Strange

--x--

Chapter Two

“He took a step but then felt tired
He said I'll rest a little while
But when he tried to walk again
He wasn't a child
And all the people hurried fast, real fast
And no one ever smiled”

A shaft of light blinded Harry for a moment when he opened his eyes. He blinked, groaning and shifting away from the bright world that greeted him. His memory did not rush back immediately, but when it did he froze, eyes wide and heart thumping. It… wasn’t a dream, was it? He sighed in anger, letting his head fall back onto the lumpy pillow and closed his eyes; pressing them shut with the heel of his palms. A hand on his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts. Harry turned over, eyes once more open and wide. It was a man. He was in a tent. Someone… someone saved him! Harry tried to smile, but the action seemed a little desperate.

“W-where am I?” His voice broke, wincing visibly as his throat grated. Pain seemed to be rolling through his body in small waves, pricking the nerves in his shoulder—the one that... was bitten. Before Harry could drop into a pool of panic, the man smiled-- light and friendly-- and pulled his hand back from Harry’s shoulder. He appeared to take a moment to think about a comforting answer.

“My home, my family’s home.” He replied, another easy-going smile across his face. Harry frowned, eying his teeth. Sharp incisors... He blinked, shaking his head—he must’ve hit his head as well (which would explain the sharp pain in his temple that flared with the undesirable movement).

“And where’s that?” Harry asked, taking all this in his stride. At least he wasn’t wolf-chow, and this man did seem nice... and he did save him. He tried to sit up, only to hiss and wince, shifting his bitten shoulder further than the torn flesh wanted to allow. The man looked worried for a moment before reaching over to a metal cup beside the pallet Harry had slept on and handing it to him. Harry took a tentative sniff, only to be accosted by a strong smell that burned his nostrils.

“In the forest, where your car broke down.” Harry nodded; glad he hadn’t moved too far from the new vehicle, only to pause as he thought over the man’s sentence. Well, he must’ve found his car... He took a small sip of his strange drink while trying not to jostle his shoulder, only to spill part of it on his chest. The man smiled, his eyes crinkling in amusement, and reached out to help him drink.


“Oh, good.” He sounded a little unsure, but took another sip before setting it down beside him. “How long have I been here? Or unconscious... I suppose.”

“Two nights, it’s now midday.” Harry nodded, letting the information sink in. Two nights wasn’t so bad... Perhaps he’d even be able to re-schedule his interview for another day, considering the circumstances. Harry looked at the man.

“Do you... know what happened?” The man nodded, looking a little hesitant to elaborate. “Could you tell me, by any chance?” The man diverted his gaze for a moment, as if in shame. Harry frowned, confused by his obvious show of discomfort. It made him nervous, overriding any of the previous emotions that had been running their course through his system.

“You were bitten by a werewolf.” Harry paused, staring at him with wide-eyes. A werewolf. He looked up at the roof, blinking slowly. Oh shit. He swallowed, looking back over at the man. “I bit you.” The man’s statement caused Harry’s gut to drop, his heart to stop in a moment of shock and his mind to draw a blank. After a minute of silence in which his fury boiled and rose through his veins Harry sat up, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder. He turned to yell at the man, to release his whirling rage, only to choke on his words and feel all sense of anger and defiance leave him. Harry closed his mouth, swallowing. He stared, as it seemed that was all he was capable of, with a heated gaze and angry eyes. Slowly, he lay back down, turning his back on the stranger.

He refused to acknowledge him when he tried to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.

-x-

A few hours later Harry’s shoulder felt better; so much better, in fact, he was tempted to remove the bandages and see if they had healed on their own. He managed to get up off the pallet with very little trouble, and only hesitated at the threshold of the large tent for a moment.

He stood stiff backed, awkward and unsure as he took in the large clearing with a myriad of tents that varied in size. It appeared the large tent he exited was almost at the centre of this little township. Before him, at the very centre, was a large pit that most probably made up a bonfire. He gazed around, confused and lost as people walked by him, going about their daily business.

“Family? This is his family? He must be joking...” From what Harry could see, there appeared to be close to a hundred people living here—maybe a few more, who were out of sight. Children ran past, screaming and playing, and Harry stood alone. For a werewolf pack, this home was very civilised—had what the Wizarding Community taught its children about these people been incorrect?

Harry sneezed, drawing the attention of a passer-by. The woman smiled before hurrying off. A few minutes later of awkward standing, Harry was joined by the man from before—the one who bit him. Did that make him a werewolf now? He shivered, staring up at the larger man with a curious expression. All anger from earlier had seemed to of left him. It was almost like... he couldn’t be angry at this man... it felt impossible to experience any negative emotion towards him. Was that because... he was, well, his... sire? Was that the correct word? Harry shifted awkwardly, aware of the absurdity of the situation but unprepared for the appropriate reaction he should be having, considering his apparent lack of logical emotional response.

The man gestured for Harry to follow, who did as asked with unsure movements. He kept his head bowed, thoughts whirling in his head. The man stopped at the entrance of a large (very, very large) tent, pulling back the flap to let Harry in. Harry bowed his head in thanks, hurrying past and standing awkwardly to the side as the other walked in, leading him over to a corner with cushions and a small, short table at the centre of them. They sat down across from each other, a silence falling across them.

“I suppose a proper introduction is in order. I’m Fenrir Greyback, the Alpha of this pack.” Harry nodded slowly, something prickling in the back of his mind at the familiarity of the name, but nothing rushed forward.

“I’m Harry Potter.” The man, Fenrir, gave him a small smile. Now that Harry gave him a proper look, not clouded by sleep or a sense of great confusion, the man did give off the sense of... Alpha. Harry’s heart beat wildly, his mouth dry at the thought that he could actually sense the fact that this man was Alpha, his Alpha. That cleared up the question of being werewolf, then...

“It’s nice to meet you Harry.” Harry fidgeted nervously for a moment before raising the courage to ask his most pressing questions.

“So, where’s my wand?” Fenrir chuckled, crossing his large, thick legs and placing his hands on his knees.

“It’s in my tent in a safe spot, far from the poking eyes of the children.” Harry nodded slowly, glad for that reassurances but frightened that he felt no need to challenge the man’s steadfastness about this topic. He crossed his own legs, letting his hands fall into his lap and threading his fingers together.

“You... you bit me?” Fenrir nodded.

“There was something about you... I couldn’t stop myself.” He gave Harry a lascivious smirk, causing the smaller man to blush. Harry coughed, looking away from the man.

“Joy. I’m a werewolf, and the Alpha is a horny man who has a lack of good judgement...” Harry sighed, shaking his head, but he couldn’t seem to keep the smile off his face.

-x-

The world Harry Potter inhabits in this story is much the same as his original; just without the Dark Lord. He attended Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione, who are currently engaged, and he himself has dated a few people. His parents are dead, and died in an accident (a strange, unusual floo malfunction that resulted in their demise). He lived with his Aunt and Uncle. They were particularly abusive in the mental fashion and rarely physically. When he was thirteen he did, in fact, tell his friends, who made sure he spent every summer with the Weasleys, instead of going back to the Dursleys.

Harry works as a social and volunteer worker, helping muggle and wizarding youth on the street and in abusive homes.

Harry currently is twenty-three, newly single, hot-headed, full of pride and the most kindest person Ron and Hermione have ever met.

--x--

Well, there's the second chapter. I fixed it up from what it previously was... hopefully it's better. I also feel I should broach the subject of Harry's apparent 'emotional stoicism'. He can't react properly to the situation of his turning because the lycanthrope virus inhibits his emotional response so he does not cause himself harm -- as any person would if they had been raised to believe being a werewolf was as horrible as it seemed to be, or if they did not understand what was happening.

On another note... I'm sorry if my writing causes a sense of detachment... I feel I write like a dick head sometimes, and, as sad as it is, I talk like this most of the time as well. D: Please tell me if I should attempt to tone it down. (: