Free Soul (Harry Potter Fanfic)

Part 1

Run!

Harry pushes on not looking back. The cold night air weaved through his fur. The excitement and rush he is feeling would make him smile. Except for the air nipping and stinging his fresh wounds. All on his mind at the moment is to run. Not caring where or when he is going to stop, he just has to run.

It happened again. The same thing will always happen and will keep on happening if he does not run. This is his only chance in escaping and he is not going back. He will fight tooth and claw at everyone that dares bring him back there. No way is he going back. He had enough.

His lungs are spasming and his pace is faltering with his paw pads bleeding. Just an hour ago, the moment the clock struck midnight, he changed. The second, midnight came, he stopped the bat from hitting him again. The abuse he had endured since the beginning ended. He made sure it ended and for good.

No more counting on anybody to take his word. No more trusting the old man at his word and promises. He is tired of fighting and tired of dealing with those muggles. Gasping and heaving for air, Harry finally stops by a stream. He made it so far, he won't be followed anytime soon. Shaking his body, his fur removes the dirt that clings to the clumps. Walking a few steps to lap up the cool water to hydrate his parched throat.

He is fine. He is far and safe now. But is he? He used all he could and did all he was demanded in the wizarding world. But now, when he needs the same, he has no one to turn to. No one will rescue him the way he saved them. Lying on the wet rocky bank, he reassures himself everything is fine knowing it is not. Knowing it will never be okay. Knowing he is all alone. Always.

Resting for a moment, he whines saddened by the fact nobody will ever understand him. He tells everything to his friends and all they do is lie. Everyone lies to him. Saying things to appeal to themselves and not to him. Not being able to handle the heaviness in his chest anymore, he lifts his head and bellows out a howl. A long throaty, from the heart and soul howl echoes in the air. For the wind to carry and be heard by someone. A howl filled with pain built up over the years, months, and days. Howling with eyes clenched and tears streaming out. Calling for someone to finally care enough to help him. To love him.

>>>>.<<<<

Walking in the exact woods, a man halts hearing it. A howl. In normal circumstances, he would continue on knowing it is a wolf calling for his pack. This howl though is a call but it is filled with emotion. Emotions mixed into one long dismal howl. Calling for help, a plea. A cry the figure once heard on that saddening day.

Following where the howl came from. The man moves faster as the howl slows and soon stops. The closer he gets to where he heard the howl the more he feels it. Magic. An animagus perhaps. 

'Please tell me it is not that mutt.' the man thinks walking in long strides until he gets to a stream. Pausing in the thicket of trees, he is caught by surprise. A large buff, almost alpha-sized, wolf with a brown underbelly and black overcoat. That wolf is not the animagus he was thinking of. Somehow, he feels something familiar with the wolf. He steps out only to land on a twig letting out a snap. The wolf's ears turn and ...green eyes stare at him. Familiar green eyes he knows anywhere. 'Potter?'

The wolf is lying on the wet rock staring at him. He knows he is caught so he steps further into the moonlight. The wolf or he should call Potter, ears flex to the side. His eyes cast down and notice some parts of its fur missing with red flesh still bleeding. Potter is hurt. How did this happen and when did he turn into a wolf?

The man walks further, closer to the rocks creating a path across. The wolf stares at him watching and observing what he is doing. He slowly steps on the rocks and makes it to the other end of the stream. Potter stands on shaky legs but does not run. 

"Potter? Is that you?" As silly as it seems, he asks the wolf. If it is Potter, he clearly does not know what he is or how he is in such a form. Potter flicks his ear before making a dog nod twice. He walks closer and Potter's left front paw lifts ready to step back. "I am not going to harm you, Potter."

The wolf still steps back when he takes two closer steps. Pausing, he looks into those green eyes filled with mistrust and fear. Whatever or whoever caused those wounds clearly frightened Potter including the shifting. Needing to gain his trust, the man lowers down on his knee and reaches out a hand.

"I cannot help you if you run off. Those wounds can get infected and I gather you are confused as to how you are in this form." Pushing past any thoughts about the boy's father and the bullying he endured, the man focuses on the wolf before him. "Just let me check those wounds aren't infected, clean them up, and then you can leave. Trust me, Harry."

His name coming out of his mouth perk the wolf's ears and his head rears back. That is the first time the professor has ever said his first name. As much as Harry does not trust him, not expecting him to be the single person to hear his howl, he has a point. The wounds can become a problem and without proper mending and care, they can slow him down. Lowering his head wary, he walks slowly over. Sniffing his hand, he smells the truth if you can even smell someone telling the truth. Flinching back as he stretched his fingers closer, Harry's mind reverts back to what he just escaped.

"Potter, I am not going to hurt you. You know I won't." The wolf gives him a distrusted look and he nods agreeing with the look. His behavior has constantly been suspicious of his allegiance and very mistrusting and sneering at the boy. Right now, he is not a man with allegiance but a professor that can help his student. "Please, trust me. Give me a chance and just think of this as in potions class. Professor and student."

He keeps his hand out and lets the decision be on Potter. He needs to wait for the wolf to move and when he does tend to the wounds, he has to be tender and slow. Whatever happened had left Potter in a vulnerable state. Afraid. Pure raw young fear of his age.