to be loved like Dudley was, how he had seen so many other children treated by their family. Harry hated the way he was treated, he hated them, but that was how it was when you were a freak. Freaks did not matter, did not deserve any better and should learn their place. Harry did try, he just was not any good at it.

Freaks should be grateful to be given anything. Harry selfishly wanted more than what they were giving him. He wanted what he had seen many other kids have. According to his uncle, freaks did not deserve to live, so he should be happy that he was alive and kept locked away from decent, ordinary folks.

That was why Harry rarely went anywhere and was locked in at night. Why he was given Dudley's old clothes and did all the chores. He had to earn his keep and stay quiet during his punishments. They would not let his freakishness contaminate the rest of the world.

Harry would have told the neighbors about how they treated him, but they did not care as they thought he was a dangerous troublemaker. He was just someone that the Dursleys were kindly helping and only came around occasionally.

Which explained why the Dursleys had never enrolled him in Primary school, and why he was barely seen throughout the year. Besides the point that the Dursleys did not want him to know anything that could help him in life.

Harry, in his oversized, dirty clothes and his messy hair, and of course being told that he went to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys, was not someone they associated with. They praised the Dursleys for their charity towards the poor child.

Only once did a stranger see him limping behind the lawnmower and tried to get him help, but after a meeting with the Dursleys, she too now thought Harry was a liar. The beating he had received after that had been horrendous, and he was punished again after he had healed enough, for the chores he had missed while he was healing.

He had learned quickly that what happened in the home, stayed in the home, and he needed to hide his pain. No one would help him, and he only received more punishment when they did. Thinking about that brought another memory to the forefront of Harry's mind.

Harry was around six years old. He was hurrying to place breakfast on the table before his uncle sat down, as was the unspoken rule. Harry, hearing Vernon's heavy tread on the stairs, dropped the sausage he was moving onto the platter on the floor. He quickly picked it up, but Vernon had come into the kitchen at the same time and saw him.

He slapped Harry across the face, took his hand, dragged him back to the stove and pressed his palm onto the hot hob. Over Harry's screams, Vernon told him that he was lazy and sloppy, and that would not be tolerated in his house.

Harry whimpered and tears streamed down his face at the agony he was feeling. Vernon smacked Harry one more time and told him he would do well to remember to keep his freakish noises to himself. Harry instantly quieted, not wanting to receive a lashing as well.

Harry was then thrown into his cupboard without food. He sat in his cupboard that day, holding his blistered and leaking hand to his chest, silently crying for help that would never come. Pleading for the pain to stop and his misery to end.

That was not the first time Harry had been shoved into his cupboard, hurt and crying, but it was the day Harry realized that he was alone and had to take care of himself. He was all he had. He could not trust anyone.

Harry looked at the circular scar on his palm. He had healed quicker than he thought was possible – he always did – but the scar remained. A reminder of his place in life. Harry was brought out of his thoughts by his aunt's shrill voice.

"Clean this up, and don't even think about eating any of it. Straight into the bin, and I'll be checking it later, so don't try to sneak anything. You know what will happen if you do."

Oh yeah, Harry knew what would happen. The last time he had snuck food, he received twenty lashings with Vernon's belt, then thrown into his cupboard to silently cry and try not to move. Harry had learned at an early age to never make a sound. That just caused him to get more lashes for disturbing the family with his freakish noises.

Harry shivered and went to work. This was a normal thing for him – going the day, or days, without food. He was so used to it that he hardly ever felt hungry. He was glad though that he had already hidden some bread and sausage from last night's dinner in his cupboard for just such a thing.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied as he dodged Dudley's stuck out leg.

He gathered the dishes while the family moved to the living room to watch TV together. After cleaning up, Harry went outside to start his daily chores. This was his favorite time, when he was away from the Dursleys and could breathe in the fresh air. No yelling or screaming, just the birds singing their songs. Harry had been working for nearly two hours when his furry best friend showed up.

Hearing a rustling sound coming from the left hedge, Harry turned and gave a small smile as he walked out of sight of the windows. He looked the yard over as he walked. Everything was trimmed, cut, and polished. He was pretty proud of his work. This, he enjoyed doing. This, was where he could feel a resemblance of peace.

"There you are, Snuffles. I was wondering if you were coming today."

Harry scratched the huge black dog – he was the size of what Harry imagined a large sized bear would be – behind the ears. Snuffles tilted his head and lolled out his tongue, sighing a huge sigh. This made Harry chuckle.

"I know, you've come nearly every day since I met you. I still don't know why you chose me as your friend, since I don't make a very good one. I can't feed you and you only get to drink out of the garden hose… Well so do I, but that's not being a good friend."

Snuffles gave a little growl, like he did not like what Harry was saying, and dug his snout into Harry's side. Harry giggled and wrapped his arms around the dog's neck. He still could not wrap them all the way around, but he held all that he could. It was the only positive touch he ever received.

"I know boy, you're my best friend too. I'm glad I have you."

Snuffles whined sadly, then when Harry pulled back, he wiggled around and started chasing his tail. Laughing, Harry chased him around the yard, being careful not to go anywhere near the back windows. It would not be good if they saw his friend, though how anyone missed such a huge dog, Harry did not know.

Harry had almost gotten Snuffles killed once, after they first met, and he did not want that to actually happen. He still felt horrible about that day and the pain his new friend had been in. Thinking about what had happened brought back the memory of another friend he did get killed.

Harry had been pulling weeds one day when he was surprised by a small voice coming from one of the bushes. A little garden snake was complaining that there was never any food in here because it was too clean, and Harry laughed and apologized to the snake.

They were both surprised at being able to understand each other, and Harry was delighted at how smart and funny the snake was. Unfortunately, Dudley had caught him feeding and talking to the snake one day.

He got quite the thrashing that night, and later, locked in his cupboard after finishing the dinner dishes, a plate was thrown onto his lap for his dinner. To his horror, it was his snake friend, skinned and cooked, his head still attached.

Harry quickly shook the horrible memory off and focused on here and now and the friend he needed to keep safe. His only friend and companion. He looked around again just to make sure they were still alone.

After a couple more minutes, Harry sat down, panting from the physical fun. Snuffles came to him and did the thing that gave him his name. He snuffled all over Harry, tickling him as he went. Laughing quietly, Harry pushed him away.

"Sorry Snuffles, I've got to get back to work. I have to finish the backyard before making lunch. I'll try to sneak something for you, yeah?"

Harry stood up and Snuffles went to lie in his preferred spot in the shade. He watched Harry put away all the supplies he had used to trim, mow, and clean up the yard. Once done, Harry started weeding the garden. Luckily, there were not many to pull.

Harry had just finished and was putting away the tools in the garden shed, when they heard the back door slam open. Snuffles crept back under the hedge and watched, growling, as a big man came out of the door and yelled at Harry.

"Get in here, boy! There are things to do and you're lazing about out there!" The uncle turned around and slammed the door closed behind him.

Harry ran out of the shed and looked around wildly for Snuffles. He sighed in relief when he saw the grey eyes looking at him from under the hedge. He smiled at the dog, then hurried inside. Snuffles squeezed through the hedge and trotted down the street and to the park that Harry liked to frequent, at least his scent was thick there.

Making sure no one was around, Snuffles morphed into a man. This man was tall, with shoulder length wavy brown hair and a trimmed goatee. He was skinny but muscular, probably from running around as a dog most of the day.

The dog (a grim) was the man's Animagus form, Padfoot, but he did like the name Harry had given him as well. Although he would love for Harry to call him by another name… Godfather. This man's name was Sirius Black, and Harry was his beloved godson.

Sirius wanted nothing more than to have Harry live with him and raise him like James and Lily had wanted him to, but Albus Dumbledore had explained his reasonings for placing Harry there, and he would not budge on them.

He did not want any undue attention that having a wizard constantly visiting there would bring to where Harry was living. If only Sirius had been close enough to retrieve Harry that fateful night, instead of out trying to lead Voldemort and his followers away.

The Minister would not help him either because he wanted to keep the 'Boy-Who-Lived' safe behind the blood wards Dumbledore had created when he had placed Harry there. Even though, as Godfather, Sirius had the right to take Harry in.

By the time Sirius had gotten out of Azkaban and was healed enough to function somewhat normally, Harry had already been with his Muggle relatives for six years and the Minister was convinced that Harry was stable and did not need his life upheaved.

Dumbledore had forbidden Sirius from having any involvement in Harry's life until he came to Hogwarts, wanting Harry to have a normal life, but Sirius was not having that. This was his godson. Like hell he was not going to watch over him. James and Lily would have his head. Besides, magic should be a normal part of Harry's life.

'Snuffles' had visited Number Four many times over those first months after he finally found out where Dumbledore had stashed Harry, and had barely gotten a couple glimpses of the boy. Usually just peeks of him going and coming from the car.

He only got a really good look at him towards the end of the first month. Harry would have been seven then, but he looked so much smaller than an average seven-year-old. It did not seem right, but what did Sirius know about children. So, he decided to watch and 'introduce himself' to Harry. That first meeting had almost been their last one.

Padfoot snuck under the hedge he had dug a hole under and saw Harry sitting alone in the garden. He knew it was him by the messy black hair that was identical to his father's. A wave of longing and pain rushed through Padfoot at the thought of James, but he pushed it aside.

Padfoot watched and waited to make sure they were alone before he moved. He was very excited to spend time with his godson and hoped they would hit it off. At first, Padfoot thought Harry was playing, but then he noticed the pile of weeds by the boy's side and how sweaty he looked.

'What kind of kid does the weeding instead of playing in the mud? I'd be all up in that… Actually, I think I may just roll around in that later.' Padfoot smirked at his thoughts.

Padfoot pushed his large body through the hedge and the noise startled Harry so much that he jumped about a foot in the air and landed on his back. Harry scrambled up and looked around frantically, his eyes wide and fearful, a slight grimace on his face.

That stopped Padfoot in his tracks. He had not meant to scare the child, did not mean to hurt him, and he could see that Harry was in pain. Harry's frantic eyes finally rested on him, and they got even wider, if that was possible. Trembling, Harry backed away, stepping on a couple of plants as he went.

Padfoot laid down and started to whine. This was not working out how he had wanted it to. He had not thought about how intimidating he would be to a small child, seeing how he was the size of a large bear. How could he get to know the kid if he was afraid of him?

After a tense couple of seconds, Harry slowly came to realize that the massive dog was not going to do anything to him and decided he would take his chances and try to get into the house. Between a beating from his uncle or being mauled by a huge dog, he chose the one he knew he would live through. Warily, Harry took a couple hesitant steps toward the house and away from the dog. Then Harry froze when the dog shifted.

Padfoot whined, put his paw over his snout and looked up at Harry. He made big 'puppy eyes' trying to look as unthreatening as possible. He really did not want Harry to run away from him.

Silent minutes went by and Padfoot was beginning to think this might not work and he should just leave, when Harry slowly stepped towards him. Padfoot held his breath as he watched. He was afraid to move a muscle in case he scared Harry away.

"Hey, fella," Harry crooned to the massive dog.

He hoped this dog was nothing like Aunt Marge's dog, Ripper. He still had scars on his ankle from when Ripper had bitten him. If this dog were to bite him, he would take off his leg. Something about this dog was different though, he made Harry feel safe.

He looked very scary, with how huge and dark he was, but Harry just felt that he would not hurt him. Sometimes Harry felt things, and he had learned to trust in those feelings. So, with his trembling hand held out towards the dog, Harry again decided to trust in those feelings.

"It's okay, fella,"

Padfoot could hear the slight wobble in Harry's voice, so he did not move. A small whine came from Padfoot involuntarily, he wanted this so bad. Harry crouched down once he got closer. Padfoot whimpered a bit more and low crawled the rest of the distance. Harry tentatively touched his head and smiled when the dog sighed and pressed his head into his hand.

"What are you doing out here? You shouldn't be here. You'll get in trouble." whispered Harry as he quickly looked towards the house.

Padfoot reached a paw forward and laid it on Harry's foot. Harry jerked, his head snapping back to look at Padfoot in fear. A few tense seconds later, Harry smiled and sat cross-legged on the grass beside the dog. Padfoot then put his head on Harry's knee. Harry stiffened for another few seconds, but when the dog did not move, he started to pet him.

"It's not safe here. You can't stay," said Harry sadly, still petting the dog. "But I wish you could, it would be nice to have a friend."

Padfoot could not take it anymore, could not stand to hear the longing in his godson's voice, he picked up his head and snuffled Harry's face then licked his cheek. Harry completely froze in fear, then laughed out loud, startled.

"Alright, fella, but you have to stay hidden. They can't know-"

"Boy! Where are you, you ungrateful freak!"

The sound of the man's voice caused Harry to go stiff and his eyes widened fearfully as the color drained from his face. Padfoot was surprised over the instant change. Harry scurried to his feet and raced back to the garden.

Padfoot silently followed and peeked carefully around the corner of the house. Harry's uncle was standing by the garden, red-faced and breathing hard. He was pointing at the garden where Padfoot had found Harry.

"What have you done, you freak? Look at this mess!"

Harry looked at the mashed plants that he had stepped on when he had first seen the massive dog and had tried to get away from when he had panicked. Harry paled further and his body started shaking.

"I- I'm sorry Uncle Vernon. I –"

SMACK!

Harry fell to the ground hard after Vernon slapped him across the face. A red handprint instantly formed across the side of Harry's face in bright red. The fact that Harry did not react to this in any way concerned Padfoot.

"I don't want excuses, boy. You will fix this mess, now." Vernon hissed.

A deep growl pulled Vernon's attention away from Harry and to the big black dog that was coming at him with teeth bared. Vernon grabbed the nearby shovel, and brandishing it menacingly, he took a step toward the dog.

"No!" yelled Harry. "Don't hurt him! Go, fella, go!"

Padfoot looked at Harry in confusion and got hit in the shoulder with the shovel for his inattention. Yelping, he backed off and saw Harry run between them with his hands up. Padfoot knew that was a bad idea, but he could not stop him.

"Please!" Harry begged his uncle, then slightly turned his head to Padfoot. "Go, fella, please." Tears were running down Harry's face.

"If I see that stray again, I'll kill it." Vernon sneered.

Vernon swung the shovel again at the dog and Padfoot ran towards the hedge, while Harry, being between them, got the full brunt of the hit. Harry yelped and fell to the ground. Vernon picked Harry up by the collar of his shirt and shoved him towards the house. Harry was holding his side but did not make another sound as he limped inside.

"You will pay for that, boy," Padfoot heard the man snarl.

Padfoot watched in frozen horror until the door slammed shut behind Harry's uncle. Those Muggles were abusing Harry! Padfoot growled furiously… he would kill them! No one hurt his godson!

Sirius had no idea what had happened to Harry after that, and he was very worried after what he had seen, so the next day he decided to visit Harry again to see how he was. He watched Harry moving gingerly and limping around the backyard and started to come out from the hedge.

The noise brought Harry's head slowly to the side, his eyes were wide with fear, and he subtly shook his head. Padfoot froze and watched as Vernon walked into view with a rifle in his beefy hands, and every once in a while, he would jab Harry with it.

Harry was shaking so badly, and kept shooting him worried looks, that Padfoot left before he caused more harm to the boy. Sirius had gone straight to Dumbledore about what he had seen, but Dumbledore dismissed his worries.

Dumbledore said he must not have understood what was happening. Harry's family was probably trying to protect him from the massive, bear-sized dog that was not supposed to be there. Here he glared at Sirius in accusation. Dumbledore assured Sirius that he had someone living nearby watching over Harry.

Sirius told him about what he had seen, how they were treating Harry, but Dumbledore dismissed that as well. He was sure that Sirius was overacting. Kids were clumsy, and without any real proof of abuse, they had no reason to change Harry's living arrangements. He was protected where he was.

Sirius did not accept that at all. He wished Remus were there, he always knew what to say to reason with Dumbledore. But Remus had gone missing right after that Halloween, and Sirius had no clue where he went. Now though, would be a good time for him to come back.

Sirius decided that he would try visiting Harry again in a couple of days. He would find the proof he needed and get his godson out of there. Sirius would not stop fighting until Harry was safely under his guardianship and away from those horrendous Muggles.

Coming out of his thoughts, Sirius sat on a bench to wait until after lunch so he could go back and eat the scraps that Harry would steal for him. Sirius still had not found enough strong evidence to get Harry out of there and it was ticking him off.

Harry would be starting Hogwarts soon and he needed to get enough evidence to convince Dumbledore to let him take Harry away before the year ended. He knew Harry could not take much more of their 'tender loving care'.

Sirius understood how blood wards worked and the strong protection they gave, and he did want to keep Harry safe, but he desperately wanted to get Harry away from those filthy Muggles. Plus, he did not want to have to live under a Fidelius Charm until Harry graduated from Hogwarts.

Sirius knew Harry was not happy or healthy. He was way too small and was always limping or favoring some part of himself. Sirius knew they were hurting him, and he would find what he needed to get Harry out of there. With renewed determination, Sirius changed back into Padfoot and headed to Number Four.