Ironclaw Influence

When Harry's eyes fluttered open, he found himself surrounded by unfamiliar faces peering down at him. His lower lip trembled when he didn't see his mother's green eyes looked down on him.

"Mama?" he whimpered, looking around desperately. "Dada?"

When no familiar faces appeared, Harry began to cry in earnest. Something inside him recoiled from the powerful presence of those around him, especially the tall wizard with the long silver beard. His body involuntarily shifted and twisted, leaving a small golden eagle where the toddler had been.

"Merlin's beard!" squeaked Flitwick, nearly falling off his chair. "Minerva, you weren't exaggerating!"

"Of course I wasn't, Filius," McGonagall replied, moving slowly toward the distressed eagle-child. "Though I must admit, seeing it again is no less shocking."

Harry let out soft, frightened chirps as McGonagall approached, but didn't try to fly away. She gently gathered him into her arms, cradling him against her robes.

"There now," she murmured, rocking slightly. "You're safe here, little one."

Dumbledore watched them with concerned eyes before turning to address two house-elves who had appeared with soft pops.

"Tippy, Mipsy, we'll need appropriate food and drink for a toddler. Something soft and easily digestible would be best. And perhaps," he added, glancing at the eagle in McGonagall's arms, "some raw meat as well, just in case."

"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore, sir!" the elves chorused before disappearing.

Professor Sprout moved closer to McGonagall, watching as the small eagle gradually relaxed in her arms. "Poor dear must be terrified. How will we manage this, Albus?"

"We'll create a schedule," Dumbledore said, conjuring a piece of parchment. "Each of us can take shifts caring for young Harry when not teaching. The house-elves will assist during classes."

Professor Kettleburn raised his hand. "I'd be happy to help, but perhaps I should avoid direct childcare given my... current predicament." He gestured to his recently bandaged arm, courtesy of an overexcited Fire Crab.

A soft glow emanated from Harry as he transformed back into a toddler, exhausted from the emotional strain. McGonagall adjusted her hold, letting him rest his head against her shoulder.

"I believe we should set up quarters near mine," McGonagall suggested. "I have the most experience with Animagus transformations, after all."

Madam Pomfrey stepped forward. "I'll need to give him a proper check-up once he's settled. We should establish his baseline health, especially considering You-Know-Who used the Killing Curse on him. Who knows whether that left any injuries?"

As if on cue, Tippy and Mipsy reappeared with a tray of food. There was warm porridge, soft fruits, and a small portion of finely minced meat. Harry stirred at the smell, his small hand clutching McGonagall's robes.

"Let's get him fed and settled," Dumbledore said, rising from his chair. "Tomorrow, we can begin proper arrangements. For now, I believe young Harry has had quite enough excitement for one day."

The staff nodded in agreement, watching as McGonagall carried Harry toward the door. Before they left, Dumbledore added softly, "Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry Potter."

oo0ooOoo0oo

The years at Hogwarts slowly passed, and Harry grew from a frightened toddler into a curious, albeit eccentric child.

Professor Flitwick became a favorite companion during Harry's second year. The small wizard would levitate toys just out of reach, encouraging Harry to transform and catch them mid-air. These games usually ended with an exhausted but happy Harry curled up in his eagle form on Flitwick's desk, watching the professor grade papers.

Professor Sprout showed him the safer areas of her greenhouses, teaching him which plants were safe to touch. She noticed how he'd watch everything with sharp eyes - even at age three, he seemed to assess each situation carefully before acting.

But it was McGonagall who truly understood him. She recognized the signs of an impending transformation - the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his green eyes would dart around seeking escape routes.

Harry sat cross-legged on the floor of McGonagall's office, an introductory book on Transfiguration open in his lap. After a few minutes of staring at the same page, he closed it with a soft thump and walked over to where McGonagall was grading papers.

"Auntie Min," he said, using the name she allowed only in private, "can I go flying? Please? I'll stay close to the castle, promise!"

McGonagall set her quill down and looked at him over her square spectacles. "You've been very well-behaved lately..." she said thoughtfully.

"And I'll wear the bracelet!" Harry added quickly, bouncing on his toes. The black bracelet was enchanted to let the staff know where he was at all times - a necessary precaution given his tendency to fly off when upset.

"Very well," McGonagall said, reaching over to ruffle his perpetually messy hair. "Go on then."

Harry's face lit up as he grabbed the bracelet from its spot on her desk. The moment it was secured around his wrist, his body shifted into the familiar form of a golden eagle. With a happy chirp, he launched himself through the open window into the bright afternoon sky.

The wind rushed through his feathers as he climbed higher and higher, letting out joyful calls. Up here, he wasn't small anymore. Up here, nothing could hurt him.

His keen eyes swept the grounds below, searching. There - a flash of white. A rabbit, completely unaware of the danger above. Harry's body tensed as predatory instincts took over. One powerful wing-beat sent him into a steep dive.

The rabbit never stood a chance. Harry's talons sank into its back, and he carried his prize to a nearby oak tree. Landing on a thick branch, he kept the creature pinned down, watching it struggle with cold satisfaction.

Here was something smaller than him. Something he could control. After years of being surrounded by wizards and witches who could destroy him with a single spell, after feeling that constant awareness of danger, it felt good to be the powerful one for once.

Harry gripped the rabbit tighter as it squirmed, tilting his head to examine his catch. Just like the castle cats with mice, he loosened his hold slightly, allowing the rabbit to think it could escape before snatching it back. The rabbit's heart pounded against his talons as he repeated this game several times.

When the rabbit's movements grew weak, Harry peered down at the ground far below. He released the rabbit, watching it tumble through the branches. Before it could hit the ground, he swooped down and caught it again, letting out an excited screech.

"Harry James Potter!" McGonagall's voice cut through his play. She stood at the base of the oak tree, hands on her hips.

Harry dropped the now-lifeless rabbit and glided down to a lower branch, ducking his head.

"Transform back this instant, young man."

With a small pop, Harry changed back to his human form, perched carefully on the branch. "Sorry, Auntie Min," he mumbled, knowing he was in trouble but not quite sure why.

"We do not play with our food," she said firmly. "If you're going to hunt like an eagle, you must be quick and clean about it. Now come down here."

Harry carefully climbed down the tree, helped by McGonagall's levitation charm for the last few feet. She took his small hand in hers and began leading him back to the castle.

"But the cats play with mice," Harry protested, having to skip every few steps to keep up with her longer strides.

"And you are not a cat, are you? You are a boy who can become an eagle. Both boys and eagles should know better."

"But why?" Harry whined, dragging his feet as they walked. "The rabbit was smaller than me. And weaker."

McGonagall stopped walking and knelt down to his level. "That's exactly why we must be kind to those smaller than us, Harry. Just because we can hurt something doesn't mean we should."

Harry scrunched up his nose, unconvinced. The rabbit was weak - he knew that as surely as he knew the sky was blue. Just like he knew he could never beat Auntie Min in a fight, or any of the big students with their wands.

"But the rabbit was mine," Harry said stubbornly. "I caught it fair and square. And it couldn't hurt me back, not even a little bit."

"That's not the point-" McGonagall began.

"Is too!" Harry stamped his foot. "Everyone's bigger than me except the rabbits and mice. And the cats get to play with their food, and the older students get to practice spells on smaller things, and-"

"Harry James Potter," McGonagall's tone was stern. "Being stronger than something doesn't give us the right to be cruel."

Harry crossed his arms and pouted. He didn't think he was being cruel. The rabbit was his prey, and he'd caught it all by himself. If it was too weak to get away, then that was its fault, wasn't it? Just like how he had to be careful around the big people with their wands because they were stronger than him.

"Don't want to be kind," he muttered. "Want to be strong."

McGonagall sighed and took his hand again. "Come along. I think someone needs a snack and a nap before we discuss this further."

"M'not hungry," Harry mumbled. "Everyone knows I don't need to eat lots."

McGonagall slowed her pace, looking down at the small boy. "Are you quite sure? You've been flying for a bit."

"Don't want food," Harry insisted, swinging their joined hands back and forth. "The house-elves always give me too much anyway."

McGonagall pressed her lips together. It was true - Harry ate far less than any child his age should, yet he remained healthy and energetic. The healers they'd consulted hadn't found anything wrong, but it still concerned her.

"Perhaps just a small snack?" she suggested. "Tippy made those biscuits you like."

Harry's steps faltered for a moment at the mention of his favorite treats. "The chocolate ones?"

"Indeed." McGonagall felt a small smile tugging at her lips. "And I suppose we could skip the nap, since you're being honest about not being hungry."

"Promise?" Harry looked up at her hopefully, his earlier sulking forgotten.

"Promise. Though we still need to talk about being gentle with smaller creatures."

Harry's face scrunched up again, but he nodded. "Okay, Auntie Min. Can I have two biscuits?"

"We'll see," she said, leading him back toward the castle. Sometimes she wondered if raising a child at Hogwarts was the right choice, but moments like these - just the two of them, negotiating over biscuits - made her heart warm. Even if said child did occasionally torture rabbits in eagle form.

oo0ooOoo0oo

Harry's footsteps echoed softly through the empty corridor as he made his way past the suits of armor. Filius had been busy with some complicated charm work, and Harry had seized his chance to explore. It wasn't often he got to wander alone - the professors always kept such a close watch on him.

A silvery figure floated nearby, and Harry's face lit up when he recognized the Grey Lady. Ghosts were nice - they couldn't hurt him even if they wanted to.

"Hi!" he called out, waving at her.

The Grey Lady turned, her translucent form shimmering as she regarded him. "Good afternoon, young Potter," she replied with a slight nod.

"I saw a new painting yesterday," Harry told her excitedly. "It had dragons in it! Big ones! And they were all different colors and-"

The sound of voices and footsteps made Harry pause mid-sentence. Three older students in Slytherin robes rounded the corner, deep in conversation.

"I'm telling you, Flitwick's going to test us on Cheering Charms next week-" one of them was saying before stopping abruptly.

"Merlin's balls," another whispered. "Is that Harry Potter?"

Harry tensed but didn't run. He knew they could hurt him - their wands practically screamed danger to his senses - but Professor McGonagall had explained many times that the students wouldn't actually try to harm him.

"It is!" the third Slytherin grinned. "All alone too. No professors around to watch the precious Boy-Who-Lived?"

"We should teach him a little lesson about wandering off," the first one said, pulling out his wand. "Nothing too bad, just a bit of fun."

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry tried to dodge, but the spell hit his legs. His whole body turned stiff, making it impossible to run or transform. He fell to the ground, heart racing as more spells followed.

"Rictusempra!"

"Colovaria!"

Harry gasped for breath through forced giggles as his hair turned a bright pink. He couldn't escape, couldn't fly away. The familiar panic started rising in his chest.

"Cease this at once," the Grey Lady's cold voice cut through the laughter. Her usually serene face had turned stern with disapproval.

But Harry wasn't listening anymore. His green eyes had darkened, and something deep inside him warned that these students could seriously hurt him if they wanted to. He needed to get away, needed to be safe, needed to-

[Mist: Phobia - Final Fantasy IX] – Free, 100CP left

The Mist, much feared by those who fail to understand it, has propagated for ages over the Continents to varying degrees – so much so that it is now considered a fixture of Gaia rather than an oddity. You can manipulate Mist to a limited degree, inflicting upon those who are immersed in it a crippling sensation of panic.

Without Mist around, you can naturally conjure a small amount of Mist by converting it from magical power, cloaking yourself in it like a shroud. In areas of high Mist concentration or after burning a large amount of magic, those affected by the Mist will start seeing images of their phobias.

Something inside Harry knew he could say yes or no to this strange power. He didn't really understand what it was, but he was scared and it felt like it could help. Through his forced giggles, he mentally screamed 'YES!'

Harry immediately knew exactly what to do. He felt his magic stirring, changing into something else - a thin wispy fog that rose from his skin. It wasn't enough though. Even while the tickling spell made him laugh so hard his tummy hurt, Harry pushed more and more of his magic out, watching it turn into thick fog that crept toward the three older students.

The Slytherins didn't notice at first, too busy laughing at his pink hair and giggling. But then the fog reached their feet, swirling up around their legs.

"What's happening?" one of them asked, his smile dropping away.

Harry felt really tired now, like after flying for too long, but he kept watching as the fog got thicker around them. Then the screaming started.

"Acromantula! Get it away!" the tallest boy shrieked, shooting spells at nothing. "It's everywhere! Help!"

The other two weren't doing much better. One had dropped his wand and was running in circles, while the third had curled up into a ball, whimpering about You-Know-Who.

Harry would have laughed if he wasn't so exhausted. He'd never seen big kids so scared before.

The Grey Lady drifted away with an odd look at Harry, leaving him still frozen on the floor while the older boys stumbled around in terror.

A couple of minutes later, quick footsteps echoed down the hall, and Snape appeared. Harry would have made a face if he could. Snape was always mean to him, saying stuff like "Just as arrogant as your father" whenever Harry did anything wrong.

"What is the meaning of this?" Snape demanded, staring at his panicking students.

The Grey Lady floated back. "I believe they're under some sort of curse. Simple commands won't help."

Snape's frown deepened as he raised his wand, levitating the three boys away from the mysterious fog. They gradually stopped screaming, though they still looked pale and shaky.

"These students were attacking young Mr. Potter," the Grey Lady informed him. "They had him cursed with a Body-Bind and were casting hexes at him."

Snape's expression turned dangerous as he glared at the three Slytherins. "Finite Incantatem," he said sharply, pointing his wand at Harry.

Harry jumped to his feet the moment he could move again, staying well away from everyone else.

"All of you," Snape's voice was cold, "will follow me to the Headmaster's office. Now."

Harry trailed along behind them, wondering if he was in trouble too. At least his hair wasn't pink anymore, and Grandpa Dumbledore should take his side in this…