Chapter 1
Bruce Banner counted down the seconds until Steve’s return from replacing the Infinity Stones in time under the anxious eyes of Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes. As the machine powered back up, Bucky thought for a moment that he heard something ting inside of the machine, something he’d never heard before. He shrugged it off as the power-up continued like scheduled and Bruce didn’t mention a thing. Surely Bruce Banner in his Hulked-out form would have heard anything wrong or noticed something if his ears weren’t as sharp as Bucky’s? But as the wait for Steve continued, Bucky started to doubt that. Just when he felt like Steve had decided against returning, a spinning mass started to expand on the platform. Bright light and a concussive blast were the last things Bucky saw. When he and the others woke, Steve and the core of the machine were gone, fragments lying around a scorched center where it had once stood.
Harry had been kicked out of the house shortly after cooking lunch for his loving family, not a terribly unusual event. He headed to the park, intent on minding his own business until he arrived and saw what looked like an injured bird in the middle of some very weird and obviously broken machine. The closer he got to the site of whatever happened, the hotter he got, and the more he needed to get that bird out of there. It wasn’t moving, and Harry would not let something die when he could help it. Heedless of the burningly hot metal, he snatched the fragile creature out of the wreckage and decided to help it the best he could. Rather hesitantly, Harry backed away from the wreckage with the creature in his hands, unsure where he was supposed to go from there. The bird could have a disease, or could be injured, or could even be dead. He could feel a slight heartbeat within the creature, so it probably wasn’t dead, but that didn’t solve his other problems.
In any case, he needed to look up where the nearest vet was and figure out if it was within walking distance. Harry had no money to call a cab or take a bus or train, but he could walk somewhere. He carefully snuck back towards Number 4 Privet Drive, glad for the predictable schedule the Dursleys followed and even more grateful that it was a Wednesday. Aunt Petunia went to tea with some of the neighbors on Wednesday afternoons, so she would be leaving soon. Dudley, the precious child that he was, had left early in the morning to extort money out of some poor kid with his juvenile gang. All of this meant that the house lay empty upon his return. He carefully jiggled the back door handle with the knowledge that it was broken and a desperate hope in his heart that it would open while making sure not to shake the bird cradled in his other arm too hard. Accidental magic or not, it did actually open, and Harry rushed upstairs to find Dudley’s computer after carefully shutting and re-locking the door behind him. He stared longingly at the kitchen as he passed, and his stomach gave an unhappy growl. The Dursleys hadn’t bothered to let him eat any food before kicking him out for the day, and Petunia kept a close enough watch on the food to know if any of it went missing.
The door to Dudley’s disaster of a room creaked open, and Harry approached the computer with some caution, fully aware of the hawk nestled close to his elbow. The Dursleys would kill him if they knew he was in Dudley’s room, let alone touching Dudley’s expensive computer. He carefully shook the mouse, grateful both for growing up in the Muggle world and the computer literacy it had caused him and the fact that Dudley was either too lazy or too stupid to bother with a password. Carefully, he picked out some basic inquiries on Google. The nearest vet was way too far for him to walk to even with a full day of walking, so he was going to try his best to help the small animal on his own.
Google recommended that he put the bird in a cardboard box and cover it with a lid or towel. Harry figured he could dig a cardboard box out of the recycling bin and find a rag from his own outdated clothing. Petunia would notice a rag going missing and might notice the box, but if Harry put the box in the corner and carefully arranged some of Dudley’s broken tools around it, it wouldn’t look too out of place. Plan of action made, Harry walked carefully over to his own room, swung the door open, and dug a worn, holey T-shirt out of the very bottom of his collection of Dudley’s castoffs. He wrapped the soft material around the big bird, only noticing how much his muscles had been working to hold it up when he set it down and shook out his arm. Looking at it, Harry was pretty sure that this was a predator bird of some kind, probably a hawk. He raced back to Dudley’s computer, aware that his time steadily ticked towards Petunia’s arrival home. His search term of “red tail big bird” wasn’t the most elegant, but he did learn a few things.
First, the bird now carefully placed in his room was a red tailed hawk. Second, he needed to pay attention to its feathers to figure out its mood - if they were puffed out, he needed to back away, but if they remained flat, he could approach. And third, Harry learned that red tailed hawks were carnivores and would only eat meat. If he was going to take care of both Hedwig and this new bird, he’d need to find some other source of meat and water, because the Dursleys didn’t provide enough for just him, let alone him and two large birds. Harry carefully erased his browser history, glad for once to have a lecherous cousin who’d been so proud of figuring out how when they were twelve that he’d boasted about it for four days, and went downstairs in search of a box and a snake. If he was lucky, the snake would agree to give him a mouse or something that it’d caught.
Aunt Petunia caught him lurking in the garden accepting a second dead mouse from some bemused snakes. She shrieked and threw him in his room, locking the multitude of locks while muttering about freak nephews that wouldn’t be getting dinner. Harry sighed and looked over at his birds. Hedwig at least should be happy with the change to her normal diet, although he was certain she wouldn’t be pleased that she hadn’t hunted for this meal herself. He could only hope that she and the other bird accepted the meat, because it didn’t seem like he’d be getting out of his room any time soon. Vernon wasn’t likely to unlock Hedwig’s cage anytime soon either. Ignoring his own aching stomach, Harry carefully placed the second mouse inside the hawk’s box next to the slightly chipped bowl holding water, recovered the opening of the shabby cardboard construction, and moved over to Hedwig’s cage to present her with the first mouse. She took it gratefully, rubbing her beak over his fingers.
Harry fell into an uneasy sleep late that night, well used to ignoring his own hunger pains but wishing he could help Hedwig or the yet unnamed bird that he would probably be releasing sometime the next day, as long as it looked and acted okay. He really had tried to help the poor thing, but he wasn’t entirely sure it worked. Yes he’d given it food, water, and shelter, more than the Dursleys had ever willingly given him, but he couldn’t get the fragility of the bird out of his head. Harry worried himself to sleep, glad for something to distract him from the terrible end to the Triwizard Tournament and his friends’ silence. He woke feeling oddly well rested and stared up at the ceiling in shock. He hadn’t had a nightmare bad enough to wake him up screaming in the middle of the night? Must be a break from his usual bad luck, not that Harry would complain about it. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, slumping up to sitting and blinking at the blurry box across from him that he didn’t remember being there before.
The fog cleared, and Harry’s heart raced. There was a large wild raptor in the same room as him that was not going to have any training or affection for him, not the way that Hedwig did. He stood up and started pacing back and forth, feeling more trapped than ever. He couldn’t just carry the box outside and remove the T-shirt as quickly as he could while diving for cover because he couldn’t go outside. No, he was going to have to carry the box over to the window after opening it, and hopefully the bird would just fly out into the sky, no attacking necessary. Harry got halfway through opening the window as quietly as he could before the screech of an angry bird filled the room. Harry gulped and shoved the window open the rest of the way, heedless of the creaking shriek of the window. As much as he loved birds, those talons looked nasty. He did not want to be on the business end of them. Harry set the box on the bed, grabbed the T-shirt off the top, and dove to hide beneath the bed.
Steve wasn’t entirely sure where he was. Wherever he stood, there were no windows or any light coming in, though the top - oddly close to his head, but Steve could adjust as long as he wasn’t captured - was slightly lighter than the rest of the area. He opened his mouth to ask where he was, or why it was so dark, or any information, really. An odd cry came out instead of words, and Steve stiffened in shock. What had happened to his voice? He stiffened further when he tried to stretch out his arms to touch his face and make sure his mouth was alright, only for his hands to not be hands and his arms to be unable to bend that way. A weird sound followed his call, and Steve’s enclosure suddenly rose and swayed over to a slightly wobbly flat surface. Suddenly, the top of whatever this place was was torn off by hands that retreated quickly, followed by a thud as whoever took the top off probably dropped to the floor. Steve cocked his head in question, only to realize that not only could he see, but he could see colors and things now that he couldn’t before. He really hoped there was a good explanation for this.
Steve looked down at his feathers. Wait, feathers?! This was new. Steve just took a deep breath, ruffled, said feathers, and looked at where he was. Okay, so he was inside a cardboard box as some type of bird. There was an open window near the opening of the box, but Steve had no clue how to fly. Surely it couldn’t be that hard? He hopped in place a little, trying to get used to his new muscles, and stretched out his wings. They brushed the sides of the box before he’d even extended them halfway, and Steve was suddenly less confident about his chances of making it out of the box. Still, he had to try. He hopped up and down in place for a minute before he tried to use the little bit of push he could get from his wings - he was going to think about this whole situation much, much later when he wasn’t trapped in a box - so that he could hop onto the side of the box. He failed the first time, before some instinct took over and had him out of the box and into the sky before he really registered moving. Steve called out in happiness and joy, wheeling through the sky until the instinct called him to hunt. There was an open space over there that would do.
Harry was on the verge of lifting the struggling bird out of the box when it flashed away. He was glad it hadn’t hurt itself in the meantime, because that would have undone whatever good he’d managed to do by saving the creature in the first place. He sighed and pulled the box off of the bed to look inside. The bird appeared to have eaten the mouse, which was good. The water he set aside for Hedwig later when she ran out. He’d make do with whatever his wonderful family deigned to give him. He sighed at the thought of his trunk packed away in the cupboard beneath the stairs. Harry would be glad to even do his summer homework at this point, because there was no entertainment in this room that hadn’t been broken by Dudley before. The dusty books were all below his reading level too, though he read them when he really was bored of staring out of the window and trying to fix whatever toy caught his attention.
Steve snapped up a mouse. He was initially disgusted with the action, but it tasted so good and satisfied that part in him that had been taking control. Steve was glad it had taken over and shown him how to fly, but he enjoyed being able to think rationally without the conflicting instincts of the bird. He cocked his head to the side, thinking about the person that had had him in a box. He vaguely remembered the hands providing water and food, now that he thought about it. Was he this person’s pet? It didn’t seem likely. The person had dropped out of the way of a potential attack, so they probably didn’t think he was going to greet them like a pet would. That meant that this person had provided him food and water without obligation, probably after finding him unconscious somewhere. Steve’s eyes caught on a pile of twisted metal in the corner of the park he was in.
He flapped over to it, ceding some control to the bird so he didn’t fall out of the sky, and perched on the nearest bench to it. He didn’t recognize it beyond a sense of heat, but he didn’t exactly recognize anything. He knew he’d once been human and was pretty sure his name had been Steve, but he couldn’t know for sure. He still didn’t know how he’d turned into a bird in the first place. For all he knew, people did just randomly turn into animals, but something about that didn’t feel right. Had Steve been attacked then and forced into an animal shape? The first thing he needed to do was go back to that house and try to figure out what the person who’d found him and taken care of him knew about him. Maybe he should bring something back? Yes, he’d hunt something and take it as an offering to the person who had fed him. Carefully, he winged away from the wreckage and back into the sky, circling over the park again.
Harry was staring at his seiling again, wishing both for food and to see the bird again, just to know if it was okay. Both wishes were just about impossible though, so he was going to try to focus on something else. The problem was that he had nothing else to focus on but his own memories and hurts, and looking at those for too long left him spiraling into despair. He didn’t need that today, but it was looking more and more likely. He shifted to stare out of the window, hoping against previous experience that his friends would get in touch today with some explanation of being unconscious or out of the country or some other actual reason for not writing to him, or calling him, in Hermione’s case. Ron had had a bad experience trying to call him before with Uncle Vernon answering the phone and all, so he could understand the redhead not calling him. Hermione though? They’d exchanged phone numbers. She had no excuse. A bird-shaped dot was flying towards him, and Harry sat up quickly, heart in his throat. He couldn’t see if there was a letter attached yet, but today could be the day!
It wasn’t a letter, a package with food, or any other type of contact with his friends. Harry hadn’t really been expecting them to send him food, but a hungry boy could hope. Still, at least one of his wishes had been answered. The red tailed hawk he’d helped yesterday landed on the window ledge of his still-open window slightly less gracefully than he’d expected, and Harry did his best not to show his amusement. He really didn’t want to make the bird angry, and he didn’t know what would set it off. It hopped slightly. Harry stared at it. Was it trying to tell him something? No, probably not. The chances of an injured bird he’d found in what looked like wreckage of a Muggle machine being an Animagus was ridiculously low, so Harry took a stab at what else the bird might want.
“I don’t have more food for you, but I do have some water if you’re thirsty.”
Steve stared at the child in front of him. The kid obviously didn’t have enough to eat himself, yet here he was essentially saying he’d feed him if he could. Steve knew hunger, had seen it enough in his childhood - and since when did he have a childhood? His head hurt - and this child definitely knew hunger too. Beyond that, the child’s eyes looked haunted, almost like he’d been through something horrible and had little to show for it. Steve thought he’d seen eyes like that before, but he wasn’t entirely certain where. He really needed to get his memory back. He appreciated the knowledge that he’d had a childhood as a human and the few fuzzy memories he could see, but Steve needed to know who he was and, more importantly, how he’d gotten here.
“I’m going to take your silence and how still you are as a maybe on the water, so please don’t peck me,” came the almost-too-loud voice of the human above him. Steve stiffened slightly in indignation. He wouldn’t peck somebody, he’d claw them! Not that he’d be doing either to this child who had helped him, but still. His feathers had puffed out slightly, and the boy had frozen slightly when he noticed. Good, Steve didn’t have to worry about this child ignoring the signs of his discomfort. He made a conscious effort to smooth his feathers back down and stay still as the big hand approached with a bowl of water against every one of the bird’s instincts. It clacked down next to him, and Steve eyed it and the child apprehensively. It didn’t exactly help that there was a fully grown owl in a cage staring him down either.
The boy backed away then and started talking again. “I’m Harry by the way. I’m not sure why I’m introducing myself to an animal because you won’t understand me, but it’s nice to have someone to talk to other than Hedwig. On the off chance that you are actually an Animagus, please don’t go telling the Daily Prophet or the Death Eaters where I live. One interview by Rita Skeeter was more than enough for me.”
Steve took a quick drink of water during that statement. Something in him didn’t like how messy it was, but the bird in him was perfectly pleased. Steve figured that there was nothing wrong with his technique but somewhere deep inside him was someone who didn’t like the mess. Beyond that though, his savior (? he still didn’t know what had happened) Harry had revealed some very interesting things. First, some people here apparently could turn into animals and were called ‘Animagus’ or something like that, but it probably wasn’t very common. Second, Harry was someone important enough, famous enough, or unlucky enough to have been interviewed by a probably crooked reporter before and have people after his home address even though he was maybe thirteen or fourteen - and no one had realized that he wasn’t being treated well at home. Steve wasn’t sure why he hated the idea of reporters so much. He just knew that he did and cursed his faulty memory again. Last, Death Eaters were probably some type of enemy for Harry, based both on the odd name and the way Harry had said the name. He’d just need to keep watch over Harry for a bit then and see what was happening. Everything in him rebelled against a child having serious enemies at his age, however old he actually was.
Harry’s stomach growled, and he gave a slightly bitter laugh at the odd reaction of the bird to the noise. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. I just haven’t eaten in a while. It’s lucky I was able to get some food for Hedwig yesterday, or I’d be in a world of trouble later.” He stroked Hedwig’s head softly through the cage. “I wish I had a key or something, but my Uncle would never let me have it. Sorry girl,” Harry apologized for the upteenth time. There was a slight woosh of air from behind Harry, and by the time he turned back around, the hawk had disappeared. “Well, so much for making friends with the local wildlife,” Harry muttered, slumping back onto his bed.
Steve might not know much, but he could find food for Harry and his pet bird. His caretakers were obviously not feeding him, so Steve would. He could easily help the person who’d helped him - who was going to arrest a bird for stealing a sandwich? - and keep an eye on the whole Harry situation while at it. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. Steve went after the sandwich first, snatching one that was conveniently packaged from the hands of some poor sap who looked like he could easily afford a new one, before flying back towards Harry’s house. His eyes were honestly quite miraculous, and he’d successfully dive bombed a squirrel after dropping the sandwich for the third time. It was looking a little worse for the wear, but the plastic wrap somehow hadn’t broken yet. Steve counted that as the near miracle it was as he made his way back to Harry’s window, sandwich in one talon and squirrel in the other.
Harry didn’t notice the hawk until it was almost inside his room. He’d left his window open - his uncle hadn’t bothered putting more bars on it because it was too expensive, and if Harry wanted to jump his relatives would be thrilled - with the hope that he’d see that hawk again, or any bird really. The hawk was definitely carrying something with it this time, and the slightly mangled items fell into his lap before he could do much more than look at the bird. It landed on his bedpost, looking pleased with itself if that was possible for a bird, and Harry looked down to see a squirrel and a sandwich. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Yep, still a squirrel and a sandwich. He carefully gave the squirrel to Hedwig, not touching the dead creature with his bare hands, and sat down on his bed to eat the sandwich. “If you’re an Animagus, please transform back. You definitely understood me when I mentioned being hungry and talked about Hedwig. I’d really like to know now instead of finding out later.”
Steve tried to turn back. Really, he did! It was just… he had no clue how he’d turned into a bird in the first place to think about reversing it. He couldn’t focus on what he looked like as a human and try to force himself back into that shape because Steve had no clue what he’d looked like as a human. He settled for letting out a very soft cry in the end, hoping that Harry would understand what he meant. Writing would not go smoothly if Steve tried, so he was left with yes or no questions if Harry really did understand that he was a human who couldn’t turn human again.
Harry paused in unwrapping the sandwich to stare at the bird. What did that sound mean? The bird hadn’t turned into a human after a few minutes of Harry staring at him, so Harry had just assumed he was lucky or done some accidental magic that had ended in food somehow and settled in to eat. Even dubiously sourced banged-up sandwiches were a feast at this point. Now though, he was doubting himself. The bird had eventually responded to his question, even if it hadn’t been quite the way he’d expected. Harry took a bite of his previously sealed sandwich while he thought. “Are you a human stuck in animal form then?”
The bird made another noise and nodded. For some reason, Harry felt oddly judged by its stare.
“It’s not that weird of a conclusion!” Harry defended, a slight smile on his face. The bird did not look amused. “It’s not! Besides, how did you get stuck in the body of a red tailed hawk anyway?”
The bird was still completely unamused and squealed at him with reproach.
“Hey, you’ve got to keep it down. My relatives would not like finding another bird in my room.”
The bird ruffled its feathers in a way that felt oddly like an apology to Harry.
“It’s okay. Did you get cursed? I’ve not heard of any spell that can do this to a person who wasn’t already an Animagus. Were you an Animagus before all this?”
The bird just cocked its head to the side.
“You do know about wizards and magic, right?”
Steve had a lot of questions, but he didn’t know if he knew about magic or not. He nodded his head and then shook it. Not having a memory was incredibly frustrating, and the sooner he could get back to human form, the sooner he could have a … chat … with Harry’s relatives.
Harry just stared at the bird in front of him. “What does a yes followed immediately by a no mean? Nevermind that, did I just break the Statute of Secrecy? Wait, can I even have broken the Statute of Secrecy by talking to a bird that may or may not have already been a wizard or witch?”
Steve had even more questions now, and most of them were still for himself. Magic wasn’t common then, so he supposed he should count himself lucky that he managed to run into a wizard, if he was reading the boy right and that was actually what this child was, and not someone without magic. He doubted that someone without magic would ever have believed that he wasn’t actually a bird - red tailed hawk? - but a human somehow trapped in the form of a bird. He tuned back into Harry when the child stopped laughing in hyperventilation and turned towards him intently.