Tiger, Tiger.

After an Animagus potion gone wrong, Harry becomes a tiger and is unable to change back. Though, without the weight of the world on his shoulders, Harry enjoys his new body, until something happens to make him go back to Hogwarts in the possession of Draco Malfoy. HBP.

Pairings: Harry/Draco one hundred per cent, there will be Blaise/Luna and eventually Neville/OC. Not much more romance other than this, maybe some off screen romance, I don't know, I haven't decided yet.

Warnings: there might be strong language, possible gory scenes in the future. I'll warn you though, so don't worry if you're squeamish.

I don't own Harry Potter by J. K. Rowling or the poem 'Tyger, Tyger' by William Blake. Also anything you might recognise from other fics on this site or another is purely coincidental. Enjoy!

Tyger, tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye,

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies,

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire?

What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder and what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand and what dread feet?

What the hammer? What the chain?

In what furnace was thy brain?

What the anvil? What dread grasp,

Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,

And water'd heaven with their tears,

Did He smile His work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?

Tyger, tyger, burning bright,

In the forests of the night,

What immortal hand or eye,

Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Chapter one: In which an owl is lonely.

The huge paws glided across the leaf litter, practically silently, towards his prey, towards his new home, towards his new future.

The huge and beautiful orange Siberian tiger prowled through the undergrowth, a snarl silently etched on his face, forest green eyes that were streaked with silver locked on the herd of grazing deer, unaware of the trap that had been set for the striped creature. It was an extremely rare sight, even where tigers were a part of the natural ecosystem, it was just plain absurd to see 800lb tiger stalking deer in the British country side.

The tiger itself wasn't actually a tiger, but one Mr Harry Potter, who rather enjoyed the taste of wild deer due to the rather 'unfortunate' potion accident he had back at the Dursleys. The potion was supposed to let him get a feel of his Animagus body for ten minutes and change him back to human again, but Harry was unable to change back.

At first, Harry tried desperately to change back, completely trashing the Dursleys kitchen with his magical outbursts. Harry's magic had exploded from his body shattering all of his Aunts sparkling bone china and windows and knocking over everything. After his magic retreated back into his body, after about an hour of thrashing and roaring (the Dursleys had been out and thankfully hadn't seen Harry's new body) he stopped. He hated Dumbledore and his manipulative ways, he hated Ron and his glory seeking attitude, he hated Hermione and her know it all personality. In fact, the only Gryffindors he could stand were Neville, Dean and Seamus. Harry could see a golden opportunity to be free of Dumbledore's clutches forever.

Harry came to a stop, dispelling the thoughts that could distract him while he hunted, and began looking for a weak link in the rather large herd. On the outskirts of the herd, Harry saw a younger stag grazing, which was limping slightly, dried blood matting the doomed creatures back. Harry locked onto his target, knowing that he had to get closer or the chosen prey would be able to get away, injured leg or not.

Harry stalked through the long grass, his heavy paws brushing over the ground almost silently. His ears were pricked in the warm summer evening air, turned towards the young buck. Harry almost felt remorseful for having to take this animals life, but he was higher up on the food chain and very, very hungry. Even so, Harry felt a small pang of what felt like annoyance for the almost guilt for having killed so many deer, which is what his father's Animagus form had been. Harry had wanted to be a stag at first but once he had felt the pure, raw power of his new body, there was no going back.

When he was close enough, only thirty meters or so away from the intended target, Harry broke into a mad but graceful sprint, the last rays on the evening sun glinting off his striped coat. The terrified deer herd bolted in every direction, looking out only for themselves bar the does with young fawns at their side. That was the only rule Harry followed No mums and babies. Even if it was only a deer, he didn't want to orphan anything.

The chosen prey managed only five panicked leaps before Harry had his claws on the buck's hind legs. The young deer bellowed in pain, squirming under the tiger. Harry didn't bit down on the creature's neck though; he thought he could feel eyes watching his every move. His eyes flickered through the brush surrounding him, but he couldn't see or smell anyone or anything. Dismissing the feeling with a growl that rumbled his chest, his large, sharp, gleaming white canines ripped into the flesh of the deer.

Instantly, Harry knew something was wrong. The blood didn't taste of blood, it tasted like-

Harry's eyes widened before drooping, he stumbled away from the now dead buck, shaking his large head. The deer's blood had been laced with sleeping potion, and a strong one at that. Harry fought the drowsiness, failing, and finally collapsed onto the ground.

In a half-assed attempt to fight the potion Harry opened an eye forcefully only to see large man looming over him. With a malicious smile, the man bent down to Harry's head and whispered "Brilliant."

Harry's last thought before he blacked out completely was Oh yes, just bloody brilliant.

The day Harry went furry…

"What do you mean, you can't find him, because if this is just another attempt to pass off your duties to another Member-"

"BLOODY HELL WOMAN! HE'S NOT AT THE DURSLEYS! ALL HIS CLOTHES AND BOOKS AND EVEN HIS RUDDY OWL WERE STILL IN HIS ROOM ALONG WITH HIS WAND!" Mundungus Fletcher screamed at the red haired mollycoddling woman who sat shocked in front of him. They were in the middle of an Order meeting at the Burrow when 'Dung had apparated in screaming that Harry Potter, the Chosen one, Dumbledore's golden boy, was missing.

Dumbledore sat at the head of the table, his face grave and said "Did you see him leave?"

"No, all I heard was a crash and then I was knocked out. It was magic Albus, the boy's magic that knocked me out. By the time I came to, which was nearly two hours later, the kitchen was practically non-existent and the rest of the house was in tatters, probably from the magic outburst." Mundungus did in fact look worse for wear. His head had a huge egg sized lump on it and his lip was torn and bloody and he was covered in dust.

"Perhaps he stepped out for a bit?" Remus obviously didn't even believe himself. Severus Snape snorted "And decided before he stepped out for a bit that he wanted to blow up the house?" he sneered. "Most likely he blew himself up." He was obviously trying not to sound too pleased.

Dumbledore frowned. "What time was it when you heard the crash Mr Fletcher?" 'Dung frowned and scratched the back of his head before wincing. "'Bout three hours ago I suppose. I looked around the house a bit as well, mind you."

Dumbledore frowned even more deeply, the practically constant twinkle in his eyes blue non-existent. He loved the boy, or rather; he loved what the boy would come to do. "So it looked like he vanished, other than the fact everything was still there?" 'Dung nodded unhappily.

An uneasy silence fell upon the meeting, until Molly broke down, sobs shaking her body "Oh Merlin, where do you think he is Albus? He's had such a hard childhood and now he's gone!" she wailed. Dumbledore didn't answer her. Instead he stood, frown still in place, his snow white eyebrows furrowed.

"Alastor, Remus. I need both of you to come with me to check on the Dursleys residence. We have to check for foul play and signs of a struggle. We'll apparated." Remus nodded immediately, Alastor slowly, jerkily. "We'll be back soon. Molly, please refrain from breaking the news Hermione and Ron about this ... slight mishap." Molly nodded, too upset to realize that Dumbledore called Harry's probable death a mishap. They were unaware of the identical twins on the other side of the door, both clutching an Extendable Ear in a white knuckled grasp, who silently agreed through raised eyebrows and thin mouths to tell Hermione, but not Ron, or they would all be in big trouble.

The Dursleys house was in ruins. All of the windows were shattered, the front door was blown off its hinges; it sat on the perfectly manicured lawn, the chimney was completely destroyed. Dumbledore entered the house, stepping gingerly over the broken glass, Remus and Alastor following behind.

"Dear Merlin, that boy has strong magic." Alastor said, almost reverently. Remus nodded absentmindedly, gripping his wand even tighter, his knuckles completely white. Dumbledore sighed, a sharp sound in the otherwise silent house. They entered the kitchen, or what was left of it. The windows were blown out, as were all the cupboards. The table had somehow implanted itself in the opposite wall, and only Mad eye noticed the slight scorch marks on it. His blue eye swivelled, into the boy's room.

His owl was indeed still there, looking quite disgruntled. Harry's wand was still on the bedside table, on a copy of the Daily Prophet. The school trunk was in the corner, books and parchment littering the floor around it. All of the boy's potion gear was missing from the trunk. The room was obviously just messy, but somehow protected from any magic the boy may have released, otherwise the owl would be dead and rotting and the room would be in shambles.

Albus left the kitchen and went into the sitting room. Remus bounded up the unsteady stairs and into Harry's room, to grab the wand and the owl. Alastor, alone in the kitchen, went over to the table. There was a definite ring where a cauldron had sat, the table unprotected from the flames. Alastor sniffed the table quickly and tried to distinguish the smell.

Cinnamon, porcupine quills, unicorn horn… Alastor started slightly. It was an Animagus potion, obviously made incorrectly. Either the boy was dead, blown to bits making the potion or he made the potion and drank it, becoming an animal. There was a case at the Ministry a few years back, where all employees, including the Minister and his court, were to become Animagi. One of the potions failed and six employees were turned into animals and no means of magic could change them back. The failed Animagi went home to act like faithful pets to their loved ones, becoming more and more animal with each passing day. Obviously the Ministry covered it up and becoming an Animagus was no longer required.

Alastor waved his wand, casting a quick Death finder spell. The only dead things were the flowers in the back and a rat under the floorboards. So the boy was an animal. Most likely a stag, like his father. But Harry was less arrogant than his father, and much more secretive. So he was probably something small and unnoticeable, like a crow.

Moody sure as hell wasn't going to tell the Order either, the bunch of bloody nincompoops. He would let Dumbledore figure it out. With a quick non-verbal cleaning spell, the table was spotless, and with that, Alastor scurried out of the room as fast as his wooden leg would allow.

Like it? Hate it? Simply want to say hi? Please review. Moody knows :D. I'll update as soon as I can. Tell me if you see any errors. I may be awesome, but I am not entirely perfect. Pretty close though ;)

I'm secretly annoyed with you.

0_o