jharad17 - Whelp II The Wrath of Snape

Only his desire to see Harry safe, before anything else, finally decided him. He followed the boy's scent into a bedroom a few paces away. He was momentarily startled to find the boy in an actual bedroom, instead of a cage of some sort, since he would put nothing past Snivellus' desire for revenge against his own enemy's son. But in a tall, comfortable looking bed, the boy slept peacefully. A ball of light near his head went through a series of colors like a rainbow, and gave some light to the dark room. The light also cast long shadows on the boy's thin face. His long lashes were like ink smudges against his pale cheeks, and he gripped his bed quilt in two tiny fists.

He's so teensy , Padfoot thought again. Neither James nor Lily had been particularly large adults, but they had certainly been above average for height. Harry was far too small for his age. He'd noticed outside, when Harry had been working, how skinny his arms and legs were; like sticks. It was like he'd been starved for years.

He pushed thoughts like that from his mind -- he would consider them later, and in great detail, but for now he had a job to do. Padfoot reared on his back legs, to put his front paws by Harry's hands, to get a better look at him before changing back into his man-form. No sooner did he do so than a white flash of fur launched itself at his face, with claws and hisses and teeth. A swipe of a paw full of needle-like claws caught him across the nose, eliciting a sharp yelp of pain before he could stop himself, and in the next the white and gray hell-cat was going for his eyes.

As fast as thought, Padfoot became Sirius and grabbed up the boy, who was starting to wake. The kneazle bit and scratched and yowled, and Sirius was bleeding in a dozen places before he had Harry secure in his arms. The yowling itself could have woken the dead, even without Sirius' cursing, so it was not surprising when Harry's blinked open and he murmured, "Wha'? Daddy? Wazgoin' on?"

"Shh, Harry," Sirius pleaded as he batted the kneazle away from his face with his free hand. This was all going badly, and he couldn't think what to do, how to calm the boy, or anything.

And Harry didn't seem to want to shh, and instead started wriggling in Sirius' arms, making him have to grip the boy tighter. "Da!" he called. "Daddy!"

Thundering footsteps had already sounded from across the hall, but at the boy's cry, the door slammed open to show Snivellus Snape, wand in hand. "Harry!" he yelled, and his expression changed from one of worry to one of rage in an instant when he saw who was in Harry's bedroom.

With that look of rage, everything clicked into place. Sirius grinned at Snivellus, baring his teeth, and as the greasy git opened his mouth to cast some vicious curse at the two of them, Sirius spun on his heel and Disapparated, his godson hugged close to his chest.

Harry was safe now, with Sirius. They were both safe and happy and free.

HPHPHPHPHPPHHPHPHP

A/N:I know, I know, it's a terrible, horrible place to leave the story, but I will have a new chapter out ASAP, I swear. I honestly don't know if Sirius could wandlessly Apparate in canon, but decided he could, once, if he was as strongly motivated as this passage.

The quoted verse from A.A. Milne's Now We Are Six is not mine, obviously, and is taken without permission. Milne's poems are not in any way, shape, or form appropriated for personal profit, but merely out of my love for Winnie-the-Pooh . . . well, mostly Tigger, although he's not in this volume of Milne's. I figure Harry must have a spot of Tigger fondness, too, considering his love for Treacle Tart.

For all who read and review, a heart Thanks! And my gratitude, especially, for all those who have wished me well of late. You guys are the best, truly. A writer could not ask for truer friends.

*Chapter 21*: Chapter 21

Whelp II -- The Wrath of Snape

Chapter Twenty-one

By jharad17

Warnings for:Language

A/N:For all who read and review, a heartfelt thanks! And my gratitude, especially, for all those who have wished me well of late. You guys are the best, truly. A writer could not ask for truer friends.

Previously on "Whelp II -- the Wrath of Snape":

With that look of rage, everything clicked into place. Sirius grinned at Snivellus, baring his teeth, and as the greasy git opened his mouth to cast some vicious curse at the two of them, Sirius spun on his heel and Disapparated, his godson hugged close to his chest.

Harry was safe now, with Sirius. They were both safe and happy and free.

Treacle Tart, clinging to the hem of the smelly, dirty cloth that covered the Enemy, was righteously miffed. With the Enemy and Her Boy, she spun over and over and over until she was sure she would be sick, or perhaps die. But then, suddenly, the spinning was over as if it had never been. They were in a dark, gloomy place with strange smells -- and the scent of rat! -- and crates and boxes and a big bed nearby.

Her Boy was upset. She hated for him to be upset, and when Her Boy was upset, she was always quick to action, doing first and apologizing later. Thus, as soon as she had her balance, Treacle Tart lashed out at the Enemy again, clawing the delicate skin near his eyes so that he would let go of Her Boy to protect himself.

The Enemy did drop Her Boy, but only because he batted her away again, this time harder than before, hard enough to knock her into a wall. Hard enough to hurt .

--HPSSHPSS--

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw his white-furred Treacle Tart fly through the air and slap into a wall, where she lay still. "No!" he cried. He tried getting his legs under him, but his stomach was lousy with churning and his head hurt like Uncle Vernon had taken a belt to it. He stumbled and fell to his knees, then scrambled toward his kneazle kit. "Tree! Tree!"

"Harry," said a man's voice, the man who had taken him from his Father, and Harry scurried even faster to get away.

He reached Treacle Tart just as the man tried to grab him again. "Leave Tree alone!" Harry wrenched his arm out of the man's grip, and half turned to glare at him while using his body to protect Treacle from further attack. His throat felt thick, like it was full of syrup, and he could hardly breathe for fear of what this man would do to him. Was this the man everyone said killed Harry's parents? He swallowed hard, swallowing his fear, then backed up a few more inches, till his hand touched Treacle's fur. She nosed the palm of his hand, so he knew she was alive, if hurt. And the man had not killed him yet. "Where are we? Where's my Father? What'd you do to him?"

The man crouched right in front of him. He smelled awful, as if he hadn't washed in a long, long time, as if his own uncle had chained him in the backyard. The man's scraggly beard and the hair on his head were both matted with grime, tangled in knots and nasty looking. His clothes were stained and torn, and his eyes . . . his eyes were the bluest blue Harry had ever seen, but they were wild. Crazy eyes, like a madman.

"Your father died a long time ago, Harry. That man was not your father."

"Yes. He is."

"No, he's not. He kidnapped you--"

"He didn't!" Harry yelled in his face. "He rescued me, when the Dursleys were going to kill me." He swallowed thickly and lifted his chin. "Are you gonna kill me, too?"

"No!" The madman staggered backwards as if Harry had hit him. "No, Harry. I'm your godfather."

"Sirius Black." Harry spat the name. Father had told him what Black had done, how he had betrayed Harry's parents. Black had told the Dark Lord where James and Lily were, so he could kill them, and try to kill Harry, too. His eyes stung, and he blinked back any tears before they could fall. "You killed my Mum and Dad."