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Once upon a time, in a world much like ours, in a perfectly ordinary house there lived a boy named Harry Potter.
Harry had never had any reason to suspect that he was anything other than ordinary, just as mundane as the Dursleys who hated him and ignored him in equal parts. For sixteen years, ever since the death of his parents, Harry had uneasily lived with his extended family, and for sixteen summers, he had watched the shooting star that appeared in the night sky, blazing past right at midnight on the anniversary of his birth.
This year, his summer was much improved from the summers he’d passed before in that perfectly ordinary house — trapped and restless and bored out of his mind — because this time, he had a secret. This time, not a day after his summer break had started, a dog appeared, ambling up to him directly from where he’d been loitering on the street the moment he saw Harry approaching.
The dog was enormous, shaggy and black-coated and rather unkempt, smelly and skinny in a way that told Harry that wherever he’d been before, it was likely just about as fun as his own living situation was. He’d named it Snuffles, after the ridiculous snuffling he’d done, digging enthusiastically into the lunch meat Harry had snuck away from the kitchen for him that first afternoon, and the look he’d given Harry at the name was so deeply offended that Harry couldn’t help but laugh. And so, absent any better ideas, the name had stuck.
Time passed, and Snuffles was his constant companion now, accompanying Harry everywhere he went, day and night, even sleeping each night in the bushes below Harry’s window. It was nice having a friend, Harry thought, and even nicer to have a listening ear everywhere he went. It wasn’t long before Harry was spilling everything to the dog, not just his thoughts and complaints day to day, but his hopes and fears, as well.
On the evening of his birthday, Harry was perched out his open window, leaning on the sill as he’d become accustomed to, muttering his thoughts to the wind and the dog. A light came in from the night sky, a star becoming steadily brighter over a few moments as he watched, and then a brilliant streak of white light formed a tail as it passed overhead.
“I wish…” Harry started, feeling a little bit childish.
He’d heard before of wishing on a shooting star, and knowing that this star burned each year just for him, he’d foolishly thought that maybe his wishes would come true. He’d done so for years as a child, wishing again and again with each shooting star he saw, changing the wording each time in the hope that maybe this time it would change, that this time whatever magic was in the stars would work, and that his wish would finally come true.
He’d wished each year, even as his schoolmates lost their own superstitions, growing out of leaving a note and biscuits for St. Nicholas or a glass of milk and unsalted bread for the elves.
He’d wished all the way until his 13th birthday. That night, he’d sat at the window as his star passed, crying and more miserable than he’d ever felt before, gingerly tending to the arm his cousin broke mere hours ago. He wished, desperately, for anything to stop the pain, even if nothing else.
But nothing happened. No one tapped on the door the next morning, no magic cured him, no miracle came to save him, and Harry gave up hope of the magic of the shooting star being anything but a fairy tale.
He wasn’t sure what exactly it was that moved him to speak now, after his years of silence, but he did, comforting himself that even if the star didn’t hear him, at least Snuffles would.
“I wish I could leave this place,” Harry whispered, almost afraid to speak too loudly after all this time. “I wish there was someone else, anywhere else I could go. I wish there was somewhere that could feel like home.”
And with a sigh, even as the star burned itself out and the glow of the tail faded into nothing, Harry turned back to his bed, and turned in for the night.
The next day, Snuffles was missing from the yard when Harry woke up. He searched as best he could, ducking out during his gardening to check around the fences, and even volunteering to go to the shops as an excuse to check down a few alleyways, but by the time evening hit, Snuffles was still missing, and Harry was distraught.
When he returned to his room for the night, he was almost too distressed to notice that a mouse had somehow gotten in, or perhaps a very fat rat. It was sitting on his windowsill, right where Harry had rested his arms each night for weeks now, and making quite the racket, scratching its paws nervously as it paced back and forth, and letting its tail thwack against the frame and sill alike.
When it saw him, it chirruped, a sound both gratingly high pitched and shockingly loud for such a small thing. Harry hurried to shush the rat, but it didn’t seem to understand him, making more and more noise with some manner of urgency that was really quite improper for a rat.
But try as he might, Harry did not understand what it was fussing about. And so, when at long last the rat leapt off his windowsill, just as the sun was starting to rise, he gave a deep sigh of relief, happy the thing was finally gone.
He closed his window, switching the latch firmly shut, and was happy to leave it at that.
The next night, Harry was startled out of his sleep in the dead of the night at the sound of a horrifying howl.
The moon was high in the sky, completely full, and as he poked his head out the window, the howl rose again. He heard a beast moving, or perhaps running, its heavy paws thundering as it tore through the empty streets, clacking against the pavement, and with every step they grew louder.
Harry thought as he listened, unsure what to do. Surely this was not yet another animal here to see him, like Snuffles and that horrid rat had been?
Across the street, he saw lights start to flick on as the neighbors awoke to the sound. Sirens started to wail and he heard Mr. Number Seven’s work truck turn on, and Harry pulled the blanket over his head, trying to think what his options even were.
The beast was close enough now that Harry could hear it sniffing the air and pushing through bushes as it ran, and Harry tried to think if there was even a weapon he could use. The beast came into view, back lit by the full light of the moon, and Harry almost shrieked at the sight.
It was huge, surely larger than every car on the street, and twice as deadly with those long claws and sharp teeth. Surely a steak knife would be less than useless to protect himself from the thing, and he hardly believed a door or a staircase could cause it much trouble either.
Just as the beast got to the back door and started scratching at it, the sirens caught up and all sorts of people leapt out of their vehicles, done up in full armor and padding and with weapons of every sort he could imagine. It seemed they were of every sort imaginable: animal control and the police, and even a few done up in the uniforms of the National Crime Agency and the suits that might have been MI6 or some other sort of spies.
Harry huddled by the window as shots rang out, the beast yelping then howling then snarling in turn. He was rather astounded that his relatives didn’t seem to be awakening with all the racket, and hoped it would stay that way, at least long enough for the beast to be dragged away.
At long last, just as the sun started to rise, the beast seemed to grow tired, though Harry doubted it was actually about the fight. As the night passed, it seemed the entirety of the Royal Army available on short notice had appeared to join the fight, but the beast had hardly noticed. No, Harry suspected it was not about growing weary at all, and rather more about the time of night.
Remembering what the rat had done the night before, Harry watched with curiosity as the beast noticed the sun was just about to rise. It stiffened, its gaze dragging up to his window and meeting his eyes briefly before the beast turned and ran at full speed, giving up its fight and dodging vehicles and persons without a struggle.
The vans lingered for hours after that, with witness statements to take and with more questions than Harry thought was strictly reasonable for anyone who had no idea what was happening at all, but at long last, they were gone, and Harry set about turning the now thoroughly ruined yard to rights.
Even so, with all the mess and the fuss, Harry couldn’t help but count his blessings. At least the Dursleys had gotten a full night of uninterrupted sleep, despite the noise. At least nobody had tried thumping on their door until after breakfast was ended to ask them questions, or who knew how much worse the Dursleys’ mood would have been.
It was with resignation that Harry made his way to his bed long past dark that night, morose at the thought of so much more to do over the next weeks. It was sure to be accompanied by a truly horrific display of his Uncle’s temper during that time, and he was not looking forward to it at all.
So tired was he, that he almost failed to notice that yet another night time visitor had arrived for him.
A cat had somehow made its way to his room without being noticed, and much like the rat, had decided to help itself to whatever part it most preferred. Unfortunately for Harry, this was his actual bed, so even as the cat started purring and meowing and otherwise fussing incomprehensibly at him, he couldn’t even curl up in his blanket without risking upsetting it. In truth, he was rather concerned at the notion after the disaster of last night. Who knew if the cat had as much of a temper as the beast did, only hidden away somehow? It certainly seemed just as interested in him.
Harry grew annoyed when the cat suddenly leapt at him, digging its teeth firmly into his trouser leg and tugging as though it wanted him to fall, or perhaps as if it only wanted to destroy them. Either way, Harry was not having it, and spend yet another sleepless night trying fruitlessly to reason with an animal that simply didn’t understand him.
After the third night, Harry had given up all hope of his wish having amounted to anything, or of ever seeing Snuffles again, for that matter. And so, he was very pleasantly surprised when he resumed his task of clearing the yard, only to be interrupted that very morning by a creature who could only be magical.
It was a snake, long and thin, but of a kind he’d never seen before. It shone in the sun, even hidden as it was under the leaves, and its very aura seemed to have something so inherently magical about it he almost fell over in shock.
“Potter? Harry Potter?” the snake asked, its voice somehow deep and pleasant for all that it was a snake.
If the shimmering scales didn’t do it, then the fact that the snake could talk would have been more than enough to convince him. Maybe he simply hadn’t been patient enough, and at long last, his miracle had arrived.
“Er, hullo. Mr. Snake. How do you do?” Harry tried not to let his cheeks flush too much, but he could hardly help himself. This was so different from speaking to Snuffles or the headstrong cat, not when he knew this snake could actually understand him and speak back.
“Voldemort,” the snake said. “You may call me Voldemort. I hear that you are looking to go somewhere, and thought I would offer my services.”
Harry hesitated only a moment, confused at what kind of home exactly a snake could offer him, but well… it was a magical snake, and who was he to make a fuss?
“Yes, Mr. Uh, Mr. Voldemort, sir. I’d like that,” Harry said cautiously. “Only, I’m unsure what a snake could do…”
“Ah, you wouldn’t know then, I suppose? There’s a… Well, there’s no easy way to put this, but I’m not usually a snake.”
“No? So then you are…”
“A man, yes. A wizard, to be precise. We mostly keep away from your world, as it were, and only very few of us can step between,” the snake said, rather calmly, as though it wasn’t entirely ridiculous, as though this talk of wizards and talking snakes and other worlds wasn’t still shocking, no matter what kind of a miracle Harry had been waiting for.
“So you wish to take me to your home, then? And you’ll turn back into a man then?”
“Not precisely,” Voldemort said, a note of caution entering his voice now. “Me and my kind have a… well you may wish to think of it as a sort of curse on us. To those from your world, we can only appear in our animal forms, those of us who have one, until certain conditions are met. You must be welcomed into a new home in our world, much as I have offered to do to you, and then the curse itself must be broken.”
“And how…” Harry started, feeling like maybe he was starting to get in a little over his head in this whole thing.
“The usual way a curse is broken,” Voldemort finished for him. “With a kiss, of course.”
“Of course,” Harry replied, feeling rather faint. “So then, I’ll just…”
“Give me a kiss,” Voldemort said. “If that isn’t too high a price?”
“No, no!” Harry rushed to get out. It was fine. It would be fine. Very, very odd, certainly, but what did he know about magic. Surely that was normal? Yes, everything would be fine.
“Very well,” the snake said. “Grasp my tail, and we shall be off then. Hold tight, and do not let go.”
Harry didn’t hesitate, no matter how strange the situation had grown. He had no goodbyes to give, no belongings worth taking, not a single uncertainty in mind.
He gently reached out, and the world spun about him in a flash. Wherever they were going, whatever adventure awaited, Harry couldn’t wait.