Forever and Always

The odd trio walked through the village of Hogsmeade and up to the castle rather quickly.

Zane hissed his displeasure every time Harry stopped to admire something. He was hungry and tired, and snakes can get very nasty when they're mad. Actually understanding the foul things they said made it even worse.

/ Speaker, will you shut up, please? I am trying to rest, and you're not helping with your yammering. /

Harry shut up abruptly, affronted, and the two Aurors glanced confusedly at each other. Normally even they couldn't get the raven-locked boy to shut up, and he was quiet of his own free will? They hadn't even had to hex him!

Once inside they relaxed somewhat. The Headmaster was waiting by the marble staircase.

"Hello, Harry. Before dinner, I'd like to introduce you to the staff, so if you would set your bag by the door?"

Harry grudgingly obeyed and followed the cheerful Headmaster into the Great Hall. It was every bit as amazing as the book had said. He pretended not to be impressed and settled for scanning the teachers with a practiced eye. Harry was a good judge of character, and prided himself on being able to tell who to trust and who to avoid.

Dumbledore waved his hand at the staff table, where the teachers were sitting, watching him curiously.

"Professors, may I introduce Harry Potter?"

There was a moment of stunned silence. This was their hero, their savior? He looked like a punk!

Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't bite!"

Only the teachers nearest him heard his muttered, "Mostly," at the end.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, effectively snapping everyone out of their shocked staring. "Harry, these are the Hogwarts staff and teachers. Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, Sinistra, Hagrid, Lupin, Hooch, Black, and Firenze," he recited while pointing to each Professor in turn.

Harry nodded an introduction to them, and checked behind him. Tonks and Shacklebolt had disappeared, presumably back to Auror Headquarters. He turned back to the teachers, many of which were eyeing him disdainfully, and mentally groaned.

Something told him the next seven days would be hell. He didn't know until later just how off he was.

The next four days passed relatively uneventfully.

"Now, Harry, we need to test your present abilities, to see if you are up to par. As O.W.Ls are required, you will be taking them this year, but will be attending the sixth year classes with your own age group."

Harry groaned, but nodded. "Alright, but can we make it quick? I have things to do."

That was a lie- the only thing he had to do besides this was count the number of threads in his pillow, but he wasn't about to tell them that. He preferred not to talk about himself or his thoughts when he could help it.

It was August twenty-eighth, three days away from start of term. He grimaced; he hated large crowds, and the moment the students arrived he would be engulfed in a sea of chattering, annoying people whose only purpose in life was to gawk at his forehead and worship him. His lip curled in distaste at the very thought of it.

"Harry? HARRY?"

He started and yelped, "What?!"

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, were you even listening to me?"

He gave a hopeful half-smile. "Er, would you be mad if I said no?"

The Headmaster covered his face with a hand. "Just get started on the Charms segment, then."

Harry shrugged and flopped down in the seat, staring at the test. Forty minutes later, he yelled triumphantly, "Done!"

Dumbledore checked his test over, then nodded approvingly. "A perfect score, Harry. Impressive."

The boy's face twisted into a smirk. "Ferrono taught me well."

Dumbledore handed him several more tests; the rest of the courses he was to cover. "When you're done, we'll see what you passed and work out a course schedule for you. I trust you bought all the necessary books?"

A few hours later, Harry handed over the rest of the tests and yawned.

"I'm off to bed."

He walked down the hall to his guestroom. Until his Sorting, he would remain there, then after the Welcoming Feast he would move into his new dorm. He stretched, then transformed and hopped onto his fur-coated bed, snuggling down among the sheets. He preferred to sleep in wolf form, he'd gotten so used to needing the fur to banish the night chill that it was automatic now to sleep in that form. One pointed ear remained cocked, while the rest of him relaxed. It was natural for him to curl up at night, with Zane coiled on his charmed pillow. It gave off warmth and heat, something that Zane liked in the cool walls of the castle.

/ Night, Zane. /

The bright green cobra gave the snake version of a yawn, then hissed, / Goodnight, speaker. /

He slept through the night, and woke with the rising of the sun the next morning. It was still hours until breakfast, so he settled in a corner of his bed and grabbed his watch off the nightstand. Five-fifteen. He was up later than usual.

He stood, dressed, and asked Zane if he wanted to come with him. The sleepy snake hissed an irritable no, so he shrugged and readied himself for his morning run. Every morning at first light, for the last six years, he'd dragged himself out of bed, gotten dressed, and gone for a run. Around the park, the block, the lake, whatever he could find.

He glanced down at his clothing as he strapped on his watch and put his wand in the Auror holster on his right arm. It was flick action. By flicking his arm, his wand would fly out of his sleeve. He'd missed or dropped his wand the first few tries, but eventually he'd gotten the hang of it and was now capable of doing it in his sleep, practically.

He was dressed in his usual fashion- black snakeskin pants over black and gold silk boxers, bare feet, and a folded bandana around his head to control his unruly but oh-so-cute hair. He was shirtless, and it showed off his muscular torso, broad shoulders, defined chest, and tattoos. In good weather he always ran topless, but in cold or rainy weather he dressed fully.

He stretched elegantly and strode out the door. He locked and spelled it closed behind him, just to be safe.

His room was on the fifth floor, and as he walked lightly down the staircase, footsteps sounded from the level below him. And not just one set, but four.

He shrugged, unconcerned, and continued on. As he neared the bottom of the staircase, four people rounded the corner. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick. He nodded to them as he passed; inwardly cheering at their gob smacked expressions.

McGonagall was the first to come to her senses.

"Mr. Potter, go put your clothes on! I won't have you parading around here like...like...like some sort of playwizard!"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Whatever you say, Professor, whatever you say."

His expression adopted a hurt look. "You think I'm parading? I don't NEED to parade, my dear Professor, I already have the woman I want." He flashed her an indecipherable look before turning to trot away down the hall.

He grinned at the look on her face, a mix of rage, shock, and blatant disgust. He thought he heard her mutter, "Good riddance. He's far too much like his father."

His run around the lake was refreshing, and by the time he was done sweat glistened on his torso and ran in rivulets down his face, plastering his hair to his head and stinging his eyes. He was far from exhausted, but food sounded like god's gift to man right then.

He went wolf and charged off in the direction of the school.

He trotted into the Great Hall and transformed back. "Morning, Howler," Sirius said around a yawn.

When the teachers had first seen his animagus form, the Defense teacher, Remus Lupin, had exclaimed to the Arithmancy teacher, Sirius Black, "Sirius! He's an animagus!" Black had replied, "I can see that, Moony!"

An odd look had crossed both their faces, and they'd promptly dragged him off to reel off their entire life stories to him. In the end, they'd decided he needed a nickname and, after some deliberation and a brief shouting match, dubbed him 'Howler'.

Now whenever they called him that everyone in a ten-foot radius snickered at the double meaning. They had learned very quickly that Harry was very good at controlling his temper when it was important, but he was just like his mother- a short fuse, very dangerous, with a tendency to throw sharp, pointy objects.

Everyone, even Snape, got a chuckle out of that. Harry's face went red. "Shut up, Padfoot."

"You, butter-knife kidnapper!"

"Make me, you cold-blooded toast killer!"

"Oh, I'll make you all right, you fu-"

"Shut it, you son of a-" they both said in unison.

Sinistra coughed loudly, and fakely. "Gentlemen, please, we're eating!" They both turned to her, shamefaced. A wicked smile graced her face. "You could make a sailor blush, the both of you. At least wait until we're done with the fudge treacle."

Harry burst out laughing, wildly pointing his finger in Sirius's general direction. Sirius went red.

"That wasn't what I was going to say, but OK."

Remus, who had been taking a gulp of hot tea, choked and sprayed it across the flagstones behind him in his hurry to get the scalding liquid out of his throat.

"Padfoot!"

"Sorry Moony. Blame my godson, he started it-"

"Don't go blaming Harry for this, he might swear the air blue, and drink alcohol like a dehydrated camel in the Sahara desert, but he's only sixteen! You're thirty-seven, for Merlin's sakes!"

Harry blushed in the fierce onslaught of glares that followed that statement. He'd been drinking since he was fourteen! He wasn't a little kid!

"Moony!"

The older man turned to the red-faced teen. "Sorry, Howler, but you asked for it. You know better than to argue with Sirius. You're both so dirty-minded you can't help it."

Harry went an even deeper shade of red, if that was possible.

"Gee, thanks. Now I'm gonna have bloodthirsty teachers shadowing me everywhere. I might have to lure them into a back alley somewhere and maul them."

Snape snorted. "What happened to 'I don't bite'?"

Harry, eyebrow cocked teasingly, answered, "I never said I wouldn't claw, though."

Sirius shook his head exasperatedly. "You truly are the son of James and Lily."

Remus grinned in agreement. "You can't help it, though, can you, Howler?"

Said honorary marauder snorted in reply. "I won't grace that question with an answer."

At that moment, McGonagall swept into the Great Hall and announced, "Potter, your results are in."

He leaped to his feet, grinning. "And what did I get?"

She paused a moment before replying tartly, "You passed Charms and Defense with a perfect score, one incomplete in Transfiguration, and one wrong in both Potions and Arithmany. You also passed Care of Magical Creatures and did passing work in History of Magic. However, you failed Astronomy and Divination spectacularly. Quite impressive, Potter. You're very advanced for your age. Charms, Defense, Potions, Transfiguration, and Arithmancy will be your five core classes, and you will be taking Advanced Healing as well. You have obviously mastered Occlumency and Legilimency as well. And you learned this all from one person?"

He smiled. "Ferrono Zabini."

She freely gaped. "Potter, Zabini had the best score in every class in Hogwarts history. His marks rivaled, and in some areas, were superior to, Headmaster Dumbledore's."

He nodded. "I know."

She shook her head in amazement. "You're unflappable, you know that Potter? Dare I say it, you'd make the perfect Slytherin."

He smirked. "Zane agrees with that. I'm far too quiet and reserved for his liking. But then again, five minutes later he tells me I'm too loud and obnoxious, and he preferred his cage in the pet shop."

She frowned. "Who are you talking about?"

"My snake, of course!"

"He talked to you? And you understood?!"

"Of course. I'm a Parseltongue, if that's what you're on about."

She shook her head faintly. "You never fail to surprise me, Potter."

He grinned. "That's my job, ma'am."

Finally, the day the students would be returning arrived. The whole evening before he'd lain awake, running horrifying scenarios through his mind for hours. What if the hat didn't choose a House for him? What if he didn't like it there, or they didn't like him? Nonsense, he told himself sternly. The hat would choose a House for him, he would like it, he would make a ton of friends, grow up and kill Voldyshorts, marry Blaise, and live happily ever after to quietly pass away in his sleep at the age of one hundred and eighty.

Yeah, right. He mentally insulted himself. Like that's gonna happen. The voice sounded suspiciously like Snape. You'll grow up old and bitter, and everyone will hate you and wish you'd just curl up somewhere and die...in short, you'll turn out just like me.

He laughed at himself. He was just being a prat. Everything would be fine. Or would it?

Grumbling, he rolled over, comfortably in Howler form, and used his Occlumency training to block out the doubts swimming through his head.

The next morning dawned cold and wet, but he dragged his sleep-deprived body out of his nice warm bed and went running in the rain anyway. Zane almost laughed at him when he asked if the snake wanted to come with him.

/ Fat chance. It's wet. /

"So much for that," he mumbled as he pulled on a lightweight T-shirt and yanked on a pair of trainers. He charmed his watch to be water resistant and headed out.

Twenty minutes later, Headmaster Dumbledore entered his office and glanced out the window. What he saw made him pause and shake his head. Youths these days.

Far below, just rounding the final side of the lake, a rain-soaked figure jogged persistently. Harry was stubborn, that was obvious. But in a way, that was a good thing. Once he started something, he saw it through. And despite the empty threats, he wouldn't leave them to fight the war alone. He was involved, now, and he was going to see it through to the very end, even if that meant giving a lot more than he had planned to give.

Breakfast was a rushed affair, with the teachers coming and going as they got a pocket of free time around all the preparations they had to make.

Harry, having nothing to do and no one to do nothing with, settled for trudging up to the Defense tower and working on his Patronus. He'd been struggling through the process of conjuring a corporeal Patronus since the day he'd arrived, and, remarkably, in everyone's opinion but his, he had almost accomplished. Harry himself was frustrated by the fact that usually he picked up difficult and occasionally dangerous magic far more easily than he had with his Patronus.

In a classroom setting, he could almost figure out the shape of it now, but when Remus released the dementer-boggart, it became far more solid. He worked best under pressure.

Once more, he stood before the chest containing the boggart and flicked his wand at it. The lid banged open, and a clammy, skeletal robed figure rose out of it. A sensation of cold and depression washed over him, but with his well-organized mind (courtesy of Occlumency training from Ferrono) he shoved emotions to the back burner and leveled his wand at the monstrosity. Dark cherry wood hummed under his fingertips as he bellowed the incantation.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A figure, distinctly with four legs and a bushy tail, leaped from the tip of his wand and charged down the boggart. The dementer disappeared in a wisp of smoke, and the Patronus paused momentarily to search for more danger. As it turned back to face him, he recognized it as Blaise's animagus form. (Yep, she took lessons from her father as well.) A sleek, streamlined black fox stood before him, silvery eyes watching him intently.

Sensing no more danger for its conjurer, the specter vanished, leaving behind only a stubbornly present mist that disappeared almost immediately.

He lowered his wand, shaking his head. Did Blaise really mean that much to him? Of course she does. Blaise means the world to me.

He practiced the charm successfully three more times, each with the same result as the first. Hello corporeal Patronus.

He smiled and holstered his wand, running a hand through his soft raven locks. He locked gazes with himself in a mirror at the back of the classroom. An equally piercing Killing curse green gaze looked back at him, the occasional lock of spiky hair falling into his eyes.

Harry closed his eyes a moment, before he opened them again. Wolf-like pupils and cold, fathomless eyes stared at him from the mirror. The eyes of a killer, of a hunter, of an animal. With a twitch, he transformed back and swept from the room, his snakeskin trousers swishing together to create a rather daunting appearance.

Walking down the hall back to his room, he replayed the look in his eyes over and over again. Merlin, he looked like some sort of mercenary! He wasn't a killer; at least, not intentionally.

He'd accidentally killed a mugger who'd been trying to rob him, by knocking him backward onto his fallen gun. A shot had sounded, and he'd disappeared into the night, traveling by way of the shadows. Sliding really was very useful.

He bit his lip. He didn't want to turn out like Snape, cold, bitter, and alone. You're not going to turn out like him. Snape's a Death Eater. A Death Eater spy, maybe, but what's the difference? He still kills, tortures, and maims.

He firmly banished those thoughts from his mind. He would be fine. He had Gage, and the Zabinis, and Ricky, and, to some extent, Sirius and Remus. He wasn't alone.

Sighing, he trudged up the stairs to the fifth floor and collected Zane from his perch on his pillow. The iridescent green cobra eagerly coiled himself around Harry's torso. And I have Zane, too he added to the list. No, he was by no means alone.

The rest of the day was spent relatively lazily- at least, for him it was. The rest of the castle's occupants were rushing every which way, preparing for the arrival of the students.

Sirius and Dumbledore stopped in once to speak with him about their plans. He would wait in the Entrance Hall for the first years, then accompany them into the Hall for the Sorting. After he was sorted, the house-elves would take his trunk and supplies to his new dorm for him, and he would go to sit at his new House table. After a week of sitting at the Head table for all his meals, it would feel weird to sit somewhere else, but he would get used to it. He adjusted well to change, after all.

He shrugged and nodded, then voiced a question he'd been meaning to ask for days.

"What House is Blaise in?"

Dumbledore paused a moment, then replied, "Zabini? She is currently a Slytherin, if my memory serves me correctly.

He nodded. "Thanks. By the way, what Houses were you two in?"

Sirius grinned. "I was a Gryffindor. Shocked my parents, everyone in the Black line had been in Slytherin for generations. The only other Black that wasn't a Slytherin was my favorite cousin, Andromeda. She was a Ravenclaw."

Dumbledore smiled as well. "I, on the other hand, admit to being a Slytherin. I almost made it into Ravenclaw, but apparently I was too ambitious."

Harry smirked. "Whoever told you that?"

Finally it was time. Harry stationed himself casually beside the front doors, leaning on the marble staircase. The teachers, with the exception of Hagrid and McGonagall, positioned themselves at the Head table. The double doors clanged open and in came a flood of noisy, chattering teenagers, all dressed in black. Harry had pulled on a robe over his usual attire, and was getting quite a few hungry looks from the ladies. Apparently they liked snakeskin and silk.

He winked jokingly at a gaggle of seventh year girls wearing Ravenclaw crests. A pretty Chinese girl on the outskirts of the group smiled at him. He knew he shouldn't be leading them on, not when he already had a girlfriend he was pathetically devoted to, but it was so damn fun!

He traded glares with a redheaded Gryffindor boy after he smiled in a purely friendly manner at a bushy-haired Gryffindor girl walking beside him. Apparently redhead had some control issues. And was way overprotective. As if he wanted any other girl when he already had the one he'd been after for two years.

Finally, a mixed group of Slytherins strode by, and Blaise grinned blindingly at him. His jaw dropped. She was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Silky tendrils of mahogany brown hair fell into her icy electric blue eyes, framing her delicate features, rosebud lips, and flawless skin. A lithe, willowy body was cloaked in black Hogwarts robes and a denim mini skirt.

"Bloody hell," he breathed. She was even more beautiful than the last time he'd seen her. As he watched, transfixed, she turned and looked right at him, locking her gaze with his.