Chapter Text
Evening of Saturday, 12th of June 1993,
Outside Gringotts.
Harry waited by the marble steps leading to the goblin bank for Mrs Malfoy to finish her errand. Or, Auntie Cissa, as she had firmly insisted. He smiled ruefully at the thought of Draco's mother being so affectionate with him and wondered how the boy would react to it.
Regardless, his thoughts returned to their earlier excursion in Potter Manor. In hindsight, he should have known that summoning Dobby in front of her would not be the wisest decision. Thankfully, he had managed to defuse any conflict before it began by giving Dobby his orders regarding the manor and convincing the lady to talk about it over dinner. The mere mention of the words “home” and “work” to Dobby had made the house-elf so ecstatic that he easily forgot about his bad mistress and popped away to clean up the grounds. Harry had explicitly ordered him not to enter the manor, as he wanted to be assured of its safety first after a more thorough exploration.
They arrived at the steps of the bank earlier via apparition, the older woman taking him side-along. Harry appreciated the experience, as he was still attempting to break down the ability in hopes of figuring out how to do it on his own. So far, his progress had been… limited, but he was confident he would succeed eventually.
Hopefully.
Their errand at the bank was simple – withdraw gold, and to check on the ministry's promised deposit. Thankfully, they did not delay Harry’s reimbursement, and he was now ten thousand galleons richer. Still, while the bank was open twenty-four hours, the goblins were not as helpful as he expected bankers should be and refused to help him audit his fortune properly. At least, unless he paid them a premium.
The only premium he would give that smug prick at the counter was a basilisk fang to the throat.
The Potter heir was brought out of his musings by the beautiful sight of his companion storming down the marble steps of the bank, her blonde hair trailing in motion. Her elegant black and blue dress flowed behind her, and her grey-blue eyes were even more stormy than earlier.
Somehow, Harry had the feeling that Lucius Malfoy was at fault.
“Trouble with the goblins?” Harry smiled easily at the woman, giving her the most common greeting to anyone who just had to deal with Gringotts.
“Of a sort, but not here. Let us go, Harry.” The woman was curt, and Harry shrugged. Hooking his arm over her offered elbow, she led him through the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, easily ignoring the many curious eyes watching them. By some miracle, the evening papers had not been published yet, so no one knew his identity, and Harry had a feeling they were saving the big scoop for tomorrow. All eyes were on the beautiful woman as she secretly relished the attention. Narcissa Malfoy might have maintained a stoic look, but his senses did not lie. The woman certainly lived up to her name more than she realised.
Soon, they arrived at a fancy looking establishment called The Cauldron Cuisine that advertised choice dinner and exotic drinks as their main feature. Approaching the waitress at the front, cutting in front of a long line of waiting witches and wizards, Narcissa didn't waste time for pleasantries.
“I have a table reserved for two under Narcissa Malfoy.”
The waitress’ eyes widened, “Right this way, Mrs Malfoy.”
The witch led them to a table for two on the balcony overlooking Muggle London. Harry attributed magic to be the reason why they could not smell the exhaust of the cars nor hear the busy streets. Muggle-repellent wards ensured no muggles would look at them either, yet that wasn't a worry since the balcony overlooked one of the many parks of the city, straight over a pond reflecting the full moon.
Naturally, Harry withdrew Narcissa’s chair for her to sit before going to his seat, taking off his cloak to hang it over his seat, and pocketing his gloves into his vest.
“Here you go,” the witch handed them their menus, a food menu and a drink menu. “Could I interest you with that twelve-year-old vintage of Ogden's Finest that you inquired about the last time you were here, Mrs Malfoy?”
“Just a bottle of butterbeer.” Narcissa looked mightily interested but paused, her lips subtly tightening before she calmly gave her order and browsed her menu for dinner.
“Certainly, and you, young man?”
“A bottle of Dragon Scale for me, please.”
“Er, I'm sorry, but you are a bit too young to be served any alcoholic drinks.”
Harry resisted the temptation to bang his head on the table.
“Is there even a legal drinking age?”
“Not necessarily,” Mrs Malfoy replied before the waitress could. “It is up to the establishments to decide what to serve their customers. Besides, aren't you too young to be drinking alcohol, dear?”
Harry was not in the mood to argue about this. Besides, he was far more hungry than thirsty at the moment.
“Fine, I'll have a Pepsi.”
“Understood. A waitress will be with you shortly with your drinks and to take your order.”
The witch hurried back to her position at the front while Harry inspected his surroundings. The establishment was quite busy, with various customers eating and drinking merrily. Another group consisting of three older girls sat at the table beside them, intentionally leaving an empty seat. A latecomer, mayhaps?
“Pepsi?” The noble lady raised an eyebrow, causing him to turn to her.
“It's a muggle drink. Fuzzy and gives you energy, tastes good with steak and hearty meals.” Harry shrugged as he looked over the menu, finding plenty of good options with reasonable prices.
“ Muggle?” Looking up from the menu, Harry found the Narcissa scrunching her nose in distaste, causing him to sigh loudly.
“Don't give me that look, auntie. You're the one who brought me here, and if it's on the menu, that means this very respectable establishment agrees with me that even muggles make good food and drinks.”
“… I suppose they do know how to make interesting things with their limited capabilities.” Narcissa didn’t sound convinced, and Harry knew she was giving lip service in some misled attempt to placate him, but he didn’t really care. He had found Pepsi to be good from the rare times he managed to sneak some from Dudley’s stash.
“So, when will you explain how you came to have my elf in your service?” Narcissa’s question broke him out of his musings.
Harry checked to make sure no one was paying more attention than normal, as Narcissa’s appearance would always guarantee turning heads wherever she went, and whipped out his wand then waved it around their table.
“Muffliato.” The spell took hold instantly, and Harry smirked at the success. The blonde witch looked at him quizzically, yet he could tell she was impressed.
“Your elf?”
“Indeed, my elf. He was part of my dowry from my maiden house to the Malfoys. Lucius had no right to give him away.” The woman narrowed her eyes challengingly and stared him down from her considerable height even while seated.
“Clearly, magic disagreed. The moment your husband gave Dobby a sock, The elf immediately renounced any allegiance to the Malfoys. That meant he was as much your husband’s as he was yours.” Unfortunately for the witch, she picked the wrong wizard to argue about technicalities with. Both Harry and Jon could be more stubborn than a mule and a goat combined, and considering this magical world, there was a very high chance such a creature might exist.
The beautiful woman clicked her tongue and looked away in defeat. “Regardless, it was no great loss. I only advise caution when you deal with that mad elf.”
“Mad?” Harry raised an eyebrow. While he would never call Dobby entirely sane, he was still functional for the most part.
“Has he ever tried to help you yet?”
Instantly, Harry shivered, and Narcissa nodded knowingly. Apparently, there was more to this matter than just a cruel master or incompetent servant. He caught movement as a waitress was talking to the group of girls with an annoyed look as she glanced at the empty seat yet took their orders, before coming to their table, their drinks floating behind her.
“Hello, and welcome to The Cauldron Cuisine . My name is Merula and – geh, M-Mrs Malfoy?!”
Narcissa stared inquisitively at the waitress for a second before her eyes shone in recognition. “Why, if it isn’t young Ms Snyde. Fancy seeing you here, dear.”
Harry looked at the newcomer in confusion. She had smooth brown hair reaching her shoulders with the front part above her forehead either dyed or a natural bright orange, with thick furrowed eyebrows over a pair of orange eyes the same colour as her hair.
“I see you have stopped colouring your eyes queerly, Merula. I love your natural colour and am happy you have learned to embrace it.” Narcissa’s lips widened, and Harry could feel the woman’s affection for the girl, which surprised him. He was of the mind that the woman did not truly like anyone but her son.
“T-Thank you, Mrs Malfoy.” The girl unconsciously rubbed her tuft of orange hair as she lowered her head bashfully with reddening cheeks and a smile.
“Have you been well, dear? I haven't heard from you since your aunt’s untimely demise a couple of years ago. Such a tragic accident, spell creation is a nasty business.”
“I've been fine.” The girl was slowly regaining her composure as she smiled at the blonde woman. “Bounced a bit between jobs, but can't complain.”
She glanced curiously at him, and Harry smiled genially.
“Ah, where are my manners? Harry, dear, this is Merula Snyde. She used to babysit Draco before he went to school.”
“Is that so?” Harry's smile turned into a toothy grin as he stood up to give her a proper greeting. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms Snyde. I am Harry Potter. Draco and I are in the same school year, and I would love to hear more about any childhood stories you have of him.”
“H-H-H-Harry P-P-Potter?!” The girl looked furtively between him and Narcissa, causing him to frown. He could smell actual fear and worry from her, which was slowly calming down once she saw the blonde woman nod to her. “Ah,” she coughed before returning his bow with an awkward curtsy. “Merula Snyde. A pleasure.”
“Now, while I would love to catch up with you sometime, dear, that would have to wait another day. Could you take our orders?” Narcissa’s order was quick to note down, but his on the other hand had them gawking. Harry firmly ignored their shock as he was hungrily listing everything that had caught his eye on the menu. A growing boy had to eat, and the measly breakfast had been far from enough to satiate him for the day.
Once the girl retreated with their order and then awkwardly returned with their drinks that were still floating behind her, they resumed their conversation.
“So what had you peeved at Gringotts?” The Potter heir tapped the bottle cap with his wand, causing it to fly away, and sipped the fuzzy drink.
“It is no bother. Just Lucius being his petty self.” Narcissa poured herself a glass of the butterbeer, sipping contently as she watched the full moon.
“Well, if you say so. Regardless, I will be paying for dinner, and no ,” he insisted when the woman turned to him in surprise, “that was not an offer, rather a statement. You have done me a huge favour today, Auntie. It’s the least I could do.”
The older woman stared at him for a long moment before sighing. “Fine, you can be so stubborn, Harry.”
“I hear it runs in my family.”
“I suppose it did.” The woman sipped her drink before gazing at the group of girls from earlier as their latecomer had arrived in the form of an exhausted-looking pink-haired woman in auror robes. He frowned at the pink head that Harry thought he had seen in the ministry. Something seemed off about her…
“Regardless, I think we should discuss more about your plans for your Manor.”
“What do you suggest?” He focused back on the blonde woman and filed the strange feeling away.
“This isn’t something you will have to worry about for a while, but you will need to hire retainers for your property once you’re back in school. I believe there was a muggle village nearby that you could entice witches or wizards to settle in so they could be closer to your property for any work.”
“Wouldn’t they just use the Floo instead? Or apparate?”
“Not everyone can apparate, and even those who can, do not necessarily like it. As for the Floo, do you truly want any random person to barge into your home every time they need to buy something from Diagon Alley?”
“I suppose not.” From there, they continued to discuss the details of whom to talk to for the rebuilding effort and what types of payments they would expect. Harry had suggested using muggle contractors, and while Narcissa didn’t shoot down the idea immediately, she wasn’t a fan of it. Instead, she proposed he use his newly found wealth to hire a team of transfiguration experts to build him his ideal home. It would cost a lot of gold, both for their time and the materials needed, yet the pureblood witch was adamant it would be worth it.
The issue lay with finding such experts as transfiguration was the most difficult branch of magic to master, and he would rather not leave an important task such as building his home to a bunch of newbies.
Soon, their food arrived, and they ate in silence with the occasional remark about the food. Harry especially liked the roasted dragon liver, though he felt the basilisk was more to his liking.
Eventually, they finished the sumptuous meal, and waved at Merula for the check. “By Morgana, I still cannot understand how you could fit so much food in your tiny stomach. You don't even look bloated. Where did all that food go?!”
“What can I say?” Harry grinned at the disbelieving face of Narcissa. “It all comes down to strategy, you eat a bit of beef, then some chicken, change it up for liver, then back to beef. Rinse and repeat while washing it down with Pepsi.”
“Harry… You ordered three servings of dragon meat, two servings of dragon liver, half a leg of an acromantula, an entire cockatrice wing, and enough garlic bread to scare off a vampire den.” The woman counted from her fingers and then looked at her modest dish of seafood, which Harry was tempted to joke about as being too muggle .
He shrugged sheepishly as he watched Merula manoeuvre her way to them. “I was just hungry.”
“Sorry to keep you waiting, are you ready to pay?”
“Hey, Merula!” A loud voice interrupted before he could reply. Harry turned curiously at the pink-haired girl he had seen earlier, “We've been waiting for our order for half an hour already. I’m starving here!”
The waitress, who had so far been polite and professional, scowled as she turned at the group of girls. “Oh, can it, Nymphadora! Can't you see I'm busy?”
“It's Tonks , you stupid bint. You try getting your ass handed to you by Mad-eye bloody Moody for eight hours, then get dragged to Wales for some troll hunt.” Harry stared in shock as the woman’s hair turned an angry red, and her pink eyes turned a shade darker than black.
“Oh, stop with the theatrics, Nymie. That’s how you trip over yourself when the stench of the troll hit you then.” The orange-haired girl rolled her eyes, and Harry felt like he was missing something here. Was he the only one who noticed the girl just did some sort of wandless transfiguration? Wait, didn’t Hermione mention something similar?
The two girls scowled at each other, yet he felt no real enmity between them. Curiously, it was more akin to a friendly rivalry? A school rivalry that they grew out of as they got older? For once, his senses were confusing him, and he wagered it was a lack of experience with observing older girls in general.
Regardless, he was distracted by Narcissa stiffening in her seat, her eyes fixed on the metamorphmagus. Merula finally ignored the now red-haired girl, Tonks was her name, and why did it sound familiar? Turning to our table, the waitress adopted a professional smile.
“My apologies, Mrs Malfoy, forget that uncouth savage. Your order shall come to 21 galleons, 12 sickles, and 19 knuts.”
Harry whistled inwardly; he knew he had ordered a lot of food. If he recalled correctly, a newly hired ministry employee like Eleanor barely earned 15 galleons a month in salary. Outwardly, though, he did not blink as he produced his newly refilled coin sack and counted for the girl 23 galleons.
“Keep the change.”
“Thanks, mate, appreciate it.” The girl grinned at him toothily, and Harry couldn’t help but grin back at the bubbly girl.
“Wait, did you say Malfoy ?” Pinkie, for her hair had returned to pink, jumped from her seat in surprise and walked over to them – only to trip over her feet and nearly crash into Merula if not for Narcissa waving her wand and freezing the auror girl mid-air.
“Er, thanks. So, Malfoy? As in Narcissa Malfoy?” The girl’s excited look didn’t waver even as she hovered mid-air, but Harry noticed that Narcissa was not amused.
“So what if I am?”
“Nice! I mean, I’m your niece. Mom told me so much about you.” The girl's features seemed to fluctuate between her current form and a childish, more innocent form of Narcissa. Eventually, she settled on a form that would make anyone think she was Narcissa’s daughter.
To say Harry was shocked at the scene would be an understatement. Niece? Well, if he had any suspicions, then the girl’s performance abated him of that. Narcissa lowered her wand, allowing the girl to land on her feet. The older woman then stood up and looked coldly at the girl.
“I have no interest in my treacherous sister or her family.” Tonks’ face fell in dismay as her hair turned a solemn ash hue, and Harry could almost hear her heart breaking. He did not know the full facts of the situation for him to judge Narcissa on her treatment of her niece, but still, family was important.
“Mr Potter,” The older woman turned to him, and he noticed the return to formality. “I have enjoyed our outing, and thank you for the meal. I wish you the best in your endeavours, and may you have a productive summer, but don't hesitate to call on me if you need anything.”
Recognising the farewell for what it was, Harry stood up as well and put on his cloak. He filed away his thoughts on the earlier scene and focused on the pleasant day he had with the beautiful lady. “You have been a lot of help today, Mrs Malfoy. I appreciate it and offer you the same courtesy. If you need anything, please let me know.”
The blonde woman smiled and nodded, then turned to the waitress, Merula. “We will keep in touch, dear. My Floo is still open for you since you last visited.”
“Sure, Mrs Malfoy.” The waitress looked awkward standing there with the payment he gave her and a couple of trays floating above her. Yet, the awkwardness of Narcissa’s niece must have felt tenfold, as she looked like a kicked puppy.
Narcissa Malfoy nodded one last time and made her way out of the establishment. Merula returned to her duties, and Harry turned to the distraught-looking Auror. “So, Tonks, was it? I could have sworn I’ve heard of that name before.”
The girl perked up, her hair turning blonde, the same shade as her aunt and Harry was again reminded that they looked similar, especially since the metamorph could change her facial features and body. Was her chest that big earlier? Even as he thought about it, the girl seemed to shrink onto herself, almost reducing her height to look younger as she talked to him.
“Harry Potter, right? I think I was at your place earlier with Madame Bones.”
“Oh? Interesting. How about I join your table and discuss more?”
“Certainly, hey girls! Look what I found. You wouldn't believe what this guy did today.” The girl’s lips widened to a smile, and she dragged him to introduce him to her friends. Harry grinned inwardly; he supposed he could eat some more, and he would never say no to more female company.
A*L*S*M
Midnight,
Leaky cauldron.
Harry walked through the archway to the pub. His evening had taken an interesting turn when he met with Tonks and her friends from school. What were the odds that he would meet Narcissa Malfoy's estranged niece and hear the entire sordid affair between the two Black sisters? That she was also one of the Aurors who accompanied Director Bones to his home was quite a coincidence. Granted, Nymphadora was but a trainee auror and the only reason they took her was because they were short-staffed, and her trainer vouched for her, at least according to the girl herself.
Harry sniffed the air, noticing a peculiar smell coming from one of the windows. It reminded him of the forest for some reason, and he could feel Ghost rousing from his slumber to smell it curiously as well. Seeing that the wolf didn't sense any danger, he shrugged before entering the common room. It was deserted, except for the stooped visage of Tom standing behind the bar, who smiled when he saw him.
“Evening, Mr Potter. Can I get you something to eat?”
“No, thank you, Tom. I think I will go ahead and sleep.”
“Are you sure, lad? I have a treacle tart pie coming out of the oven soon.”
Harry paused by the staircase. “Oh, alright. You drive a hard bargain, Tom. Let me change first, and I'll be right back.”
The old bartender grinned, then turned to the oven to check on the pie. Harry hurried upstairs, eager to change and check on Hedwig before having one last snack before bed.
So lost in thoughts of devouring pies that Harry didn't notice the room he entered until he froze at the sight of a massive wolf curled on a carpet by the open window. The brilliant rays of the moon shone over the beast’s beautiful silver fur, and Harry could instantly tell it was a she.
The wolf’s head twitched as it woke up from the intrusion and raised its drowsy head in a yawn, silver eyes looking around curiously at whatever woke her. She froze at the sight of him, and Harry could sense fear and terror emanate from the wolf as it opened and closed its mouth several times in a very human way before whimpering pitifully at him.
The Potter heir had a strong suspicion of what the being was, and judging by Ghost’s excitement, the direwolf probably had an even better idea than him.
He closed the door and made his way back to the common room, finding Tom with a plate of piping hot pie waiting for him on the bar. Waving his wand with a muttered Muffliato because one could never be too careful, Harry didn't beat around the bush.
“Why is there a werewolf in the room opposite mine?”
The pub owner’s face paled.
.
.
.
“I see, so Chiara here is an excellent potion mistress, eh?” Harry gazed at the beautiful wolf staring at him unblinkingly.
“Indeed, she brewed the Wolfsbane herself, and I'll have you know it is a very difficult potion to brew.” Old Tom replied from across the table they were sitting at as he cut a slice of the treacle tart pie for him.
“Impressive.” Harry hummed in delight as he ate his pie. It was exquisitely made, easily better than the Hogwarts recipe. He glanced around her room, noticing it had been occupied for a long time, as it was a bit larger than his own and looked quite well-lived in. In one corner, there was a full bookshelf and an adjacent desk, with many of the books being medical in nature. Books of potions and herbology were also aplenty, suggesting the werewolf to be very accomplished in the branches of magic. In another corner, there was a complete potion set with a shelf of ingredients, and he could smell the remains of a potion that instantly gave him a feeling of revulsion. Must be the Wolfsbane.
“I'm glad you like it, Chiara was the one who set the pie before the evening.” The man sounded entirely too proud of the werewolf as he stared at her in fondness.
The werewolf in question seemed to have a bashful look on her as she lowered her pink snout with a huff. Still, Harry could feel apprehension directed at him, and Ghost prowled in his mind. The direwolf’s giddy excitement was contagious, and Harry had to control himself from letting a dopey grin make way to his face.
“Still, I am sure not many witches or wizards would be overly pleased with the fact you are keeping a werewolf under your roof. Especially during the full moon.” The room seemed to grow cold, with Tom sitting straighter and the wolf shuffling uneasily. Harry calmly swallowed his pie before taking a sip of tea and smiled easily at the two of them. “Don’t fret. It’s not like I would blab about the matter. I am genuinely curious – how did you come to know and trust each other so?”
Old Tom looked at him silently for a moment longer before sighing, “You are a confusing lad, Mr Potter.”
“How so? And please, call me Harry.”
The tavern owner smiled at him, “Very well, Harry. Normally, a wizard’s reaction to finding a werewolf would be to scream to the high heavens for the Aurors after blasting away with their wands. You did not once seem to fear Chiara; even under the effects of the Wolfsbane, where she is completely lucid, she is still a mighty large wolf.”
“I have an affinity with wolves,” Harry stared intensely at the she-wolf and couldn’t help but allow the excitement Ghost was feeling to flow through him and grinned at the girl, causing her to avert her eyes shyly. “Let’s just say I have nothing to fear from a werewolf, but you still did not answer my question.”
“Let’s just say that I knew her parents well before they died and took her in when she needed it. Anything more, you will have to coax out of her yourself.” The old man’s tone brokered no argument, and Harry nodded genially, especially as the wolf looked at the pub owner in appreciation.
The Potter heir idly chewed on his pie before gazing at the werewolf again and couldn’t help but blurt out, “She looks so fluffy I could sink in her fur.”
“Careful, lad.” Old Tom grinned as he sipped his tea. “Even in her current state, if she accidentally bites you, you would contract the curse.”
“I doubt it, although that does give me an idea.” Harry finished the last of his pie before he abruptly stood up and swiftly moved to the wolf, grabbing her head and looking deeply into her eyes. He could feel the she-wolf struggle in his arms, and her fear returned with a vengeance but he held firm and knowing what Ghost wanted, he gave full control to his companion as… something seemed to flow from him and into the wolf’s mind.
He did not think, did not even plan for this; otherwise, he would have been a lot more wary of doing such a thing. His knowledge of skinchanging was rudimentary at best, and his practice with Hedwig had been limited. Yet, Harry had felt something from the moment he stepped into this room and his eyes met the wolf’s. It was almost the same as the time he picked up Ghost as a pup, yet intrinsically different.
“What are you doing, lad?!” Tom’s worried shout was ignored as the man fumbled to stand from the table and hesitantly approached from behind.
“Do not be afraid, Chiara. Can I call you Chiara?” Harry smiled at the wolf as he held onto her massive head, and resisted the urge to sink his face into her soft fur. Despite his confident approach, the werewolf understood that she had all the power here. One jerk of her head, and she could bite his head off, yet his instincts, and Ghost’s for that matter, screamed that she would do no such thing. The wolf hesitantly nodded her head and he gently scratched under her chin causing her to close her eyes in pleasure.
“Keep your eyes open, Chiara.” The werewolf opened her eyes curiously, but he could feel confusion and worry. “Trust me.”
After a moment of uncertainty, Harry received a cautious nod. Truth be told, the boy had no idea what he was doing, but he let instinct and Ghost guide him.
He felt another link settle in his mind just like that. The wolf’s silver eyes widened as the connection was established and the bond was made, Ghost tugged on it, and suddenly… they were in the Godswood of his mind, and he was no longer holding a wolf’s head. Instead, he held the pretty waitress from that morning, her silver eyes wide in disbelief. He let go of her as she stared around in wonder at the massive Weirwood and the grove.
“W-what is this? Where am–”
That was as far she went before she yelped when Ghost leapt onto her, licking her for all she was worth. Harry watched as Chiara got over her shock quickly and hugged the massive white wolf with a giggle. Comparing them, he realised that the direwolf was still larger than the girl’s wolf form by a large margin, though he might need her to be in wolf form to be more sure.
“That’s enough, Ghost. Give the girl a chance to breathe.” After a few minutes of non-stop licking and petting, the direwolf finally moved away from the girl and licked him instead, causing Harry to chuckle. “So, do you have any questions for me, Chiara?”
The older girl breathed heavily as she fixed her hair and stood up. Looking at her now, Harry realised she was quite the beauty with middling height, shoulder-length silver hair the same shade of colour as her eyes, which looked at her surroundings in amazement. She was dressed in a grey sweater with a moonstone necklace hanging around her neck, resting on her generous chest, and jeans with a black leather belt around her waist.
“Well, first of all, what are you? I mean, I know you’re Harry Potter, of course, and I grew up hearing all sorts of fantastical tales about you, but this is surreal!” The girl’s voice was soft and mellow. It started quiet like she was used to being meek, but it grew in resonance with her excitement.
“I am many things depending on whom you ask,” Harry shrugged carelessly. “Right now? I’m just a kid with a direwolf in his mind, and we both are very interested in you.” He smiled genially at her as he distractedly held Ghost back from going over to the girl again. The direwolf’s eyes were shining, his tail wagging and his tongue rolling, wanting to play with the girl again. Harry was unsure if he saw her as a potential playmate or a mate , and he sincerely wished it was not the latter.
“I suppose I knew the moment I saw you this morning that you were something special. Though my instincts told me, you were the sort of special that would probably give me a hard time in a fight.” The girl scratched her head as she chuckled awkwardly. “What is it, this strange feeling I got?”
“It’s called a warg bond, a special branch of magic that I have stumbled on between wizards and beasts, usually canines.” He did not wish to waste time on the nuances of his transmigration, so he kept the explanation simple. “The ability to share our souls together to better communicate and with enough trust and practice, we could see through each other's eyes and share our senses. You have noticed how you instinctively knew I wish you no harm?” The girl nodded, showing no surprise as if confirming exactly what he was saying. “I feel the same way. Believe me when I say that I would normally never allow anyone into my mind like this, yet I feel completely relaxed with you here. Ghost likes you, and I trust his senses more than my own.”
“He looks like a good boy.” Chiara smiled at the direwolf, who looked at him imploringly, and Harry allowed Ghost to free himself from his grasp to pounce on the girl who had thrown her arms open for a hug. He chuckled bemusedly at the sight, wondering how strange the fates could work at dropping him such a goldmine of a talent. An accomplished healer and potioneer as well as a warg bond? He was truly confused about the latter as he thought skinchanging did not work on humans, but perhaps her werewolf status helped. Regardless, Harry did not choose to bond with her on a whim, he could feel his soul singing to him that this was natural, like the bond was already established and he needed only to formalise it. And a lord never had enough skilled retainers.
A few minutes of petting later, Ghost was finally satisfied as he simply slept around the girl with her lying on his stomach.
“Is such a magic so easy to replicate?” The werewolf finally asked as she gazed at him with warm silver eyes.
“As far as I am aware, it’s part of my bloodline, so no, I don’t think others can learn, but I barely know more than second-year magic.” Harry shrugged as he joined her and leaned on Ghost’s belly.
“Shame. I knew a few wolves from when I was in school, in the Forbidden Forest. So how easy is it to bond with other people?”
“That’s the thing. As far as I know, I shouldn’t be able to. It only works on animals, but I suppose it worked for you because you're a werewolf. And like I told Tom, I always had an affinity for wolves.”
“How smooth of you, calling me an animal without saying it.” The girl giggled as she placed an arm around his shoulder, and Harry was tempted to snuggle closer to her and just lose track of time as they enjoyed each other’s presence. It was truly strange how comfortable Harry felt with someone he knew for less than ten minutes in total, but he was sure the same applied to her.
“Anyway, let’s get back outside.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet, much to Ghost’s displeasure. “Sorry, boy. I’m sure Tom is freaking out right about now.”
The direwolf huffed silently in mock annoyance before looking away petulantly. Chiara giggled as she scratched the wolf’s head and kissed his snout. “Don’t worry, Ghost. I am sure Harry can arrange a visit sometime. He still has to explain how he is some kind of werewolf without having to transform on the full moon.”
“That’s because I am not, but maybe you are not far from the truth. Anyway, shall we?” Harry held out his hand and the girl eagerly grabbed it as they made their way outside of the Godswood and to the waking world.
Only for him to wake to the strange scene of Dobby arguing with Tom.
“Dobby? When did you come here?” He stood up and the werewolf stood with him, and it was now he noticed he barely reached the wolf’s shoulders in height.
“Harry Potter Sir! Dobby brings grave news; the nasty grey skins have returned to your home in greater numbers and threaten to ruin all of Dobby’s work! Dobby tried to fight them off, but they were too strong and resistant to magic.”
Instantly, Harry was wide awake – years of fighting and constantly on guard on the Wall and training from when he was in Winterfell allowed him to instantly change from at ease to combat ready. It didn’t take him more than a second to notice his elf had signs of a scrap on him, his beanie looked dirty, and his football shirt had scratches. Thankfully, he was unharmed.
“Thank you for the pie and tea, Tom. It appears sleep shall have to wait.” Harry stepped outside the room, checking the hallways to make sure they were clear for Chiara’s sake and entered his room opposite the werewolf’s. Quickly, he deposited his cloak and opened his trunk, ignoring the footsteps of Tom and the large wolf behind him. Hedwig, seemingly sensing his intentions, swooped in from the window to land on his shoulder.
“Harry, lad. You can’t just fight a clan of trolls in the middle of the night! You must notify the DMLE or at least wait till morning.”
“I cannot afford to do that. Those squatting scum were already driven away a few hours ago, yet they dared to invade my demesne again. As lord of my land, it is my duty to ensure it is safe for its future residents.” Harry searched around his trunk until he found what he was looking for. “Besides, I shall not go unprepared.”
He stood up, his wand in one hand and the Sword of Gryffindor in the other and turned around. Tom looked shocked at the fancy blade, even if there was no way he recognised it. His attention, however, was on the werewolf. Chiara had entered the room and resolutely stood beside him, her eyes staring at him unflinchingly.
“You want to come along?”
“Yes.”
Harry blinked when he realised they could speak now before grinning widely. He looked at Dobby, silently asking if he could transport both of them.
“Dobby can transport Master and his new friend, but new friend has to understand that Dobby is master’s number one servant.” The elf folded his hands defiantly, and it took Harry a moment to realise the elf recognised the new bond he established with Chiara.
The wolf in question simply huffed in amusement and placed her head on his shoulders.
“I suppose I can’t stop you, and I do not want to involve the DMLE or Chiara will get in trouble.” Tom looked incredibly agitated before sighing in resignation. “I will wait until dawn. If you do not return, I will send the Aurors after you.”
“Fair enough. Let’s go Dobby.”
His self-proclaimed number-one servant nodded and grabbed them before popping them away.