"Hey! You, up there! Watch it, Asssssss-hole!"

To say Harry Potter, age six, was surprised that a snake was talking to him would be an understatement. He was just Harry Potter, the little nobody who lived under the stairs. He wasn't a snake charmer, like Dudley saw on TV.
"Excuse me, but... did you just speak?" he asked the snake, kneeling down near them.
"Well, look at that!" the snake said, happily surprised. "One of you big apessss can ssspeak! Never ssssseen that before!"

Harry gave the small snake an affronted look and said "Of course I can speak, I do it all the time! This is... just the first time I've spoken to a snake, you see?"
"Maaaakesss sssense!" the snake said, giving a snakey little grin. "My naaaame isss Aaaaddern!"
"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said, holding his hand out and letting Adern crawl up and around his wrist.

At age eight, Harry found an owl chick, and Adern helped him identify it as an Eagle Owl. Harry decided to bring it home and care for it (and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon never went into his cupboard anyways, so it wasn't like they'd know, right? They hadn't found Adern yet!). He named the chick Nightwing, after one of the characters on one of Dudley's telly programs, and eventually, Nightwing was as big as Harry- he spent most of his time outside, except in Harry couldn't speak to him like he could Adern, the boy and owl were able to feel the others emotions. It worked well for Harry, who could simply need for Nightwing to come to him, and the owl would come.

Hagrid grinned as he gave Harry another owl, this one a snowy. Harry was definitely his sort of boy- the kid had a venomous snake and an eagle owl for familiars. Dumbledore had mentioned he had detected the familiar bond being formed by Harry, but two of the more dangerous animals of the world certainly wouldn't have been something he'd expect. " 'Ere ya are, 'Arry! Right crazy, this one is, 'corrdin' ter the Shopkeeper! She's 'ad five owners, 'ee said!"

Harry just grinned and held a hand out to the bird, letting the fact that he smelled like an owl calm her down.
"What's she called, Hagrid?"
"They called 'er 'Edwig, 'r so they told me."

And Harry smirked, letting her out of her cage and on to his arm.
"I think we'll all get along famously."

Harry, Adern draped over his shoulders and his bird familiars locked in their cages, was confused, to say the least. Platform 9 and three-quarters? "Who names this crap?!" Harry hissed furiously to Adern, who rippled his scales in agreement. Harry would have remained lost completely if Nightwing hadn't shrieked then and there, alerting the young wizard to what could only be described as a pack of Red-heads.

Harry watched curiously as the first of them, a boy, slipped through a portion of brick close to platform ten, but still between it and platform nine. Harry moved closer as two more boys, twins it seemed, slipped through as well.

The woman with them, who was most likely the mother of the brood, turned in Harry's direction, as if sensing him somehow (years later, when questioned, Molly Weasley would swear she heard a voice whisper at her to turn to her left.), and when she saw his confused face she smiled and waved him over to her and her two remaining children.
"First time for Hogwarts, dear?" she asked Harry, smiling kindly. "It's Ron's first year too."
"Hey," said the boy by her side who was Harry's age, grinning at him. Harry grinned back, and Nightwing sent a feeling of approval through their bond. He obviously sensed something in this red-haired contemporary of his human that he thought made him worthy.

As Mrs. Weasley (as she said her name was, which Harry thought was an amazingly entertaining name) explained how to find the train, and Harry and Ron made a run through the barrier together, Harry knew he'd found himself a friend.

And in her cage, Hedwig felt a sense of smug satisfaction, because when her new human met his new wing-brother, he also had managed to meet his new mate- and Hedwig was pleased that she could feel her human's minor, young attraction to the young red-haired witch.

"Well, aren't you the odd one?" the Sorting Hat asked Harry as it sat on his head, giving a mental grin.
"So asks the talking hat," Harry said in a deadpan manner.
"So young, and three Familiar bonds already! You'll do well no matter what house I put you in... You'd go far in Slytherin, you know. Salazar Slytherin was a Parslemouth, like yourself. Or perhaps in Ravenclaw, you have a thirst for knowledge like I rarely see. But then again, you know such fierce loyalty already, so perhaps Hufflepuff would suit you best. Though beneath all of that, I see something... something far brighter than all your other talents. I see a boy willing to kill and die to save others, a boy who would give his life up to save a friend, and maybe even an enemy as well. I see in you a little girl with your eyes, and red hair, friends with a Slytherin for many years, despite all the world fighting against them... Better be..."

"Gryffindor!"

And the applause was deafening.

In his first potions class, Harry could tell he had to watch out for Draco Malfoy. He wouldn't have known if he hadn't sent Adern out to gather information, but Malfoy had attempted to sabotage Neville's potion- he would have succeeded and blown them all sky high if Adern hadn't told Harry what the platinum haired fool was up to.

A simple thought brought Hedwig in, swooping down to grab the sprig of monkshood before it could even land in Neville's potion (and Harry didn't even want to know where Malfoy had gotten that from.

As Harry washed Hedwig's talons (he didn't dare risk her getting sick from skin contamination of the poisonous flower), he made two decisions- Adern would be tailing Malfoy until he proved trustworthy; and Harry would be tailing Neville until the poor boy gained some confidence.

Harry, Ron, Neville, Hermione and Nightwing were all lined up, standing in front of the school's brooms and waiting for their first flying lesson to begin. They also had to endure Malfoy bragging about out flying a helicopter once. And anyone with any sense (namely Harry and Hermione, muggle raised and born, respectively; and Ron, thanks to his father) could tell that it was a line of utter crap.

Letting his sarcasm, learned from his first familiar, flow free, Harry walked up to Malfoy, giving him slow applause. "Oh, bravo," he said, slowly coming to a stop, leaning into the other boy's face. "I'm impressed. A helicopter is no small thing to outrun. So, what sorts of fines did you pay? 100 galleons? 200? 1000, perhaps?"
"We paid no fines!" Malfoy exclaimed, snarling at Harry.
"Oh, then I'm sure your father made a rather generous donation to the Ministry. Or perhaps you made a donation of your alleged skills with a broomstick to certain officials. After all, even if the ones I'm sure you're used to are a bit larger than those, the skills must transfer to the small one ever wizard carries in his pants."

And as Harry gulped down a potion an hour later, to help his nose heal in a good position after Malfoy punched his face, Harry knew he'd had a good day.

Even if the flying lesson had been cancelled for the day.