A Nundu for A Pet

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"Harry! Harry! Wake Up, Freak!" Dudley's high-pitched and grating voice stirred up a surge of irritation within Harry. Startled from his slumber as he jumped on top of the stairs that was the roof of Harry's cupboard, Harry's emerald eyes flickered open. His hand instinctively reached for the nearby eyeglasses perched atop a cracked and worn wooden shelf. As Dudley continued bouncing with careless abandon on the staircase above, the incessant tremors echoed throughout, causing dust particles to rain down in a gentle cascade, settling within the cramped confines of Harry's dreary cupboard.

Harry was certain one of these days the poor stairs wouldn't be able to hold him any longer, and his feet would sink in, Harry just hoped that when that day comes he wouldn't be inside, but outside, so he could laugh at him.

Harry sighed as he slowly rose from his bed, stretching his limbs and feeling the familiar ache in his tired muscles. Carefully, he delicately separated himself from the open book resting on his lap, momentarily interrupting his nightly reading ritual. As he did so, a flood of memories surged through his mind, reminding him of what he had been reading last night. The rest of the books were scattered haphazardly across the floor of his cramped cupboard, several other books strewn amidst the disarray.

Harry wasted little time wearing his clothes before walking out; once he did, he stretched out his limbs fully, letting out a loud yawn; the first thing he saw in the morning was his uncle stuffing his mouth with food and drinking while his aunt was smiling delightfully as if his uncle was breaking some record.

What a beautiful sight, Harry thought sarcastically, rolling his eyes almost to the back of his head.

"Harry, why did you wake up so late?" Aunt Petunia's voice reached his ears as she walked into the kitchen, bringing Harry's food—a plate with a Pimento Sandwich. Harry wondered why she even bothered asking. It is not like telling her the reason would have convinced her not to yell at him after answering.

"Well, I wanted to sleep, but this constant noise was just above me. For a moment, I thought a poor burglar had come to this house, but then I realized it was just the three of you snoring." Harry answered with a sly smile; his uncle's face went red with a mix of anger and embarrassment as he started coughing uncontrollably, desperately trying to clear his airway and inadvertently spitting out bits of beer and food that had been lodged in his mouth.

"What did you say about us?" His uncle shouted as he took deep breaths after coughing, his face somehow turning redder. Harry wondered if his uncle knew that he looked like a traffic light; all missing were his ears turning yellow and nose turning green.

"I said you three sleep like Bulldogs." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, not that he regretted it; it wasn't his fault that the three of them slept loud enough that the neighbors might think an explosion was constantly happening inside the house during the night.

"Do not try to make a fool of me, boy," He loomed over him like a giant; Harry looked up as his uncle tapped his chest with his fat fingers like sausages.

"Why would I need to do that? When you do it to yourself constantly." Harry said with a growing smirk; his uncle glared at him even more; he looked like he wanted to explode. Harry was certain he would need to get out of the city first if that were to happen.

"Shut up, you think you are clever, freak, but you are not even half as clever as you think you are."

"Still makes me more clever than you," Harry said with a look of triumph; his uncle's eyes widened; he reached up and grabbed something from the nearby table. Harry prepared himself to run away; he didn't like it when his uncle threw things when Aunt Petunia stopped the situation before it could escalate.

"Enough, Harry. You will clean the whole house for your filthy comments." She shrieked with a glare aimed at him. Harry sighed in relief; that wasn't as bad as he thought; his uncle let go of the iron pan's handle; he gave Harry one last warning look before sitting down on his chair; the poor chair creaked from the weight, almost breaking in two.

Soon, they all sat around the table to eat, with his uncle voicing out the many things Harry needed to do before the day was over.

"And you should send this letter to the mail, freak after we return from the park." His uncle ordered his fingers covered in oil from the food, going deep into his pockets, soon pulling out a mailed letter before throwing it at Harry, who looked distracted.

"Wait, who is going to the park?" Harry questioned, and for the first time, he sounded genuinely perplexed; he knew today was one of Dudley's birthdays. Sometimes, Harry wondered how many he had per year; his uncle and aunt gave him gifts many times during the year, and if each time they gave him gifts was a birthday, then he had at least seven birthdays.

"Not you freak. Only us, you will stay here and clean." Dudley mocked him while eating a piece of a cupcake, bits falling on his white shirt. "They have already bought new clothes for me." He added with a growing smirk since they rarely bought clothes for Harry. Petunia kissed her son on the cheek while rubbing his back as if she was proud of him.

"I'm so happy you brought new clothes." Harry couldn't help himself, how they treated him and how they showered Dudley in love. Harry knew he should probably not let his mouth run so much, but sometimes, it was too much. What did I ever do to them? Harry wanted to ask.

"Why is that?" Dudley asked warily.

"Because the ones you wear would be sobbing right now if they could," Harry added with a smirk of satisfaction, but that seemed too much for his uncle, who forcefully snatched the plate of food from Harry's hands. With an icy glare, he launched the plate across the room, causing it to collide with the floor. The impact sent a resounding crash through the air, shattering the plate into countless shards. As the pieces scattered in every direction, the once appetizing feast lay ruined and scattered across the ground; his uncle then looked him dead in the eye; his head now looked like a giant tomato, with his hair being the pedicel and sepals.

"Listen well, freak. I won't tolerate you. If you don't shut your mouth, I will have you sleep outside like a dog that you are. We will go to the park, and you will clean every corner of his house. You will not come." His uncle shouted with spit coming out of his mouth as he did. Harry wrinkled his nose; his uncle's mouth already smelled of beer, but his words made Harry smirk, an evil smirk.

Later

"Don't go too far, boy." Uncle Vernon sneered; Harry didn't say anything; he nodded without much thought as he stretched out his limbs after being inside the car for too long. His arms felt a little sore, but nothing new. While annoying, he was used to carrying heavy stuff and cleaning the whole house quite often, so being stuck in the backseat with Dusdley's stinking breath wasn't the worst experience, or maybe it was; Harry wasn't sure.

The entrance to the park was an enchanting sight to behold, adorned with an elaborate gate boasting intricate floral decorations. Perched atop the gate were two delicate bird sculptures, their wings gracefully outstretched as if ready to soar into the heavens above. A gentle breeze carried the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers, breathing life into the air around Harry. This refreshing atmosphere starkly contrasted with the heavy scent of alcohol and lingering food odors that pervaded the house. The air within the park itself felt wonderfully crisp and revitalizing.

"Don't worry, uncle. Even if I leave the state, I can always see you. You are very noticeable, after all," Harry said with a smirk; his uncle's face turned red. Again.

Unlike the other years, when his relatives would buy expensive gifts for Dudley for his birthday, this year it was different; his cousin had wanted to celebrate his birthday in the park, a little unusual for someone who stuffed his face with food like a pig, you wouldn't think he was one to want to walk in parks, but nonetheless, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon decided to fulfill the wish of their dear son, Harry rolled his eyes at the way they cuddle him as if he was made of glass, and one small push would shatter him.

' "You are not coming, freak, end of story!" His uncle shouted, his face turning red as he took a breather. Harry heard his aunt looking for a sweater for Dudley upstairs; from the sounds she was making, Harry wondered if she had started fighting someone upstairs.

While Harry usually had no problem being alone in the house, this time, they wouldn't just go to a restaurant, to the shop, or to the school, but they were going to the park. Harry wasn't sure what to expect, but he had watched TV in secret, and he had seen what the park looked like, beautiful and green, so he had decided to see it for himself.

"You know, uncle. I never talk back to you, god forbid, but if I was in your place, I wouldn't want to leave my house alone with a freak inside. Anything can happen-" Harry said, the last words with an evil smile. His uncle went pale, and for a moment, Harry thought his uncle might drop dead, but he wasn't that lucky.

"Petunia!" Uncle Vernon shouted as he walked over to the stairs that led to the second floor.

"What?" Her voice came from upstairs.

"We are taking the freak with us; he might burn the house down," Vernon said, giving Harry a nasty look. Harry barely reacted, but inside, he was celebrating; at least he could finally go somewhere outside this house that wasn't the school.

Harry was about to try and find his old sweater when his aunt came downstairs, holding two sweaters; she threw one of them at Harry, who grabbed it mid-air with confusion; he recognized the sweater; they had bought it for Dudley last year, but Harry had learned the hard way never to touch Dudley's clothes, his uncle would get very mad.

"What are you doing?" Vernon demanded, looking at Petunia angrily; his face had gone red again, and he was breathing heavily. Harry watched as she whispered something to his ear; he had a sudden look of realization as he looked back at Harry.

"You can wear it while we are in the park, but if I see you with it after. I will lock you in the cupboard for a week." Harry barely listened to what he said as he tried the sweater. Obviously, it wasn't his size, but it was better than just wearing a simple shirt during autumn. '

Harry escaped his thoughts as he walked around the park, feeling the warmth of the sunlight caressing every corner of the park. The azure sky stretched above him. As he strolled along the winding pathways, the blades of grass swayed gracefully in perfect sync with the gentle breeze, their emerald hue reflecting dazzlingly against the sun's rays. Harry inhaled deeply, savoring the invigorating air that filled his lungs. He had never felt this good breathing air; it felt like he just took his real first breath.

For a brief moment, Harry wondered if he should remove his sneakers, but he thought not; it was autumn, and he didn't want to have cold feet.

Upon reaching a good spot in the park, his uncle and aunt started to celebrate Dudley's birthday; his uncle told Harry to bugger off.

Now, he found a good bench; everyone else around the park was wearing similar clothes to what his uncle and aunt were wearing, but Harry noticed one person wearing unusual clothes. Unlike everyone else, this one was wearing a big dark cloak, covering from head to toe, with a dark hat that coated his head. If he was trying to be discreet, then dressing up like Sherlock Holmes wouldn't help with that.

While Harry didn't think much of the man, he noticed that no one else was wearing similar clothes as him; he was the only one.

Harry escaped his thoughts when he heard a familiar sound. He looked at the ground near his feet, and just as he thought, a snake was moving just underneath the bench. He had beautiful red skin and cloudy green eyes. Harry's lips twitched upwards. He looked underneath the bench; the snake had stopped moving and instead focused on Harry.

"What are you doing here? Do you want to play?" Harry hissed right away, his words coming out like a snake hissing.

It had been two years since he found out he could talk to snakes. Sadly, when he tried the same trick on cats, hoping he could talk with them too, unfortunately, the cat meowed loudly before hissing at him, trying to scratch his face. Harry ran away and quickly realized that only snakes understood what he was saying.

Harry looked at the snake, expecting an answer, but the snake said nothing. Instead, she looked in the distance; as Harry followed her gaze, his eyes landed on the same mysterious cloaked man. This time, however, the man had positioned himself near a dense bush, blending into the surroundings. Intrigued, Harry observed as the stranger crouched down. The man abruptly scurried away in a rush as if fleeing from something or someone. To Harry's surprise, the man vanished into thin air, dissipating like smoke. Gasping audibly, Harry instinctively rose to his feet, unable to comprehend what had just transpired before his very eyes. He blinked repeatedly, hoping that it was a trick, but alas, the mysterious man had truly disappeared, leaving Harry in a state of bewilderment.

Harry knew his relatives called him a freak, but he never saw himself as one; he didn't even know what a freak was, but the way they would say it sounded like a bad word. But Harry had never seen anything wrong with himself besides talking to Snakes; he was sure that wasn't something someone should be able to do. He had once asked the teacher, and she had looked at him as if he had gone mad before murmuring something about him being a 'freak.' But he had never seen a man disappearing like that, and it seemed the others hadn't noticed since the other people were walking around casually.

Harry escaped his thoughts as he heard a faint noise, a cry for help. Harry ran forward as fast as his little legs could take him; despite being eight years old, he could run for a long time without getting tired.

Harry reached the place where the mysterious cloaked man had vanished into thin air, his heart pounding with anticipation. As he stepped forward, a peculiar tingling sensation enveloped his body, emanating from the very spot the enigmatic figure had vanished from moments before. It was as if the air itself had transformed, growing denser and perceptibly burdened with an unexplained weight. The atmosphere seemed charged with an otherworldly energy, causing Harry's senses to heighten, his every nerve on edge. But just as abruptly as it had arrived, the strange sensation slowly dissipated, leaving Harry surrounded by an eerie silence. Gradually, the air regained its normalcy.

Harry heard the sound again; his curiosity sparked as his ears picked up the faint noise. With a slight brow furrowing, he instinctively turned his gaze towards the nearest bush. He cautiously reached out and carefully pushed aside the small branches, revealing a hidden view. And there, amidst the rustling foliage, stood - a cat—a big one.

Harry had never seen a cat like this one; now that they looked at it from up close, it didn't even look like a cat; it was twice the size of a fully grown cat, was entirely covered in a dark-reddish fur, the strands of which glistened under the sunlight. Its arms and legs were thick and muscular, each ending in sharp black claws that glinted menacingly. Her tail was long and sinewy, with tufts of fur at the end. Its ears were also covered in fur, giving it a wild and feral appearance. With a unique face, her entire neck up until her jawline was covered in the dark-reddish mane that seemed to shine under the sun's light.

"Hey, good girl," Harry said sweetly, his voice filled with affection and curiosity as he carefully extended his hand toward the mysterious cat. The feline stood still, cautiously observing Harry's actions. But the instant his fingertips were mere inches away from the cat's smooth fur. A multitude of tiny ticks materialized, swarming the cat's body with alarming speed. Each tick was adorned with red pointy ends. Harry swiftly retracted his hand. With a menacing hiss, the once seemingly docile cat revealed a mouth full of teeth.

Harry knew better than to hiss back, and looking at the ticks, he knew they were dangerous and did more than pierce his skin a little.

"Don't worry. I won't hurt you," Harry said softly, trying to appear small by crouching on his legs and pulling biscuits from his pocket; he grabbed one and placed it near the cat, but she didn't look interested in the biscuit. Instead, she was looking elsewhere; following her gaze, Harry saw she was eyeing a bird at the top of a nearby tree.

Ohh, Harry thought, knowing cats eat meat. He knew he could perhaps throw a rock at the bird, but Harry didn't want to kill the bird. Harry suddenly remembered that she might like milk.

Harry told the cat to stay put; as he stood up and walked away, he quickly stopped at the nearest market and bought some milk with money he had saved before returning to the same place.

As he expected, the strange cat was still there. Harry opened the milk bottle before pouring it inside a wide cup he had bought; the moment he placed it near the cat, the cat approached hesitantly. Harry backed away, not wanting to scare the beautiful cat.

She sniffed the milk before she started drinking. Harry couldn't help but smile, sitting on the ground, his knees against his chest as he looked at the cat drinking peacefully; her ticks slowly sank back into her skin before disappearing as if they were never there.

Harry found it strange; none of the other cats he had seen had ever done anything like that, but seeing the ticks disappear, he knew she wasn't wary of him anymore. His fingertips brushed against her velvety fur as he extended his arm, a delicate touch that elicited a momentary tenseness in the magnificent feline. However, the big cat soon eased into a state of tranquility, surrendering to the soothing sensation of his affectionate gestures.

Harry couldn't remember smiling this much before; petting this big cat brought him more joy than anything else.

"You are beautiful. Where are your parents?" The big cat looked at him with a sad face before she started drinking milk again.

"I know that feeling, my parents are gone too," Harry said sorrowfully, with a downcast look; the big cat looked up at him as if she could understand every word he said.

"I guess we are both alone," Harry said gravely, pulling his hand away from her; the big cat looked at him before walking up to him, nuzzling her head against his hand before purring.

"Do you want to stay with me?" Harry asked with growing excitement and hopeful eyes; the big cat looked at him, her golden eyes looking back at him, and nodded her little head; he didn't know how, but he was sure the big cat could understand him.

"Then you need a name," Harry said cheerfully before having a look as if he was thinking very hard about something.

"Itisa, do you like it?" Harry asked, looking down at her. The big cat licked his fingers. She liked the name.

"My name is Harry. Harry Potter." He introduced himself while pointing the finger at his chest; the beautiful cat meowled and purred as Harry stroked her fur; he felt joyful that she wasn't baring her ticks at him anymore. They were officially friends.

My first friend, Harry thought, feeling tears behind his eyes, but he didn't allow himself to drown in sorrow; he had a friend now.

Harry kept playing with Itisa and eventually found a little ball. He knew she wasn't a dog, and fetch was something people play with dogs, not cats, even if the cat in front of him was the size of two and had many features that a cat didn't have.

"Here," Harry said, throwing the ball; he expected Itisa to either ignore the ball completely or actually try to grab the ball with her mouth; instead, her ticks grew from her skin, and she let out what could be described as a roar, causing Harry to flinch, the small ball now was full of ticks, stabbing it from every direction, Harry's mouth fell open at what the cat just did.

"How did you do that?" Harry asked excitedly as he looked at the ball full of ticks from up close. He quickly noticed dark liquid dripping out of the ball, and he realized that Itisa's ticks were full of the strange dark liquid; he wondered what it was; perhaps it was poison, but he highly doubted it; he had never heard of cats being able to use poison, but Itisa wasn't exactly a normal cat.

Wow, Harry thought, amazed; he was sure the ticks were dangerous; as Harry turned to look at Itisa, the playful feline let out a gentle meow. Itisa nuzzled her face against his leg. He reached down and tenderly ran his fingers through her luxurious, soft fur. Tracing the patterns on her coat.

"How did you get here?" Harry couldn't help but ask curiously. The cat looked up at him with what could be described as a sad smile; Harry felt for her. He knew what it was like to be alone. He wondered if she was taken from her parents. Harry didn't know, but he didn't want to leave her alone in the park. She might starve.

Harry's face brightened up as an idea popped into his head. It was a stupid idea, but it was a fun one, so who cares?

Here," Harry instructed, his index finger extending towards his own arm. Itisa swiftly leaped onto his shoulder, her agile paws skillfully gripping his sweater fabric. Despite the slight pressure from her sharp nails, they didn't penetrate deep enough to inflict any pain upon him. Harry gently ran his fingertips along the contours of her chin, eliciting a contented rumble of satisfaction from the delightful creature. He knew the Dursleys would never allow Itisa inside, but perhaps he could keep it inside his cupboard, and maybe somehow they wouldn't notice it.

Harry knew it wasn't his smartest idea, but it was the only one he could come up with right now. But before he could execute his plan, he suddenly had another idea that might actually work.

Later

"Where were you, boy?" Vernon shouted angrily. The moment they saw Harry walking back to them, they quickly noticed him holding a bag, and inside it was a shoe box, quite a big one.

"Did you miss me?" Harry couldn't help but retort; he doubted they would care even if he never returned, so why was his uncle even wasting his breath?

"What do you have there?" Dudley asked excitedly, licking his lips with a hungry look. Harry knew he thought inside the box was a cake, perhaps.

"You know there are still boxes around you, you could eat those instead if you are still hungry." Dudley scoffed, a derisive sound escaping his lips as he chewed on a mouthful of whipped cream. His jaw moved lazily. His teeth were stained with the sugary residue of his uncontrolled sweet tooth. The contrasting black and white colors on his enamel only underscored the excessive consumption of candy and desserts that had occupied his entire day.

Dudley ignored Harry while his aunt started packing things up. Vernon told Harry to throw all the trash before returning back to the car. Harry wanted to say that if that's the case, he should also go in the garbage, but Harry restrained himself this time.

Harry heard a meow sound coming from the shoe box; the box had two holes, allowing the air to flow inside, even though Harry was certain she could easily escape the box if she wanted to.

Harry wondered if he can try to talk with her the same way he talks to snakes, but he quickly remembered the last time he tried it with a normal cat. And he wasn't exactly excited to make Itisa angry with him.

Upon returning to the car, his aunt waited for him just outside the gates; Harry figured the two others had already gotten into the car. He started removing his sweater, knowing he was supposed to use it only for the park.

"What are you doing?" Her words made him pause.

"Removing the sweater," Harry answered with a tone as if his answer was obvious; her mouth opened. It seemed as if she wanted to say something to him, but ultimately, she closed her mouth as Harry threw her the sweater.

The ride back home was quiet; thankfully, it seemed his new cat understood Harry when he said that she should stay quiet. But the same didn't go for Dudley, who couldn't help bugging him about the shoe box.

"Is it more cake?" His cousin asked for the tenth time, licking his lips as he eyed the box. Harry couldn't help but get annoyed, but at the same time, somehow, he knew Itisa was getting annoyed, too, and her anger was targeted towards Dudley.

"Is not cake, Dudley," Harry said with a slightly higher voice than normal, making it clear that he was angry with him and that he should drop the subject.

"Don't talk to my son like that freak." Harry heard his uncle yell as he kept driving the car.

The moment they reached their home, Harry grabbed the shoe box and bolted inside the house. He wanted it to leave the box inside the cupboard; perhaps Dudley would forget about it, but it seemed Harry had underestimated how persistent he could be when it came to the chance of eating more cake.

"What do you have there?" Dudley chased after him; Harry cursed under his breath, the box in his hands; he could tell that Itisa was getting furious with Dudley; a part of him wanted her to come out to scare him; perhaps a good scare would teach him a lesson.

"A gift. I bought it for myself. Happy." Harry said, annoyed, trying to keep himself calm and not let his dark thoughts win. Upon hearing his words, Dudley scoffed mockingly.

"Of course, you buy gifts for yourself. No one else would ever buy you anything. Orphan." The moment those words left his mouth, Harry almost growled in anger; his aunt and uncle walked inside as Harry clenched his teeth.

Harry wanted to attack him for the first time ever, but it wasn't needed. She came out like a blur from inside the box, jumping at Dudley, who screamed out in fear. Itisa missed him for an inch, and Dudley tried to run away, only to trip on the ground while screaming in fear.

As Harry's sharp eyes observed his new friend, he couldn't help but notice something unusual. Her ticks had grown back. Instead of their normal shade, they now showcased dark-red pointy ends that seemed almost sharp to the touch. Itisa's golden eyes had changed into the darkest abyss of night.

Itisa emitted a peculiar, low, growling sound that resonated through the air. Rather than the gentle purr he was accustomed to, it resembled the deep rumble of a wild lion.

Itisa's normally impeccably groomed fur appeared to have lost its graceful allure. Instead, it became a chaotic mess, strands sticking out in haphazard directions. Even more astonishing, Itisa's body seemed to be expanding in size before Harry's very eyes, a sight that both fascinated and perplexed him.

Harry watched as Itisa slowly walked closer to Dudley, who was crawling away from her in fear; she roared, baring her large teeth that seemed to have come out of nowhere; they weren't as large before, but now they appeared long, sharp fangs.

"Harry, stop her!!" He heard his aunt shout at him, but Harry ignored her; he looked at Dudley's fearful expression; he looked paler than snow as he kept crawling away until his back hit the wall; he closed his eyes, his hands covering his face.

Enough, Harry thought; he didn't like him, and his words hurt him a lot, but he didn't want anything bad to happen to him. Itisa stopped her advances and turned to look at Harry as if asking if he really wanted to stop, but before he could tell her anything.

His uncle, fueled by rage, charged towards her with great determination. With a swift motion, he aimed a forceful kick towards her stomach. However, much to his surprise, his attempt to deliver the blow was countered. His entire body was forcefully thrust backward. The impact was so intense that Harry stood frozen with his mouth agape. Time seemed to slow down as his uncle was propelled across the room, his body traveling through the air until it violently collided with the wall. A moment of silence enveloped the room, only to be shattered by Harry's uncle's agonized groans, echoing his intense pain and humiliation.

Harry was about to tell his aunt not to attack Itisa, but it seemed his aunt was smarter than her husband as she slowly and carefully walked up to Dudley, but she didn't try to attack her. Itisa's eyes and teeth returned to normal, as did her fur and size; she jumped on Harry's shoulder, licking his cheek, before looking at the Dursley warily.

"Harry." His aunt found her voice to speak. Shaking fearfully, she gulped loudly as she helped her son stand up.

"What is that thing?"

Let me know in the comments what the pairing should be.

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