Chapter Text
Harry returned from the Triwizard Tournament in his fourth year carrying Cedric’s dead body in his arms. But unlike in the original story, he did not declare that Voldemort had returned. Instead, Harry had lost all memory from the moment he and Cedric touched the Triwizard Cup. Given the circumstances, suspicion quickly fell on Harry.Dumbledore sensed that something about the situation was deeply wrong and tried to protect him, but when Harry’s wand was examined, the last spell it had cast was the Killing Curse. Worse still, Viktor Krum’s final memory before he lost consciousness was seeing Harry shove Cedric.
Every piece of evidence pointed to the same conclusion: Harry Potter had murdered Cedric Diggory.
In the end, the only thing Dumbledore managed to do was prevent Harry from being sent to Azkaban. The Ministry of Magic snapped Harry’s wand, expelled him from Hogwarts, and exiled him to the Muggle world.Believing that Lily’s protective magic was still in effect, Dumbledore sent Harry back to the Dursleys.
The entire wizarding world branded Harry a murderer. Even his friends were unable to contact him. Confused and struggling with his lost memories, Harry eventually came to believe the accusations himself. He sank into deep despair, convinced that he had killed Cedric.
When the Aurors arrived at the Dursleys’ house to place restrictions on Harry, they explained the situation. The Dursleys learned that Harry’s wand had been broken and that he could no longer use magic freely.And from that moment on, Harry’s life became a living hell. The physical abuse that had stopped after Harry threatened them with his wand in third year resumed—this time worse than ever.
As if that wasn’t enough, Harry manifested as an Omega.
Normally, manifestation occurred at sixteen. But for reasons unknown, Harry manifested at fifteen—on the anniversary of his parents’ death. Harry himself had no idea why. Everyone had expected him to manifest as an Alpha. There had been evidence, after all. Despite his small frame and thin build, Harry had possessed the large canines typical of Alphas, and even before manifestation he had carried the faint, fresh scent characteristic of one.
So when it happened, it came completely without warning.
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Harry curled into himself, breathing in ragged gasps as he tried to ease the agony in his lower abdomen.
His misaligned shoulder blade creaked painfully, the muscles in his back stretched and protested, and the wounds torn open by Vernon’s belt split again as he moved. But the pain of a new organ forming deep inside his body overwhelmed all of it.
He bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to stifle his screams. When that failed, he shoved the thin bedsheet into his mouth and bit into it, sobbing silently.
Through the haze of pain, Harry had a single thought.
Maybe this was for the best.
He had killed Cedric.
He deserved to suffer.
The next morning, Harry woke to Aunt Petunia violently rattling the doorknob and pounding on the door. As he pushed himself upright, he immediately realized something had changed.
His canines—when he ran his tongue over them—had shrunk, as befitted an Omega.
And between his trembling legs, where his male anatomy should have been…
there was a small mound instead. A place where no opening had existed before had torn itself open. Blood and a clear fluid clung together in sticky streaks across his thighs. Harry grimaced at the sight.
The concepts of Alphas and Omegas existed only in the wizarding world. All Muggles were Betas. And Omegas occupied the weakest position among magical society. They reacted strongly to Alpha pheromones, struggled to resist commands from Alphas with stronger magic, and experienced heat cycles. Because of that, Omegas were considered unfit for war.
Harry didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the thought that even if Voldemort returned, people would no longer push him forward as their champion.
But first, he had to make sure the Dursleys never found out. If they saw anything else strange about him, there was no telling what they might do.
Will I ever meet my mate?
Harry slipped quietly into the bathroom to wash the sticky fluids from his body. Standing before the mirror, he absentmindedly touched the fully formed scent gland at the junction of his neck and shoulder.
Hermione’s voice echoed in his mind. She had once explained that Alphas and Omegas each had a perfect mate. Alphas were naturally drawn to Omegas, and Omegas to Alphas—but true soulmates felt a fated pull from the very first scent of each other’s pheromones. Bonding was completed when an Alpha bit into the Omega’s scent gland and left their mark.
And if a soulmate died… the scent gland would disappear.
Harry’s scent gland was vivid and strong. Which meant his mate was alive.
The realization filled him with joy—and fear.
He had never even imagined being accepted by his mate. In fact, it would be better if they never met at all. Harry had long since abandoned the hope of living to adulthood. That hope had died in first year when he faced Voldemort, and in second year when he defeated Tom Riddle and the basilisk. Voldemort would return someday. And when he did, it wouldn’t matter whether Harry was an Alpha, an Omega, or a Beta.
He would kill him.
If the identity of Harry’s bonded mate became known, that person could be used against him—tortured, even killed.
Still… Harry felt relieved just knowing that his soulmate existed somewhere in the world.
He silently prayed they were far away.
And happy.
...
...
...
“Woof! Woof!”
“Hey—haha—stop! Padfoot, that tickles!”
Harry’s wandering thoughts snapped back to reality as a large black dog enthusiastically licked his face.
Sirius.
Sirius was the only person who had stayed by Harry’s side.
When everyone else turned their backs on him—calling him a murderer and a fraud—Sirius had wrapped him in a tight embrace and raged at the world on Harry’s behalf. For Harry, who had nearly given up on everything, Sirius had become the reason he kept living.
Sirius hated that he couldn’t stay with Harry openly. Eventually he began sneaking past the Aurors’ surveillance—disobeying even Dumbledore’s orders—to visit Harry in his Animagus form. They usually met in a secluded corner of the playground where Harry had first seen the black dog in his third year. Whenever Harry was forced out to buy groceries at dawn or thrown out of the Dursleys’ house, Sirius would somehow already be waiting there.
Today, however, the Dursleys had gone on a three-day trip. Harry was alone in the house—one of the rare chances he had to leave without being watched.
He had to climb out the window since the doors were locked.
Standing in the cold dawn air, Harry felt the wind ruffle his hair. For a moment, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
Padfoot tilted his head curiously.
Now that Harry had fully presented, he could smell Sirius’s pheromones clearly—warm, playful, unmistakably Alpha.
The comforting scent wrapped around him.
And suddenly the emotions Harry had been suppressing surged to the surface.
He grabbed Padfoot and buried his face in the dog’s fur, sobbing uncontrollably. The black dog seemed startled at first, but when Harry’s shoulders shook with crying, he gently pressed his head beneath Harry’s chin as if to comfort him. Then he froze.
Right near Harry’s scent gland.
Harry knew the moment had come.
Through hiccupping sobs, he whispered,
“Padfoot… I… I manifested… as an Omega… I don’t know why… I’m sorry…I ,”
Padfoot froze for a long moment.
Then, at Harry’s apology, the dog suddenly sprang into motion, whining anxiously and circling him.
But just as Sirius leaned in again, his ears snapped upright. He bared his teeth and growled.
From far away came the sound of approaching footsteps.
Aurors on patrol.
Harry quickly wiped his tears and pressed a quick kiss to Padfoot’s forehead.
“Go.”
Padfoot hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave. After one last lingering look at Harry, he dashed into the bushes and vanished.
Harry pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and hurried back toward Privet Drive.
Halfway there, Harry noticed something strange.
The air felt heavy.
Dead birds lay scattered beneath the streetlamps.
A chill ran down his spine.
The faint headache he’d woken up with had grown stronger, throbbing around his scar.
When Number Four, Privet Drive finally came into view—
a powerful wave of pheromones slammed into him.
Harry’s knees buckled.
He collapsed onto the pavement.
Something was wrong.
Alarms blared in his mind, but his body refused to move.
The scent invaded his senses—
blood,
polished leather,
parchment,
and faint herbs.
At the same time, Harry felt warmth spreading between his legs.
“Ah—!”
A soft moan escaped him as heat surged from deep within his body.
And the Omega inside him finally woke.
My Alpha.
My mate is here.
The Omega inside Harry surged with joy, almost overwhelming him.
His Alpha was here.
Driven by instinct, Harry forced himself to his feet. His body protested, weak and unsteady, but the pull was impossible to ignore. He staggered forward, drawn helplessly toward the familiar scent.
The pheromones led him to the backyard of the Dursleys’ house.
And when he saw what was waiting there, a scream nearly tore from his throat.
A dark figure was slumped against the fence that separated the yard from the alley.
And there was blood.
So much blood.
The narrow alley behind the house was soaked in it, crimson staining the pavement. A thick pool had gathered and was slowly trickling toward the drain. Part of the black-clad body had fallen over the fence into the yard, and droplets of blood fell steadily from it, splattering onto the green grass and turning it a dark, dreadful red.
Harry’s Omega wailed in panic.
At the same time, Harry’s mind slowly began to clear.
He hurried forward.
Up close, he saw that it was a man wrapped entirely in black robes, from head to toe. A hood concealed his face, hiding any clue to his identity.
Harry couldn’t see who he was.
But that didn’t matter.
Harry knew.
This man—
This man was his fated mate.
And the blood soaking the ground…
It was his Alpha’s.
The moment that truth settled in, Harry’s thoughts turned cold.
Did the Death Eaters already discover who my mate is?
How could they, when even I didn’t know?
Was he injured in a fight?
Was he tortured?
Or…
Is he already—
Dead?
Harry realized he was beginning to panic.
He shook his head sharply, forcing himself to breathe.
His scent gland was still clear, still vivid. The bond had not faded.
His mate was alive.
If the Dark forces had done this, then the safest place was the Dursleys’ house. Protective wards still surrounded it. Professor Albus Dumbledore had insisted—over and over—that Harry remain there until he came of age. His mother’s protection still lingered in that place, and because of it, Lord Voldemort himself could not approach the Dursleys.
Whatever else might happen… at least Voldemort would not be able to harm Harry’s mate there.
Having reached that conclusion, Harry carefully slid his arms beneath his Alpha’s body.
Warm blood soaked instantly into his worn clothes. Where their bodies touched, a strange tingling sensation crept across his skin.
Harry flushed.
Heat pooled low in his stomach, his body reacting instinctively to the closeness of his Alpha. Dampness spread between his legs again, embarrassing and impossible to ignore.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, forcing himself to focus.
This was not the time.
He tightened his grip and tried to lift the man.
A moment later he had no choice but to lower him again.
The man was enormous.
At least one and a half times Harry’s height, with a long, solid frame that seemed far heavier than it looked. Carrying him bridal-style was impossible. Even dragging him over his back was out of the question.
Harry bit his lip, thinking quickly.
Finally he moved to the corner of the yard and pulled aside a hidden panel in the fence—an old dog-sized gap only he knew about.
Though it was far too small for a man of that size, Harry had no other choice.
With slow, careful movements he pushed and dragged, inch by inch, maneuvering the unconscious body through the opening. It took far longer than he expected. The fence scraped against the man’s robes again and again.
But eventually Harry managed to pull him fully into the backyard.
Breathing hard, Harry laid his Alpha down on a patch of relatively soft grass.
Then, with trembling hands, he began to loosen the black robes.
If the man had been conscious, undressing him without permission would have been terribly rude. But now his mate’s life might depend on it.
The robes parted.
Harry froze.
The man’s chest was in terrible condition. Two deep gashes cut across his pale torso—so deep that white ribs were faintly visible beneath lifeless skin. The flesh around the wounds had been deliberately torn, ragged and uneven, as if someone had wanted to cause as much pain as possible. Blood still seeped slowly from the shredded edges.
Harry bit down hard on the sob rising in his throat and forced himself to keep examining the injuries.
There were more.
Two across the back. Matching wounds on both legs. And both wrists. The pattern made Harry’s stomach twist. It looked as if someone had tried to tear his limbs apart.
Harry quickly searched the inside pockets of the man’s robes .
If he could just find a wand—
He did.
His Alpha’s wand was elegant and pale, carved in the shape of bone.
The moment Harry touched it, something strange stirred in his chest.
It felt…familiar.It was almost like holding his own wand -his lost holly wan- returned to his hand. Harry didn’t understand it. But the small, dying spark inside him—the one that had nearly gone out after losing his wand—flickered back to life.
He focused every scrap of concentration he had left and whispered a healing charm.
Normally it was meant only for small cuts. Harry wasn’t even sure it would work.
But when the spell touched the wounds, golden light spread across the torn flesh and the injuries began to close slowly.
Harry let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
Afterward he turned back toward the alley. With a wave of the wand he began erasing the blood and signs of struggle.
His body protested immediately.
He had been starving for far too long. Magic like this was more than he could safely handle.
Pain flared through his limbs, sharp and draining.
Harry gritted his teeth and forced himself to finish anyway.
The sky above had darkened. Cold air drifted through the alley, heavy with the promise of rain.
He needed to move his mate inside. Quickly.
Harry raised the wand again.
“Wingardium Leviosa.”
With the last of his strength, he cast the levitation charm.
The man’s body lifted slowly into the air. Harry guided him through the open window of his bedroom—the one he had left unlatched earlier that morning.
A moment later the body dropped onto the bed with a dull thud.
Only then did Harry drag himself toward the house.
Climbing the pipe beside the window, he hauled his exhausted body back into the room.
The moment his feet touched the floor, the tension drained from him all at once, and fatigue crashed over him like a wave.
Almost crawling, Harry made his way to his Alpha’s side.
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Harry clutched his spinning head.
It seemed the sudden use of magic had drained what little strength he had left.
He crawled the rest of the way to the bed and slumped against its side, staring blankly up at the ceiling. It was hard to believe that everything that had happened… had only begun this morning.
“Ugh…”
A low, pained groan came from the bed.
Harry’s head snapped up.
Reality rushed back all at once, like a bucket of cold water poured over him.
My mate… is here.
The image of the man’s blood-soaked body flashed through Harry’s mind.
He needed to clean him. Check the wounds properly. Using magic would have been easier, but if he wasn’t careful the injuries might reopen. A wet cloth would be safer.
Harry hurried to the bathroom, soaked a towel in water, and returned to the room.
This time he approached the bed slowly.
The man’s body was trembling in small, uneven spasms. The wounds clearly hadn’t healed completely.
Harry carefully began loosening the robes he had wrapped around him earlier. The fabric had stuck to the man’s skin with dried blood, forcing Harry to peel it away little by little, doing his best not to disturb the injuries.
Only the hood remained.
Harry hesitated.
Should I look at his face?
What if I know him?
If I learn who he is… will I still be able to let him go?
I shouldn’t pretend to recognize him later…
He lingered there far too long.
Then the man’s breathing turned uneven.
Harry swallowed.
“Well… it’s only because the hood is covering his mouth. He might have trouble breathing,” he muttered to himself weakly.
With trembling fingers, he pushed the hood back.
“—!”
The wet towel slipped from Harry’s hand and landed on the floor with a soft splat.
The man’s face…
Is he even human?
Hollow cheeks. Sunken eyes. Thin lips.
Where a human nose should have been, there were only flat, snake-like slits.
And one more thing—
There was no hair at all.
No eyebrows. No eyelashes. No trace of hair anywhere.
And yet…
Somehow, strangely, the features worked together.
There was something… compelling about him.
Beautiful, in a cold and unsettling way.
Harry found himself staring at the man’s high cheekbones and sharp jawline for a moment before remembering himself. Quickly he bent down to pick up the fallen cloth and began gently wiping the blood from the man’s body.
The wounds had sealed on the surface, but the skin around them was swollen and angry red.
Harry dabbed carefully around the injuries with the cloth.
Layers of dried blood slowly washed away, revealing skin pale as paper beneath.
“—ah.”
The man shuddered faintly, letting out a quiet groan when Harry touched a sensitive spot.
Harry immediately placed a hand over the man’s chest and rubbed gently, trying to soothe him.
“Shh… it’s alright. Just a little longer. I’ll be finished soon.”
Whether the words helped or not, the trembling gradually subsided.
Harry resumed his work.
With careful hands he cleaned the man’s back as well, then slowly moved lower.
And then froze.
Face burning, he grabbed the blanket and hastily covered the man’s lower body.
Wh-what was that…?
Are Alphas… normally that big?
Is he really even human…?
Harry pressed his burning face into his hands for a moment. The image he had just seen refused to leave his mind, and heat crept up his neck.
He slapped his own cheek lightly.
“Get a grip,” he muttered. Then he returned to wiping the man’s legs.
Now that the robes were gone, the man’s scent gland was exposed. The Alpha pheromones filling the room had grown much stronger, thick enough to make Harry’s thoughts feel hazy.
That must be it, he told himself.
That’s why I feel like this.
Once he finished cleaning the body, Harry pulled his thin blanket up to cover the man properly.
Then he gathered the discarded robes and washed them carefully.
They were made of fine black silk—clearly expensive. Perhaps they were important to the man. Fortunately, the fabric itself hadn’t been torn.
After finishing the washing, Harry glanced at his reflection in the mirror.
He looked terrible.
Blood had dried in several places on his skin and clothes.
Harry quickly took a short shower, then changed into a clean—though rather stretched-out—shirt.
When he returned to his room, he spread the robes neatly near the window where the sunlight fell strongest, letting them dry.
Only then did he finally return to his mate’s side.
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Sunlight streaming through the window caught on something along the man’s body.
It shimmered.
Tiny silver scales reflected the light, scattered across his skin like fragments of metal.
Harry stared for a long moment before other details began to stand out.
Long, thin fingers. Nails sharpened almost like the claws of a beast. Beneath his pale skin, faint violet veins showed through with unsettling clarity.
Everything about him felt… inhuman.
And yet the pull Harry felt toward him was undeniable.
This man—this being—was his mate.
The bond in Harry’s chest made that fact impossible to ignore.
With a quiet sigh, Harry slid down to sit on the floor beside the bed.
At first he had wondered if the man might be one of the Death Eaters. The all-black clothing certainly suggested it. But aside from the wounds, there was no mark anywhere on his body.
At the very least, he wasn’t one of Lord Voldemort’s followers.
The thought made Harry shiver.
A memory from his fourth year surfaced unbidden.
A dream.
In it, he had been a snake—striking someone with fangs. Then suddenly he had been small again, wrapped in blankets, giving orders to a servant named Barty.
Harry had never been sure if it had truly been a dream… or if he had somehow slipped inside Lord Voldemort’s mind.
If the latter were true, it meant Voldemort had always been watching him.
Always waiting.
And if Voldemort had only recently gained a body again…
Then meeting his soul-mate now was the worst possible timing.
Still—
Now that he had found him, Harry couldn’t simply abandon him. He didn’t know how this man had ended up here.
But he did know one thing.
He would protect him.
No matter what.
A rustling sound pulled Harry from his thoughts. The man on the bed had begun to move. His face twisted with pain, a shallow groan slipping from his lips.
Inside Harry, his Omega stirred anxiously.
My Alpha is hurting! Do something!
Harry leaned closer.
He tried to release more of his own pheromones, though controlling them was still difficult. He had only become an Omega recently.
With a trembling hand, he brushed the man’s face.
The Alpha seemed to relax at the touch. A low rumble vibrated in his throat as he leaned into Harry’s palm.
Encouraged, Harry gently rubbed his thumb across the man’s brow, smoothing the tension there. Then he carefully lifted his head and guided it against his chest.
Around them, clothes were scattered across the floor. The bed sheets were twisted, the blankets gathered into a loose pile.
It looked almost like an Omega’s nest.
And somewhere deep inside, Harry could feel his Omega’s quiet satisfaction.
Their mate was resting safely in their space.
Warmth spread through Harry’s body.
Without thinking, he let out a soft purring sound of his own and nuzzled his face against the Alpha’s neck.
Exhaustion was catching up to him fast.
Just for a moment, Harry thought drowsily.
Just a short rest…
And then sleep pulled him under.
By the time Harry drifted off, evening had already begun to fall.
The sky outside darkened slowly, shadows creeping across the room.
On the bed, the man’s fingers twitched.
Then—
His eyes snapped open.
Even in the deepening darkness, they were unmistakable.
Bright.
Cold.
Blood-red.