Harry Potter - Hellion!

 

Harry walked the forest, flew over roadways, slept in abandoned dens, (abandoned by their previous owners because they were infested by fleas, Harry soon learned!), swam rivers to freshen up and remove undesirables that had decided to hitch a free ride without asking permission. He added a bat to his genetic maps, hunted insects at night, and mice during the day as an owl or a fox. He took down a sick sheep as a wolf, and then made his way off the farm before the shepherd saw him. All in all, that trip was fun, filled with interesting discoveries, including warded homes spread haphazardly in the countryside. He even found one with huge glass-covered areas, called, according to his extensive language bank, greenhouses. Why green as they were in effect transparent, remained a mystery for him.

The Longbottoms were currently in London, and the elves did not notice the sparrow fly around inside their wards. Harry looked around, focussed on easy to access food, filled up and left. He made a quick side-trip to Sherwood forest, but did not find the white owl he had expected. Her nest had not been occupied this year, for the first time in almost eleven years. Harry had no idea how long a snow-white owl lived, so he dismissed the sorrow he felt.

Late in the evening of July thirtieth, 1991, Harry made his way through the wards of Malfoy Manor, found his reserved spot under a fir tree, and fell asleep, content. He had returned to his friend’s home, safe and sound.

Earlier that day, Draco had left Buckingham Palace with his mother, Narcissa, impatient to return to his manor and spend the day with his mysterious friend. It had been a ritual of every year, and Draco considered that day the culmination of the year, the best day ever, better than Christmas even. No Name boy had taken such a central part in Draco’s life he could not sleep for days before their yearly meeting. Their arrival at the manor had been a shock to Draco, whom had not been told of the myriad of children of all ages and both sexes that had invaded his home. That all the children frolicked in the nude in a newly heated swimming pool that the house-elves had dug on the far side of the back yard, with diving well, and water slides, was not missed by Draco. He thanked Merlin that his friend No Name had taught him how to swim and dive. He, being very competitive, took to racing the others, and shamed even the eldest of the group. Dolphin swimming techniques were the craze of the day! Yet, Draco kept focussed on the impending arrival of his best friend, even more than Neville had become.

As Draco was put to bed by Dobby, the house-elf looked up. "He crossed the wards, Master. Go to sleep, tomorrow is a great day for you."

Draco dreamed of his friend, whom he had kept mental link with on a daily basis, even if he could not pinpoint his location. How he wished he could feel the wards like his other best friend, Dobby. But Dobby had explained to him he would have to wait on his seventeenth birthday before he could do so, a question of magical maturity, the hyperactive house-elf had explained. Dobby had patiently explained to an anxious Draco about magical inheritance, which included learning not only of the Malfoy magical inheritance, something Draco had expected, but also included accessing a hidden, very family-rooted magical ‘power’, of which Dobby did not know the nature of, as he was a servant, not a heir. Draco had vowed to himself to give Dobby his own magic, his own ‘secrets’ for his own children, and that Dobby would never be considered a servant. He was a friend, a valued friend, and not, ever, a servant.

---

Early the next morning, Draco made his way to the kitchen, prepared himself and his friend breakfast, as he had learned from Dobby, and then took everything out to the fir tree he knew his friend favored to sleep under when he came to the summer home. He gently lay a tablecloth on the fine needle bed that covered the forest floor around the cluster of fir trees, opened the jelly spread, the rich cream milk bottle, and spread the freshly cut fruit pieces on china worth a fortune. For Draco, this cutlery was worth less than a living worm, as the living worm might be his friend in disguise.

Harry stirred, woken by the enticing smell of food near his hideout. He peeked through the lower branches, his fox fur hiding him completely from the expectant eyes of one platinum-blond boy. He crawled on the other side of the tree, made sure to exit without moving a single branch or breaking a single twig, made a large circle around and crept on his belly until he could touch the neck of his friend.

Draco waited patiently. He heard nothing and began to wonder if Dobby had not been mistaken last night. As he fidgeted, his constant movements covered any noise Harry could have made. Then he felt a hot breath on his neck, followed by a cold nose prodding his shoulder blades.

"You came! You came!"

"Yip!"

Draco turned around to see a magnificent golden fox.

"And you added another fox type? I wonder what other treasures you have to show me... I have missed you so much!"

Harry took his human form and hugged Draco. "I have missed you too, Draco. So much!"

"Let us eat, the food is fresh. I made it especially for you. I know you abhor cutlery so I cut everything to bite-size... for humans that is."

"Thanks. I do hate cutlery. Why do humans use them, I will never understand. We have perfectly adapted forepaws to handle anything. We can even cup water in them."

"I know! It pisses mom off when Neville and I eat that way. I think Neville does it to infuriate his oh so proper grandma, Augusta. Every time she sees him eat, it is like lightning will flash out of her eyes. It is hilarious!"

"How about clothes?"

"They have abandoned the battlefield. Shawn, Neville, and I won the battle of Waterloo."

"I can see it now. You know, I visited a place called Waterloo, in a rather flat country called Belgium this spring as I made my way to our meeting. What poor weather that place has. Now I know why it is called Waterloo: the place is water-logged and the ground is an open-sky water-closet, which some americans call a loo, probably to remind them they need to loosen up to be able to deliver the bombs!"

"You are as terrible as ever. So, what did you do, apart from visiting battlefield-wide water-closets? Not to use its vastness for anything? I have noticed over the years your tendency to dump the problem on others!"

"Actually, I visited a volcano, captured the form of a fire Phoenix, added some more magical beings. There is one I find particularly interesting. I found out it is called a thestral. Get this, there are also pegasus, which are war horses, that can also fly like the thestral; and I saw a strange mix of horse and eagle, a hippogriff. The one I met tried to bite my head off, before I slammed his beak shut with a well-aimed uppercut. That gave me his genetic map, since I got scratched by his rough feathers."

" You shut the beak of a hippogriff with a punch on the nose? Their temper is well-known! Insult one and it tries to gut you. The barn on the far left side of the property has Abraxans winged horses. I do not go there, they are ill-tempered. Maybe you could break them out of their habits? I would like to see that stallion that tries to bite any dangling bit that comes by. My ‘carrot’ is for my enjoyment, not his!"

The boys continued exchanging tidbits until the breakfast was gone. What was left of the food was dispersed by the boys in the woods, and the cutlery and plates, washed clean by magic, returned to the kitchen by a wave of the hand of the oh so talented visitor. The boys sat on a swing, watching the sun rise, coloring the ice dragon at it rose.

"I got my letter to go to Hogwarts come September first," said Draco. "You?"

"Hogwarts? The magical school? Good for you, Draco. And no, I have not, but September is a month away so who knows? Anyway, if I go, it will be with you, not because I believe in what they teach. Wand-weaving? Very little for me! I only need to think about something for magic to do it. I would feel like I was walking on three legs, a crutch, if you understand me."

"That is one thing I have been wanting to understand. How do you do it? I mean, magic? You seem to be able to do anything, things even mother finds impossible to do. How come?"

"Two words: Will and focus. If you really, really want something, and focus on it, picture it, get a clear image of your goal, magic does it."

"No complicated incantations, wand movements, or anything else? Simply will and focus? Wow!"

"Incantations are ways to weave magic; wands help to focus it. I think wands were invented as stepping stones, but some lazy bums decided that the first step up was enough."

"How do you know that?"

"I have seen wand-weavers using magic, usually to try to locate me or harm me. By the time they had done their wand-weaving and incantations, I had pulled the loose thread of their magical tapestry and wrapped them in their own yarn. The results were usually spectacular!"

"Can you teach me, please? You taught me so much, I am ashamed of asking, but I want to be good."

"Sure. Lesson one: a simple will and focus exercise. See that pebble?" After Draco nodded, Harry looked at it and gently had it lift up. "That is a simple exercise, that will train your will to hold the picture of what you want, get you to focus on the desired effect, and gain your magic the required stamina and power to do it. Do not expect immediate results. When I began, I was in a strong emotional state, that gave me the focus and will to impose the changes to reality by magic. Even today, a strong emotion eases the call, but I no longer need it. I have found out, as I tried to backtrack to my origin, that someone tried to kill and drown me, and that was when I first really did some massive magic."

"Your parents?"

"I do not think so. I believe I got kidnapped when I was a baby, and that the kidnappers tried to dispose of me. Maybe they felt trapped or that my parents or the authorities were closing in and they decided to dispose of the evidence, me."

"That is sad. Have you ever found out what really happened? Did your parents try to find you?"

"I do not know, Draco. Maybe they did, maybe the kidnappers killed them, who knows. All I remember is ‘Pafoo’ and ‘Woofy’ but I do not know the matching real names. I am, on the other hand, sure these are nicknames and that ‘Pafoo’ and ‘Woofy’ were the names ‘I’, as a baby, could say. For me, dad was ‘da’ and mom was ‘ma’, but I can not remember their names at all, much less the generic family name."

Draco leaned on his friend, hugging him while weeping on his shoulders. "I promise I will do all I can to find who you are!" he sobbed.

"Thanks. I have my own question. Do you know what the word ‘godson’ means?"

"Yes. You see, human families are designed to help raise children. As we stay a long time in that form before reaching adulthood, there is a good possibility that the parents that brought the children to life will die before the children reach adulthood themselves."

"I get that. I see it enough in nature: thousands upon thousands of animal children have to fend for themselves before being ready because their mother gets killed. Sometimes, but rarely, the father takes over. Probably because he is never sure the pups are his."

Draco nodded. "A godson is a child that has been registered by a godfather to be the godfather’s responsibility, should the parents pass. I had a godfather and a godmother, but they died about the same time daddy died."

"Oh. Ok. You say there is a godfather and a godmother for each human child?"

"There should be. We are slow at maturing, and dependent for a very long time. I always envied your independence, but I also knew it must have come at a terrible price, the price of losing your family, all your family."

After being silent and listening to the birds in the trees, Draco turned to his friend.

"Why did you ask that question?"

"About the meaning of ‘godson’?" After a nod, Harry closed his eyes. "Not too long ago, maybe ten or fourteen or so sunrises, I found one of those dark things. As the whole area reeked of darkness, I set the big mansion on fire first, more as a distraction so I could focus on the much darker feeling I could get from a rather decrepit construction. I placed very strong protections, wards I think you call them, around the shack, much much stronger than those surrounding this home of yours. I then used the fire of hell, to burn the shack down. It burned down all right. It exploded, sending a magical shock wave that was probably felt to the other side of the earth. There was this intense burning, but some strange rock seemed to resist even the fire of hell, so I took a dive in the fire, picked it up and used the updraft of the inferno to leave."

"That must have burned."

"No. It felt refreshing to my fire Phoenix."

"What happened after?"

As I was ready to leave, I changed to my Ice Phoenix. I feel so much more comfortable in that form, so much calmer. Anyway, four wand-weavers popped into view, looking at the fire. One saw me and started yelling something about always being too late to pick up his godson. Keen on learning what the new word meant and how it might apply to me, I hid in the bushes and listened to them talking."

"Did you, by any chance, hear them identify each other?"

"Yes. One was identified by Sirius, the other by Frank, the third by Remus, and the lady by Alice."

"Wow! You named four of the most important mages in the entire kingdom. They are always together with mom and grandma Augusta in London, keeping company to the Queen."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Sir lord Sirius Black; Sir Lord Frank Longbottom; Lady Alice Longbottom, his wife; and Sir Lord Remus Lupin. I do not know much more than that, but I have eavesdropped on them often enough to know they head a Royal Task Force aimed at finding someone that is vital to the survival of the Magical Realm as well as to the survival of the Muggle Realm. Whom it is, I have never been told."

"Wow!"

"And who said he was missing his godson?"

"A tall, black-haired guy."

"That is Sirius Black. He has been looking for his godson for ages, tracking him around the world, always missing him by a hair-width. He is the prototype prankster, but damn he gets serious fast when it comes to finding his godson. Alice is the godmother."

"Of whom?"

"Please excuse me, my friend, I forgot you do not spend your days confined in libraries trying to escape in dreams. I am talking about ..."

---

Just then a brown barn owl landed on the swing and extended its right leg toward Harry.

"Hey, you got a letter! Take it! And give it some owl treat, it is been carrying that package for who knows how long!"

Harry did as was told and produced a nice fat mouse for the owl, who took it gratefully and flew off to the nearest branch to enjoy a real treat for once.

"A mouse?" asked Draco.

"I am an owl on occasion, as you know, so I do know what we like best!"

"Eww!"

"Do not discount it until you have tried it."

Making a face, Draco pointed to the package, now laying on Harry’s lap. "How about that?"

Harry turned it face up to find himself looking at a strange seal.

"Hogwarts! You got your Hogwarts letter!" yelled Draco, ecstatic. "That means that today is your birthday!"

"It is?"

"Ya, Hogwarts letters are always delivered the morning of a person’s birthday. What is the address?"

"No Name, Malfoy Manor, on the swing?!"

"I was hoping they at least would know your name. Open up the letter. I know I had to open mine, mom could not even touch it."

Harry tore the seal and found a letter. As he touched it, the headline changed. From Mr No Name, it became Sir Lord Harry James Potter, Knight of the Round Table, Prince Master of Magic.

"What the hell?"

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"Read that," Harry said as he gave the letter to Draco.

Draco read the headline several times, not understanding the magnitude of the words immediately. As their true meaning sank in, he became ever whiter, finally fainting on Harry.

"Dobby!" hollered a panicked Harry.

POP!

"What can Dobby do for master of Magic?"

"Dobby, Draco went ill. He was reading the letter and progressively turned white before fainting. I cannot see any ill magic at work!"

Dobby looked at the pale face of the Lord of the Manor, and took the letter off his hands. He too began to read, and looked at Harry at every word.

"Master Draco is not ill, Sir Lord Harry James Potter, Knight of the Round Table, Prince Master of Magic. He is simply in shock."

"Oh? Why is that?"

"He knew you were powerful mage, but he never fully understood how powerful his best friend really is. You, Master, are magic incarnate. You are magic."

"But I am only who I am!"

"Modesty serves you well, but it is kind of out of reach for you."

"How come you are not affected?"

"I have always known. So do all house-elves, that have taken an unbreakable vow on their magic to protect you, your secrets, and your very thoughts. Just about every magical life-form has sworn fealty to you, Prince of Magic."

"What now?"

"First, we bring Draco home. His other friends should be getting up by now."

"Other friend? Neville?"

"Neville is not here, but there are three hundred fifty children that came here in the middle of the month."

"Ah hem, three hundred fifty you say? I rescued three hundred fifty children from a brothel fifteen or so sunrises ago."

"So, that was you! They only talk about the nude boy that descended on their hell hole like an avenging angel, and destroyed the devil’s servants with a look! Believe me, Prince of Magic, you have won yourself a lot of magical bonds. They would follow you to hell and back."

"I hope my ancestors will not burn me to the stakes!"

"Do not worry. Your ancestors will probably kick God out of office the day you die, to put you on his throne! Lord Potter, let us get going. I am sure Mistress Narcissa is worried about where her son is. By the way, she too knows who you are. She just kept quiet."