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Chapter Text

  The Los Angeles heat beat down on Harry’s neck as he jogged at a steady pace. Music bled through his headphones from his iPhone. He kept in beat, left right, left right. August was muggy and it felt like he was wading through the air.

   Keep going Potter . Oliver Wood’s voice in his subconscious told him, as if he was running laps around the Quidditch pitch for practice. 

  His white Nikes tracked the Venice Beach pathway. He wasn’t out of place in his short running shorts and tank top with a rainbow on it. Here in California, he could be just another gay man running by the beach. It was freeing. 

  During the wizarding war in Britain, Americans had been facing their own crisis. Their Statute of Secrecy had fallen, at the same time that vampires and other supernatural creatures had become legal. Magical America had decided that if the supernatural could be accepted by the public, magic was the next logical step. 

  He slowed to a stop and checked the time on his wrist watch. 

  “Damn.” He switched the playlist over to his cool-down mix, and began the walk back to the parking lot. He needed to stop by the Black bungalow and shower before he headed to the California Resurrection Company for his first client of the night. 

  A shoulder bumped him while he dug into his neon green fanny pack for his keys. He jumped, wand shooting from his invisible wand holster on his forearm. It was pointed out before he could even take full stock of the situation. 

  The man who accidentally bumped him had his hands in the air the moment he saw the wand.

  “It was an accident! My bad!” His voice barely broke through Harry’s music. The beautiful man’s sea blue eyes were wide and scared, even while he towered over Harry’s small stature.

  Harry shook his head to clear it like an etch a sketch, flicking his wand back up into the holster. 

  “I’m sorry. You spooked me.” He slipped the headphones out of his ears and wound them up around his hand. 

  The man dropped his hands, giving a tentative smile. “I should have been more aware of my surroundings. My apologies.”

  Harry saw an opportunity and seized it, with all of his Gryffindor bravery. “You could make it up to me. Breakfast, tomorrow?”

  “Not dinner tonight?” The man’s tentative smile broke into a wide grin. 

  Harry smiled wryly and stuck out his hand to shake. “Harry Black, necromancer extraordinaire. I usually work through dinner. I get off work just in time for breakfast.”

  The man grabbed his hand and gave it a pump. “Antony. Antony Hallis.” Power crawled up Harry’s arm from where their hands were joined. Antony gave a nervous chuckle.

  “Cats out of the bag Antony. What flavor?” Harry’s smile was there, but his eyes were sharp. He let his magic dance up the unknown shifter’s arm.

  Antony gasped, before letting go of Harry’s hand. He chewed on his lip for a second, looking oh so very vulnerable. “Tiger. What are you?”

  “Do you want to find out?” Harry batted his eyes convincingly. Harry was just glad the man wasn’t a werewolf. 

  After a hesitant moment, Antony nodded. “Do you drive?” Harry asked. When Antony nodded again, Harry dug a business card out of his fanny pack. “Pick me up at the Resurrection Company at six. If you don’t see me outside, call the number here,” he pointed to the one with the word cell by it. Harry checked the time again. “If I don’t go, I’ll be late. See you in the morning.”

  Harry took off at a brisk jog to get back to his car. He could apparate, but he got a personal satisfaction out of driving his Jeep Wrangler with the top and sides taken off. It was almost as good as flying, but wasn’t heavily regulated by the no-mag like flying was. You take what you can get. Free magic, restricted air travel. In Harry’s opinion, it was perfectly fair.

  A quick hop had Harry in the yellow and black Jeep. He patted the dashboard, “C’mon Cedric. Let’s go home.”

  When Harry arrived in New York, his first purchase was a pre-owned 1989 Jeep Wrangler in a bright cheerful yellow. After a couple of weeks in a hotel, a corresponding drivers education class, and obtaining his license, Harry drove across the country. 

  It was halfway across the country when his tire went flat. He found himself crying on the side of the road, trying to change his first tire. It was here where he processed Cedric’s death. 

  The tire went flat. I have a spare.

  The spare is important. Cedric was important. It’s not my fault the tire went flat.

  Cedric’s death wasn’t my fault any more than the nail on the road was.

  Harry called AAA, and a technician came out and helped him learn how to put on a spare tire.

  A little help went a long way. It would have been nice if he had had help in the tournament, but he was here, in America, living a brand new life. 

  So he named the car Cedric, and in the very next town he bought four new tires and a full sized spare.

  Harry pulled into his driveway at half past and flung himself through his getting ready for work routine up until the last bit. A shower, teeth brushed, dressed. Quick. A cup of coffee nursed lovingly in his garden. Feeding his fish. Laying out food for the stray cats in the neighborhood. Slow and methodical. 

  The past year of his life had been an ode to loving himself and the world. Probably for the first time ever. He deserved it, he thought. Everyone deserved it, but Harry - Harry who walked to his death willingly to save the world - he needed it. Needed so desperately he had to run away from everything to find himself. 

  A glance at his watch had Harry cursing. Apparition it was. He’d come back for the car before heading to his raisings. He quickly patted down his pockets and did a final inventory, before turning on the spot and disapparating into the alleyway behind the high rise where the California Resurrection Company kept their offices.

  Harry flashed his name badge on his lanyard around his neck to the new security guy at the desk before scanning it at the elevator access panel. The elevator must have been on the way down, because it opened a few seconds after he scanned his badge. The opening doors revealed the daytime secretary for the Resurrection Company packing up to leave. The night time secretary would be in soon. Some of their animators preferred to take their client meetings in the morning, after a night of raising. He and a couple others took their client meeting at night, before their work. It was all a matter of opinion.

  Harry preferred to meet in the evening. He called it his warm up for dealing with the people who became clients of the company. 

  His first meeting on the books didn’t have any information in the file, just a copy of a driver’s license, an exorbitant check, and the receipt for that check. Jasmine usually included a workup of what the client wanted. It was unusual for the work up to be missing. 

  Harry hated flying blind. 

  He took a closer look at the driver’s license. Theodore Forrester.

  He smiled lightly, remembering his godson Teddy’s last visit. Disneyland had been a blast. Hopefully this man would live up to his name, in Harry’s eyes. 

  A knock sounded on his office door. He glanced at the clock over the door. The man was right on time. 

  “Come in,” Harry called, closing the file on his desk as the door opened. 

  An unassuming blonde man entered the room. He held a cowboy hat in the hand that wasn’t occupied with the door handle. His bright blue eyes pierced through Harry’s Avada Kedavra green eyes. A chill ran up Harry’s spine. 

  The harmless southern drawl that the man affected felt like a lie to Harry’s other senses. 

  “Hey there partner, I’m Ted Forrester.” He slipped into the room and shut the door behind him. 

  Harry stood, reaching out to shake his hand. If a killer had come through the door for him, he would get a better sense of the danger through touch.

  It was an added benefit that the man would be burned by Lily’s sacrifice if he intended any harm to Harry. The man didn’t even flinch as he grasped Harry’s hand.

  “Harry Potter-Black.” Harry remained holding the hand a moment longer than was polite to let his magic crawl up the hand of the unassuming man that screamed danger to Harry’s senses.

  Theodore Forrester blinked in shock, but didn’t pull his arm back. 

  “Your file was empty, Mr. Forrester. Can you clue me in to why we’re here?” Harry finally let their hands fall. He gestured to the plush chair on the client side of the desk. 

  “Yes… I know, well. Knew, Remus Lupin. He helped me on odd jobs now and again. The last time I heard from him he told me to stay out of England. Told me he had a godson with his type of magic. He said if something happened to him, I needed to make sure you were okay. You weren’t there when the will was read. You’re actually a tough man to find.”

  “Yet you found me.” Harry quipped.

  “Not to brag, but I am the best at what I do.”

  “If you were just trying to find me, you could have come to my house. No need to pay,” Harry opened the file, “Twenty grand, to my company for an hour of my time.”

  “Actually, I am here on business. Remus was the ideal man for a job I’m working on. I’m hoping you can take his place. I’ve been told that you have invested interest in my target.”

  “Killer for hire? Isn’t that illegal?”

  “Not when you’re hunting shapeshifters in a varmint laws state. The target is Fenrir Greyback. The local wolf pack wants him and his wolves out of their territory. Police want them taken care of too.”

  “You’re sure it’s him?” Harry asked tersely. 

  Ted reached into his jacket, pulling out a stack of photos. He slid them across the desk. A flicker of Harry’s eyes on the first photo showed Greyback in all his glory. He snatched up the pictures, flipping through photos of young children in various states of harm, all of them bitten. All of them presumed werewolves.

  “His signature is children, isn’t it Mister Black? Ted said mildly.

  “It is.” Harry whispered.

  “Are you in?” Ted questioned. 

  “Of course I’m in,” Harry snapped. “As if I could let him continue.”

  Ted smiled, sharp and predatory. It was the first truth he had seen on the man’s face since he entered the office. “The hunt is on. How do I contact you?”

  Harry opened up the drawer to the desk, rooting around for a second to find the business cards. He presented it to Ted. “I have raisings tonight, but I’m free for a week starting tomorrow. Mandatory fun time per boss’s orders. This seems like just the thing.”

  “We’ll get along great if this is your idea of fun.” The southern accent was all but gone. Interesting. Ted gathered the photos. “Thanks for seeing me.” They both stood and Harry gestured to the door. 

  “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.” 

  Harry huffed before taking a deep breath as the door closed. 

  So much for an easy client.

  He sat back down at his desk and reached for the next file. He opened it up to find the standard contents. Contract, client workup, copy of ID, check, receipt. A normal meeting as far as any went.

  His next three meetings were all normal, until the very last.

  “I’ve told you three times, Mrs. Lafferty. I can’t bring your son back from the dead.”

  “You have to! He didn’t deserve this!”

  “My boss Calinda already told you that we can’t raise murder victims. You insisted you hear it from me. I. Cannot. Raise. Your. Son.”

  “His murder deserves it! The police don’t have enough evidence for a trial!” 

  “Madam Lafferty!” Harry chided heatedly, his accent thick with rage. “What you are asking for would get me charged with magical Malfeasance! They would kill me for it! I will not take your case. You have been Blacklisted from the California Resurrection Company. Nobody will take your case here. I will be spreading word to all of the other animating firms in the country. Get out.”

  Harry’s magic was whipping around the room, making the air hard to breathe. Mrs. Lafferty stood shakily, then slammed the door on the way out of his office. 

  “Merlin, these damn Americans.”

  Harry’s magic dissipated from the room as he physically reigned in his self control. He took a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. 

  He stood, casting a gentle charm to unwrinkling his clothes and then exited his office, walking with purpose straight to the nighttime secretary. 

  “Wilson, darling,” he leaned against the front desk, “Madam Lafferty is asking for murder through magical malfeasance. Make sure the other animating firms are aware of her intentions.”

  Wilson Havol smiled brightly at him. The young eighteen year old college student was enamored with Harry. Harry used it to his advantage. “Anything you say, Mr. Potter-Black. Are you finished here for the night?”

  “Yes. I’m headed home to change methods of transportation and then I’m headed to my raisings. You have any homework you should be doing while you man the night time phones?”

  Wilson blushed brightly. “Yeah. I’ll get right on it. You’re the last one out.”

  Harry smiled at him one more time to reward the poor kid, before heading to the elevators. A scan of his badge summoned the elevator. Once inside, he tapped the button next to the G. The music was… Lackluster. He grimaced. At the bottom, he exited smoothly to an empty lobby, two lone security guards, one manning the desk, the other positioned by the door.

  “See you guys next week,” Harry waved as he opened the front door. 

  “Have a good vacation Harry.” The older guard at the desk commented.

  “Stay safe out there guys.” Harry returned in kind.

  A quick jaunt down the alley and he was apparating into his living room.

  As if somebody was watching him arrive home, which was impossible, his phone began ringing. Harry checked his watch. Eleven p.m.

  He lazily apparated into the kitchen next to the phone, burning off some extra magic that had been surging under his skin since his last meeting. He picked up the phone on the 12th ring.

  “Teddy-bear, my darling boy. It’s seven in the morning there. You could’ve called this evening for you, when I’m getting home from work. How’s school going? You ready for Hogwarts next year?”

  “Actually Harry… I’ve been talking with grandma Andy… I know you’re my magical guardian as my godfather. I wanted to know,” Teddy hesitated.

  “Spit it out kiddo, you know you’ll never make me mad at you.”

  “I wanted to know if I could go to Ilvermorny. Or the Salem Institute. Or the Natoosi School in Montana. I want to come live with you next year.”

  Harry took a deep steadying breath, feeling wholly out of his depth. “Andromeda thinks it’s a good idea?”

  “Grandma and Grandpa Ted got an invitation to go heal people at a conclave. It’s a… What did you call those? Once in a lifetime operation.”

  “Once in a lifetime opportunity Teddy-bear. Have you even talked about this with Andy?”

  “Not yet.” Teddy laughed. “I wanted permission from you before I forced them to go save lives and kick butt.”

  “Okay Teddy-bear. I’ll start making arrangements for you to live here starting next summer. I think you’ll like the local wolves, after I deal with this issue with a new friend.”

  “My pack is so stuffy! Grandma Andy hates them and Aunty Cissa thinks they’re all tosspots.”

  Harry could hear faintly over the line, Andromeda’s voice, clearly frustrated. “I told you not to repeat that Theodore!”

  “Alright buddy, I’ve got to go to work. Break it to them gently please.”

  “Yes sir!” Teddy agreed.

  Harry hung up the phone. That kid. Harry chuckled to himself, mentally calculating how many months he had until the beginning of next summer. A little under nine months. He could handle that. Teddy’s room was still set up from their Disneyland trip. He’d have to adjust his summer hours but Calinda Poirier was a fair boss, and Teddy could be trusted to not burn the house down. 

  Harry slung his magically expanded messenger bag over his shoulder. It contained all of his gear. A check of his watch had him cursing, before he turned on his heel, disapparating into the cemetery. He arrived with a soft Pop! 

  The lawyers jumped, looking around before settling on him. He was unassuming in a black button down shirt and black slacks, obsidian cufflinks glinting in the moonlight.

  One of the plaintiffs grumbled, “Witches and their devil magic.”

  Harry smiled sharply, all teeth. “My devil magic is either going to make you a very rich man, or a very poor widower. You could be a little more grateful.”

  The judge cleared her throat. “If you don’t have anything nice to say Mr. Clarke you can say nothing at all. Are we ready to get started?”

  “Yes madam judge. I’ll draw a circle with my steel and blood, call the deceased from the grave, I will feed her my blood and she’ll be able to answer questions you pose to her. You know the process, Judge Herning. We’ve been here before.”

  “Indeed Mr. Black. Please, if you will.”

  It was four in the morning when the lawyers had finished questioning Mr. Clarke’s wife. In the end, the judge ordered the insurance company to pay the accidental death policy, as she had fallen from the building, not jumped. The insurance company’s lawyers had used every minute of available time to grill the woman, hoping for some way to get out of paying.

  Harry only had one more raising, and luckily it was for some historians, not the court.

  The raising went off without a hitch, the historical society got their sound-bytes, and Harry apparated to the California Resurrection Company to meet his date.

  The sun was rising and peering through the high rises around the resurrection company. He stood outside the front doors and stretched his back out.

  When Antony pulled up on a motorcycle, Harry grinned like a madman. “Breakfast and a ride? How very generous of you.”

  Antony smiled at Harry, blushing crimson. “I thought you’re like this more than my old Ford Ranger. She’s for rainy days. 

  Antony looked up to the blushing dawn. “It’s going to be nice today. It’s a perfect day for the bike.” Antony said passionately, a faint hint of a blush on his cheeks.

  Antony held up a second helmet. Harry put it on, letting Antony get close to adjust the straps. Shifter energy danced across his skin where Antony brushed his fingers against in his quest to buckle the helmet.

  Harry chuckled throatily. “What a tease you are, letting your power dance on my skin.”

  Antony blushed even more brightly than before. “I can’t help it. Your magic practically invites me in.”

  Harry smirked, hidden by the helmet.

  “What are you? Antony breathed out.

  “I am either your worst nightmare, or biggest wet dream. Take me to breakfast.”

Chapter Text

  Pure joy soared through Harry as they drove down the dawn light freeway. Breakfast had been amazing. Antony took him to a little hole in the wall that he claimed had the best pancakes in LA. Harry and Antony had sat on the same side of the booth and let their powers play across each other’s skin. Antony asked five times what flavor of lycanthrope Harry was. 

  Harry had just smiled and said “I’m magic, what do you mean? I can be whatever you want me to be sweetie.”

  Here, pressed tight to Antony’s back, he could feel their beasts rubbing against each other metaphysically. Harry’s ambiguous magic twining against Antony’s tiger. A purr rumbled in his throat, his beast’s pleasure audibly announced. Antony shifted in front of him, jeans suddenly just a smidge too tight.

  It had been too long since Harry had any physical contact with somebody over the age of ten. He hadn’t realized just how much skin hunger he had. 

  Antony really checked all of his boxes too. He had a type of magic, he was handsome, he didn’t feel like a threat. If Harry wasn’t careful he was going to end up inviting the man into his home. He’d have to look up the polyamory thing Antony had mentioned in passing before he jumped in head first.

  Too soon they pulled up to the Black Bungalow. Harry held on for a second longer, before hopping off of the bike. He let Antony unbuckle his helmet and then pulled it off.

  “This has been… You are.. Incredible.” Antony breathed when his own helmet was off. “Let me see you again. Please.”

  Harry grinning roguishly. “It would be bad form to invite you to stay the night on our first date.”

  Antony trailed his hand over the side of Harry’s face, then cupped his cheek gently. “It would be bad form for me to miss work when you desperately need sleep.”

  As Antony leaned in, Harry whispered, “Bad form indeed..” 

 Then, they were kissing. Soft, gentle, and full of passion. Harry didn’t even notice the tears falling down his face. Finally, Antony broke away, dropping his hand and resting his forehead against the shorter man’s. “She feels lonely..” Antony whispered. “You feel so lonely.”

  “She is.” Harry whispered. “I am.”

  “When are you off work next, kitten?” Antony pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I think you need some contact with your own kind.”

  Harry chuckled wetly. “I’m on vacation technically. I have a client for some non-zombie business though.”

  “I work until 4pm today… Can I come over after? I’ll bring the gang. We can have a cuddle pile.”

  Harry blushed.

  “Oh,” Antony leered, “Were you looking for me to defile you?”

  They both laughed, the tension fading. 

  “Maybe.” Harry admitted. “But a cuddle pile sounds nice. Do you know many colors of tiger or any other feline lycanthropes?”

  “Am I not enough for you? I am a gold tiger.” Antony teased.

  Harry smiled, then frowned. “I’m not a tiger. I’m more.”

  “Oh.. Like Anita Blake? Do you shift?”

  Harry frowned deeper. “Of course I shift. How can you have Lycanthropy and not shift?”

  “Wait until I tell you all about the politics of Saint Louis. You picked a much better place to be, let me tell you. Things are way more normal here. Going to give me any idea of what type of cat to bring? I might have to call the Furry Coalition if you need somebody more flavorful, like snow leopard.”

  Harry felt like a frown was permanently etched into his face. He turned his attention inward, taking stock of the giant prehistoric panthernae. He approached her mentally, placing a hand on the bridge of her massive nose. ‘What do you want,’ he asked her. ‘Let us help.’

  Images of big cats flashed through his head. “Tiger, Leopard, Jaguar.” he announced out loud for Antony’s benefit.

  “You’re in luck. Me and the boys have you completely covered. I’ll rally the troops after work.” Antony thunked his forehead against Harry’s a final time, looking deeply into Harry’s eyes. 

  “You need to get some sleep, and I need to go to work.”

  Harry whined softly, before nodding. “It’s only a few hours.” Harry agreed. “Call me when you get here, my wards will keep you out until I key you in.”

  Antony smiled softly at him, pulling away a fraction before delivering a toe curling kiss.

  Antony watched Harry enter the house and close the door before he whipped out his cell phone and shot a message through his discord group. 

I met a shifter. Cat flavored, I think. Everybody free tonight for a cuddle pile? He’s lonely and so is his cat. I don’t think he knows any other local shifters. British, of all things. You know how bad the clans, pards, and prides are over there.

  Antony spilled the phone into his pocket, buckled his helmet on, and mounted the bike. He was completely unaware of Harry watching him leave through the window.

  Harry was emotionally wrung out. He trailed his clothing behind him as he trudged to his bed at the far back of the house. A wave of his hand had his clothes collecting themselves in his clothing hamper. 

  “Nasty tiger should keep his filthy paws off of Lord Black,” grumbled a voice from inside the closet. Pajamas were hucked at him from the dark walk in closet, followed by Kreacher walking out. “Did filthy cat Master even eat breakfast?”

  “I’m not filthy Kreacher.” Harry smelled his armpits. “Okay maybe I am filthy. But I did eat breakfast!”

  “Kreacher already draws a bath.” 

  “You’re a lifesaver, Kreacher. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

  “Starve. Get blood on Kreacher’s linens. Drink too much.”

  Harry grinned, not the least bit ashamed. “Thanks buddy. Love you too.”

  Harry left the pajamas on his bed and spent forty-five minutes in the bath researching polyamory. He made himself aware of the different relationship types. He stopped abruptly when the content he was viewing veered into smut novels. The bubbles had long side faded and the epsom salt had soaked relaxation into his aching joints.

  He dragged himself from the cooling bath, cast a wandless drying charm - studiously ignoring the way it made his hair worse than usual - and got his pajamas on. When he was under the blankets in the enormous family sized bed, with his wand tucked under his pillow, all of the lights in the house shut off. Kreacher had already closed the curtains before downing the lights, so the house was bathed in pitch dark. The central air conditioning kept the house cool as a tomb.

  When Harry finally slept for the day, he dreamt of running with a whole host of different big cats. He dreamt of his own beast, shifting and changing through the different flavors of big cat before settling on the hulking ancient form of cat his lycanthropy was based in. 

  When he awoke in a panic, it was to his cell phone ringing out a familiar song. His ring tone. Not his alarm. He took a deep breath to settle himself, before reaching for the lit up, humming, vibrating monstrosity.

  “Hello?” He answered. 

  “Harry!” Antony greeted him. “It’s six p.m. and I brought food and company. Want to come let us in?”

  Harry smiled against his will. “Alright. Let me change and I’ll be right out.”

  Harry staggered to his feet, shaking the sleep out of his gangly limbs. A quick trip to the dresser had him outfitted in a set of short shorts and a tank top that read Gay the Pray Away , from his work out clothes collection. 

  At the front door Harry slipped on his Crocs, then unlocked the physical locks on the door. A wave of his hand dissipated the locking charm on it. The half open curtains left by Kreacher had not prepared him for the bright evening sun. He squinted down the garden pathway to the group of people just on the other side of the red picket fence. 

  They were all massive. Harry raked his eyes over the tall, broad men. As he walked closer, the broiling lycanthrope energy spilled across his skin and he let out a gasp, drawing the attention of the group.

  “Antony,” Harry greeted cheerfully. “You’ve brought me a smorgasbord. What a group of attractive cats.” Harry met them at the gate.

  “Harry, meet the Kings of the cat groups here in Los Angeles.” Antony smiled.

  “I, of course, am your dear heart Antony, King of the Gold Tigers of LA.” Antony flexed his arms and back, jokingly showing himself off. “My darling Andrei here,” he motioned to a broody looking fellow, “Is Czar of the Pumas.” The Puma Czar waved his hand, the black bangles accenting his chain pants and black and white striped long sleeve shirt. His dark indigo eyes caught Harry in a way he wasn’t often enthralled.

  Andrei gave a half smile. “I too, come from elsewhere.” His accent was slavic, but his English was impeccable. “Mother Russia did not let me go gently.”

  “Britain had a hard time letting me go as well.” Harry smiled at the Russian. “But here we are.”

  “Here we are.” Andrei agreed.

  “This is Caspian,” Antony cut in. “Caspian is the Ajaw of the Jaguar tribe.”

  Caspian was dark tan, with black hair and black eyes. When he spoke, it was with a Spanish lilt. “It is.. My genuine pleasure to meet you.” He took Harry’s hand and placed a delicate kiss on the back of it before stepping back.

  “Kristian, Nimer-Raj of the leopards.” Antony pointed.

  Kristian was the shortest of their group, still six inches taller than Harry. He had dyed lavender hair and golden leopard eyes. He had a casual American accent, much like Antony. 

  “You’ll have to excuse these lunkheads. We’ve never had such a pretty cat move into our territory. Did you have a pride or a pard back home? Or a clan?”

  “Antony thinks you’re a little queen.” An unintroduced man followed, before he could answer. “But you feel like a lion as much as you feel like a tiger.”

  “That absolute barbarian is John. He’s our Lion Rex. He has the subtlety of a battering ram.” Anthony interrupted. 

  “Well…” Harry began, finally opening up about the matter. “Technically I can be any big cat. My genus is panthernae - but there isn’t a name in recorded history for the type of cat I am. The healers back home theorized that my breed of lycanthropy comes from my genetics. I’m a born shifter. I shifted for the first time on my twenty-first birthday without ever being bitten by a lycanthrope.”

  “The implications of that are astounding. Most born shifters here begin shifting when they hit puberty.” The last man left to be introduced said. He was wearing glasses and a button down, with a sweater vest and slacks. Everything about him screamed academic.

  “Magical gifts in Britain… They are sporadic in the ancient wizarding families. Most have disappeared entirely due to inbreeding. My godson’s mother was born with a special power after her mother married outside of the ancient families with a new blood. My dad was from an ancient family, but my mum was newblood. It only makes sense that I got my inheritance because new blood was introduced into my family. I got it late because I reached my magical maturity late. I was.. Not treated well as a child and my development was delayed because of it.”

  The men shared dark looks before Antony broke the tension. 

  “The nerd back there is the Maharaja of the Lynx. His name is Proctor.”

  Harry’s stomach growled and Antony laughed. “We brought food. Well. Several of us brought food so there’s a few different options.”

  Harry grimaced when he remembered the wards. “Okay, I don’t know how much you guys know about blood magic, but I promise I’m not using voodoo or necromancy.” Harry cut the palm of his hand and laid it on his fence. “To enter my wards I need you to bleed on the fence where I did. If you have any ill intent, you’ll suffer consequences."

   “Nobody is interested in hurting you darlin’.” Proctor announced firmly, before using a claw to slice his hand. He placed it on the fence and shivered when the magic pulsed through him.

  “That was wild.” Proctor announced, before joining him on the other side of the fence. 

  The other men followed suit, and soon they were all sprawled across Harry’s living room floor. Harry was leaning against the couch, seated on the floor. He was bracketed by Antony and Caspian. Proctor was unpacking burgers while John unpacked barbeque. Andrei was passing out Starbucks and sodas. Kristian had carried in a crock pot full of creamy cheese dip with a brown paper grocery bag filled with home made tortilla chips and set it in the kitchen.

  Nobody was reigning in their energy and Harry felt more at home than he ever had in the Black Bungalow. 

  “Not to knock Proctors burgers,” John began, “But I’ve been nursing this barbeque in the smoker for the last 24 hours.”

  Harry put two and two together. “You guys were already planning on hanging out tonight. And now you’re all here instead of doing whatever you planned on!” Harry was mortified.

  “Harry, kitten,”John reassured, “All we are missing is D&D. We’d much rather settle you into the community. You never did say whether you had a group back in Britain. How long have you been in LA?”

  “I’ve been in LA for five years.. What’s D&D?” Harry asked.

  “Dungeons and Dragons! It’s a roleplaying game where you pretend to be a hero-” Proctor began.

  “Or villain!” John interjected.

  “Or a villain. John favors neutral evil characters.”

  “Proctor is just mad because I always derail his campaigns.” John laughed.

  “I’m the dungeon master. That means I run the campaign and tell the stories. It also means I play every single character in the story that isn’t being played by one of these guys.”

  “That sounds like a lot of work. You must be very capable.” Harry flirted.

  Proctor blushed and John laughed at him. 

  Kreacher popped into the living room laden down with bags, scaring the daylights out of the various kings of the big cats. 

  As quickly as he had been frightened, Proctor adjusted his glasses to look closely at Kreacher.

  “Harry.. Is this a… Friend? Of yours.” Proctor asked diplomatically.

  “Kreacher is my best friend. He’s a house-elf. They feed off of wizard magic and in turn they serve the house that feeds them. He’s served the house of Black for generations. He’s saved my life. Killed my godfather too but what good friendship doesn’t start with a little bit of drama?”

  “Nasty dogfather deserved it for leaving Master Harry with those nasty Muggles. Disgrace to the House of Black.”

  “Kreacher,” Harry huffed, “We’ve been over this. I loved him anyway. Kreacher, this is Antony, Proctor, Andrei, Caspian, John and Kristian.”

  “It is being good for Master Black to be having other big cats.” He brandished a knife from nowhere. “Stay out of Kreacher’s kitchen.”

  “Uh.. Can we have the chips and dip out of the kitchen please Kreacher?” Kristian broached.

  “Kreacher will bring.” Kreacher agreed. He popped away, and seconds later the chips and dip appeared between them on the low coffee table on an elaborate serving tray with a fancy bowl.

  “I love magic.” Proctor breathed out.

  “Me too,” Harry agreed. 

  When everyone had eaten, Proctor brought up the elephant in the room. “Antony said you need some shifter cuddles, asap. Do you feel comfortable enough with us to curl up and get some rest?”

  Harry thought for a moment, focusing on the magic thick in the room. His magic and his beast were in agreement. They liked these men. 

  “Proctor and Antony on either side of me. The rest of you can fill in around us, I think.”

  “Living room floor? Your bed probably can’t handle seven people.”

  “My bed can handle all of us,” Harry grinned. “It’s family sized.”

  Laughter broke out in the room at his suggestive tone, before Kreacher poked his head out of the kitchen. “All you dirty dirty cats will be doing is sleep. Master Black,” Kreacher glared at Harry, “Knows better.” A knife was held in one of his hands, waving at the group of lycanthropes. “None of yous shall defile my master on the first date.”

  John and Proctor put their hands up in surrender but Antony laughed. “Technically, this is our second date, if you want to call it a date.”

  Kreacher glared venomously and hucked the knife. It implanted itself in the couch next to Antony’s head. The smell of hot shifter blood willed the room as the knife nicked Antony’s ear. Antony blanched. “Alright alright. No defiling. Promise.”

  “Good.” Kreacher confirmed. 

  Everybody started to stand after Harry, the mess from dinner long since collected in an orderly pile on the coffee table. 

  “Man this is awkward,” Harry admitted. “The only men I’ve had in my bedroom have been drunken flings. It is so weird leading a group of hot men I can’t have sex with into my bedroom sober.”

  “I’m sure you’ll survive,” Antony said wryly. 

  Harry blushed, before throwing his hands up, then he led them deep into the bungalow, past the guest rooms, formal dining room, and library. Harry had had to tug Proctor along to get him to stop ogling the library, with its double doors left wide open. The magically expanded space was easily the size of the entire bungalow’s outside. 

  At the end of the third dimly lit hall they traversed, Harry steamed ahead into his bedroom, the closet and bathroom left open. The kings trickled in after him.

  “Your house is a lot bigger on the inside.” Proctor observed.

  “It is. It must be magic.” Harry smiled coyly at him. Harry took a running leap, depositing himself in the middle of the enormous bed. He looked tiny compared to the bed, especially surrounded by the pile of pillows and blankets. 

  John, ever one to put his foot in his mouth remarked, “That bed could swallow you whole if you’re not careful!”

  “Good thing I am very very careful,” Harry winked at him.

  Antony groaned. “We promised to keep our hands to ourselves guys. Let’s not give Harry’s friend a reason to hurt us.” Antony crossed the room, climbing into the bed on the right. He scooted gracelessly up to Harry, then manhandled Harry into a spooning cuddle. Harry giggled before settling into it. Proctor crawled into the bed, a little more gracefully, every inch the predator. He nestled close to the front of Harry, then draped his arm over Harry and Antony as if he did it every night.

  The rest of the guys filed into the bed in an order that seemed too practiced to be new to them. Harry couldn’t let it rest. He had to ask. “Antony said he was polyamorous. Are you guys…?”

  “Yes.” John said gruffly from his position on the outside right. His fingertips were gently grazing Harry’s back. Giants, the lot of them.

  “Oh.” Harry thought for a minute. “Isn’t that weird, since you're all different species?”

  “Well, aren't you a little racist.” John snarked, sleep crusting his voice.

  “I don’t mean it like that! Back home, nobody mixes. It’s why I didn’t have a pack.”

  “Packs are wolves, Harry.”

  “Sorry.. Sorry. I just don’t know these things. I never - I never had anybody.”

  “Nobody?” Proctor whispered into his hair with a sad tone.

  “Nobody.” Harry agreed mournfully.

  “You haff us now.” Andrei insisted, half awake. “We vill not let you go so easily.”

  As if telling them to go to sleep, the dimmed lights in the house switched off. Kreacher managed to be bossy even without being in the room.

  Harry snuggled back against Antony, tucking his head under the man’s chin. He let the anxiety bleed out of his body, and surrendered to the sweet embrace of sleep, feeling fully protected. His wand wasn’t even in the room, let alone under the pillow.

Chapter Text

  Harry awoke in the early twilight feeling a bit claustrophobic. He wasn’t used to being surrounded on all sides. He shimmied down the bed and out of the puddle of shifters. He made his escape to the bathroom with little fanfare. 

  He handled his business - toilet, brushed teeth, washed face. When he exited the bathroom, the pile of bodies in his bed was almost undisturbed. Antony and Proctor had crowded in to fill the space he’d left. He smiled absently before navigating the house. Down the hallways, through the living room, into the kitchen. 

  Kreacher was lovingly polishing the Black silver. When Harry entered the room Kreacher looked up briefly before continuing his steady ministrations. Harry padded over to his simple coffee machine. He eyed the espresso machine Kreacher had procured with distrust. Every time he used it, his coffee was terrible. Every time Kreacher used it, the coffee was the most divine caffeine Harry had ever had.

  When he and Kreacher had bargained for Kreacher’s working conditions, Harry had been firm that Kreacher would have down time. It wasn’t quite 6 am, so Harry would not be asking the house elf to do anything he didn’t volunteer to do. The elf looked busy anyhow.

  Harry pulled the coffee jar down from the cupboard. Kreacher pre-ground coffee beans for him once a week while Harry was out of the house. The sound of the grinder was Harry’s least favorite part of having coffee. He dutifully loaded enough coffee grounds to make a full pot of coffee.

  He pressed the start button then leaned against the counter and watched Kreacher work.

  Soon the house was beginning to smell like fresh coffee. Drawn by the smell, John came pattering into the kitchen in just the joggers he had worn yesterday, shirt and socks long since discarded somewhere or another. 

  “Good morning.” John said hoarsely, sleep still clouding his voice, making it an octave deeper. 

  Kreacher banged the silver and rag down on the table, hissing through his teeth at John.

  “Mmm. No noise in the kitchen before six in the morning.” Harry chided at a whisper. Harry took a mug from the hooks hanging under the cupboard, poured a cup three fourths of the way, and handed it over to John.

  Kreacher resumed his careful loving duty.

  John pantomimed zipping his lips and accepted the coffee, doctoring it with the fresh cream and sugar Harry gestured to. They stood together leaning against the counter as the dawn crept through the big window over the kitchen sink. They soaked up the breaking light and companionable silence until Kreacher finally announced, “Kreacher’s down time is over. I be’s doing laundry now. Do not sully Kreacher’s kitchen.”

  Harry laughed. “I won’t hurt your kitchen Kreacher. This is your space.”

  Kreacher popped away, leaving Harry and John alone.

  John cleared his throat. “I’m not the best at.. Words and stuff. I’m a man of action.”

  “I can relate to that sentiment.” Harry admitted. 

  “So you’ll understand if I don’t tell you how pretty you are, or how interesting you are. You’ll understand when I express my interest by showing up. By being there for you..”

  Harry cleared his throat. “I know you guys are all in some sort of,” he waved his hand around in a figure eight, “Some sort of relationship. Based on my understanding of lycanthropes that just shouldn’t work. You’re a lion, you’re meant to be possessive according to the literature.”

  John blushed. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, almost distracting Harry with the delicious curve of his body. “I uh.. I.. I like sharing.” He admitted. “I wasn’t raised in a traditional pride. I grew up with the hippie nonsense from my parents. Our pride were traveling performers. Free love, Free - Free everything. I don’t even know who exactly my dad is because we all shared parents. Dominant lions were dads - regardless of gender. Submissive parents were moms. Us kids, well. We have different instincts than most.”

  “And the other guys?”

  “Well, Proctor would be happy with just the six of us, he never wanted a maharani. He’s gay and didn’t want to take a wife just to please his janajaati - his tribe. Antony needs a little queen in order to formally start his clan, right now he is just the face in front of his mother’s throne.”

  “Andrei?”

  “Andrei is madly in love with Antony and Proctor. He’s emotionally invested in the rest of us and we are together but we aren’t quite as important to him as Ant and Proc. He seems to really like you already.” John mused.

  “Is that like - primary and secondary partners?”

  “We don’t practice hierarchical polyamory. We’re all equals, some of us are just closer to some individuals in our group as opposed to others. Andrei lives in an apartment with Proctor. Kristian and Caspian live together. Antony lives on his family’s compound and I’ve been slumming it on my own. Andrei will always put Proctor first among us - because they have to live together and see each other every day. They share a bed every night. Harmony in your home is an important part of polyamory.”

  “I see. So things would be different if everyone lived together?”

  “If we could all live together we would already be, chickadee. Antony can’t move out of his family’s compound until he finds his little queen.”

  “And he thinks that could be me.” Harry finished. 

  “Honestly Harry, we all see potential for you to be our queens. The only real shoe in the gears is you being receptive to any of us. Or all of us.”

  “You’re unicorn hunting me! Right? That’s the right phrase?”

  “Technically, unicorn hunting is when a female-male couple seeks out a bisexual woman to date both of them. We’re a group of gay and bisexual men who happened upon a man with the type of female cat we all need to provide security to our groups. My pride, Antony’s clan, Andrei’s range. Caspian’s leap. Kristian’s pard. Proctor’s janajaati. We all need a queen.”

  “Apartment, flat. What’s the difference?”

  John laughed, a mischievous look on his face. “I guess you’re right. I suppose we’ll all have to date you separately, and take care of you as a team.”

  Harry stammered as his face grew hot. He was bright red and no closer to stringing a sentence together when Antony entered the room. “Oooh, coffee. Is it still warm?” Antony took stock of the silence and Harry’s bright red face. “John, darling. Don’t break the poor dear.”

  “Just like that. You all want to date me?” Harry rubbed his face with both of his hands. “I went from meeting one guy to.. To..”

  “Instant polycule?” Antony suggested helpfully with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

  Harry glared at him. “You’re not unicorn hunting me, Antony. You can all date me individually and we’ll see where it goes.”

  “About that coffee though?” Antony said hopefully.

  “It’s still warm. Magic is nice like that.” Harry handed him a cup from under the cupboard.

  “Are all your appliances magic?” John asked, eyeing the fridge.

  “Yes. They’re American made wizarding inventions. Made with magic to fit into a no-mag household.”

  “How does it work though? Just magic?” Antony queried curiously. 

  “The coffee pot specifically? Or do you want a broad explanation of how all of them work?”

  “Well-”

  Antony began but John interrupted quickly. “A broad explanation. It’s early Ant.”

  Antony frowned but nodded. “An overview. For John’s sake.”

  Harry took a deep pull from his coffee cup, draining it.

  “There’s a series of charms - which are a specific branch of spells, that are anchored with runes - which are magical languages that we write on things to imbue them with magic. An entirely new set was made for making magic work with electricity, in my youth magic would interact…. Poorly, with electronics.“

  Proctor entered the kitchen just in time to be privy to Harry’s explanation.

  “So the runic alphabets have ties to magic?” Proctor mused, voice rough with sleep. “The implications of that are just astounding. We could learn so much more from ancient burial sites if we knew what they meant magically.”

  “There’s actually a whole profession for breaking the magic on those tombs and making them safe for the no-maj who may discover them. It’s called curse breaking.”

  Proctor blinked at Harry a few times. “The Curse of the Mummy?”

  “A magical curse from a magical Pharoah meant to keep no-maj from raiding his tomb during his afterlife. Particularly gruesome. The no-maj had to be obliviated of the magical aspects of the curse multiple times.”

  “Obliviated?” John questioned.

  “It’s a curse that makes people forget things. If you’re really good at it you can make people believe something completely different occurred. It’s been outlawed by MACUSA ever since the statute of secrecy fell.”

  “I remember something from the news about that. MACUSA is the Magical Congress of the United States right?” Antony finally poured himself a cup of coffee while he spoke.

  “Got it in one.” Harry confirmed. “They’re in charge of everybody magical in the USA. They’re pushing to be in charge of the preternatural too.”

  “Vould that help, or hinder us?” Andrei asked as he joined the group, a contrast to the others, fully dressed and showered.

  “Hmm. I think it would help. We have the means to detain lycanthropes and vampires - so instant execution would be used less and only in extreme circumstances. It would be our Hit Wizards that handle raids, and they’re trained to only escalate to lethal force when there isn’t another option. With magic, there’s usually another option.” Harry frowned at his empty cup of coffee before fixing himself another cup. 

  Kristian padded into the room on socked feet, spanked shorts leaving little to the imagination. He draped himself around Harry casually, ignoring Harry stiffening before relaxing. He rested his chin on the top of Harry’s head, eyes barely open. “The bed was cold. You all left me.” He accused, before turning his head to yawn.

  “Vhere’s Caspian? I left the two of you layabouts together.” Andrei said. “I imagined you’d be asleep for another hour.”

  “He’s trying to figure out the shower. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “You hit the Laguz.” Andrei said as if it was common sense.

  Harry blinked a couple of times. “You know runes?” 

  “Da. Some.” Andrei confirmed. “My father is dormant. Uncle Dru is a wizard.”

  Harry’s rune-enhanced cellphone popped into existence on the counter, ringing loudly. Kreacher’s doing, no doubt. “Andrei, will you help Caspian with the shower?” Harry scooped up his phone, answering it just in time. “Potter-Black.”

  “Forrester. You alone?”

  Several of them chuckled when Harry replied “Not in the least.”

  “Cannon fodder?” Edward said seriously. The glares going around the room made Harry smile.

  “Not sure. Let me take this somewhere else.” Harry muted the microphone on the phone. “I’m going to take this downstairs. It’s work. I don’t know how much I can tell you guys. Clear out of the kitchen and Kreacher can start making breakfast. There’s a TV in the lounge with plenty of Blueray and the library is open. Don’t try to go near the shelves past the wrought iron fence. All sorts of nastiness in there.” Before any of them could respond, Harry spun on the spot, disapparating into the basement. His charmed phone survived the journey, not even disconnecting the call since he didn’t move between cell phone towers. 

  Harry turned the microphone back on, holding the phone to his ear again. “Alright, we can speak freely. I’m currently entertaining the heads of the cat groups here in LA.”

  “That would explain why the Coalition can’t reach them to secure safe passage into their territory. If you can get them to return Micah’s calls, that would be helpful. It’s all hands on deck for the Marshals, and Anita Blake is one of the best. She can’t travel alone.”

  “She wouldn’t need permission if she wasn’t bringing cats. You trust her people?” Harry said speculatively.

  “With my life, over and over.”

  Harry chewed on his lip before asking, “Do you know anything about the cat alphas of LA?”

  Edward cleared his throat. “I know they killed the last threat to the Master of the City. I know the Master of the City is considered second to their group in your area. There are rumors they’re all seeing each other. It’s rumored that the tiger prince is entrenched in the Master of the City’s bed.”

  “They certainly don’t sound like cannon fodder. Are there files I can look at, CCTV, anything to help me help you deal with Greyback?”

  “Yes and yes. You’ll have to come to headquarters tomorrow and meet with everybody and look at the files. Bring the lot of them with you. Get them to call the Coalition back, preferably in the next hour.”

  “Got it. Marching orders. I’ll bring what I have on Greyback.”

  The line clicked off, and Harry looked at his phone, puzzled. What happened to the polite American goodbye? Harry shook his head, paying it no mind. He surveyed the basement room he had popped into. His magically expanded filing cabinets lined the wall he was facing. He approached the cabinet for the second wizarding war, opening the second drawer.

  The drawer opened as if it was normal, however as Harry dragged the files forward and they disappeared, more came into view behind them. He finally came to a rather large looking file labeled Fenrir Greyback. He pulled it out of the cabinet, and shut the drawer with his hip.

  His next stop in the room was the wall of industrial shelves covered in shrunken boxes opposite the cabinets. He glanced across the shelf labels, settling on Death Eaters. He pulled down the small box labeled Greyback among the alphabetized boxes.

  With a glance at his wall of monitors and computer, he headed for the door. Up two flights of stairs he exited the stairwell into the lounge. The repelling charms on the door made it seem as if he just appeared in the room with everybody. The group had all stood and turned around, alarmed.

  “Who has their phones on them?” Harry asked, arms full of the box and file.

  “Uhh..” Antony looked around. “I think we all left our phones with yours on your little magic charging pad. I don’t think anybody has even looked at them today.”

  “Well, apparently some Coalition is looking to get ahold of you guys for safe transit. I’ve been instructed to bring you all with me on this job. That Anita Blake person you guys mentioned is coming I guess.”

  “I better call Liette. It’s still early enough that she shouldn’t be down for the day.” Antony made for the door immediately.

  Harry turned to Proctor. “Liette?”

  “Master of the City.” Proctor supplied helpfully. “She’s his godmother.”

  “Oh.” Harry mulled it over. “Shouldn’t one of you be contacting the Coalition?”

  “Antony vill vhen he has talked to Liette. Ve vill trust him to speak for us. As Liette trusts him to speak for her.” Andrei supplied.

  Harry’s attention was drawn to the TV. Spirited Away was playing. “Well. At least you guys picked my favorite movie.”

  Harry dropped himself gracelessly on the plush carpet in front of the tv. John sat directly behind him and began rubbing out Harry’s neck and shoulders to the smaller man’s great delight. Proctor sat beside Harry, scooping Harry’s hand up and into his own to hold. Kristian sat on the couch to the left of John, with Caspian settled into his lap. Andrei took the remaining seat on the couch. With everyone settled in, they left Antony to scheme - while they enjoyed the movie.