Harry was unceremoniously awoken by his horrid aunt soon after her last guest left. From what Harry could tell, it was very late; the street was dark and he could hardly see the hedge from the kitchen door.

“Clean up in the sitting room. I’ll check on it in the morning, so you’d better do it properly,” Aunt Petunia sneered down to Harry, her lip curled in an unpleasant manner. “And don’t make any noise; I don’t want to be woken up in two hours.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

Harry walked across the hall to the sitting room to the sound of his aunt’s footsteps going up the stairs.

At least I can clean without her looking over my shoulder the whole time. This was the only comforting thought that occupied Harry’s mind as he began the mundane task of tidying the sitting room, washing the used tea cups, and restoring order to the furniture. As he was repositioning a sitting chair, Harry realized that he wasn’t strong enough to actually move it the way he was currently trying, that is if he didn’t want it to take all night. So, moving to the other side of the chair, Harry began to push, digging his feet into the carpet, trying to gain as much traction as possible. He was able to move it much more easily than he was expecting, the extra force applied causing the chair to launch forward and into the end table, jiggling the ornaments on its surface.

The breath Harry was currently attempting to dispel from his lungs hitched in his throat. It wasn’t that loud; surely Aunt Petunia won’t wake up from that, or Uncle Vernon. Indeed, the initial rattle from the table wasn’t very loud. However, the clatter and crash that accompanied the glass adorned lamp falling to the floor was.

Oh, no. Please, please still be sleeping. But as soon as Harry thought this hope he realized how futile a hope it was. For not two seconds later, Uncle Vernon could be heard stampeding down the stairs.

Harry sucked in a quick breath after releasing the last one with a giant whoosh. His heart began to beat in his throat, and his palms began to sweat. Frantically looking around, Harry found there was nowhere to hide and hiding would only increase his uncle’s temper. There also was no way he could make it to the relative safety of his cupboard. And so, Harry stood next to the chair, beside which the broken lamp lay as evidence to his transgression.

In the impending doom, Harry was unable to move and even if he had wanted to, the face of his uncle as he rounded the corner into the sitting room would have stopped Harry in his tracks. Harry cringed involuntarily as Uncle Vernon’s purple face emitted a loud growl, complete with spittle flying from his teeth. In three large steps, he was across the room and looming over Harry’s trembling frame.

Harry knew he was going to be hurt. There was no way that he would be let off to work outside without meals for the day. They’ve been too generous lately. I deserved worse than I got, what I’m about to get.

Harry tried not to cry out as Uncle Vernon’s meaty hand came down on top of his head, splashing stars across his vision.

“Two bloody hours of sleep? I can’t sleep while you’re breaking things and I can’t work with only two bloody hours of sleep!”

This made sense to Harry as Uncle Vernon’s hand grabbed Harry’s small arm, gripping it so tightly Harry had to concentrate to hold in his gasp. This was only made harder as his uncle grabbed Harry’s other arm, just as hard, bringing Harry’s face mere inches from his own. But he did not lower the volume of his voice as he yelled at the still trembling child, “I thought we’d gotten rid of your freakishness, boy. I’ll simply have to try harder this time.”

At this, a grotesque grin spread across Uncle Vernon’s now wine-colored face. Harry’s stomach plummeted and he could not withhold the gasp that came this time.

“Please, Uncle Vernon, please, I’ll never do it again.”

As a response, Uncle Vernon released Harry, pushing him slightly backwards, while reaching his hand into the right pocket of his bathrobe. Harry didn’t know his stomach could fall any farther, as his heart began to beat in his ears.

“Please, no. Uncle Vernon, please.”

But the grin never faltered on his uncle’s face and the crazed spark never left his eyes. Harry tried to back away as his uncle began to move towards him, successfully trapping him in the corner. With nowhere to escape to and his words falling into nothingness, Harry’s eyes began to water. He wanted to cry, but crying never made anything any better. It never did anything for Harry except cause more hurt, so he stopped the tears before they fell.

The huge man continued his descent on the boy, face contorted in rage. He reached out, grasping a still aching arm and twisted the boy to face the wall. Next he released the belt from its pocket in his bathrobe, with the other hand he reached out and grabbed a handful of clothing that was hanging off the boy’s small frame like a curtain. Yanking down hard enough to set the boy off balance, he succeeded in exposing his backside.

Uncle Vernon let out a low chuckle, rearing back his arm to strike his nephew. Harry leaned up against the wall; fists clenched white with fingernails digging into his palms. It took all the control he had to keep from screaming after the belt fell, but he managed to clamp his mouth shut, attempting to not count the strikes as they made contact with his bare skin.

~*~*~*~

A thin leather-bound book fell to the ground with an almost inaudible thump, slipping from long thin fingers. But Severus didn’t hear the book fall, didn’t hear the Floo flair to life, didn’t see the light blue robes enter the room. He did, however feel the slight pressure of a hand on his shoulder, did hear the tell-tale intake of breath.

“Severus.”

He couldn’t take it anymore, as his temper flared to life within him, Severus stood to face the elder wizard.

“Why do you torment me this way, Albus?” he asked, hands balled into fists at his side.

The pain was clear in the Headmaster’s eyes as he replied, “I thought you knew all these years, Severus.”

“And yet you never simply asked if I knew, surely you suspected that I did not know the truth?”

Dumbledore sighed, “It is true. I simply thought that you did not wish to claim the boy, choosing to leave him within the relative safety of his aunt and uncle.”

“And why would I wish such a thing for my son? To not grow up with a father?”

“We both know that your childhood was less than satisfactory. I believed you thought you would become your father.”

Through hard obsidian eyes, Severus stared at the Headmaster. It is true that when Lily first told me she was pregnant I believed that, but she was confidant that I would not become my father. Do you have such little faith in me, Albus?

“Why have you never suspected over the years that I did not know? My aversion to the subject of Harry Potter was well known. Why did you never question it?” he asked, his voice a dangerous whisper.

At this, the Headmaster’s shoulders slumped, his face showing more age as his eyes began to shine.

“I once again believed that you knew and did not wish to keep Harry. That perhaps the grief was still too near in those first months. But when I began to talk more about Harry and his situation, you simply would not have it. I took that as your decision.” Dumbledore turned his face towards the ground, rather than continuing to look into the eyes of the man he had wounded so deeply, finding only pain. “I must admit that I’ve been attempting to make you think of Harry for the past several months with my casual conversations. I hoped that you would reconsider your decision of leaving him with his relatives and become a family before he came to Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore then turned his gaze back upon the Potions Professor, blue eyes meeting black. He moved forward towards the man who had once been his student, attempting to comfort the hurt that he had unwittingly caused. But Severus met his step with one of his own, maintaining the space between them.

“I believe you have overstayed you welcome, Albus.” Rage was clearly evident in his voice as Severus tried to quell his shaking limbs.

Without moving towards the door, the somber Headmaster sighed, saying, “I’m sorry Severus, I never intended it to happen this wa-.”

“Of course, Albus; but what can the chess pawns do but follow the direction they’re given?”

“Severus…”

“Get Out.”

But Dumbledore hesitated, “Severus, please I-.”

“No, Albus. Get out.” His voice was deathly calm, finally able to conceal the raging inferno his anger had become. But the control would not last long and luckily Dumbledore realized this, leaving with one final sigh and a whispered, “I am truly sorry, my boy.” Severus could hardly contain his rage for the few seconds it took for the Headmaster to leave the room and Floo out of Severus’ quarters. Once the flames died down again, Severus let out a long, hoarse bellow, releasing some of the frustration he felt at Dumbledore. But mostly, what he felt was anger at himself. He sat heavily on the edge of his bed, running his hands through his hair with his elbows on his knees. It was too much to consider. Lily had lied, Albus knew all along, and even Severus possessed evidence to the truth the whole time. Now what to do with it?

Lily would want me to walk into that house and take Harry away to live with me, where he belongs. But can I really deny him the company of his aunt and uncle? What if I do become my father and he’s worse off living with me than them? To Severus, this was a real possibility. It was really Lily who changed me, balanced my temper with her own, being just as stubborn as me…how can I assure myself that I’m even able to attempt such a thing as raising a son? Severus could not reassure himself, and he was deathly afraid of turning into his father, but was also unsure that Harry would even want to leave the familiarity of his relatives and home to live with him. They’ve probably spoiled their precious Golden Boy with the subsidies they receive each month, rather than providing him with the necessities. Why would he willingly leave that household for one he knows nothing about to live with a man claiming to be his father, and attend a school he’s never seen in favor of leaving his family and all the friends he has. Severus actually didn’t even know if Harry wanted to come to Hogwarts. I don’t even know what he looks like.

Still not understanding the position he found himself in, Severus stood, running his fingers through black hair one last time and made his way out of Hogwarts. As soon as he felt the tingle of the anti-Apparation wards surrounding the castle, Severus cast a disillusionment charm, making himself invisible. Apparating to the end of Privet Drive, Severus was mildly surprised to find the street lined with a few cars. But he wasn’t here to crash a party so he began walking, looking for number four. Finding the correct house among the duplicates that made up Privet Drive, Severus settled himself onto the low wall that surrounded the house, facing the front window with its curtains slightly drawn.

Severus watched with mild interest as the festivities heightened, adding a cushioning charm to the wall as the moon, almost full, began its journey across the night sky. During the wait, for what Severus did not know, he was attempting to convince himself to get up, walk the short distance to the front door and knock. That was all he had to do, then once someone answered the door, he simply needed to ask after Harry Potter. Easy. It’s not that simple… Severus sat watching the party dwindle and conclude in the late night and only after the last guest left did he stand. But he couldn’t draw the courage from some unknown depth within himself, so he left, Apparating to the gates of Hogwarts.

Severus walked slowly back to the dungeons, thinking of a solution while constantly berating himself for not taking any action. How could I not walk ten feet to the front door? I guess Lily’s Gryffindor courage never rubbed off on me…but I am a Slytherin, Severus considered. He began plucking at the threads of a plan, attempting to weave them together into a single, cohesive plot.

~*~*~*~

Harry was still sleeping when the sun came up over the horizon on Thursday, but his aunt was not and she soon rectified the situation with an angry pound at Harry’s cupboard door. Trying to keep his breathing steady so he wouldn’t give himself a headache, Harry slowly stood in the tiny room. Everything hurt. He shuffled the short distance to the kitchen, taking up the spatula Aunt Petunia set on the counter next to the stove.

Uncle Vernon had thrashed Harry into the early morning, adding in a few more blows to the head when Harry would cry out. When Uncle Vernon had finally stopped his beating, Harry simply lay where he was, shaking from the strain on his body, trying to stop any tears that threatened to fall. Uncle Vernon left then, saying in a deadly voice, just above a whisper and pointing a meaty finger down at Harry’s still-shaking body, “You’d better clean up this mess. If I see anything out of place, you will be gone tomorrow.” Harry didn’t know what that meant and tried not to think about it as he cleaned up the lamp and slowly coaxed the droplets of blood from the carpet and walls.

He fell asleep instantly as he laid his head on his pillow. Before sleep overtook his mind, floating him off to wondrous worlds of his parents and flying motorbikes, Harry was bombarded with feelings of hurt. I’m trying to not do these freakish things, but something always goes wrong and I have to be punished. While he was able to keep the tears and sobs that wanted to escape him locked deep within himself, Harry was unprepared for the next thought that flitted across his mind. I’ll wake up and tomorrow will be better, it just has to be. Tomorrow will be better.

But then the sun rose and Harry was once again in the kitchen, tending to breakfast for his aunt, uncle, and cousin. After they had all eaten, Harry was told to clean up. He did without uttering a word and with as few movements as possible. Aunt Petunia came into the kitchen once as he was drying the last glass.

“I’m going into London to buy a new lamp.” Harry’s face burned red.

“Go outside and entertain yourself, I don’t need you here alone, breaking everything.”

Harry complied, putting down the glass and began moving to his cupboard to put on his trainers. He really didn’t mind being left outside all day. It was better than being stuck in the house, even when he had to do the yard work. But Aunt Petunia just said to go outside. Maybe I’ll go to the park. As Harry was walking down Privet Drive, he saw his aunt drive by, the park wasn’t too far away from the house on Privet Drive but with his injuries, it would take Harry much longer to get there. It was with trepidation that Harry then considered sitting on the swings. They were his favorite part of the park, being so small, Harry was able to swing higher and he enjoyed the wind in his hair, the feeling of flight.

But Harry knew the gentle throb coming from his bum, thighs, and back would become a roaring fire of pain if he sat on the swing and used his legs to propel him upwards. So he contented himself with lying in the grass on his stomach. It was a fairly warm morning but Harry was comfortable in the shade of a large elm. Resting his head on his tiny arms, Harry became aware of just how sleepy he was and decided to close his eyes for a few minutes.

And what is thiss laying in the grass of my tree? Harry felt a tiny tickle on the knuckle of his hand. What iss thiss human doing? No respect for the grass, lazing around.

Harry blinked his eyes, I’m not lazing around. I just dozed off for a minute.

Harry sat up to see who talked to him, to whom he just spoke. But there was no one around him. Shrugging off the strange occurrence, Harry put his head back down on his arms, keeping his eyes open. Then he felt that weird tickle on his hand. Turning his head to look at his hand, Harry came face-to-face with a bright green and black snake. Scared out of his wits, Harry began to scramble backwards, forgetting his injuries for a minute as the adrenaline coursed through his small body.

Yesss, pleasse run away, big scary ssnake here wantss to eat you…although a mouse would be nice.

Harry blinked; the rest of his body was frozen. This snake could talk.

Well, perhapss there’ss a bird in thiss tree… The snake remarked, making its way silently towards the tree.

I can actually understand what its saying…

Yess, just ssit there, staring at me while I find mysself some dinner.

How can I undersstand what you’re ssaying?

The snake stopped all forward movement and craned its little head around from where it was perched on a root of the elm tree. There are storiess of those who can sspeak.

Who are they, thosse who can sspeak? Harry asked curiously.

The snake began to move back towards Harry, coiling itself up a few feet in front of him, keeping his head about eye-level with Harry. They are many thingss. But I have never sseen one mysself. There never were many, according to the legendss.

Harry thought about this but didn’t come to any alarming conclusions. As long as the Dursley’s never found out, they wouldn’t think him any more of a freak. But he also couldn’t reason why he had this rare ability. It must be because I’m such a freak. Talking to snakes was not normal and Harry didn’t want to become even more of a freak but this snake was simply interesting…

Do you have a name? Ssomething your family or other snakess call you? he elaborated at the snake’s look of confusion.

Yess, they call me siless. What are you called, boy?

“Harry” he said, puzzled by Siles’ response.

I do not undersstand that word. Harry thought about that for a minute and guessed that he was speaking a different language, not simply that this snake could understand English. He didn’t know which was more disturbing, that he could speak a language he’d never heard of without knowing or that a snake could speak English.

It was while Harry was thinking this, with his head turned off to the side that he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. Dudley’s back from school. This did not mean anything good for Harry who stood and almost walked right over Siles.

Ssorry, ssiles, but I need to get back home now. The snake seemed to understand this and uncurled itself, moving back towards the roots of the tree.

Perhapss we will meet again ssometime boy.

Yeah, maybe. Just be ssure to watch out for those kidss that are walking over here. They might hurt you just for the fun of it. Siles seemed to understand that and hastened his trip up the elm tree.

Harry made his way carefully around the playground towards the houses that surrounded it. He didn’t want to be seen by Dudley and his gang if he could help it, walking quickly and in the shade of the trees, praying he wasn’t seen making his escape.

But he found himself back on Privet Drive soon enough and began to make his way to number four. As his mind was consumed with the thought of being able to speak in a different language, Harry didn’t notice the black car that was parked in the driveway of the house. He simply walked right past it, eyes on the ground as he went to the front door. Opening said door slowly and quietly to keep his aunt and uncle oblivious to his presence, Harry then headed towards his cupboard.

Just as his hand touched the little knob on the door, the kitchen door flew open displaying a flustered-looking Aunt Petunia, holding a tea tray laden with her second finest set of china. Shooting a glower in Harry’s direction, she continued on her way to the sitting room. Harry heard the clank of china-on-china as she set the tray down and politely excused herself from the room. Entering moments later back into the hallway, Aunt Petunia made a shooing motion towards Harry in the direction of the stairs. Harry complied and began to climb.

Harry got to the top of the stairs before Aunt Petunia said anything to him. “Take a shower, three minutes then stay in there. Make sure you’re all cleaned up.”

Unwilling to risk asking why, Harry went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. It had been awhile since he got a good look at his reflection. He’d changed. His eyes seemed an even brighter, vibrant green due to the absolute lack of color in his skin, which had taken on a slightly sallow tint. His hair was still the same raven black but now held a slight sheen from the lights. From what Harry could tell that was it. His nose hadn’t changed anymore and neither did the overall shape of his face. Wow. I look really different. Not that it was really all that easy to tell just how much he had changed as there was not a single picture of Harry in the Dursley’s house. But Harry needed to wash, not stare at himself in the mirror; he could think about his change in appearance later.

Turning off the water just as he heard the door to the bathroom open, Harry stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his small frame. “Put these on, comb your hair and behave yourself when you come down. No talking about where you sleep, that you haven’t attended school in awhile or any of that. This is very important to your Uncle Vernon and I and we’ll not have you mucking it up. Understood?”

Harry understood perfectly. “Yes Aunt Petunia.” With that, she turned and left the bathroom vacant but for one little boy and a pile of clothes.

Harry descended the stairs feeling the worst he had in a long time. The clothes that Aunt Petunia left for him to wear were some of Dudley’s, but they were relatively nice. They didn’t have any holes, tears, stains, or frays on them from what Harry could tell. Harry knew that he had to try extra hard to not do any freakish things tonight. If he did, the consequences would be dire…and Harry didn’t like dire. And he would have to try even harder than that because someone else was here. I hope it’s not Aunt Marge. I hate Aunt Marge.

But Harry didn’t have to worry long who it was for Aunt Petunia came bustling from the sitting room and set her lips into a fine line upon spotting her nephew. “Now, remember what I told you? This is extremely important. No funny business tonight.” As if Harry really needed the reminder.

With that, she made the shooing gesture again and Harry walked into the sitting room, letting out a rush of air. No Aunt Marge.