Wolfen

Harry woke up in agony, his body ached and his bottom was killing him, he gently opened one eye and realised he was on his bed, naked and by the looks of the deep golden light slipping through the curtains it was late afternoon.

There was a note in his aunt’s handwriting on the pillow near his head, he quickly picked it up and read it, not yet realising he hadn’t put his glasses on.

Boy, We decided to go on a tour of the U.S.A, we will be gone for about 3 months. I expect you to continue your chores, if you wreck the house there will be hell to pay!
We tried waking you but you where too lazy to wake!

I spent two long hours cleaning the large muddy dog prints on the carpet leading from the back door to your room! If I come back to find you have had a dog in the house again I will make sure you never step foot out of your room for the rest of your life.

Petunia

P.s. You can eat whatever’s left in the fridge-freezer rather than waste it; also the electricity will be switched off so you will just have to do without.

Harry groaned and tossed the now crumbled letter across the room; he then stood gingerly grasping at the wall for support, slowly made his way to the bathroom to relieve himself.

Harry washed his hands, at least the Dursleys had left the water on, but it was cold. Staring into the mirror, he looked the same but slightly different, better even, his ears and eye-teeth where slightly pointed, his eyes looked bigger and it was then that Harry realized it was because he wasn’t wearing his glasses and could see as clearly as anyone else if not better.

Otherwise he was the same old Harry Potter, but his mind had shifted slightly, he wasn’t afraid or worried, he just was…..?

He knew he was a werewolf now, he could feel the raw animal in him bubbling under the surface, itching to get out, he stared at the bite mark on his shoulder, now nothing more than a faint series of burnished white scars on his body.

Harry turned and gracefully walked down stairs, smelling the werewolf on every single step.

It must have carried him to bed after it raped him, no not rape, that was the wrong word in his new wolfish mind, mate, that’s what the male was doing, mating with him, claiming him, his mate.

Harry came to the bottom of the stairs and sniffed, his nostrils flared and he smiled, he could smell the marking scent of his mate covered with a more powerful chemical smell.

It was obvious that Petunia had tried to clean the urine off of the walls and carpets.

Harry walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, with the electricity off there was no light and everything had defrosted and water was dripping off the shelves, Harry’s nose twitched and he spotted a small raw leg of lamb that was sitting on the second shelf.

He quickly grabbed the wet defrosted meat and padded over to the dining table where he climbed up and sat cross-legged.

He pulled the meat to his nose and sniffed, his mouth watering, he took a large bite, tearing it hungrily with his sharper teeth and gazed out of the patio windows as the golden evening sun began to wane.

After his meal of raw meat Harry felt slightly full and queasy, so he lay on the table and slowly fell asleep.

The sun was long since down and a cooler night breeze filtered through the slightly open window shifting the net curtains in an eerie dance.

Harry jerked awake; he could sense something in the semi-light, a feeling, and a smell that was getting stronger, closer.

He jumped off the table and backed under it, concealing himself in darkness and watched and waited while he tried to discern the smell he was picking up.

He looked up out of the patio doors at the full moon, if he was a werewolf why wasn’t he transforming?

A movement caught his attention near the partially opened window above the sink, he saw a huge hairy clawed paw-like hand enter the window pushing it further open, a large wolfish head soon followed, its razor jaws dripping blood.

Harry inhaled deeply, the scent was overwhelming, it was his mate, the one who had claimed him, his Alpha.

The werewolf obviously scented him too as it jumped down onto the countertop near the sink, knocking several dishes and cups onto the linoleum in an attempt to right itself.

The beast dropped to the ground and began to crawl forward on its hands and feet as Harry sat in silence under the table, the werewolf was almost three times his size but Harry wanted to play.

Harry took off at a run, pounding up the stairs and into his room, the enormous panting werewolf hot on his heels.

He dived behind the bottom of his bed and peered over the edge towards the open door his heart fluttering wildly.

The beast growled low in its throat as it entered the room sniffing the air and craning its head in search of its mate.

Harry let out a little nervous laugh and the beast snapped its head in his direction.

Harry climbed up on the bed and sat there waiting patiently and still, his head cocked to the side.

He had no idea why he was acting this way, half of him wanted to scream and run for help, the other wanted the wolf to take him sexually like it had last night.

This mixture of feelings left Harry feeling nervously horny and slightly guilty, like a virgin about to give up their virginity in the back seat of a car.