Disclaimer: I Do NOT own Harry Potter... but I like to imagine what I'd do with all the money if I did :P

A/N:

This will be SLASH. If you don't like, don't read. No flames please. This story also includes animagus, magical creature inheritances and mating (not explicit)! No flames please. If you don't like this sort of thing, please stop reading now, click back.

Constructive criticism is appreciated (but no being mean for no reason!). I have no Beta. And this is the first fiction I've written like this. So please be nice!

I have the next 4 or 5 chapters written, and I know where its going pretty much, so hopefully I wont be leaving this an uncompleted work, because that annoys me. Cant promise regular updates over xmas though, but will regularly update from January! I dont expect this to be a long story, 15,000 words max. I currently have 8000 written.

Thanks You! Hedwig x

Chapter One

Harry was so tired. He'd been walking for the majority of the day, keeping mostly to the shadows, sneaking past the muggles. He couldn't risk being seen again. He was currently on a busy roadside, and it was starting to get dark, so he figured it must be about 9 or 10 at night. He needed to find cover for the night, where he could rest without being found. Harry gave up looking for somewhere sturdy, such as an abandoned shed, and took cover in a bush that was slightly away from the road curb. He crawled in between the branches, curled into a ball, wrapped his tail around himself and tried to sleep.

When he awoke, the sun was high in the sky. Slowly getting up, he poked his nose out of the bush. The pavement was busy with people bustling to and fro. Harry cursed himself for hiding in such an obvious spot. It was going to be difficult to sneak out with so many people around. Instead, he started to crawl through the bush alongside the road. Eventually he came to an opening in the fence on the other side of the bush. It clearly led to someones garden, and it was empty. Harry dashed out into the sun, and took a drink of the stale water from the fountain that stood in the corner of the garden. He then curled up in the back of the garden, amongst the flower bed, and started to plan. He clearly couldn't move on much during the day, with the muggles moving around. He would have to wait til dark and continue on then, which would make finding a wizarding area much harder than it would if searching by day. He had no idea where he was going. He was merely walking in a single direction in the hope of coming across a magical person or place. He could be searching for days, weeks for all he knew.

Harry had turned 17 years old yesterday, the age of majority in the wizarding world, meaning he could legally perform magic. 'Which was useless!' he thought, considering he woke up with a tail, four paws and whiskers, and couldn't pick up his wand, let alone verbalise any spells. When he had tried, a rather deep rumble had erupted from his jaw. This led him to believe that he was some form of large cat, and considering he was covered in fine jet black fur, he guessed some form of panther. He'd managed to get a brief look at himself yesterday through the reflection off a window, when the light was good, but his vision had changed and he couldn't really differentiate colours as well as before. Although he now found everything to be in much more detail than his human eyesight allowed.

Harry sighed, as best a cat could, and closed his eyes. He was screwed. What were the chances of him finding a wizard or witch anytime soon? And even if he did find one, how was he meant to explain to them that he awoke on his 17th birthday as a large cat, and was in actual fact the missing saviour of the wizarding world? That was if people had even realised he was missing. He'd been thrown back to the Dursleys this summer, with no contact with anyone. No one had written to him, and since Dumbledore had made him leave Hedwig at Hogwarts he had no way of contacting anyone himself. He was beyond frustrated at the lack of contact from his so called friends. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of the order this summer either, meaning that if they were still monitoring the house they were doing so from further away (or more stealthily which he doubted), or they just weren't watching him anymore.

Dumbledore had told Harry that Death Eaters after revenge for the destruction of Voldemort were going to try harming him over summer. Hence, why he needed the so called 'safety' of Number 4 Privet Drive. But Harry knew better. Malfoy had come up to him during the train ride home, while Ron and Hermione were doing prefect duties, and thanked him. Thanked him! Harry still couldn't believe it weeks later. He'd thanked him for defeating Voldemort, claiming that his parents had joined the cause when teenagers, before they truly realised how fucked up the Dark Lord was, and now were glad to be able to go back to the way things were before. Malfoy had also claimed that he had been terrified of having to join Voldemort and had been due to get the mark that summer. Malfoy had then offered him a truce. Harry would have been mad to turn that down, so had accepted both the thanks and the truce. Ron had been rather irate to find out that Harry was planning on being friendly with their enemy. Harry had then pointed out that Voldemort was an enemy, Malfoy was merely a rival. Ron hadn't reacted to that well at all, but Harry didn't care. Ron needed to grow up as far as he was concerned.

A few hours had passed, and Harry was bored. And hungry. He'd been dozing since he'd lain down, but now was growing restless. Suddenly, a pigeon landed in the middle of the garden, a big fat town pigeon that had obviously eaten too many chips in its lifetime. It wondered around, pecking at the ground occasionally. Harry was enthralled. His paws came forward, his claws extending slowly, digging into the dirt of the flowerbed ever so slightly. His back legs came up, his rump and tail rising. And suddenly, the pigeon was in his paws, dead. He had pounced cleanly over the flowers hiding him, and using his excellent aiming skills (either from seeker instincts or cat instincts) had easily captured his prey. Without thought, Harry had bitten into the chest of the bird, swallowing down chunks of the breast. Within minutes all that remained was a half destroyed skeleton and a layer of grey feathers over the grass. Licking his paws, jaws and whiskers clean, Harry happily splayed himself out over the grass in the late sun and basked.

When Harry awoke from his food induced nap, he swiftly realised what he had done. A part of him wanted to be sick, to throw up the raw pigeon he had earlier gulped down with little thought. Another part of him though, the bigger part, purred with the knowledge that he had managed to hunt for himself. Purred thought Harry! He was sure only domestic cats could purr! Although, he thought, he obviously wasn't a normal panther. Since normal panthers definitely didn't have wings. Large feathered black wings that seemed to magically fold along his back, almost blending in entirely. Almost being the word. If they had entirely blended in, the little muggle boy yesterday morning wouldn't have tugged at his mothers arm so much to tell her about the big kitty with wings that he just saw! Harry was just lucky that the mother had taken the boys ramblings as make-believe toddler babbling! And that he'd been able to hide in a nearby alleyway. He'd decided after that, that he needed to stay as hidden as possible, since as much as he tried he couldn't wish the wings away. In fact he couldn't seem to move the damn things as at all, which was rather frustrating.

Harry decided that it was late enough in the day to give travelling another attempt. He crawled back through the hole in the fence and into the bush along the road side. There was no one he could see on the pavement, but there were still a few cars driving along. It was starting to get dark and people had started to put their headlights on. Harry figured that the glare of the lights would help him blend more into the shadows and took the risk to start walking along the pavement. Harry walked for about an hour, occasionally ducking into bushes when he saw people approaching, before he left the roadside. The road had now left the outskirts of Surrey, and was well into the countryside, which meant that Harry could walk along fields now instead of tarmac. Now, instead of keeping an eye out for people, he was having to keep a check on his feline instincts. Everytime he saw a flock of sheep, or a herd of cows, he wanted to hunt. A pigeon was one thing, someones life didn't depend on that one animal, but he refused to let himself hunt someones livelihood.

Harry travelled through the rest of the night, most of it he ran. He found that the feline in him loved to run and play. He chased shadows and birds and even a moth or two. It was such a simple form of enjoyment, it was refreshing. He managed to snack on a rabbit at some point in the night, so he was happily full from that.