Chapter 3
Percy’s muscles burned as he fought against the current, the freezing water dragging at his limbs. His soaked robes clung to him like lead weights, but he pushed forward, eyes scanning desperately for any sign of his infuriating partner.
Where is he?! Percy’s heart pounded in his chest, a rising panic gnawing at the edges of his mind. Harry Potter—his reckless, ridiculous partner—had thrown himself into the river without a second thought, and now Percy was going to have to explain to the Order how Sirius's precious godson drowned on a routine warding job.
A flash of movement caught his eye. Further downstream, a figure bobbed in the water, half-submerged. Percy cursed under his breath and swam harder, the current threatening to pull him under. When he reached the figure, he grabbed the back of their robes and heaved, struggling to keep them afloat.
“Harry—” Percy gasped, dragging the body toward the riverbank. His boots scraped against the shallows as he pulled the limp figure onto dry land. He collapsed onto his knees, breath coming in harsh bursts as he flipped the person onto their back.
It wasn’t Harry.
The boy was pale, almost deathly so, with platinum-blond hair plastered to his face. His lips were slightly parted, and his chest wasn’t moving. Percy’s heart stuttered in shock. What in Merlin’s name—? This wasn’t his problem. Harry was still out there—probably drowning—and he was wasting time on some random kid.
For one awful second, he hesitated. He could leave the boy and dive back in. Harry was his responsibility. But the boy’s face, slack and too still, made his stomach twist uncomfortably.
“Damn it,” Percy muttered under his breath, tilting the boy’s head back. Okay. CPR. How does it go again? Pinch the nose, breathe in, then—
“Ah, you saved him. Kind of.”
The voice—dry, amused—came from behind him.
Percy froze. Slowly, he turned his head, dripping wet and shivering, to see Harry Potter leaning against a wooden post a few feet away, bone-dry, as though he hadn’t just jumped into a raging river. His hands were shoved casually into his coat pockets, and there wasn’t a single strand of his perpetually messy hair out of place.
Percy gaped at him, too stunned to speak.
“You—you’re supposed to be drowning!” he finally sputtered, water dripping from his face. “How the hell did you get over there?”
Harry shrugged, as though the answer was perfectly obvious. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he said lightly, pushing off the post and strolling over. “Though it’s sweet how worried you were. I’m touched.”
Percy’s mouth opened and closed uselessly as he tried to process the fact that his partner was standing here—dry—while he’d nearly drowned trying to save him.
Harry crouched beside the unconscious blond boy, tilting his head curiously. “So…” he drawled. “Are you planning to kiss him, or should I?”
Percy, still halfway between fury and confusion, sputtered incoherently. “What—no! It’s not—I’m trying to save his life!”
Harry’s grin widened, positively wicked. “Uh-huh. Or,” he said, drawing the word out with clear amusement, “you could remember that you’re a wizard.”
For one horrifying second, Percy just stared blankly at him.
Then, heat flooded his face as realization crashed over him. Magic. He could use magic. Why didn’t he think of that?!
Harry’s laughter was low and warm, eyes gleaming with unholy delight as Percy fumbled for his wand. “I mean, unless you’re really committed to the whole mouth-to-mouth thing. It’s quite romantic—first kiss and all that.”
“Shut up,” Percy snapped, mortified beyond belief. He cast a quick Anapneo charm, and a sharp gasp followed as the blond boy arched off the ground, coughing violently. Water spilled from his mouth as his thin body shook with the effort.
Harry tilted his head, still crouching, watching the boy sputter back to life with an air of lazy curiosity. “Well,” he said cheerfully, rising to his feet, “looks like you didn’t have to kiss him after all. Shame. I was rooting for you.”
Percy shot him a murderous glare, breath still heaving. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle Harry or collapse from sheer exhaustion.
The blond boy groaned softly, his eyelids fluttering open as his breathing steadied. Percy, still dripping wet and furious, swallowed the urge to throttle his partner and focused on their unexpected guest.
“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.
The boy didn’t answer—just coughed weakly, blinking up at him with glassy, silver-grey eyes.
And behind him, Harry Potter simply smiled, like this was all a perfectly ordinary day.
The boy didn’t speak.
He lay there on the damp ground, coughing softly as he looked between the two strangers who had pulled him from the water. Or rather, he looked mostly at the one who was drenched—Percy Weasley—while the other, somehow perfectly dry, watched him with an air of easy amusement.
Percy, still catching his breath and dripping river water, narrowed his eyes impatiently. "I asked you a question—who are you?"
The boy hesitated, lips pressing together as if weighing his options. His pale face was guarded, but there was something in his eyes—a distrusting wariness. He seemed to make a decision and, after a beat, quietly said, "Scorpius."
Harry, crouching nearby with his arms resting on his knees, arched a brow. His lips twitched into an unmistakable smirk. "Scorpius, huh?" He tilted his head, tone light and teasing. "Got a last name, or do you just go by one word—like a pop star?"
For a fleeting moment, the boy froze— his fingers twitched against the fabric of his soaked shirt, and there was a flicker of panic in his expression before he recovered. "Smith," he said abruptly. "Scorpius Smith."
Harry let out a hum of exaggerated understanding, nodding sagely as though he completely believed him. "Scorpius Smith. Sure."
Percy, still dripping and annoyed, didn’t miss the flicker of tension in the boy’s answer either. He opened his mouth to press further, but Harry beat him to it. "So," he drawled, leaning forward a bit, "are you homeless, Scorpius Smith?"
The boy’s jaw tightened. For a moment, it seemed like he might refuse to answer, but eventually, he gave a stiff, reluctant nod. "Yeah," he muttered.
Harry’s expression shifted into something softer—almost sympathetic—but, he didn’t push. Before anyone could say anything else, a loud, angry growl echoed through the air.
Draco flushed crimson as his stomach betrayed him.
Percy let out an exhausted sigh, brushing wet hair out of his face, while Harry clapped his hands together in mock alarm. "Merlin’s beard," Harry said, sounding utterly scandalized. "The poor boy’s starving!" He turned to Percy, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. "You should probably feed him, Percy. After all, you saved his life—seems rude not to."
Percy, still soaked to the bone and in no mood for Harry’s antics, shot him a murderous glare. "Why me? Use your own money!"
Harry placed a hand over his heart, adopting a sorrowful expression. "I would, but you see…" He let out a dramatic sigh. "I lost my wallet in the river."
Percy pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to five. Slowly. "Of course you did," he muttered.
"And it would be such a tragedy," Harry continued, his voice practically dripping with faux sorrow, "if young, helpless Scorpius Smith here were to waste away after you saved him so valiantly. I mean, imagine the guilt—"
"I hate you," Percy muttered, already pulling out his money pouch. He cast a quick Hot-Air Charm on himself, drying his soaked robes while mentally cursing his mother’s insistence on raising him to be decent. Stupid Gryffindor values.
Harry’s entire face lit up with triumph as he sprang to his feet and clapped Percy on the shoulder. "Knew I could count on you, mate," he said cheerfully.
"You’re insufferable."
"So I’m told."
Draco just watched their exchange in confusion, still breathing a bit heavily from nearly drowning. He didn’t understand these people—one minute they were dragging him from the river, the next they were bickering like an old married couple.
Harry, still grinning, twirled his wand between his fingers before reaching out to grab Percy’s arm. "Come on, then," he said brightly. "I know just the place." Without waiting for either of them to respond, he grabbed Draco's wrist with his other hand. "Hold on tight."
"What—" Percy began, but before he could finish, the familiar crack of Apparition echoed through the air.
The world spun violently, the riverbank disappearing in a whirl of color and sound. Draco barely had time to process what was happening before his feet hit solid ground again, and everything fell into stillness.
With a sharp crack, the three of them landed in the bustling heart of Diagon Alley. Percy staggered slightly, his stomach lurching at the sudden shift in location. He shook off the disorientation just in time to glare at Harry, who was already stretching his arms above his head as if he hadn’t just Apparated two people across London with casual ease.
"You know," Percy said through gritted teeth, "for someone who can barely manage a proper Summoning Charm half the time, your Apparition skills are—"
"Impressive? I know," Harry cut in cheerfully, flashing him a grin. "It’s a gift."
"It’s unsettling," Percy muttered, brushing imaginary dust off his robes as his heartbeat finally began to slow. "You didn’t even check if it was safe—"
Harry ignored him entirely, already turning to the pale, bedraggled boy still clutched in his other hand. Without so much as a word, he flicked his wand lazily in the boy’s direction. A rush of warm air enveloped Draco, leaving his clothes perfectly dry and hair slightly tousled.
"Better?" Harry asked, his voice light and pleasant.
Draco hesitated, his expression wary as he nodded. He still looked uncertain, as if unsure whether he should trust the strange, too-casual man who had pulled him from the water and then transported him across London like it was nothing.
"Brilliant," Harry said, clapping his hands together. "Let’s eat. I’m starving." Without waiting for an answer, he strolled toward a charming little restaurant tucked between Madam Malkin’s and the Apothecary. A polished brass sign above the door read The Copper Cauldron, and the smell of fresh bread and roasted meat drifted through the air.
Percy sighed heavily but followed, pulling Scorpius along with him. "I’m going to regret this," he muttered under his breath.
The restaurant was warm and inviting, the lunchtime crowd thinning as they slid into a booth near the back. Harry, naturally, claimed the best seat and immediately waved down a passing waitress with a bright smile.
"Order whatever you want," he said to Draco, gesturing grandly to the menu. "No holding back."
Draco hesitated again, his eyes darting briefly to Percy—the clear money-holder in this situation. To his credit, at least the boy had the decency to look a bit sheepish about it. Percy, recognizing the hopelessness of arguing, pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a weary nod.
"Fine," he sighed. "Just—within reason, alright?"
Harry beamed as if Percy had handed him the key to Gringotts. "How generous you are, mate."
Draco, apparently taking Harry’s words to heart, began ordering in a voice so steady it made Percy’s stomach twist with anxiety. A bowl of steaming stew. Buttered bread. Pumpkin pasties. Roast chicken. Treacle tart. The list went on. And on.
And on.
By the time the fourth plate arrived, Percy was eyeing the steadily-growing bill with undisguised horror. "He’s going to eat me into bankruptcy," he whispered under his breath.
Harry, of course, was completely unfazed, leaning back in his chair with a look of pure amusement. "Relax, Percy. It’s just a bit of food. Besides," he added, watching the way Scorpius practically inhaled a chicken leg, "he looks like he hasn’t eaten properly in days."
Which, Percy begrudgingly admitted to himself, was probably true.
Between bites, Harry tried to coax information out of the boy. "So," he said, his tone casual, "how’d you end up floating face-down in the Thames, Scorpius Smith?"
The boy paused mid-bite, his expression briefly guarded before his lips twisted into an indifferent shrug. "Bad luck," he said vaguely, stabbing a piece of roasted potato with his fork.
"Bad luck," Harry echoed, unimpressed. "Right. And how long have you been on your own?"
Draco didn’t answer immediately, eyes fixed on his plate. "A while," he eventually murmured.
Percy, still doing frantic math in his head, barely registered the exchange—but Harry was watching the boy with keen interest.
For now.
The conversation drifted toward safer topics as they ate. Harry did most of the talking— Percy, still thoroughly irritated, contributed a few dry comments when Harry’s embellishments became too ridiculous. Draco, meanwhile, mostly listened—his sharp, grey eyes flicking between them with quiet curiosity.
By the time the last crumb had been devoured and the plates whisked away, Percy was practically dreading the final bill. When the waitress presented it, he swore under his breath but handed over the money with all the grace he could muster. He couldn’t even bring himself to calculate how much of his savings had just vanished.
Harry, ever the picture of satisfaction, stood and stretched. "Well," he said brightly, "that was fun." He turned to Draco with an easy smile. "You all set?"
Draco hesitated again, his guardedness slipping back into place. "Yeah," he said quietly, rising from the table.
They stepped outside, the noise of Diagon Alley washing over them. Percy, still smarting from the financial damage, crossed his arms and gave Harry a flat look. "Are we done playing charity now?"
Harry didn’t answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the retreating figure of Scorpius as the boy walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Something in his expression shifted—an unreadable glimmer in those bright green eyes.
"Yeah," he said softly. "For now."
---
Percy was certain—absolutely certain—that he was done with Scorpius Smith. He had paid for the boy’s ridiculous feast, watched him wander off into the alley, and was more than ready to leave this strange afternoon behind. And yet, here he was, crouching under Harry Potter’s Invisibility Cloak as they trailed after the pale-haired boy through the shadowed streets of Muggle London.
He sighed through his nose, resisting the urge to throttle the man beside him.
"This is ridiculous," Percy hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are we doing this? The kid is fine—he’s not our problem."
Harry, who had been watching the boy intently, gave a casual shrug. "He’s interesting," he murmured, as though that were a perfectly reasonable answer.
"Interesting?" Percy repeated incredulously. "That’s your excuse?"
Harry’s lips quirked into a faint smile. "When have I ever needed an excuse?"
Percy dragged a hand down his face. "I should restrain you from acting on every whim you get," he grumbled.
But something held him back. For all Harry’s apparent incompetence when it came to simple things—like basic spells that always seemed to blow up in Percy's face or paying for his own meals—there was an underlying sharpness to him. A sense that, beneath the careless facade, Harry saw things that others missed. And it nagged at Percy, however much he hated to admit it.
They trailed after Scorpius in silence, the soft swish of the Invisibility Cloak the only sound between them. The boy walked with a deliberate slowness, bare feet padding over the cracked pavement. There was a stiffness in his posture—a tension that Percy didn’t notice earlier in the restaurant.
"Where is he even going?" Percy muttered, squinting as the boy turned down a darker, narrower alleyway.
Harry didn’t answer. His green eyes gleamed with focus, and when Percy tried to repeat the question, Harry shushed him with a wave of his hand. Irritation burned in Percy’s chest, but he bit back the retort on his tongue.
They followed the boy for nearly an hour as he wound through the maze of London’s backstreets. Percy’s feet were aching, and his patience was thinning rapidly. Just as he was about to abandon this absurd endeavor, the air shifted.
A shadow moved across the alley.
Before Percy could react, three figures emerged from the darkness. Thugs—rough-looking and ragged, their faces half-hidden beneath the hoods of worn jackets. They spread out in a loose semicircle, cutting off Scorpius’s path.
The boy froze.
"Well, well," one of the men drawled, stepping closer. "Look what we have here. You lost, little kitten?"
Percy tensed. His fingers twitched toward his wand, but before he could move, Harry grinned and—with absolutely no warning—shoved him out from beneath the Invisibility Cloak.
"What the—" Percy stumbled forward, gaping back at Harry in betrayal.
Harry only winked at him. "Go on, hero. Do your thing."
The thugs turned, eyes narrowing as they spotted Percy. "Where the hell did you come from?" the leader demanded.
Percy sighed. "Why do I listen to you?" he muttered toward Harry before straightening his back and drawing his wand. "Get away from him," he snapped.
The fight broke out in an instant.
The first thug lunged, and Percy deflected the blow with a sharp flick of his wand. "Expelliarmus!" The man’s knife went flying, clattering to the ground. But the other two weren’t so easily deterred—one swung a rusted pipe at Percy’s head while the other tried to grab him from behind.
"Protego!" Percy cast the shield charm just in time, the pipe bouncing harmlessly away. But the second thug managed to get a hand on his arm, wrenching it painfully.
"Alright, enough—Stupefy!" A jet of red light struck the man in the chest, sending him sprawling.
Percy twisted out of the last attacker’s grip and sent him flying with a nonverbal blasting curse. Panting, he turned back toward the boy.
Scorpius was pressed against the wall, trembling, his pale face utterly stricken. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps, eyes wide with a rising panic that Percy recognized all too well—he’d seen it on first-years in dangerous situations before.
"You okay?" Percy asked, brushing dust off his robes as he stepped toward the boy.
Before Scorpius could respond, Harry strolled out from under the cloak, looking as relaxed as if he hadn’t just forced Percy into a street brawl. "Good job, Percy," he said brightly, clapping him on the back.
Percy wheeled on him. "You—you left me to fight them alone!"
"You’re clearly capable. I had full faith in you.," Harry said, voice all too innocent before his attention shifted back to Scorpius. For a moment, the playfulness faded. "Something’s odd about him," he murmured. "Don’t you think?"
Percy frowned, turning to the boy. "What are you talking about? He looks—"
He stopped mid-sentence, blinking hard.
Scorpius’s eyes were no longer grey.
Instead, they gleamed amber-gold in the dim alley light. And—more unsettling still—his pupils were no longer human-shaped. They were vertical slits, narrow and feline.
"What the hell—" Percy breathed, taking a step back.
Harry laughed softly, the sound filled with delighted intrigue. "I thought so," he murmured. "Let’s find out what else you’re hiding, Scorpius." He flicked his wand up and whispered a spell Percy had never heard before.
The air crackled with unfamiliar magic.
Scorpius’s body went rigid, his hands curling into claws as a choked scream tore from his throat. Percy lunged toward Harry, panic rising. "Stop it—you’re hurting him!"
Harry merely waved him off. "Relax. This’ll be fun."
Scorpius’s screams crescendoed—until, suddenly, his entire form was engulfed in a brilliant flash of silver light. Percy shielded his eyes, heart pounding.
When the light faded, the boy was gone.
In his place stood a sleek, white-furred creature with powerful limbs and gleaming spots—a snowy leopard. The beast swayed on its paws, panting softly, wide amber eyes still filled with residual terror.
Harry’s face split into a triumphant grin. "Well, that explains a lot."
Percy, meanwhile, could only gape in horror. "You turned him into an animal?!"
"Don’t be ridiculous," Harry said, crouching to inspect the leopard with fascinated curiosity. "I didn’t turn him into anything. He’s an Animagus. Obviously."
The snowy leopard let out a faint, indignant growl—and for once, Percy couldn’t blame him.
Percy barely had time to react before the snowy leopard let out a guttural snarl and leaped toward them, muscles coiling with terrifying speed. Its claws gleamed as they sliced through the air, too close for comfort.
“Harry—!” Percy shouted, reaching for his wand, but before he could cast a spell, Harry grabbed his arm with an iron grip. With a sharp twist, the world around them spun and folded in on itself as he Apparated them a safe distance away—leaving the snarling beast to crash down where they had stood only a heartbeat before.
As the leopard circled back, growling low in its throat, Harry brushed off his coat and smiled faintly, as if this was all perfectly normal. "Well," he said, sounding far too pleased, "looks like the kid’s a natural Animagus. "
Percy stared at him, breathless and furious. "A natural Animagus?" he snapped. "And you knew this—how exactly? And if you suspected he might attack us, why in Merlin’s name did you force his transformation?!"
Harry, as ever, seemed unaffected by the outrage. He gave a lazy shrug. "Didn’t know he’d be a leopard," he said, as if that explained everything. "Could’ve been something harmless. A cat, maybe." He smirked. "Would’ve been cute."
Percy gaped at him, torn between exasperation and disbelief. "Cute?" he echoed. "He’s about to tear us to shreds, Potter!"
As if on cue, the leopard let out another growl and sprang toward them, its amber eyes burning with a wild, predatory gleam. Percy raised his wand, but Harry moved faster.
With a soft sigh—like a man being put upon—Harry flicked his wrist. No incantation, no flourish. Just a casual motion, and the leopard was pinned against a nearby wall by an invisible force. The creature thrashed and snarled, but whatever magic Harry had cast held it firm, claws scraping helplessly against the stone.
Percy froze, wand half-raised. For a moment, he forgot his irritation entirely. Harry Potter was supposed to be incompetent. That was his understanding, atleast —a wizard who bumbled his way through spells, known more for his reckless luck than any true magical prowess. Yet here he was, subduing a feral Animagus with a flick of his hand, no visible strain, no hesitation.
An enigma. That’s what Harry Potter was. And the more time Percy spent with him, the less he understood.
“How—” Percy’s voice faltered slightly. “How did you—?”
“Basic restraint magic,” Harry said, as though anyone could do it. "Really, Weasley, this isn’t that impressive." He strolled forward, completely unconcerned by the furious beast still struggling against the wall. "And besides, it’s not his fault. Natural Animagi are prone to losing control—instinct tends to take over." He gave Percy a sidelong glance. "Unlike Sirius, who spent years learning the transformation properly."
The explanation only made Percy’s frown deepen, but he didn’t have time to respond. Harry crouched in front of the leopard, his expression softening.
"Hey," he said quietly, like one might to a frightened animal. "It’s alright. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you."
The leopard’s growling softened, though its golden eyes remained wide and wary. Percy didn’t know what surprised him more—how easily Harry had subdued the creature, or how quickly he could shift to this gentler, almost kind demeanor.
Without breaking eye contact, Harry lifted his wand and traced a circle in the air. A faint pulse of silver light glowed at the tip before it drifted down to settle over the leopard. The moment the spell touched the creature, it slumped unconscious, limbs going limp. In the next breath, its form shimmered—and where the animal had been, the pale-haired boy lay curled on the ground once again, his breathing slow but steady.
Harry straightened, stretching like he’d done nothing more strenuous than fetch a cup of tea. “That’s better,” he said breezily.
Percy finally snapped out of his stunned silence. "Better?" he repeated, voice rising in disbelief. "You just turned an unstable Animagus into a wild animal—and let him attack us!"
“Technically,” Harry corrected, “he attacked you. I was fine.” He tilted his head, as if reconsidering. "And you’re alive, aren’t you? No harm done."
Percy let out a strangled noise of frustration. "No harm done—" He cut himself off, dragging a hand down his face. "You are unbelievable, Potter."
“Thanks,” Harry said with an infuriating smile.
Before Percy could unleash the full force of his annoyance, Harry’s attention drifted back to the unconscious thugs sprawled across the alley. "You should probably Obliviate them," he said, waving a hand vaguely in their direction. "Wouldn’t want to break the Statute of Secrecy. I mean, I don't really care either way —but you usually have strong opinions about these things, so…"
Grinding his teeth, Percy stomped over to the fallen men and began casting the memory-modifying charm. With every successful Obliviation, his frustration with Harry grew. How could someone so seemingly reckless manage to be this effective when it truly mattered?
By the time he finished, Percy turned back to find Harry crouched once more beside the boy, gazing down at him with something resembling curiosity.
“What are we going to do about the boy?” Percy asked, tone far more resigned than he intended.
Harry stood, lifting the boy effortlessly into his arms. "Dumbledore will want to see him," he said, his tone lighter. "He’s always curious about strange magic. And a natural Animagus is very strange magic."
Percy sighed. "Of course Dumbledore will want to see him," he muttered. "Because why not add smuggling an unstable, feral Animagus to my list of terrible ideas today?"
Harry only laughed softly, already pulling his wand. “Come on,” he said, holding out a hand. "We’re going to Grimmauld Place."
Before Percy could argue further, the world twisted around them once again. In a blink, the dark alley vanished—replaced by the shadowed, musty interior of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.