MetaFic

Harry awoke the next morning to the odd sensation of someone or something making snuffling noises in his ear.

At first Harry found this vaguely annoying, as he had been enjoying a rather odd dream involving chocolate eggs, racing brooms, and singing dwarves. He batted ineffectually at the source of the snuffling, which only increased in volume. He rolled away from the aggravating assault on his ear, but snapped awake in an instant when something cold and wet prodded him on the back of the neck.

"Aarrgghh," Harry yelled, jumping from the bed and reaching for his wand on the nightstand.

He popped up over the bed, using it for cover. He held his wand steady and searched for the source of the attack.

Ginger sat calmly on his bed, her tail swishing in amusement.

"Right," Harry said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Next time why don't you just pounce on my head for good measure."

The little calico cat gazed steadily at him for a few minutes, then jumped up on the windowsill and gave him a tiny meow.

Harry opened the window and watched shocked as Ginger leapt through it. When he looked out to see if the cat had survived the two-story fall to the ground, Harry found no sign that the cat had even jumped. He hoped that this was what Professor Lupin had been talking about when he told Harry that the window had been charmed to allow Ginger to come and go at will. He decided if Ginger was not back by dinner he would send an emergency note to the Weasleys, though how he planned to explain that he had lost their cat on the very first day was beyond him.

He need not have worried. By the time he returned from his morning shower, Ginger was sitting on his desk grooming a paw. The cat looked up sharply as Harry entered the room, still damp and wearing a towel firmly tied around his waist.

"What?" Harry said to Ginger, who was gazing at him like he was a particularly tasty bowl of cream. "Go on, give a bloke a bit of privacy." Harry scooped the tiny cat up and placed her in front of the flap at the bottom of his door. "Scoot. I don't fancy changing in front of an audience, even if it is just a cat." He gave Ginger a slight swat on the rump and, with tail held high and an indignant look on her face, the little cat stalked through the flap.

Harry dressed and went downstairs. He noticed Ginger standing in the table directly across from Dudley, but the Dursleys seemed oblivious to their furry houseguest.

Harry prepared his own breakfast then cleaned the dishes as the Dursleys continued to ignore him. With a wry smile he thought to himself he might was well be Ginger, completely invisible. Uncle Vernon had put down his paper and was starting for the door when, as Harry walked through the kitchen heading back up stairs, Dudley stuck one large foot in Harry's path. Harry went down with a thud.

"Have a nice trip Potter?" Dudley laughed at his perceived cleverness.

Harry sat up from the floor.

"Honestly boy, could you be anymore useless?" his uncle growled.

Harry knew protesting that Dudley had tripped him would just provoke an argument, and Harry felt it better to allow Vernon to leave peacefully.

Ginger felt no such compulsions.

Harry looked up just in time to see the Weasley cat give Dudley's milk glass a nudge with her nose. The full glass toppled over and the white liquid quickly ran down the table and into Dudley's lap. This had the effect of causing Dudley to jump in his chair, but the oversized boy got caught in the table, which tipped precariously. He jumped harder, determine to escape the flow of milk. The table tipped completely, causing the breakfast setting to crash to Petunia's perfectly polished floor.

Vernon Dursley turned to yell at his nephew, but Harry Potter was nowhere to be found. Vernon's mouth flapped shut. He looked at Petunia, who nodded tightly. With a relieved sigh, Vernon Dursley walked out of the door, whistling.

***

Harry lay back on his bed and laughed heartily. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two rashers wrapped in a napkin and passed them to his furred companion.

"That was brilliant!" he said to the cat. "I mean, I know I'll need to stay out of Uncle Vernon's way for a day or two, but it's worth it."

Ginger greedily started working on the thin strips of pork, her teeth tearing bits off in a very messy manner for such a dainty looking feline. Harry softly ran one hand down the cat's back, who looked up at him for a moment and gave him a small purr before turning her attention back to breakfast.

As Harry stroked the cat he realized that any number of people could have kept Ginger for the Weasleys.

That could only mean one thing; Ginger was sent to watch Harry.

He knew from dealing with Mrs. Figg's cats and Mrs. Norris that the felines of the magical world were different. Or perhaps, Harry mused, all cats were magical, but hid it from their Muggles.

Harry continued to scratch Ginger behind one ear as she ate. His feeling wavered in a confused manner. On one hand he was annoyed that Dumbledore had set a watcher on him. No, Harry thought, he was not mad about having a watch set on him. That was a reasonable thing to do. He was mad that, once more, Dumbledore was being dishonest with him. On the other hand, a part of him was touched that Dumbledore was willing to go to such measures to protect him. Harry sighed. He would have to find some way to either reconcile with the Headmaster, or at least make peace with him so they could work together. He would have to find some way to make the Headmaster understand that he, Harry, needed to be more in control of his fate.

He wondered vaguely if he confronted the Headmaster, would he be sent into exile like Ginny apparently had been? Harry thought exile might be worth it in the end.

Harry decided then and there he was through being Dumbledore's pawn in the war against Voldemort.

Harry's hand suddenly stilled as another thought came to him.

Ginger looked up at him, her eyes showing a mix of curiosity and concern.

Harry smiled and continued to stroke the cat along her back, as if everything was fine. He lay down next to the calico cat and continued to scratch her along the face, especially under the chin. Ginger leaned into his ministrations, purring mightily now. As he continued to pet her, Harry studied the cat closely.

Suddenly Ginger pulled away, as if realizing that Harry was regarding her too closely. She took the last rasher in her teeth and jumped down from the bed. Harry watched as the little cat took her food and dashed out of the flap on the bottom his door.

Harry watched her go. Few people realized just how smart Harry really was. This happened because he rarely applied himself to the fullest extent in class and because Hermione Granger overshadowed him in the academic skills department. But Harry Potter was no one's fool. Dealing with Voldemort had forced Harry to learn quickly how to think a thing through, lest he suffer a repeat of last term.

Harry knew good and well that Ginger was an animagus. And Harry intended to find out her identity.

***

For the next two weeks Harry and Ginger were inseparable companions. Harry found Ginger's presence soothing, and it had become something of a game with them for Harry to try and pick out little clues as to her identity. He figured it was someone he knew, because who else would be willing to completely give up their own life to be his guard.

On the fourth day of their living together Harry decided to have a little fun. When he returned from his shower, instead of booting Ginger out of the room while changed, he simply reached for the knot on the towel. As the towel came lose, Ginger suddenly became wide-eyed and stuck her head under one of Harry's pillows. This of course was the final clue that his companion really was an animagus, and so he began speaking to Ginger as if she were a real person instead of a cat. For the next five days Harry continued teasing Ginger in the morning with the towel, but finally one morning Harry dropped the towel and Ginger simply sat on the bed, ears and whiskers twitching, giving him a bold, appraising look.

Harry changed in the bathroom after that event.

Members of the Order continued to visit Harry. Lupin spent hours talking to Harry about his schools days and the mischief the Marauders caused. Bill and Charlie dropped in twice, both times spending nearly as much time watching Ginger as they did talking to Harry. Tonks brought letters from Ron, who complained about being bored in Grimmauld place and his lack of ability to discover the location of his sister. Hermione asked about his summer homework, fretted about her OWL results, and dropped tiny clues as to hers and Ron's new relationship. Mrs. Weasley came once and brought a large basket of food with a preserving charm cast of it so that the food would keep longer.

Harry never intimated that he knew what Ginger was to the Order members, and he methodically checked off any member who was in the room as the same time as Ginger, but found himself still no closer to discovering her identity than when he first started working on it.

It was the end of the fifth week of holiday when everything changed.

Harry was in the kitchen making himself and Ginger dinner. The Dursleys were gathered around the telly, having eaten an hour earlier while Harry was out helping Mrs. Garrity get rid of a particularly nasty set of weeds in her flower garden.

As Harry started up the stairs to his room he heard a warning buzz. He poked his head into the room the Dursley sat in. On the screen was a block of houses, which according to the woman reporting, was located in Kent. Dozens of houses were burning along several blocks, the fire raging out of control. Multiple fire brigades were on the scene, but the flames continued to move from house to house, driven by a sudden stiff wind that had sprung up. Harry stood in shock, all appetite gone.

He supposed it was because they were Muggles, and Muggle eyes tended to slide past anything they could not readily explain.

But Harry was magical.

There on the television screen floating in the air over Kent, a sickly green, was the Dark Mark.

The second war had begun.

Harry turned and walked upstairs, all thought of food gone from his mind. He entered his room and set the food down on his desk without turning on the light, then sat limply on his bed. Ginger's head snapped up from her nap at his uncharacteristic behavior.

"It's started," he said in a flat voice.

Ginger approached him and nudged her head against his hand. Harry scooped the tiny animagus up and hugged her close. He closed his eyes, lay down, and told her what he had seen on the screen downstairs.

"I'm glad you're here. I don't think I'd want to do this on my own." Harry suddenly had a thought. "Do you need to check in with someone? Because I'll understand if you do."

Ginger purred loudly and snuggled closer to Harry, letting him know she had no intention of leaving him alone. He gave her a small squeeze.

"Thanks."

Harry held Ginger close and shut his eyes. He was suddenly so tired. He did not know what he was supposed to do, so for the moment he decided to simply wait for someone from the Order to contact him. He closed his eyes.

"Kill the spare..."

"...she won't wake..."

Harry woke with a shiver. He was lying on top of his bed, still in his clothes from the day before. He let the tears flow freely. He did not care who heard. Great sobs wracked his body.

"I can't," he whispered.

Harry felt a gentle hand on shoulder.

"Sshh. It will be all right, Harry."

Harry sobbed harder and shook his head. "I can't do it."

"It's okay, Harry," the voice whispered.

Harry Potter turned over to see whom the gentle hand and soothing voice belonged to, but his glasses were off, his eyes were full of tears, and the room was dark. All he could make out was a pale face surrounded by red hair.

"Mum?" he whispered.

The woman, for Harry knew it was a woman, gathered him to her and held him close. "What can't you do, Harry?"

"I have to fight him, and I just can't, he's too strong."

She rocked him gently, "Why do you think you have to fight him?"

Harry closed his eyes and allowed himself to be soothed. He did not know who she was. He knew it could not really be his mother, but she seemed there to help him. Maybe it was his imagination, but there was something familiar about her. That was all Harry needed. He let the tears fall and told her everything. The prophecy. The pain of all the loss. His fears for his friends. He talked about the night in Dumbledore's office, and the horror of watching Cedric Diggory cut down without a second thought. He talked about the bitterness of living with the Dursleys. He talked about how horrible he felt after Mr. Weasley was attacked, and how it all came down to him, and him alone, to stop Voldemort. He talked until finally he could talk no more.

And through it all he was held, rocked, and for once, allowed to let his emotions free. For just that one moment, Harry Potter felt safe from the evils of the world, as the mysterious woman held him gently. Harry closed his eyes and, finally, slept the sleep of someone without the weight of the world on his shoulders.