Newfound-Hope

~WizardsGirl~

A/N: I own nothing Harry Potter. I own all plot variations, OOCness, OCs, and so on and so forth…You'd think people would realize that these things weren't needed, unless the REAL authors pop in one day and write their own FanFiction…

Which, let's face it, would be kind of cool.

R&R!

Prologue

Harry Potter gasped for breath as he ran down unfamiliar streets, his lungs screaming, his broken nose aching, his fractured arm clutched close to his bruised chest as he fled his cousin. The soon-to-be-fifteen-year-old was furious with himself for letting his guard down for even a minute around the larger boy. Just because the Dursley's had decided to take him with them on their vacation to America didn't mean that he could slack off and forget that they hated his guts. Something his cousin Dudley had decided to remind him by beating the shit out of him while his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had gone out to dinner.

Now Harry was running down the alleys and streets of Miami, Florida, sweat pouring down his skin from the heat he was unaccustomed to, as he dodged past people and cars while his cousin cursed at his back. Now, Harry was usually a very fast runner, but all the people were slowing him down, and, unlike Dudley, he wasn't enormously fat, as so no one conveniently leaped out of his way as he ran. So, he was forced to slow down in order to dodge around bystanders, while his whale of a cousin ran after him like a freight train, making people leap out of his way quickly, and therefore keeping much closer to the smaller, black-haired teen then he'd usually be able to on his own.

Harry gasped for breath, lungs burning fiercely, and found a stretch of empty street, which he took advantage of by stretching his legs out and pounding his way as fast as he could, ducking down low and curling into himself, so that he rocketed forward and put much more space between his snarling, wheezing cousin, who was only now beginning to slow. The last two years of boxing training had made Dudley's stamina rise, but he could never stay on Harry as long as Harry didn't get caught, so the emerald-eyed teen threw himself into the next crowd, zigzagging through them, ignoring the blood that was tacky and drying on his mouth and chin from his broken nose.

After he'd run another block, he ran down an unlit alley, and slid down behind a dumpster, crouching immediately behind a dumpster and closing his eyes, trying to stifle his gasping, and steady his magic, as it rolled, writhed, and raged beneath his skin. He needed to calm down, dammit!

There was a flash a white hot pain throughout his body at his silent demand of his magic, and, for one, confused, agonized moment, he disbelievingly wondered if he'd somehow managed to Crucio himself, before blackness welled up and covered his vision.

~(Line Break)~

He woke slowly, and to the sun beating down on him heavily, when he remembered quite clearly that it had been evening when he'd passed out. Groaning as the bright light hurt his eyes, he closed them again with a grimace. His head hurt…Actually, his whole body hurt something awful, with his broken arm and bruised ribs hurting the most. Strangely, his broken nose didn't hurt as much as he thought it would…

Shifting slightly, Harry very, very carefully opened his eyes, squinting painfully against the light, and whined lowly when his next shift jostled his broken arm. At the sound, he stilled, confused.

"What the hell?" He said, or, well, tried to say, as all that came out of his mouth was a confused rumbling whine. Lifting his head, he tried to look at his good hand…and found himself staring blankly at the large black paw that was in the place of his usual limb. Funny, he thought, eying it warily. It feels like my hand. And when I want my hand to move, it moves like my hand should. But it's not my bloody hand. As he thought this, his mind a little dazed (either from pain or shock, he didn't know) he could feel the sudden, smug, rolling of his magic. It felt very pleased with itself beneath his, er, fur, and Harry growled low in his chest, the sound feeling odd and making his body tremble. Carefully, he rolled from his side, onto his stomach, white flashing through his eyes as pain skyrocketed through his ribs and broken arm-well, leg now, isn't it? he thought self-depreciatingly, glaring at the limbs he was forced to hold out awkwardly to the side-and then he glanced at the rest of his new body.

He was a very large black dog of some sort, though his fur was matted with blood from his nose and a cut on his side he must have gotten when he fell, or something, because he didn't remember it from before. He was also incredibly thin for a large dog, his stomach curving up and his ribs countable, and he grimaced, before he quickly lifted a back leg and check his 'boys'. He was immensely relieved to find them still very much intact, and that Fate and his magic hadn't decided to totally fuck him over and do something truly horribly, like neuter him, or maybe even turn him into a girl… Not that he had anything against girls, mind you. He just did not want to be one. Setting his leg back down, Harry looked around the alley, and carefully used his good foreleg to force his large, heavy body up and into a sitting position, ignoring the pain the shimmered through him and made him wheeze. Forcing himself to his large paws, he staggered, trying to stay balanced while his body rebelled and he kept his bad leg off the ground.

"Oh!" A voice exclaimed; Harry's head jerked up and over, towards the mouth of the alley, to see a handful of concerned looking teenage girls who were way too young, in his opinion, to be running around in mini-shorts and bikini-tops. One of them, a brunet with large blue-gray eyes and a light tan, was looking at him with horror.

"Stay away from it, Kathy," one of the girls friends hissed when the brunet moved into the alley towards Harry cautiously. "Its hurt and could bite you!" The brunet, Kathy, continued forward, ignoring her friends hissings and pleadings, and Harry carefully sat down, panting tiredly as his head spun in pain and the heat, watching the girl get closer to him. When she was a few feet from him, she crouched, and cooed softly at him, offering one hand, the nails neat, clean, and unpainted. Harry stared at her, and then tiredly leaned forward and gave her hand a bemused sniff.

His nose was instantly flooded with the smell of honey, lilacs, salty sweat, and something that just smelled like female to him, as well as something that made him feel happy. His tail, something he didn't much think about before, wagged tentatively, smacking against the ground as he licked the proffered appendage, tasting the bitter flavor of the lilac-scented lotion, and the salt that skin naturally tasted of. Kathy continued to croon and murmur to him, slowly, carefully, lifting her other hand to his head and stroking his head gently, making him whine lowly as he passed over bruises.

"I called the Animal Rescue number, Kathy," one of the four girls at the mouth of the alley called down, and Kathy carefully sat, and began trying to coax Harry into her lap. Carefully, he lay down, so that his large head settled on her thigh, and whined lowly as she gently pet him, now avoiding the worst of the bruises on his head.

"Easy boy," Kathy murmured soothingly, kindly. "Help's on the way, okay?" She looked over towards her friends, face worried. "Hey, Jen, can you bring my water over here? He's gotta be thirsty." One of the girls, a blond with brown eyes and rather large breasts, hesitantly walked into the alley, water bottle in hand, and, at Kathy's urgings, poured some into the brunets hands so Harry could lap it up. Funny, he thought as he eagerly did so, slurping the water up. I didn't even feel thirsty until I saw the water…

By the time a large car pulled up fifteen minutes later, all of the girls were around Harry, talking to him gently and feeding him a hotdog one had run off to a nearby vendor to buy, which Harry eagerly but carefully ate, so that his large teeth didn't accidently nip the girl (Angie, if he remembered) who held it out to him. A man in a brown uniform got out of the car and paused at the mouth of the alley, looking bemused. Instantly, four of the five girls moved towards him, while Kathy remained, since Harry's head was on her lap. The teenage boy-turned-dog could have pouted. They'd taken the petting with them, dammit, and once they avoided all his sore spots, that had felt nice. Kathy, at least, continued to pet him soothingly, scratching behind his left ear, as his right one had a bruise in front of it that hurt when you went anywhere near it.

"Is that the dog?" The man asked the girls, and moved carefully forward. Harry noticed, suddenly, that he was wearing a belt, and on his belt was a gun, pepper spray, and a radio. He was a police officer? He had short brown hair, and brown eyes, and Harry wagged his tail hesitantly when the man knelt down and offered his hand to smell. "Someone's worked you over pretty bad, haven't they, big boy?" He said quietly, as Harry snuffled at his hand, fascinated by the many different smells. Dozens of different animals, male, female, dogs, cats, he smelled what he thought was horse, and what he knew was snake, too. What did this guy do today, go to the petting zoo and pound at the same time?

"He's got a nasty cut on his side," Kathy informed the Animal officer, gently petting Harry's head while the man carefully began to pet him as well. "And his left front leg is messed up, and he's all beat up," she said, looking torn between upset and angry. Harry whined and licked her cheek, making his tongue loll out as he grinned when she wrinkled her nose and wiped what looked like an extremely excessive amount of drool from her cheek. The officer grinned and chuckled, even as his hands gently shifted Harry around so that he could examine the more obvious wound on his side. Harry let him, feeling unusually relaxed and willing to let this perfect stranger touch him. It helped that under the animal scents, the man smelled like books, leather, and vanilla ice cream, all things Harry usually associated with Remus, and therefore safety. All he was missing was the werewolfs strangely-bitter dark-chocolate scent (the one that he thought of as representing the Moony side of Remus) and he'd be all set.

"What a Newfoundland is doing in Miami, I don't know," the man told Kathy honestly, shaking his head. "Hot climates aren't good for them, since their furs so thick. They like chilly weather." Harry whined when the man pressed against a bruise. Immediately, the man was gentler, murmuring soothingly, and Harry all but melted when he scratched a spot near the base of his tail.

"Keep that up and I'll name my first born after you," Harry groaned, the sound coming out as a strange, moaning whine, his tail wagging happily. The man chuckled, and then coaxed him gently to his feet, making Harry whine for a whole different reason as his body protested painfully.

"Let's get him in the truck, and then the vet," the man murmured, and Harry looked up at him, squinting his eyes against the light, to read the metal badge on his chest. Officer J. Aarons, huh? he thought, and limped painfully and slowly after Officer Aarons, who praised him for being such a good boy, and continued to talk to him as he led the boy-turned-dog to the back of the large car, where he opened the doors in the back, exposing large kennels. Quickly, Officer Aarons opened one, then started to lean down to pick Harry up.

"No way," the emerald-eyed Newfoundland said bluntly, the words coming out in a low rumbling whine that wasn't really a growl. Harry, careful of his bad leg, awkwardly jumped up into the kennel, one of his back legs missing and scrabbling, only to be helped quickly by Officer Aarons, who closed the door after making sure he had a bowl of water and some food. When the outer doors closed as well, the Boy-Who-Live-to-be-turned-into-a-dog-apparently, lapped at the water as he forced his thoughts away from all the fascinating scents surrounding him and onto what was happening.

Okay, he thought grimly, let's straighten this out, Potter. You're stranded in America as a dog, with no way to contact anyone in Britain. You've no wand, you're hurt, and you've been picked up and are on the way to the vet where they may just snip off your boys and adopt you out to someone who wouldn't know kibble from cat litter. Not only that, but Voldemort is running about doing Merlin knows what across the pond, and you've no notion of what's going on over there either. You're just buggered, aren't you?

Sighing, he turned his attention to the dry dog food, sniffing it, before thinking what the hell and taking a brave bite. Deciding it tasted all right, he crunched away at the kibble, munching as he shifted slightly in the slightly cramped space of the kennel. The fact that he'd been able to turn around had been amazing. If his leg hadn't been hurt and curled close, and if he hadn't been so emaciated, he didn't think he'd be able to do it in the first place. Finishing the small bowl, Harry drank another few laps of water, then settled in for a doze, wondering how long it would be until they got to the vets.

He just hoped that neutering wasn't on the list of things to do, because if it was, he was so going to bite the first person who tried…

A/N: And that's the first chapter. So, what do you think? Not the usual Animagus!Harry fic, I hope!

R&R~!