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Pup (Yes, you are still my pup, even in your new form.),
I can’t wait to see you! You said you weren’t sure what species you were - we can figure that out once you get home for summer. It’ll be much easier to figure out when you have someone else who can see you properly. First thing we’re doing is have Moony take a photo of the two of us - then we can use it for reference! I’ve ordered some muggle books on snake species. The Black Library already has dozens on magical snakes. Between the new and old, I’m sure we’ll be able to figure you out!
Truly, Pup, I am so happy for you! You know that Padfoot kept me sane in Azkaban, but even before that, being able to shift brought your father and me so much joy. I’ve never met an animagus that didn’t find comfort and joy in spending time as their animal form. Even Minnie - she tends to spend her Sundays lounging in her cat form, but don’t tell her I told you that!
Your parents used to rise early on the weekend and go for hikes. James as Prongs, of course. Lily always took a book, and they’d find a field to rest in. I have a photo somewhere from when Moony and I followed them one time. I’ll find it for you, but it’s the cutest thing. Your mum would lean against Prongs’ flank as she read, and they’d just enjoy the morning sun.
I’m sure it won’t be long before I find you sunbathing on a rock in the back garden. Perhaps your form does make sense, given how much both of your parents enjoyed that routine.
You also asked if I was disappointed. Harry, Prongslet, Pup, let me make this clear: There is nothing you have ever done or could ever do that would make me disappointed in you. And certainly not for becoming an animagus at 15. You’re truly following in our footsteps there, kiddo. No, I’m not disappointed at all. Frankly, I could not be more proud. I almost wish you had friends to experience it with, but I understand why you did this on your own. And I’m so excited to experience it with you myself, come summer. Despite my feelings about Slytherins and the Black Family as a whole, not all snakes are bad. You’re able to defend yourself, your form is good for sneaking around and hiding, and it’ll give you the escape you need. It’s a form that fits all of your needs. That is all I care about.
Now, to discuss this summer. Dumbles is still insisting you must go to the Dursleys’ for the summer. Go without complaint. Padfoot will meet you in Surrey. We’ll shrink your things and go out the back door, shift, and make our way away from Privet Drive. From there, we’ll be heading to a vacation property for the rest of the summer. Moony knows how to contact me. He’ll get us any particularly important information, but we’ll be free of other people for a few months. You’ll be able to rest after all those OWLs.I can’t wait to spend some proper time with you, Pup.
Love you. See you soon,
Padfoot
Harry had reread the letter probably a hundred times since it was delivered in early May. Hell, Harry had reread it just yesterday morning, only a few hours before everything went to hell. He’d been so excited for the end of exams - so excited to see Sirius. And now…now he’d never see Sirius again. There’d be no photo together like the Marauders once took. There’d be no figuring out the species his form took. No spending hours together in the Black Library. No summer hols spent together. He’d never see Sirius again. Never pet Padfoot again. Never hug the only parental figure he’s ever had again. Another teardrop fell on the letter, smearing ink.
Harry set the letter on his pillow and crumpled into a ball on his bed. The curtains were drawn tight and spelled to stay shut, keeping all noise from the dorm room out and all noise from him in. Ron gave up trying to get past them hours ago when the curtains shocked him every time he tried to move them, even by magical means. Harry just lay on the mattress as tears passively spilled down his cheeks. He’d sobbed until his sides hurt, but the tears just wouldn’t stop. It’d already been 24 hours since Sirius…fell. Dumbledoor had already summoned him to tell him he still had to return to the Dursleys despite losing his godfather so recently. And had told him he wouldn’t be able to write to Remus or his friends during the summer, as owl post was becoming less and less secure. Harry was so upset, so rattled, by Sirius’s loss that he nearly missed the look of near-glee as Dumbledore told him of the isolation he’d be experiencing that summer. It was something he and Siri had been discussing, how Dumbledore always sought to make Harry isolated, with no support other than Dumbledore himself. It was something they had been trying to combat. It was what led to the plan of spiriting Harry away from Privet Drive before he ever truly arrived for the summer.
But now…now the plan was moot. Because Sirius was gone and Harry was going to be alone again.
Harry wasn’t sure he’d slept, but when he came to, he lowered the ward that kept noise from the room out. He could hear Seamus and Dean squabbling about who items belonged to and could also make out the clinking of terracotta pots as Neville packaged his plants for transport. Cautiously sticking his head out, Ron was nowhere to be seen. Neville nodded to Harry, but made no move to speak with him. Seamus and Dean were too wrapped up in their packing to pay Harry mind. Harry slipped into the bathroom and took care of his needs before rinsing his face and looking at himself in the mirror.
He was covered in scrapes and bruises, his hand still sluggishly bleeding from Umbridge’s quill, and if he was correct, he had a few cracked ribs as well.. Hermoine, Ginny, Ron, Luna, Neville…they’d all had injuries that Madam Pomfrey had needed to heal. But no one had even suggested Harry be looked after; frankly, that suited Harry just fine. His actions had gotten Sirius killed; it served him right to be injured. He couldn’t -wouldn’t- sully Sirius’ memory further by having his hurts healed in an instant. Harry gathered his belongings from the bathroom and put them in his trunk. Everything else was already packed – had been for the past week as Harry had been looking forward to leaving this year…but now…. Harry teared up as he caught sight of the mirror Siri had given him. What the hell had he been thinking? Running off to the Ministry without even trying to get Sirius on the mirror.
It was as if all rational thought went out the window yesterday. Harry paused. Something about that niggled Harry’s brain. There was something there worth going over, but not today. Harry shut and locked his trunk, activating the wards on it to keep others out, Seamus had been a right jerk this year, and Ron had a tendency to raid Harry’s food stores without consideration. Sirius had sent Harry some Black Family wards to protect personal property the first week of the school year. Harry’s breath hitched as he realized that would never happen again. Sirius would never just randomly send Harry a solution to a minor problem he mentioned. Merlin, his chest hurt; this was too much. Harry climbed back onto his bed and pulled the curtains shut, activating the wards to keep them in place and keep noise both out and in. He would just sleep until the train left on Saturday morning. He needed to get used to less food intake, anyway.
Harry had shrunk his trunk and boarded the Hogwarts Express in a daze. He remembered Hermione coaxing him to eat a bite of toast before leaving the Great Hall. He vaguely remembered hearing Hermione, Ginny, and Ron’s exclamations at suddenly being able to see the Threstals when they left the school. He knew that he sat between Neville and Luna as they rode to Hogsmeade and boarded the train. He remembered leaning against the window and watching the scenery change as they left Scotland behind. But Harry wasn’t mentally present for any of it.
He had missed Ron and Hermione assurances that they’d try to change Dumbledore’s mind about writing him (yeah, right) and Luna and Neville’s shared looks after learning how alone Harry would be all summer.
Harry only got off the train when he was supposed to because Neville and Luna helped stand him up and lead him off the train. He said his goodbyes to them with a shoulder squeeze from Neville and hug from Luna. They said something about trying to write, but Harry brushed it off. Afterall, Dumbledore said he’d created a new mail ward for Harry and there was no reason to try to bypass that. Harry hadn’t even bothered to bring Hedwig home this summer - she’d be safer and better fed at Hogwarts. He missed the shocked looks that mumbled explanation garnered.
Turning from Neville and Luna, Harry walked towards Hermione, the Weasleys, and the exit into muggle King’s Cross Station. He nodded to Ron and Ginny, mumbled his goodbyes and gave Hermione a half-hearted side hug. He continued his walk towards the exit when Mr Weasley set an arm on his shoulder and pulled him closer for a squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I know Dumbledore has said to keep contact to a minimum, but if you need anything, please let us know. I mean anything, Harry.” Harry snorted a laugh, but it came out as more of a grunt. Harry had left Hedwig at Hogwarts. He wouldn’t be contacting anyone for anything. Arthur took the grunt as agreement. “I know you’re hurting, but we love you and you will always have a place with us.” He pulled Harry to his chest for another hug, missing how the boy twitched in pain from the tight squeeze. “Moody and them should be done now. Do you want me to walk you out?” Harry shook his head and headed towards the exit once more. He never questioned what ‘Moody and them’ would have been doing in the first place.
Harry was surprised to find his Uncle was downright gleeful. Harry was immediately concerned, but he hadn’t done anything to warrant a punishment, nor had he spoken to his Uncle at all. He hoped the man was just doing well at work, or that Dudley or Aunt Petunia had something exciting coming up. The illusion was shattered when they arrived back at Privet Drive. His uncle finally addressed Harry with a simple “Garage, Freak!”
Harry was still in such a daze that he barely noted his uncle’s return before the man was on him. He’d grabbed a belt and was laying into Harry’s back before he’d even opened his mouth to explain why. “You weren’t even going to tell us, were you, Freak? We had to hear it from that Freak Policeman. Your godfather isn’t a threat to us anymore. You killed him, and now, no one wants to protect you.” Vernon kept swinging the belt well after Harry collapsed to the ground.
That explained what “Moody and them” had been doing. He’d seen Moody, Tonks, Kingsley, and Moony in the crowd on the muggle side of the barrier. He had hoped Moony would say goodbye and give him a hug before he returned to hell, but the man hadn’t approached him. Whatever their intentions had been, Vernon saw it as a return to the status quo from before Sirius’s prison break. He no longer had to worry about a homicidal fugitive godfather seeing him abuse the boy. He could return to taking every negative emotion he experienced out on the boy. No wonder he was so happy to see Harry. He had his punching bag back.
Vernon continued to whip and kick the boy until he was well out of breath. Before he turned to leave, he brought his booted foot down on Harry’s right hand, grinning as hear how the bones cracked and ground together. “You’ll stay here if you know what’s good for you. I’m not done with you yet.” Vernon grinned down at the lump of flesh that was his nephew and turned to leave the garage. He locked the door behind him and went to enjoy his dinner. Perhaps he’d be up for round two before bed. He had so many fun ideas for the freak.
When Harry came to, all he recognized was pain. It took ages for his brain to remember where he was. The garage, right. There was no light coming in from the cracks around the door, so he knew it was nighttime. Unless Vernon was planning a midnight beating, Harry was probably safe until morning. Safe? That got a snort of amusement from the boy and Harry ended up gasping in pain from the movement.
Harry began to take stock of his body and his new injuries as he started to peel himself off the floor. The more Harry thought about what had happened, the more worried he was. It wasn’t the welts from the belt or the bruises and (even more) broken ribs from the kicks that scared him, but his hand. Vernon had broken bones before. Plenty. But this…his hands were usually left in… semi-working order. Sure, he’d have broken fingers here and there, but they were largely left untouched in the overall scheme of things. If Vernon did too much damage to his hands, then he couldn’t work. If he couldn’t work, he couldn’t do the chores assigned to him. And if Harry couldn’t do chores, then why would Vernon keep him around?
Almost as if Harry were watching a telly program, he remembered with startling clarity what Vernon had been mumbling about as he left the garage hours ago. Vernon had been mumbling to himself about ‘whoring the boy out.’ The line that stuck out to Harry was “I can always have my fun between clients. Constant visits with my belt should keep the freak in line. And if the freak can’t handle it...well, those sorts certainly know how to hide a body.”
Harry had managed to pull himself into an upright sitting position and leaned against the leg of a work table with his least injured shoulder. Harry stared into the darkness and tried to convince himself that he hadn’t heard what he did. Or that his Uncle Vernon wouldn’t do something like that. But the more he thought about it, the more he worried about what the morning would bring.
When Harry was younger, Vernon had always made vague references to how Harry would “earn his keep” when he was older. Young Harry had always thought Vernon wanted Harry to get a job and give him the profits from it. At the time, Harry thought he could be okay with that. Especially if it would make his family like him more. But now, now Harry thought Vernon had a different plan in mind.
Harry slowly remembered all the times he hadn’t been shut up in his cupboard when Vernon had guests. It wasn’t frequent, but every few months, there’d be a gathering held at Privet Drive while Aunt Petunia and Dudley were out of town overnight. Vernon would host card or dice games, and Harry was required to serve food and drinks until all hours of the morning. He’d hated the way those men looked at him, but he’d never really been able to put a finger on why it bothered him. What if those games were a sort of sales pitch? But not for the game itself or anything to do with Vernon’s work at Grunnings, but for Harry.
Something in Harry’s gut told him he was right, and he knew he had to get out of this garage– and Surrey–as soon as possible. But how? And where would he go?
He supposed he could take the Knight Bus to the Leaky and stay there. But he didn’t have his vault key and he doubted he had enough money on him to pay for the full summer. This was why Sirius and him had come up with the summer plan to begin with. They knew Dumbledore would never give Harry access to his accounts before he became an adult - even the heir account he was supposed to have access to. And they knew any attempts to reason the man would be useless. Better to just spirit themselves away to a preexisting family home and wait for September to come. There was a good chance no one would even notice Harry wasn’t where he was supposed to be.
Harry leaned his head back against the table leg and thought about it some more. Maybe that was the best option. Sure, he couldn’t go the vacation home they’d planned on, but he could just disappear into the wilderness for a few months. He could use the fullmoons to keep track. He knew when to come back. No one knew he was an animagus. And even if they guessed they wouldn’t be looking for a snake.
Voldemort rubbed at his chest as he worked on paperwork and considered the reports from the few followers who had escaped the Ministry on Tuesday night. So many of his best men had been captured and sent to Azkaban. He could get them out, of course, that wasn’t an issue, but he’d prefer to do it by legal means so they could continue to be of use to him. Fudge was an easy wheel to grease, and Lucius was already set to be released next week. Naturally, Dumbledore had managed to get those arrested named in the Daily Prophet, but that could be fixed with a simple retraction. It was simple enough - just paperwork-heavy.
Voldemort rubbed at his chest again. The feeling was odd. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he was sad, perhaps even scared. But there was no real reason for him to be sad or scared. His followers could be returned, easy enough, his fight with Dumbledore had been a draw, the Potter boy hadn’t escaped unscathed, but still…that was the closest description for what he was feeling…. Utter bollocks, honestly. Lord Voldemort had nothing to be sad or scared about, and he refused even to entertain the possibility. And yet…
Standing abruptly, Voldemort walked from his study to the closest outer doors. Perhaps fresh air would make him feel better.
Voldemort enjoyed walking the manor grounds after dark. They were always beautiful – Narcissa always had a way with design– but he appreciated the quiet that came with the dark. He’d tried to take a walk late this afternoon and had been subjected to both the Malfoy brat’s whooping as he raced about on his broom once he’d gotten home from Hogwarts and ALSO his yelping and apologizing when he caught sight of Voldemort. He knew his reputation, but he wasn’t about to ban the child from having fun or making noise. Especially after being cooped up on a train all day.
Voldemort cut across the gardens to the meadow area. Lucius had once told him how much Narcissa adored picnics surrounded by wildflowers. So he’d had the family elves curate the perfect meadow for her. A slow stream ran through one edge of the meadow, clover, wildflowers, and native plants covered the clearing, and tall trees, perfect for reading or napping under, stood guard around the outside. It had quickly become one of Voldemort’s favorite places on the estate.
Voldemort sat with his back against one of the willows overlooking the stream and settled in to meditate until he managed to push aside those pesky odd feelings.
Harry hadn’t a clue where he was, but he’d felt wards earlier. Wherever he was, it was magic friendly. He knew he was probably on a private estate, but as long as he didn’t get too close to the main manor, he could go unnoticed. He had no intention of shifting back into his human form any time soon. Sirius was right, being in animal form really dulled grief. Even now, it was still amost all consuming, but this was worlds better than how it had been back at Hogwarts. Harry would simply wait for three full moons to pass before he made his way to London and the Leaky Cauldron. He’d get his things in Diagon those last few days of August - the third full moon would be August 28th - and head to Kings Cross when appropriate. Easy enough. For now, he’d find a water source and somewhere safe to sleep in his snake form. Then he could grieve.
Harry had been in his little burrow for a few days when it happened. He’d woken for seemingly no reason late one night. Not that that was unusual. He’d woken multiple times every night with Sirius' name on his mind and tearless sobs shaking his serpentine body. But, as that didn’t seem to be the case this time, Harry tried to settle himself back into sleep until sunrise. A vibration passed through the burrow. Harry stilled. Another. Another. Metered, as if they were beats in a song, or people marching in time…people…they were footsteps! Harry began to panic. He was on a magical estate, he knew this, but he’s seen no evidence of humans in this field. Why would they come here now? At night? Unless they knew he was here? This was bad. He had to get away.
Humans? Humans?! Not here! There have been no humans here! I must flee. I must escape. They must know I’m here! Must get away. Must. Must. Must! Voldemort paused. He had not been expecting to hear Parseltongue on his stroll. Nagini was safe and warm in front of the hearth in his office, and she’d seen no signs of other snakes during her exploration of the manor and estate - something she was sorely disappointed in. Where is the human? Where? Where! I must see them! I must avoid them! Voldemort cast a silent disillusionment spell on himself and used his hearing to narrow down where the snake was. There was a small hill in front of him that sloped down towards the creek, it was likely that the snake was on the decline and could not see uphill to spot Voldemort. Moving silently he approached the decline. The closer he got, the more frantic the snake was. Closer! They’re closer! But where?! Finally, Voldemort could see a pitch black shape in the grass, darting side to side, trying to find him. Reaching out carefully, careful not to take another step, he gently grabbed the snake right behind the head, so it could not bite him, and lifted the creature towards his chest. No! No! No, no, no, no! Let me go! No! The small creature wrapped its body around his wrist and –oh, that was odd…something about that touch was familiar…warm. Voldemort would have to look into that, but for now, it was best to calm his new charge down.
Hush, little serpent. I mean you no harm. The snake stilled in his grasp, before beginning to tremor. How odd. Most snakes were thrilled to meet speakers. I did not mean to frighten you. I was not expecting to hear any snakes during my stroll. My familiar, Nagini, has lamented the lack of snakes on the estate. She’ll be thrilled to meet you. The snake said nothing. Little one? Are you alright?
Let me go. Please. I’ll leave. I did not know this territory was claimed. I did not mean to intrude. Please let me go! Voldemort tilted his head in concern. Surely this little snake understood that he was not angry. Most snakes were gossips and enjoyed meeting others, even if they were different species. For a snake this small, this young, to fear other snakes…that didn’t indicate a kind life.
You are not intruding, snakelet. We are happy to have you hear. I will gladly return you to your burrow tomorrow, but I’d like to take you with me for the rest of the night. You’ve had a fright. The least I can do is give you a tasty meal and a warm, safe place to rest where you won’t be disturbed again. And my Nagini will want to speak with you. She’d be very cross with me if she learned I let a hatchling go without ensuring they were well fed and in good health. You have nothing to fear from me, little one. The snake said nothing. Taking that as enough of an agreement, Voldemort allowed the little snake to wrap around his wrist more comfortably, cast a wandless, wordless, impervious charm on his skin - just in case the little one spooked - and headed back to the manor. He couldn’t make out the species of his new friend in the dim lighting. He could feel magic in them, though. And magical snakes in Britain were quite uncommon.
Voldemort sat at his desk, stroking Nagini, when he realized it. Touching Nagini and touching any other magical snake should not feel the same. Nagini was a horcrux. His soul recognized her and there was a warm buzz of power in every touch. And yet, that was also there when he held Chaya. But that was impossible. Chaya couldn’t be a horcrux.
As if they could hear his thoughts, Chaya lifted their head to stare at Voldemort. It was their eyes that allowed the puzzle to click into place. Emerald green. Avada green. Potter green. There had been something odd about their meeting in the Ministry last month. But Potter, a horcrux? And then what of his injuries? Chaya was in bad shape when Voldemort found them. Broken ribs, abrasions all over their body, a sluggish bleeding, cursed cut along their middle body, and tender spots everywhere. Surely Dumbledore would not have left Harry injured after their encounter? But then, when did Dumbledore ever truly take care of his students.
But if Chaya was Potter…then what had happened between their meeting at the ministry and finding the little snake on the Malfoy estate? Did Potter know he was on Malfoy land, or was that just a happy accident? And there’d been no mention of Potter missing. So was Dumbledore even aware the boy was missing, or had Potter managed to slip away unnoticed? That was the first order of business – finding out if Dumbledore and his birdbrains knew the boy was missing. With that, Voldemort stood to find one of his followers – it was time to talk with his spy.
Severus was slippery as usual, but Voldemort was sure the Order had no knowledge of Potter being missing. Which meant somehow the boy had given his watchers the slip and then made his way inside the Malfoy wards. Voldemort had taken great pains to ensure Chaya was not present or listening in on his meeting with Snape and with Lucius when he enquired about the wards and whether animagus could slip through undetected.
Now he was certain. Chaya was the Potter boy. And it was time to let his little snakelet know he knew.
Voldemort entered the study and approached the enclosure. Chaya had spoken very little since Voldemort had brought him inside the manor. However, he seemed content with the setup and treatment he’d recieved.
Chaya, come out little shadow. The snake slowly stuck its head out from the rocky hide in the furthermost corner of the cage. It’s time we talk, little one. The snake cocked it’s head to the side, a very dog-like or humanesque gesture - one of many that led Voldemort to the conclusion it had.
Talk? Talk about what, human? Voldemort extended a hand and waited patiently for the snake to inspect him before wrapping gently around his wrist.
You, Chaya. A gentle diagnostic spell ran across his scales, making Harry shiver. He was used to the sensation, Voldemort always cast a diagnostic spell on him to ensure he was healing properly, but it still made his scales twitch. I’ve been most interested in your arrival here. You were not in good shape, little one. Snakelets should not be injured the way you were. I’ve been…researching your injuries. And I’ve come to some interesting conclusions.
Voldemort settled into one of the chairs by the fire, ensuring Chaya could feel the warmth of the flames. He cast the same wordless spell he had the night he found Harry, to make his skin impervious to bites. He knew this conversation was likely to spook Harry, and he wouldn’t have the boy attacking him before they could get to the important bits.
You’re healing well, Harry. The snake tensed and went still. What I don’t understand is 1. How you came to be injured so severely. Surely you should have had treatment after the ministry debacle? And 2. Why is it that no one is looking for you? Voldemort watched the snake on his wrist closely. I am going to touch your flank, I don’t wish to startle you. He gently began stroking Chaya’s side.
Minutes passed in silence. The snake still tensed and ready to strike - barely even breathing. While long spindly finger gently stroked its flank. Finally, Chaya spoke. What will you do with me?
Do with you?
If you’re going to kill me, just do it. Please. Make it quick.
I have no intention of killing you. Especially after all the effort it took to heal you. Speaking of, I’d like to know the origin of that cursed wound on your left side, here.
You…you’re not going to kill me?
No, Harry.
But..but you wanted me dead just a few weeks ago.
I did. But things have changed. I’ve learned something I did not know, then. Now all I want is to keep you safe and healthy.
Safe?
Safe, little shadow.
Do I…can I return to Hogwarts?
We can discuss it. I don’t particularly like the idea of you being under Dumbledore’s thumb again.
Can I stay a snake?
That got Voldemort’s attention. You do not wish to turn back?
It hurts less, this way.
Hurts? You are in pain, little one? Why didn’t you tell me?!
Hurts. But not injured. It’s not something you can heal.
Whatever do you mean, snakelet?
Siri–Siriuuis. Just…this hurts less. Please. Voldemort watched the small creature closely. There was a sort of droop to his being. As if this little snake had the whole world on it’s scales.
For now. I quite enjoy your company in this form. I see no reason you can’t remain as you are. But, I want a healer to look at that wound while you’re in human form. You were human when it was inflicted, yes? The snake nodded. I will arrange for a healer to see you in a few days. You will have to change back for that. I will force the issue if necessary. But after the appointment and treatment, you may return to this form if it suits you.
The little snake moved it’s head back and forth as if weighing options before nodding once.
Now, would you keep me company a bit longer? Nagini is out exploring, and I enjoy having a companion as I read by the fire. Chaya settled around his bicep and they soaked up the warmth of the fire for hours.
Pup (Yes, you are still my pup, even in your new form.),
I can’t wait to see you! You said you weren’t sure what species you were - we can figure that out once you get home for summer. It’ll be much easier to figure out when you have someone else who can see you properly. First thing we’re doing is have Moony take a photo of the two of us - then we can use it for reference! I’ve ordered some muggle books on snake species. The Black Library already has dozens on magical snakes. Between the new and old, I’m sure we’ll be able to figure you out!
Truly, Pup, I am so happy for you! You know that Padfoot kept me sane in Azkaban, but even before that, being able to shift brought your father and me so much joy. I’ve never met an animagus that didn’t find comfort and joy in spending time as their animal form. Even Minnie - she tends to spend her Sundays lounging in her cat form, but don’t tell her I told you that!
Your parents used to rise early on the weekend and go for hikes. James as Prongs, of course. Lily always took a book, and they’d find a field to rest in. I have a photo somewhere from when Moony and I followed them one time. I’ll find it for you, but it’s the cutest thing. Your mum would lean against Prongs’ flank as she read, and they’d just enjoy the morning sun.
I’m sure it won’t be long before I find you sunbathing on a rock in the back garden. Perhaps your form does make sense, given how much both of your parents enjoyed that routine.
You also asked if I was disappointed. Harry, Prongslet, Pup, let me make this clear: There is nothing you have ever done or could ever do that would make me disappointed in you. And certainly not for becoming an animagus at 15. You’re truly following in our footsteps there, kiddo. No, I’m not disappointed at all. Frankly, I could not be more proud. I almost wish you had friends to experience it with, but I understand why you did this on your own. And I’m so excited to experience it with you myself, come summer. Despite my feelings about Slytherins and the Black Family as a whole, not all snakes are bad. You’re able to defend yourself, your form is good for sneaking around and hiding, and it’ll give you the escape you need. It’s a form that fits all of your needs. That is all I care about.
Now, to discuss this summer. Dumbles is still insisting you must go to the Dursleys’ for the summer. Go without complaint. Padfoot will meet you in Surrey. We’ll shrink your things and go out the back door, shift, and make our way away from Privet Drive. From there, we’ll be heading to a vacation property for the rest of the summer. Moony knows how to contact me. He’ll get us any particularly important information, but we’ll be free of other people for a few months. You’ll be able to rest after all those OWLs.I can’t wait to spend some proper time with you, Pup.
Love you. See you soon,
Padfoot
Harry had reread the letter probably a hundred times since it was delivered in early May. Hell, Harry had reread it just yesterday morning, only a few hours before everything went to hell. He’d been so excited for the end of exams - so excited to see Sirius. And now…now he’d never see Sirius again. There’d be no photo together like the Marauders once took. There’d be no figuring out the species his form took. No spending hours together in the Black Library. No summer hols spent together. He’d never see Sirius again. Never pet Padfoot again. Never hug the only parental figure he’s ever had again. Another teardrop fell on the letter, smearing ink.
Harry set the letter on his pillow and crumpled into a ball on his bed. The curtains were drawn tight and spelled to stay shut, keeping all noise from the dorm room out and all noise from him in. Ron gave up trying to get past them hours ago when the curtains shocked him every time he tried to move them, even by magical means. Harry just lay on the mattress as tears passively spilled down his cheeks. He’d sobbed until his sides hurt, but the tears just wouldn’t stop. It’d already been 24 hours since Sirius…fell. Dumbledoor had already summoned him to tell him he still had to return to the Dursleys despite losing his godfather so recently. And had told him he wouldn’t be able to write to Remus or his friends during the summer, as owl post was becoming less and less secure. Harry was so upset, so rattled, by Sirius’s loss that he nearly missed the look of near-glee as Dumbledore told him of the isolation he’d be experiencing that summer. It was something he and Siri had been discussing, how Dumbledore always sought to make Harry isolated, with no support other than Dumbledore himself. It was something they had been trying to combat. It was what led to the plan of spiriting Harry away from Privet Drive before he ever truly arrived for the summer.
But now…now the plan was moot. Because Sirius was gone and Harry was going to be alone again.
Harry wasn’t sure he’d slept, but when he came to, he lowered the ward that kept noise from the room out. He could hear Seamus and Dean squabbling about who items belonged to and could also make out the clinking of terracotta pots as Neville packaged his plants for transport. Cautiously sticking his head out, Ron was nowhere to be seen. Neville nodded to Harry, but made no move to speak with him. Seamus and Dean were too wrapped up in their packing to pay Harry mind. Harry slipped into the bathroom and took care of his needs before rinsing his face and looking at himself in the mirror.
He was covered in scrapes and bruises, his hand still sluggishly bleeding from Umbridge’s quill, and if he was correct, he had a few cracked ribs as well.. Hermoine, Ginny, Ron, Luna, Neville…they’d all had injuries that Madam Pomfrey had needed to heal. But no one had even suggested Harry be looked after; frankly, that suited Harry just fine. His actions had gotten Sirius killed; it served him right to be injured. He couldn’t -wouldn’t- sully Sirius’ memory further by having his hurts healed in an instant. Harry gathered his belongings from the bathroom and put them in his trunk. Everything else was already packed – had been for the past week as Harry had been looking forward to leaving this year…but now…. Harry teared up as he caught sight of the mirror Siri had given him. What the hell had he been thinking? Running off to the Ministry without even trying to get Sirius on the mirror.
It was as if all rational thought went out the window yesterday. Harry paused. Something about that niggled Harry’s brain. There was something there worth going over, but not today. Harry shut and locked his trunk, activating the wards on it to keep others out, Seamus had been a right jerk this year, and Ron had a tendency to raid Harry’s food stores without consideration. Sirius had sent Harry some Black Family wards to protect personal property the first week of the school year. Harry’s breath hitched as he realized that would never happen again. Sirius would never just randomly send Harry a solution to a minor problem he mentioned. Merlin, his chest hurt; this was too much. Harry climbed back onto his bed and pulled the curtains shut, activating the wards to keep them in place and keep noise both out and in. He would just sleep until the train left on Saturday morning. He needed to get used to less food intake, anyway.
Harry had shrunk his trunk and boarded the Hogwarts Express in a daze. He remembered Hermione coaxing him to eat a bite of toast before leaving the Great Hall. He vaguely remembered hearing Hermione, Ginny, and Ron’s exclamations at suddenly being able to see the Threstals when they left the school. He knew that he sat between Neville and Luna as they rode to Hogsmeade and boarded the train. He remembered leaning against the window and watching the scenery change as they left Scotland behind. But Harry wasn’t mentally present for any of it.
He had missed Ron and Hermione assurances that they’d try to change Dumbledore’s mind about writing him (yeah, right) and Luna and Neville’s shared looks after learning how alone Harry would be all summer.
Harry only got off the train when he was supposed to because Neville and Luna helped stand him up and lead him off the train. He said his goodbyes to them with a shoulder squeeze from Neville and hug from Luna. They said something about trying to write, but Harry brushed it off. Afterall, Dumbledore said he’d created a new mail ward for Harry and there was no reason to try to bypass that. Harry hadn’t even bothered to bring Hedwig home this summer - she’d be safer and better fed at Hogwarts. He missed the shocked looks that mumbled explanation garnered.
Turning from Neville and Luna, Harry walked towards Hermione, the Weasleys, and the exit into muggle King’s Cross Station. He nodded to Ron and Ginny, mumbled his goodbyes and gave Hermione a half-hearted side hug. He continued his walk towards the exit when Mr Weasley set an arm on his shoulder and pulled him closer for a squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I know Dumbledore has said to keep contact to a minimum, but if you need anything, please let us know. I mean anything, Harry.” Harry snorted a laugh, but it came out as more of a grunt. Harry had left Hedwig at Hogwarts. He wouldn’t be contacting anyone for anything. Arthur took the grunt as agreement. “I know you’re hurting, but we love you and you will always have a place with us.” He pulled Harry to his chest for another hug, missing how the boy twitched in pain from the tight squeeze. “Moody and them should be done now. Do you want me to walk you out?” Harry shook his head and headed towards the exit once more. He never questioned what ‘Moody and them’ would have been doing in the first place.
Harry was surprised to find his Uncle was downright gleeful. Harry was immediately concerned, but he hadn’t done anything to warrant a punishment, nor had he spoken to his Uncle at all. He hoped the man was just doing well at work, or that Dudley or Aunt Petunia had something exciting coming up. The illusion was shattered when they arrived back at Privet Drive. His uncle finally addressed Harry with a simple “Garage, Freak!”
Harry was still in such a daze that he barely noted his uncle’s return before the man was on him. He’d grabbed a belt and was laying into Harry’s back before he’d even opened his mouth to explain why. “You weren’t even going to tell us, were you, Freak? We had to hear it from that Freak Policeman. Your godfather isn’t a threat to us anymore. You killed him, and now, no one wants to protect you.” Vernon kept swinging the belt well after Harry collapsed to the ground.
That explained what “Moody and them” had been doing. He’d seen Moody, Tonks, Kingsley, and Moony in the crowd on the muggle side of the barrier. He had hoped Moony would say goodbye and give him a hug before he returned to hell, but the man hadn’t approached him. Whatever their intentions had been, Vernon saw it as a return to the status quo from before Sirius’s prison break. He no longer had to worry about a homicidal fugitive godfather seeing him abuse the boy. He could return to taking every negative emotion he experienced out on the boy. No wonder he was so happy to see Harry. He had his punching bag back.
Vernon continued to whip and kick the boy until he was well out of breath. Before he turned to leave, he brought his booted foot down on Harry’s right hand, grinning as hear how the bones cracked and ground together. “You’ll stay here if you know what’s good for you. I’m not done with you yet.” Vernon grinned down at the lump of flesh that was his nephew and turned to leave the garage. He locked the door behind him and went to enjoy his dinner. Perhaps he’d be up for round two before bed. He had so many fun ideas for the freak.
When Harry came to, all he recognized was pain. It took ages for his brain to remember where he was. The garage, right. There was no light coming in from the cracks around the door, so he knew it was nighttime. Unless Vernon was planning a midnight beating, Harry was probably safe until morning. Safe? That got a snort of amusement from the boy and Harry ended up gasping in pain from the movement.
Harry began to take stock of his body and his new injuries as he started to peel himself off the floor. The more Harry thought about what had happened, the more worried he was. It wasn’t the welts from the belt or the bruises and (even more) broken ribs from the kicks that scared him, but his hand. Vernon had broken bones before. Plenty. But this…his hands were usually left in… semi-working order. Sure, he’d have broken fingers here and there, but they were largely left untouched in the overall scheme of things. If Vernon did too much damage to his hands, then he couldn’t work. If he couldn’t work, he couldn’t do the chores assigned to him. And if Harry couldn’t do chores, then why would Vernon keep him around?
Almost as if Harry were watching a telly program, he remembered with startling clarity what Vernon had been mumbling about as he left the garage hours ago. Vernon had been mumbling to himself about ‘whoring the boy out.’ The line that stuck out to Harry was “I can always have my fun between clients. Constant visits with my belt should keep the freak in line. And if the freak can’t handle it...well, those sorts certainly know how to hide a body.”
Harry had managed to pull himself into an upright sitting position and leaned against the leg of a work table with his least injured shoulder. Harry stared into the darkness and tried to convince himself that he hadn’t heard what he did. Or that his Uncle Vernon wouldn’t do something like that. But the more he thought about it, the more he worried about what the morning would bring.
When Harry was younger, Vernon had always made vague references to how Harry would “earn his keep” when he was older. Young Harry had always thought Vernon wanted Harry to get a job and give him the profits from it. At the time, Harry thought he could be okay with that. Especially if it would make his family like him more. But now, now Harry thought Vernon had a different plan in mind.
Harry slowly remembered all the times he hadn’t been shut up in his cupboard when Vernon had guests. It wasn’t frequent, but every few months, there’d be a gathering held at Privet Drive while Aunt Petunia and Dudley were out of town overnight. Vernon would host card or dice games, and Harry was required to serve food and drinks until all hours of the morning. He’d hated the way those men looked at him, but he’d never really been able to put a finger on why it bothered him. What if those games were a sort of sales pitch? But not for the game itself or anything to do with Vernon’s work at Grunnings, but for Harry.
Something in Harry’s gut told him he was right, and he knew he had to get out of this garage– and Surrey–as soon as possible. But how? And where would he go?
He supposed he could take the Knight Bus to the Leaky and stay there. But he didn’t have his vault key and he doubted he had enough money on him to pay for the full summer. This was why Sirius and him had come up with the summer plan to begin with. They knew Dumbledore would never give Harry access to his accounts before he became an adult - even the heir account he was supposed to have access to. And they knew any attempts to reason the man would be useless. Better to just spirit themselves away to a preexisting family home and wait for September to come. There was a good chance no one would even notice Harry wasn’t where he was supposed to be.
Harry leaned his head back against the table leg and thought about it some more. Maybe that was the best option. Sure, he couldn’t go the vacation home they’d planned on, but he could just disappear into the wilderness for a few months. He could use the fullmoons to keep track. He knew when to come back. No one knew he was an animagus. And even if they guessed they wouldn’t be looking for a snake.
Voldemort rubbed at his chest as he worked on paperwork and considered the reports from the few followers who had escaped the Ministry on Tuesday night. So many of his best men had been captured and sent to Azkaban. He could get them out, of course, that wasn’t an issue, but he’d prefer to do it by legal means so they could continue to be of use to him. Fudge was an easy wheel to grease, and Lucius was already set to be released next week. Naturally, Dumbledore had managed to get those arrested named in the Daily Prophet, but that could be fixed with a simple retraction. It was simple enough - just paperwork-heavy.
Voldemort rubbed at his chest again. The feeling was odd. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he was sad, perhaps even scared. But there was no real reason for him to be sad or scared. His followers could be returned, easy enough, his fight with Dumbledore had been a draw, the Potter boy hadn’t escaped unscathed, but still…that was the closest description for what he was feeling…. Utter bollocks, honestly. Lord Voldemort had nothing to be sad or scared about, and he refused even to entertain the possibility. And yet…
Standing abruptly, Voldemort walked from his study to the closest outer doors. Perhaps fresh air would make him feel better.
Voldemort enjoyed walking the manor grounds after dark. They were always beautiful – Narcissa always had a way with design– but he appreciated the quiet that came with the dark. He’d tried to take a walk late this afternoon and had been subjected to both the Malfoy brat’s whooping as he raced about on his broom once he’d gotten home from Hogwarts and ALSO his yelping and apologizing when he caught sight of Voldemort. He knew his reputation, but he wasn’t about to ban the child from having fun or making noise. Especially after being cooped up on a train all day.
Voldemort cut across the gardens to the meadow area. Lucius had once told him how much Narcissa adored picnics surrounded by wildflowers. So he’d had the family elves curate the perfect meadow for her. A slow stream ran through one edge of the meadow, clover, wildflowers, and native plants covered the clearing, and tall trees, perfect for reading or napping under, stood guard around the outside. It had quickly become one of Voldemort’s favorite places on the estate.
Voldemort sat with his back against one of the willows overlooking the stream and settled in to meditate until he managed to push aside those pesky odd feelings.
Harry hadn’t a clue where he was, but he’d felt wards earlier. Wherever he was, it was magic friendly. He knew he was probably on a private estate, but as long as he didn’t get too close to the main manor, he could go unnoticed. He had no intention of shifting back into his human form any time soon. Sirius was right, being in animal form really dulled grief. Even now, it was still amost all consuming, but this was worlds better than how it had been back at Hogwarts. Harry would simply wait for three full moons to pass before he made his way to London and the Leaky Cauldron. He’d get his things in Diagon those last few days of August - the third full moon would be August 28th - and head to Kings Cross when appropriate. Easy enough. For now, he’d find a water source and somewhere safe to sleep in his snake form. Then he could grieve.
Harry had been in his little burrow for a few days when it happened. He’d woken for seemingly no reason late one night. Not that that was unusual. He’d woken multiple times every night with Sirius' name on his mind and tearless sobs shaking his serpentine body. But, as that didn’t seem to be the case this time, Harry tried to settle himself back into sleep until sunrise. A vibration passed through the burrow. Harry stilled. Another. Another. Metered, as if they were beats in a song, or people marching in time…people…they were footsteps! Harry began to panic. He was on a magical estate, he knew this, but he’s seen no evidence of humans in this field. Why would they come here now? At night? Unless they knew he was here? This was bad. He had to get away.
Humans? Humans?! Not here! There have been no humans here! I must flee. I must escape. They must know I’m here! Must get away. Must. Must. Must! Voldemort paused. He had not been expecting to hear Parseltongue on his stroll. Nagini was safe and warm in front of the hearth in his office, and she’d seen no signs of other snakes during her exploration of the manor and estate - something she was sorely disappointed in. Where is the human? Where? Where! I must see them! I must avoid them! Voldemort cast a silent disillusionment spell on himself and used his hearing to narrow down where the snake was. There was a small hill in front of him that sloped down towards the creek, it was likely that the snake was on the decline and could not see uphill to spot Voldemort. Moving silently he approached the decline. The closer he got, the more frantic the snake was. Closer! They’re closer! But where?! Finally, Voldemort could see a pitch black shape in the grass, darting side to side, trying to find him. Reaching out carefully, careful not to take another step, he gently grabbed the snake right behind the head, so it could not bite him, and lifted the creature towards his chest. No! No! No, no, no, no! Let me go! No! The small creature wrapped its body around his wrist and –oh, that was odd…something about that touch was familiar…warm. Voldemort would have to look into that, but for now, it was best to calm his new charge down.
Hush, little serpent. I mean you no harm. The snake stilled in his grasp, before beginning to tremor. How odd. Most snakes were thrilled to meet speakers. I did not mean to frighten you. I was not expecting to hear any snakes during my stroll. My familiar, Nagini, has lamented the lack of snakes on the estate. She’ll be thrilled to meet you. The snake said nothing. Little one? Are you alright?
Let me go. Please. I’ll leave. I did not know this territory was claimed. I did not mean to intrude. Please let me go! Voldemort tilted his head in concern. Surely this little snake understood that he was not angry. Most snakes were gossips and enjoyed meeting others, even if they were different species. For a snake this small, this young, to fear other snakes…that didn’t indicate a kind life.
You are not intruding, snakelet. We are happy to have you hear. I will gladly return you to your burrow tomorrow, but I’d like to take you with me for the rest of the night. You’ve had a fright. The least I can do is give you a tasty meal and a warm, safe place to rest where you won’t be disturbed again. And my Nagini will want to speak with you. She’d be very cross with me if she learned I let a hatchling go without ensuring they were well fed and in good health. You have nothing to fear from me, little one. The snake said nothing. Taking that as enough of an agreement, Voldemort allowed the little snake to wrap around his wrist more comfortably, cast a wandless, wordless, impervious charm on his skin - just in case the little one spooked - and headed back to the manor. He couldn’t make out the species of his new friend in the dim lighting. He could feel magic in them, though. And magical snakes in Britain were quite uncommon.
Voldemort sat at his desk, stroking Nagini, when he realized it. Touching Nagini and touching any other magical snake should not feel the same. Nagini was a horcrux. His soul recognized her and there was a warm buzz of power in every touch. And yet, that was also there when he held Chaya. But that was impossible. Chaya couldn’t be a horcrux.
As if they could hear his thoughts, Chaya lifted their head to stare at Voldemort. It was their eyes that allowed the puzzle to click into place. Emerald green. Avada green. Potter green. There had been something odd about their meeting in the Ministry last month. But Potter, a horcrux? And then what of his injuries? Chaya was in bad shape when Voldemort found them. Broken ribs, abrasions all over their body, a sluggish bleeding, cursed cut along their middle body, and tender spots everywhere. Surely Dumbledore would not have left Harry injured after their encounter? But then, when did Dumbledore ever truly take care of his students.
But if Chaya was Potter…then what had happened between their meeting at the ministry and finding the little snake on the Malfoy estate? Did Potter know he was on Malfoy land, or was that just a happy accident? And there’d been no mention of Potter missing. So was Dumbledore even aware the boy was missing, or had Potter managed to slip away unnoticed? That was the first order of business – finding out if Dumbledore and his birdbrains knew the boy was missing. With that, Voldemort stood to find one of his followers – it was time to talk with his spy.
Severus was slippery as usual, but Voldemort was sure the Order had no knowledge of Potter being missing. Which meant somehow the boy had given his watchers the slip and then made his way inside the Malfoy wards. Voldemort had taken great pains to ensure Chaya was not present or listening in on his meeting with Snape and with Lucius when he enquired about the wards and whether animagus could slip through undetected.
Now he was certain. Chaya was the Potter boy. And it was time to let his little snakelet know he knew.
Voldemort entered the study and approached the enclosure. Chaya had spoken very little since Voldemort had brought him inside the manor. However, he seemed content with the setup and treatment he’d recieved.
Chaya, come out little shadow. The snake slowly stuck its head out from the rocky hide in the furthermost corner of the cage. It’s time we talk, little one. The snake cocked it’s head to the side, a very dog-like or humanesque gesture - one of many that led Voldemort to the conclusion it had.
Talk? Talk about what, human? Voldemort extended a hand and waited patiently for the snake to inspect him before wrapping gently around his wrist.
You, Chaya. A gentle diagnostic spell ran across his scales, making Harry shiver. He was used to the sensation, Voldemort always cast a diagnostic spell on him to ensure he was healing properly, but it still made his scales twitch. I’ve been most interested in your arrival here. You were not in good shape, little one. Snakelets should not be injured the way you were. I’ve been…researching your injuries. And I’ve come to some interesting conclusions.
Voldemort settled into one of the chairs by the fire, ensuring Chaya could feel the warmth of the flames. He cast the same wordless spell he had the night he found Harry, to make his skin impervious to bites. He knew this conversation was likely to spook Harry, and he wouldn’t have the boy attacking him before they could get to the important bits.
You’re healing well, Harry. The snake tensed and went still. What I don’t understand is 1. How you came to be injured so severely. Surely you should have had treatment after the ministry debacle? And 2. Why is it that no one is looking for you? Voldemort watched the snake on his wrist closely. I am going to touch your flank, I don’t wish to startle you. He gently began stroking Chaya’s side.
Minutes passed in silence. The snake still tensed and ready to strike - barely even breathing. While long spindly finger gently stroked its flank. Finally, Chaya spoke. What will you do with me?
Do with you?
If you’re going to kill me, just do it. Please. Make it quick.
I have no intention of killing you. Especially after all the effort it took to heal you. Speaking of, I’d like to know the origin of that cursed wound on your left side, here.
You…you’re not going to kill me?
No, Harry.
But..but you wanted me dead just a few weeks ago.
I did. But things have changed. I’ve learned something I did not know, then. Now all I want is to keep you safe and healthy.
Safe?
Safe, little shadow.
Do I…can I return to Hogwarts?
We can discuss it. I don’t particularly like the idea of you being under Dumbledore’s thumb again.
Can I stay a snake?
That got Voldemort’s attention. You do not wish to turn back?
It hurts less, this way.
Hurts? You are in pain, little one? Why didn’t you tell me?!
Hurts. But not injured. It’s not something you can heal.
Whatever do you mean, snakelet?
Siri–Siriuuis. Just…this hurts less. Please. Voldemort watched the small creature closely. There was a sort of droop to his being. As if this little snake had the whole world on it’s scales.
For now. I quite enjoy your company in this form. I see no reason you can’t remain as you are. But, I want a healer to look at that wound while you’re in human form. You were human when it was inflicted, yes? The snake nodded. I will arrange for a healer to see you in a few days. You will have to change back for that. I will force the issue if necessary. But after the appointment and treatment, you may return to this form if it suits you.
The little snake moved it’s head back and forth as if weighing options before nodding once.
Now, would you keep me company a bit longer? Nagini is out exploring, and I enjoy having a companion as I read by the fire. Chaya settled around his bicep and they soaked up the warmth of the fire for hours.