Chapter Text
Harry yawned and stretched, slowly uncurling from his little den under the stairs. He was a skinny little tom-kitten, with black fur that refused to stay in place no matter how much he licked it. He was thankful that his fluff covered up most of his body. From the meager meals that the house folk provided, he was practically skin and bones. They occasionally deigned to toss him scraps from their meal that they didn't want. At least he could supplement his diet with mice and whatever other prey he could catch whenever they let him outside.
"Damn cat," the larger twolegs muttered, almost tripping over Harry on his way down the hall. "Get out from underfoot, you mangy thing. Shoo!"
It was a wonder that he'd ever realized his name was supposed to be Harry, given how the twolegs usually simply called him "cat".
"We're going to have to get you fixed, soon," the twolegs said. "You're old enough for it now. I said they should've had you snipped the minute you showed up on our doorstep, but Petunia wouldn't have any of it. Said you had to be six months old first. And thought you were cute. You're lucky my wife thinks you're cute, you scruffy mog. Guess what? I did a little research and it turns out the vets want to spay and neuter pets earlier now."
"Vernon, are you talking to the cat again?" the skinny twolegs called from the kitchen.
"Oh, I'm just telling him that he'll never know the joys of chasing she-cats in heat," the bigger twolegs said casually, still staring at Harry intently.
Harry scrambled out of the way of a kick. The twolegs covered their paws in tough brown coverings that made it hurt when they struck Harry's ribs, and he still had bruises from the last time the fat twolegs had kicked him. The plump twolegs kit thundered down the stairs and out the front door. Harry saw his opening and darted toward the entryway quick he could, narrowly avoiding catching the tip of his tail in the closing door.
"Petunia! The cat got out again!" roared the big twolegs from inside.
"You were talking about cutting off his boy bits," the long-necked twolegs replied, barely audible. "Of course he got spooked."
"He's just a dumb cat! Not like he could understand a word I was saying!"
Harry slipped away into the flower bushes, trying to avoid the twolegs kit.
The overweight young twolegs spotted him and grinned maliciously. "It's time for another game of Cat Hunting, ain't it."
That was Harry's cue to make a break for it. Thankfully, his sleek feline form was much quicker than the obese twolegs, and he could fit into much smaller places. Harry quickly evaded the twolegs kit and made it to the park.
"Well, I'll be," said an enormous cat with ragged fur. Harry wasn't used to talking to other cats rather than listening to twolegspeak, but he'd been around enough neighborhood pets and strays that he wasn't completely inept at his own species' language. "Look at those eyes! So green! Ah, yes, there I see. You've got the white lightning bolt marking on your forehead, just like in the prophecy. And with black fur like that, you've got to be the kit of Pronghorn and Lilyheart."
"Um," Harry said. "I don't know my parents' names. Who are you, anyway?"
"Oh, pardon my manner. I'm Giantpaw," the big cat said. "I forgot to ask what you call yourself these days, either."
"Harry."
"Hairykit?" Giantpaw asked.
"No, just Harry."
"Right, you've been living as a kittypet," Giantpaw said. "Well, Hairykit is suitable enough."
"My parents died when I was very small, along with the rest of my litter," Harry said. "So I was told, anyway. The twolegs said they were run over by a car."
"A... car? Oh, you mean one of those monsters the twolegs ride? Pronghorn and Lilyheart, killed by twolegs? Nonsense!"
"So what really happened to them?" Harry asked dubiously.
"They were killed by a powerful, evil cat," Giantpaw told him. "Nobody likes to speak his name, so they just call him You-Know-Who, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"Well, I don't know his name, so you're going to have to tell me."
"Oh, fine," Giantpaw said, rumbling a bit, flattening his ears, and lowering his tail. "His name... is Deathstar."
"Deathstar?"
"Hairykit! Don't say it so loud!" Giantpaw snapped, looking to and fro warily.
"Sorry," Harry said. "But if he killed my parents, and you said something about a prophecy...?"
Giantpaw's ears flicked. "Yeah. We hid you here in the twolegsplace so that they wouldn't find you until you were old enough for training. We didn't think they'd look here."
"Training? What do you mean?"
"Didn't anyone ever tell you? Well, there were mostly kittypets around, but we did leave Figleaf there to keep an eye on you."
"Tell me what?" Harry wondered.
"Did you think you were born to be a kittypet forever?" Giantpaw said. "You're a wizard, Hairykit."