Grim Protector

Harry’s breathing was ragged, his heart pounding wildly, as he collapsed onto the low wall in Magnolia Crescent. His trunk fell heavily to the ground beside him as his shaking hands delivered Hedwig’s cage and his broom to the floor, careful not to damage them. His body sagged, hands coming up to run themselves distractedly through messy hair as his mind raced through the events of the evening.

He had just accidently blown up his aunt. Like a balloon.

A shaky laugh escaped his lips, though it was devoid of humour as the panic started to settle low in his chest. What on earth was he supposed to do now? They would never let him back into Privet Drive, and he was sure to be in trouble with the Ministry; there was no way he could get away with underage magic two years in a row.

His hands pressed themselves into his eyes, trying to will the tears away with the pressure as he ran through plans in his head, searching for something to do. His mind was racing, his breathing still heavy. Suddenly, the feeling of being watched made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His head snapped up and he stared, silent and still, out into the darkness of the houses across the street. He couldn’t see anything at first, and for a moment he thought he had imagined it, but the feeling persisted.

He scrambled for his wand, quickly pulling it out of pocket, and holding it tightly by his side. There were no lights coming from any of the houses, the only light available being the streetlamp a few meters to his left that let out a soft, pale glow. He saw a shadow shift slightly and drew a sharp intake of breath into his lungs.

“Lumos,” he breathed quietly, squinting slightly against the bright light that suddenly emitted from his wand. His hand shook but he forced himself to steady it as he lifted the light above his head. There was a dark alley between the garage of the house across from him and the fence of the house next to it that caught his eye, the shadows moving slightly again. His eyes squinted into the darkness before suddenly widening as he realised what he was looking at and he took a sharp step backwards.

It was a big, black dog; much bigger than he had ever seen before. His heartbeat sped up again and he took another step backwards, almost tripping over the wall behind him as he did so. Instead, he brought his wand back to himself and sat down, breathing heavy. There was a moment of silence that was only broken by Harry’s heavy breathing. Then he heard a low wine in the breeze, followed by the sharp clipping noise of the dog’s large paws against tarmac. His eyes had never left the alleyway, and he waited with baited breath as the dog trotted down the driveway and into the road where the light of his continued Lumos and the street lamp above allowed Harry to see it properly.

It was huge, with shaggy hair that was wired and dark eyes. Its legs were long, bending slightly in its slow to a walk as it reached the edge of the path. Its fur was matted, and it certainly looked like it needed a good bath, its floppy ears perked upwards as it eyed Harry in interest. The night was quiet, there were no cars around, but as the dog took its first step out into the road Harry felt a strange worry for it and his eyes flickered left and right just to make sure it was safe to cross. The dogs tail wagged once at this, seeming to understand and be pleased by the concern, and Harry’s wand arm lowered further with the sense that this dog really wasn’t out to hurt him.

As it reached his side of the road and stepped onto the path, Harry leant his body back a bit, shifting so that he could raise his empty hand up in a shaky offering to the animal. He still wasn’t entirely sure about this dog, it was massive, but it also wasn’t growling at him like Ripper always did. The dog paused, almost seeming to look him up and down for a moment before cautiously creeping forwards and sniffing Harry’s hand.

He licked his lips slightly as he waited, before huffing a small laugh as the dog’s wet nose and whiskers ticked his hand. The dog looked up at him sharply at the sound before slowly moving forward and down, pressing the top of his head into Harry’s hand.

Harry relaxed. His fingers curled slightly, absently scratching behind the dog’s large ears. Its fur was wirery and dirty, but something about the feeling of another living being touching his hand caused a tentative smile to spread across his face. He suddenly felt a lot less scared and a lot less alone.

“Hello,” he tried softly. “You’re very sweet, aren’t you?”

He continued to scratch as the dog leant into the touch, its tail starting to wag lazily behind it. Harry’s eyes looked the animal up and down, noting the lack of collar and generally ragged appearance a bit more closely.

“Where did you come from? Are you lost?” he asked, not expecting an answer and not getting one. The dog moved closer to him, bringing itself up slightly so that it was sat down in front of him, its head resting on Harry’s leg and its tail sliding absently on the floor. He wondered when the last time the animal had been given affection, and was a little concerned it had probably been a long time. He frowned slightly, realising that this animal was probably not too much unlike himself. Lonely and looking for comfort. He sighed, looking back up to the sky as he re-thought his situation.

“I don’t know what to do…” he whispered into the cold air. “I can’t go back to the Dursleys, they hate me. I have next to no money and all of my friends are on holiday.”

The dog nudged his hand and gave out a small whine, as if understanding he was upset and wanting to help but unsure how. Harry bit his lip again.

His mind started running through all the possibilities, slightly calmer now with his hand absently running through the fur at the dog’s head. He eventually settled on a plan to fly, under his invisibility cloak, to Gringotts. There he could get himself some money, some previsions, and start himself a new life as a reclusive outcast. He nodded slightly, his mind and body calming. It was the only way forward, and it was a plan. Then his eyes turned down and he looked at the dog, who was looking back at him, and sighed. He couldn’t just leave the animal.

Maybe there was another way to get to London without muggle money? He wasn’t entirely sure but he knew there must be. Surely he couldn’t be the only Wizard in need of transport that didn’t have access to the floo?

“Don’t suppose you know a way to get to London with a small bag of Sickles do you?” he asked the animal wryly, again not expecting an answer. The dog blinked owly before shuffling in a way Harry’s would describe as uncertain, had the animal been human.

There was a small beat of stillness before the dog lifted itself back to standing again and wiggled backwards slightly. Harry watched curiously as it nudged his side, seemingly urging him to stand up. After a moment of confusion, Harry did so, cancelling his Lumos and slipping his wand back into his pocket. The dog nudged him slightly closer to the road before trotting around to his side and putting its head under Harry’s wand hand and lifting it up slightly before batting its nose against his wrist a couple of times to get it as high as he could.

“You want me to hold my arm out…?” Harry asked in confusion. He wasn’t sure what this was supposed to achieve, but did as was instructed. A few seconds later a loud bang shot through the quiet street and Harry jumped, eyes straining against the sudden light as his arm moved to shield them. He stepped back instinctively and almost tripped over his trunk again as a large purple bus squealed to a stop in front of him. His eyes went wide as he took it in, his hand instinctively looking for the dog’s head again where it curled into the fur of its neck for comfort. The hand tightened slightly as a man in a conductors outfit stepped out of the bus and gazed down at him.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening.“

Stan gazed down at him expectantly and Harry gulped slightly as the man’s eyes flicked down to the large dog next to him before moving up to his forehead. A feeling of unease settled in Harry’s stomach.

“Woss that on your 'ead?” The conductor asked abruptly, eyes narrowing as he tried to see past Harry’s, thankfully for once, unruly hair. His hand that wasn’t still tangled into dog fur came up quickly in an attempt to flatten it further over his scar.

“Nothing,” he replied, his voice slightly shakier than he would have liked. Stan blinked at him slightly as his eyes followed the movement before narrowing suspiciously.

“Woss your name?”

“Neville Longbottom,” was Harry’s anxious reply, simply saying the first name that came to his head. He felt the dog shift beneath him and his eyes flicked down for a moment before giving it a slight, reassuring stroke; though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure. Then he looked back up at Stan. “So this bus, did you say it goes anywhere?”

“Yep,” The pimpled man replied proudly, “anywhere you like, long's it's on land. Can't do nuffink underwater.” His eyes narrowed again, in suspicion and a slight annoyance. “You did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand 'and, dincha?”

Harry glanced down at the dog again in surprise this time, wondering exactly how the dog had known to do this.

“Yes,” was his quick reply as his eyes moved back up. “How much would it be to get to London?”

“Eleven Sickles, but for thirteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot-water bottle an' a toothbrush in the colour of your choice.”

Harry paused for a moment as he took in the conductor’s words before nodding and moving quickly to his trunk, fumbling with the latch and throwing it open. After a short rummage around he pulled out his money bag and stood back up, sifting around for the required coins as he made his way back to Stan. Then he paused again, eyes moving between the bus and the dog, who had lay down next to the wall in a seeming effort to look smaller.

“My dog is allowed on board, right?” he asked, turning his eyes primarily to Stan. He heard the dog’s claws scratch sharply against the concrete floor but didn’t take his eyes off the conductor, who gave a small shrug.

“So long as it behaves itself,” he replied casually. “Wont be havin’ nothin’ that disturbs anyone else.”

Harry gave a small nod before handing over the eleven Sickles he had been asked for. Accepting the money, Stan lept down from the bus to help him with his trunk; Hedwig's cage balanced on top. Once his things were situated under one of the many beds, which Harry decided was too much to think about analysing right then, he moved back to the door to glance at the Dog. It hadn’t moved but looked tense, no longer lying comfortably but upright. Its claws were curled slightly against the tarmac and its ears were resting far back on its head. Harry hesitated for a moment before making a small motion with his head.

“Are you coming?” he asked, his voice hopeful. He had come to really appreciate the Dog’s company in the short time he had been with it. There was something about it that calmed him, and something that interested him. It was much smarter than any dog he had known before. It had actively helped him call the Knight bus. He wanted to help it in return. Maybe they could be reclusive outcasts together?

The dog let out a small huff, looking down as its posture relaxed only slightly. Then it pulled itself to its feet and trotted over to the bus, jumping up the stairs and passed Harry with a cautious amount of unease. It paused for a moment beside him, giving one last look to the darkness outside, before seeming to give in to something as it trotted over to the bed Harry’s trunk was under and laying down beside it with its head in its paws. Harry smiled slightly before moving to sit on the bed himself, once again flattening his hair as Stan closed the door and turned to look at him. The bed he had been given was the one right next to the driver.

“This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is Neville Longbottom, Ern.” Stan introduced with a grin. Ernie nodded at Harry silently before turning back in his chair as Stan settled into the one next to him. “Take 'er away, Ern.”

With another loud bang the Knight bus exploded into motion and it was all Harry could do not to shout out as he was thrown backwards into the bed. He quickly sat up and looked down in concern, but the dog on the floor seemed strained but fine, its claws gripping the plastic floor of the bus and its back end held in place by one of the beds four legs. Harry sighed in relief before looking back at Stan as he spoke, taking in his words and asking many shaky questions in fascination. There really were so many things to learn about this strange new world he had been thrust into when he found out he was a Wizard.

The conversation fizzled out slightly and Harry was content to watch the world go by until the front of Stan’s newspaper caught his eye. He frowned at it slightly before his eyes widened in recognition.

“That man!” he gasped out, “He was on the Muggle news!”

Stanley glanced at him before turning to the front page and letting out a small chuckle.

“Sirius Black,” he said with a nod at Harry, neither noticing the dog’s head shooting up to look at them. “'Course 'e was on the Muggle news, Neville. Where you been?”

Harry just looked at him blankly, and the conductor let out an amused snort before removing the front page and handing it to Harry.

“You oughta read the papers more, Neville.”

Harry eyed him with a small frown for a moment before turning his attention to the paper in his hand.

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

“We are doing all we can to recapture Black,” said the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.”

Fudge has been criticised by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.

“Well, really, I had to, don't you know,” said an irritable Fudge. “Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it – who'd believe him if he did?”

While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand which Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

Harry bit his lip and looked into the shadowed eyes of the man in the photo. They had a familiar sort of feel about them and, almost unconsciously, he raised his hand to touch them, his fingers drifting over the man’s face.

“Scary-lookin' fing, inee?”

Stan’s voice made him jump slightly, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“He murdered thirteen people?” Harry asked, handing the page back to Stan. “With one curse?”

“Yep. In front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?”

“Ar,” Ern replied darkly, without turning around. Stan swivelled in his armchair, his hands on the back, to better look at Harry. A quiet whimper came from the floor below him but Harry didn’t have chance to look down, too caught up in what he was being told.

“Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo.”

Harry blinked, hearing the dog below him shift but not thinking anything of it.

“What, Voldemort?” He asked incredulously, without thinking. He had to grip the side of the bed tighter as Ernie jerked the steering wheel at the sound of the name, and he grimaced at his mistake.

“You outta your tree?” Stan let out loudly, looking at him with wide eyes “'Choo say 'is name for?”

“Sorry, Sorry, I forgot…“ Harry started before cutting himself off at Stanley’s weak reply.

“Forgot! 'Blimey, my 'eart's goin' that fast...”

“So Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?” Harry prompted apologetically, hoping to bring the conversation back again.

“Yeah, that's right. Very close to You-Know-'Oo, they say...anyway, when little 'Arry Potter put paid to You-Know-'Oo, all You-Know-'Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-'Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard he thought 'e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-'Oo 'ad taken over. Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. 'Orrible, eh?” Stan moved closer and dropped his voice to a dramatic whisper. “An' you know what Black did then?”

“What?” Harry breathed, not entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer. Stan pulled back slightly in his seat.

“Laughed. 'Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?”

“If he weren't when he went to Azkaban, he will be now,” Ernie replied in his slow voice. “I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind...after what he did...”

Another whimper caused Harry to look down now, ignoring the continued conversation between Stanley and Ernie, to rest his eyes on the dog on the floor. The animal looked tense again, and was curled up against the bed leg that was keeping it from sliding along the floor. It looked like it was trying to disappear, its head now under its paws and its breathing coming out in sharp little huffs. Harry frowned a little, before moving his foot so that it rested lightly on the dogs back, in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. The Dog gave a slight flinch before relaxing somewhat, and Harry hoped that meant it was working.

Harry leant back and let out a long breath, closing his eyes allowing himself to get lost in his thoughts again as the bus continued to empty of people. Eventually he and the dog were the last passengers left, and Stan turned to him with a raised brow and a sharp clap of his hands.

“Right then, Neville. Whereabouts in London?”

Harry’s eyes opened to look at the man blearily.

“Diagon Alley.”

“Righto, 'old tight, then...”

There was another loud bang and they were thundering along Charing Cross Road. He sat up, taking in the lightening sky with heavy eyes and a small yawn. He glanced down at the dog as he felt it move beneath his foot, uncurling slightly. It still seemed to be very tense, and looked like it was readying itself for something, though Harry had no idea what. As the bus slammed to a stop outside The Leaky Cauldron, Harry let out a shaky breath of relief.

“Thanks,” He breathed, getting to his feet and grabbing his things. The Dog gave a tense stretch as it got too it’s feet, trotting almost too casually behind them. It was as Harry was turning to say goodbye to the Knight bus staff that he felt the dog freeze next to him. It immediately put Harry on edge and his hand flew out almost instinctively to grasp the fur at the back of the animal’s neck before turning slowly back around to look at what had caused such a reaction. His heart sank at the sight of the Minister of Magic standing in the doorway, looking at him with such an exhausted expression of relief he wasn’t sure what to do with himself for a moment.

“There you are, Harry.”

Harry’s breath hitched and his hand tightened around dog fur. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Stan straighten in surprise.

“Minister!” he let out in surprise, before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “'What didja call Neville, Minister?”

Fudge blinked, turning his gaze to Stan with his own confused frown.

“Neville? This is Harry Potter.”

Harry ignored Stan’s gleeful shouts at the news, eyes still fixed on Fudge and hand still buried in the large dog’s fur. He felt a slight pull against his fingers, as if the dog was trying to flee, but refused to let go. This was his comfort, and he needed that right now.

“Yes, Well, I'm very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now...”

Harry heard the words almost in a daze, allowing himself to be escorted into the pub with Fudge’s tight grip on his shoulder. His own hand was doing the same to the dog, leading it along side him tightly. It was only when they were in one of the rooms and sat down that Fudge seemed to notice the dog, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Who’s this then?” he asked, eyes focusing on the huge hound stood, ridged, at Harry’s side.

Harry licked his lips uncertainly as he glanced down at the dog, a little uncertain as to what to tell the minister. His fingers loosened slightly in the fur before detaching themselves completely and moving to run them comfortingly over the animal’s head. He could still feel the anxiety thrumming through the dog, but the movement seemed to calm it slightly. Enough for it to slowly sink into a sitting position at least. Harry looked back up.

“He doesn’t have a name yet, but he helped me when I needed him,” harry decided to reply, continuing to stroke the dog’s head. “I wouldn’t have found the Knight bus if he hadn’t shown up.”

Fudge accepted his words with a small hum and nodded, before asking another question. The dog seemed to grow more comfortable as time passed, though never entirely un-tensed. It showed an increasing amount of attention to the conversation as it progressed, shuffling closer to Harry to place its head in his lap again at Harry’s spat “I always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays, and I don't ever want to go back to Privet Drive.”

He appreciated the comfort, increasing the ear scratches in thanks. The shuffling increased throughout the conversation, and Harry felt rather then heard the occasional light growl. He wasn’t sure if the dog was reacting to Harry’s emotions or the words, but the feeling of being vindicated in his annoyance of some of the issues was a welcome one either way.

Harry’s hand didn’t leave the dog’s head until he was shown into his own room in the Inn, where Hedwig was waiting for him on top of the wardrobe. He greeted the owl with a wide smile as the evening’s stress started to disappear slowly.

“Very smart owl you've got there, arrived about five minutes after you did.” the innkeeper chuckled with a small smile from the doorway. He paused for a moment before continuing “If there's anything you need, Mr Potter, don't hesitate to ask.”

The man gave a small bow, one last smile, and left. Harry let out a breath of relief as he brought his hand up to softly stroke Hedwig’s head as she perched on his arm. He could see the sunrise start to arrive through the window outside and gave a long sigh.

“It’s been a long night Hedwig,” he murmured before turning back to look at the dog, who was stood in the middle of the room a little awkwardly, as if it didn’t know what to do with itself. Moving his owl back to her perch on the wardrobe, Harry opened the wooden door and pulled out a couple of large blankets he found inside. He lay them on the ground next to the bed before glancing at the dog and giving the bed a small pat.

The dog blinked at him slowly before seeming to nod and trotting over. Once the animal had settled itself into the makeshift bed, Harry pulled the curtains closed, hung up the ‘do not disturb’, and collapsed onto his own bed where it didn’t take long for him to fall into a deep sleep.