HEATHER BLACK AGREED TO DO THE THING THAT NOBODY ELSE COULD TO DO.
Use her animagus form, and protect Harry Potter for fifteen years.
As an owl.
As Hedwig.
***
Travis McKinnon wanted nothing more than to do something useful.
So he used his animagus...
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"HARRY POTTER!" AUNT PETUNIA screeched, and Harry was awake in a second, shooting upright and almost hitting his head on the top of the cupboard under the stairs.
He wanted to sleep in—it was Sunday, after all—but Aunt Petunia didn't care about what Harry wanted.
Actually, not many people cared about what Harry wanted. A lot of the time, he didn't even know what he wanted for himself, because he mostly did things for other people—never having time to think about himself.
Ever since Harry could remember, he had been doing dishes, cleaning the floors, washing the clothes, cooking breakfast, and doing almost every other chore that anybody would ever be able to think of.
As Harry climbed out of his bed and came out of the closet, he was met with his cousin Dudley's watery blue eyes glaring at him.
"'Morning, Dudley," Harry said with a yawn as he ran a hand through his messy black hair, "How are you doing today?"
Dudley's glare turned angrier as he said, "Not much—but hurry up and get out of there! You need to make the breakfast!"
Harry smiled, "Of course I do. The same thing every morning, yeah?"
He did find it irritating to go through the same routine every day, but there were some interesting things to his life—such as seeing the snowy white owl which always sat on the fence post.
The first time that he had seen it, he had pointed it out to Aunt Petunia, and she had snarled at it and shooed it away. Harry had regretted telling her immediately, and had believed that the owl would not be coming back. But it did—it came back and landed on that same fence most barely seconds after Aunt Petunia had shooed it off.
This time, though, Harry didn't tell her about it.
He'd only been five at the time, and didn't understand much about why Aunt Petunia just didn't like him at all.
From what Harry could assume, Aunt Petunia and his mother had some kind of fight, and he supposed that Aunt Petunia just never liked her after that. He still didn't understand how that could justify how unfair his Aunt had been towards him.
Not that Harry could do anything about it, though.
He'd decided that it was better to just not complain—when he so much as opened his mouth and said something the Dursleys didn't want to hear, he'd get yelled at and get in trouble—so it was just best for him to keep silent.
Sure enough, though, as he approached the kitchen and peered out the window, he saw the familiar snowy owl perched on the fence, and upon meeting his eyes, the owl tilted its head in what almost appeared to be greeting, and Harry smiled.
The owl had grey eyes that appeared to look almost too intelligent to belong to a bird, which matched its features beautifully. he wondered briefly why the owl wasn't nocturnal—but the owl had never been nocturnal.
He had guessed that it was just different from other owls.
He began washing the dishes, preparing to make breakfast, and went over to the pantry to get some ingredients.
The television was on full volume, and Harry's Uncle Vernon sat on the sofa, eyes fixed on the screen, while Aunt Petunia busied herself with dusting the same shelves she had dusted yesterday.
Dudley Dursley was stuffing his mouth full with candy, even though he hadn't even had breakfast yet. It was 7 o'clock in the morning—and Dudley was already getting sugar-high.
Just another day in the life of Harry Potter, Harry thought to himself glumly as he cracked an egg into a bowl and separated the yolk from the eggwhite.
"Hoot,"
Harry turned to the window, where the owl was now sitting on the window sill, staring intently at Harry—watching his every move.
"Well, hello, to you, too," Harry muttered as he turned his gaze away to get a pan from the cupboard.
"Hurry up over there, would you?" Uncle Vernon snapped, not moving from his place in front of the television. Dudley grunted in agreement and said, "Yeah, Harry—hurry up! We're getting hungry over here!" He proceeded to shovel more candy into his mouth.
Neither of their eyes ever left the television, and Aunt Petunia added, "Yes, and don't make a mess, please! You know, you should be grateful that we let you use our kitchen. Shouldn't trust you with it, but we do—and be grateful for that."
Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he cracked another egg, accidentally crushing it in his hand out of frustration. He quickly moved to toss the crushed eggshell in his hand into the bin, but Aunt Petunia had seen it.
"Harry Potter!" Aunt Petunia screeched, "You waste so much food! Do you know how much an egg costs?"
Harry didn't reply, but he did cast a pointed glance at Dudley, who was now tossing candy at the television, attempting to aim them at the news reporter's eye.
Aunt Petunia scoffed, not seeming to notice Harry's glance in Dudley's direction as she said, "Please, how untalented can you be? Honestly, it's not that hard to crack an egg properly!"
Harry was seriously holding back the desire to talk back to her, now.
"Show me the crushed egg!" Aunt Petunia demanded, "Now!"
He hesitantly opened his palm, wincing already, preparing for the yelling that was sure to come next—
But it didn't come.
Because in Harry's palm was a perfectly unharmed egg—not a crack in the shell.
Aunt Petunia stared, her expression almost resembling horror for a second, before she huffed, "Hurry up," and then turned and joined Vernon and Dudley at the television.
Harry couldn't help but feel a bit smug as he cracked the egg properly this time, and his eyes unintentionally met those of the snowy owl once more—and the owl let out a quiet hoot that sounded almost congratulatory, tilting its head from side to side, before it flapped its wings twice and then flew off.
Harry sighed.
The good things in his life always seemed to vanish so quickly.
Author's Note:
Thanks so much for reading, I hope you all enjoyed it! Vote and comment if you liked it~
