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Chapter Text

The sounds of muffled crying emenated from an unassuming cupboard underneath the stairway of one number 4 Privet Drive. The contents of said cupboard, a milk crate which itself contained several mostly empty bottles of now curdling milk, some uselessly thin blankets, large amounts of dust and insects, and the source of the traumatized screams: a child. Harry Potter sported a very recent addition to his sweet, innocent face, an angry and lightning shaped gash that ran down his forehead. The gash still had pinpricks of blood beginning to bead in the deep crevices of marred flesh.

It really was no wonder the child was wailing, he was far from comfortable (or safe for that matter). The milk was beginning to secrete a sickly rotten smell, he had akward glass shapes pressed into his backside, the hopelessly ineffective cloth that swaddled him did next to nothing to trap his body heat. This was the beginning of a long and unpleasant stay in a house of monsters, whose hearts pumped scum and prejudice in place of blood. These monsters would be the first to participate in the project of turning an angel into a formidable abomination.

-////-

Harry Potter was six years old now, and his sweet innocence was already bleeding away to bitterness. He hobbled forward through the small garden, on his thin legs that had only enough muscle for him to walk and work; he was searching for weeds, without gloves or tools of any kind. He didn't even have shoes on his tiny, dirt caked feet. The summer sun beat down on his back, which was barely covered by the tank top that used to belong to his grotesquely fat cousin. The shirt hung loose off the malnourished frame, exposing more skin to the burning rays of the season. It also exposed a patchwork of bruises, a lattice work of scars, and a battlefield of small circular bruises that pock-marked his torso.

Harry twitched, the hair on his neck prickled. He heard heavy, thumping footsteps, accompanied by lighter yet still intimidating ones. Harry turned to veiw the source of his growing dread. Coming toward him was Dudley and his pitiful posse. Harry looked over his cousin with disdain and disgust. He looked at would have been a nice polo shirt, except it bulged with the excessive mass of the child wearing it. Sweat had already begun to darken the creame coloured garnmemt, outlining the gross rolls of Dudley's body. Funny, thought Harry, it isn't that hot out.

The small crew of boys stopped several feet from where Harry was in the garden. His thin body tensed, he knew he was a moment from danger, he was fully prepared to begin sprinting for his life.

"Aw, look at Potty, by 'imself in the dirt. Lookin' fer bugs to eat I bet. Like some dirty lil bird!"

Dudley's droogs chuckled at the jest. Harry's readyness to run was all that kept him from rolling his eyes in such a way that if they were bowling balls they would surely get him a strike. That is to say, he was extremely unimpressed. He was also extremely fucking scared. Harry saw the other boys very obviously begin shift their weight to begin the impending chase. Harry took off as if he'd just heard a starting pistol, and he was going for gold. Except in this case, gold simply meant escaping his tormentors relatively unharmed.

Harry ran as if the devil were on his heels, which wasn't too far off, as Dudley could easily be compared to the anti-christ; albeit a very, very fat anti-christ. Running at this speed meant tearing up garden soil and flora alike, which didn't mean much to Harry, considering his health was at stake. That and Dudley's goons were doing far more damage in their uncoordinated and clumsy persuit.

Harry darted around the corner of the house, and saw his chance. There was an ivy riddled lattice fence on the side of the house, there was no way the larger boys could follow him up, he would be safe on the roof. Sadly, he would never have the chance to take the roof as a haven. He was weak and small, this made it hard to climb. Dudley and his gang had enough time to reach the lattice before Harry could reach the top. Too bad Ol' Dudders had a wad of fat in place of his brain, as he bagan to try and follow his cousin. A bad move on his part, as he was only a few feet up (shaking the lattice quite a bit as he got there, making Harry's own climb all the more difficult) when the whole structure began to tilt away from the house. Dudley's fall was so small his rotund form managed to land on it's feet. Harry was not so fortunate.

He fell hard, the ground forced the air from his lungs as his back and skull collided with dirt and sod. Spots danced before Harry's eyes as he struggled to breathe, he coughed and felt flecks of copper dot the back of his tongue while his lungs bled slightly within his ribcage. He finaly managed to pull in a few small, precious breaths before he rolled on his side. He touched the back of his throbbing head and gasped as a wave of pain struck like lightning, he brought his fingers into his sight to find the tips dyed red. He slowly rolled onto his stomach, nausea and pain wracked his frame. With each shallow breath he felt something in his chest shift painfully, unnaturally. As he slowly brought his body off the ground he felt a new blow strike him in his abdomen. New pain exploded in his stomach as air was forced back out of him, he retched, it was almost lucky that today was one of those days where the Dursleys neglected to give him any form of breakfast.

Harry was thrown onto his back again, barely registering his ribs shifting again. His ears rang, he swore he could hear laughter too. He tried to look for his assailant, he noticed his vision was blurry. The familiar pressure of his glasses was gone from the bridge of his nose. A large shape appeard in his faulty sight. Dudley. The motherfucker. Harry felt new pressure on one of his legs, it quickly became painful.

"Lookin fer these?" The fat one held something in Harry's face. His glasses. He made a weak attempt to swipe them away, but they were pulled out of his reach too quickly for him to register at the moment.

"Well, yer not gonna get 'em! Not 'til we grind your sorry ass to paste." Harry saw Dudley toss his glasses haphazardly behind him. The specs made a light noise as they fell into the packed grass a few feet away. The pressure on his leg increased. A grimmace sprang onto the visually impaired child's face, tears built up in his eyes and dripped down his ears and into the grass. Harry let out an agonized scream as he felt his leg snap audibly at the joint.

"Shut 'im up!" One of the other boys said, he didn't want to draw too much attention.

Harry choked as a wad of soil and sod was stuffed into his mouth and crumbled down the back of his throat, the fibres of grass tickled his uvula. He gagged as he tried to rid his mouth of the debris. The boys surrounding him laughed. As he managed to spit out most of what was in his mouth he recieved a blow to his facs, courtesy of Dudley's dirt covered leather dress shoe. Harry felt his jaw nearly dislocate. He lay in the grass another few seconds, his blind daze deepening. More blows began to rain down on him from all angles. One thought ran through Harry's head. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Harry snapped.

"STOP!"

It sounded inhuman. It sounded powerful. The group of abusers was thrown away with bone breaking force.

The windows nearby rattled with such force that they flexed and cracked, startling Petunia, who had been listening intently to the "scuffle" as it escalated. She ran outside to intervene, and found a clear new path that had been torn through her prized garden. Her already brewing anger boiled over into rage at the destruction of her (Actually Harry's) work. She ran around the garden patch, not wanting to contribute to the damage. She found more devastation just around the corner. Scattered around the sideyard were peices of jagged white wood and a few child sized bodies, surrounding a small shallow crater. At the center of said crater was her abomination of a nefew.

She spotted her son nearby (not a hard feat honestly, he would be recognizable from a kilometer away) and her anger all but dissapated. Her motherly instincts brimmed and she ran to fuss over his (oh so very minor in comparison to Harry's) injuries. Once she realized that the walking blob of adipose tissue that was her son was just shy of unharmed, she ran to her sisters child. Petunia's rage reappeared in a flash boil, as she roughly grabbed the critically injured boy and ignoring his groans of agony dragged him into the house and threw him into his cupboard.

Harry slowly curled up into a ball, as his injuries slowly began to set and stitch together.

-////-

Eyes watched from the underbrush as the people struck the smallest of them over and over again. The spectator observed with horror and interest as they so easily attacked on of their own kin. Suddenly the prey spoke a word, "STOP." And unleashed something she had not seen in a long time, magic. This was interesting. She had never met a person who could speak like she could. Suddenly the mother of the brood appeared from her burrow and took the prey away. She must find the one who could speak, and learn from him.

Chapter Text

There was a hole that lead into the person burrow, specifically, into the space beneath the steps where the prey boy slept. It was an old mouse hole that had long been abandoned, ancient crusty droppings still littered the floor of the dank rotted out tunnel. She came out from the corner near his head, he did not stir from his rest as she took in his features. His face was sallow, the bones in his cheeks unnaturally prominent. A layer of sweat covered him all over. Blood ran in a thin line from his chapped lips, his breaths were shallow and laboured. With each inhale his chest made an almost inaudible noise, like something was scraping together.

Her tongue flickered from her mouth, tasting the air. It was copper-y, and reeked of waste, and urine. The boy had voided his bowels and bladder at somepoint while he was being beaten half to death. She cursed aloud to herself in her disgust, a mistake, as it was just enough to cause the weary child to wake. His eyes opened groggily, but widened a moment later as he realized she was there.

Harry wasn't sure what was happening, all he knew was that he'd heard someone speak. He only had a vague memory of what had occurred earlier. All he knew was that he'd managed to stop Dudley and Co.'s abuse. He wasn't sure how though. All he knew was that his body still in a lot of pain, and there might be someone, somehow, in his cupboard with him. His vision was still blurry, and it was dark in his cupboard. He was barely able to make out the shape before him, it was long and patterned. A sort of wave ran along it. Then he realized he was face to face with it, it being a snake. His eyes grew wide, and he tried to scramble away from it, the sudden movement reminding him again of his wounds.

The small child clenched his jaw as stabbing pain rippled through him, he sat against the wall of his cupboard waiting for the snake to strike or do anything. He closed his eyes tight, waiting for his reptilian visitor to make it's move. A moment passed before he cracked his eye open, to see the snake poised before him in a rather non-threatening stance. Or as non-threatening as a snake could display for a visually impaired four year old.

"I will not harm you..."

Harry flinched, startled. Had the snake just spoken? No, it couldn't have. Dudley must have addled his brain so horribly as to cause auditory halucinations. These thoughts ran through his head, albeit, in words more fitting of a small child's vernacular.

"You aren't real. Snakes can't say things," Harry spoke aloud, hoping he could snap himself out of whatever was happening in his brain.

"All of my kind are able to speak, but I have never met a human who could speak. I've heard stories though, of speakers who proved to be powerful allies because of their powerful magics." The snake said.

I must be going crazy. Harry thought, honestly, you probably would have to be if you started hearing snakes talk as if most humans couldn't even comprehend words. And then to go on about how snake talkers made friends with snakes because they did magic.

"You aren't real, all humans talk, it's snakes that can't. And there isn't such a thing as magic, uncle Vernon said so himself!" Harry made his retort, adamant that what was happening was merely the result of nearly having his skull split by his fat cousin plus his brain dead friends.

"Of course there's magic," replied the serpent. "You used it yourself to stop the large ones."

Harry froze, he'd nearly forgotten about the strange way that the assault had suddenly stopped. He never thought about why they stopped, not that he had been given the chance. He was barely conscious until a moment ago, so all in all, not a lot of time given to reflect on that situation.

"I still don't believe it, theres no way I could have done that. I'm nothing, just some weird worthless kid that nobody wants..." Harry was in denial, and in his denial he'd given away the true damage that had been done to him by the monsters that caged him. The cool blooded creatures heart ached at the revelation. She'd seen children bully each other, and fight. It seemed a generally normal occurence, a part of human life. But never once had she ever seen offspring so mistreated by caretakers. From what she'd gathered most parents were compassionate and kind, only appearing to change their demeanor when a child had done something wrong or displeasurable.

"But, you are special. You are powerful! You are a speaker! You left a mark where you let out your magic!" She would ignore the depressing new information for now. Her current goal was to allign herself with him, to take advantage of this rare and awesome opportunity. With the boy on her side, she would live long and possibly raise many a clutch.

Harry was curious, there was a mark? He, Harry Potter, had used magic (unbelivable) to throw his attackers away and carve a mark into the dirt (also unbelievable). Yeah, sure. Magic and talking snakes can't be real.

-////-

Five days later Harry was mostly healed, though his ribs still ached slightly and the back of his skull throbbed dully. Despite having generally recovered, the snake had never left him; nor had it lost her ability to speak. He found out her sex when she'd mentioned wanting to mother many offspring, she was insistent on the existence of magic and their ability to actually communicate. So she spoke at almost every opportunity in an effort to convince him.

Today he was finally being released from his prison under the steps. He needed to check for the hole he supposedly left on the side of the house using some freak act of "magic." Harry was back to weeding the garden, slowly and painstakenly he pulled the unsightly plants from the ground while the spines of their leaves bit into the callouses on his palms and fingers. He took a tenative glance up and around, checking for his cousin and his goons, or the she-devil ironically named after a beautiful product of evolution, Petunia.

Seeing no sign of either potential danger, he dropped the vegetative matter into the steel pail that sat near him and stood. The raven made a silent flight to the site of his interest. Our bespectacled character of focus stopped dead in his light footed tracks. Several feet away there was a depression, already with the beginning of new grass buds sprouting from the dirt. It was easily four, maybe even five metres in diameter. The center of it was darker than the surrounding soil, almost as if it had been scorched. Like lightning had struck the spot.

"I told you, Harry," his scaled companion spoke. Harry gasped quietly and lept a short distance. He turned to face the serpent, still unsure whether or not he could believe what he was seeing and hearing.

"I-I can't believe it..."

"Why not? The proof is in front of your face my friend. You can touch it, you can taste it even if you so choose. But it is there, a reminder of what those foolish spawn had awoken. Go ahead. Try to use your magic again. Prove to yourself what gifts you possess."

"But, how-how do I use it? How do I make it come out? How do I control it?"

"I do not know," hissed the snake "I myself do not possess such magics, only very little. It heals me faster than others. I do not know why."

"How do you make it work? What does it feel like?" Harry needed to know how this magic worked, he needed to know how it functioned. How best to access it, so that he could use it to achieve his ends.

"I do not know," his serpenting friend repeated "All I know is that it heals me, though, I can feel other magics. That is, magics belonging to others. They all feel different. Yours," her tongue flickered out of her mouth "Feels like fire, but cold. It crashes and wavers around you like a strong wind. Search for that within your core."

Harry was almost entirely unsure of what to do with that explanation, it was too mystical. It felt, psuedoscientific (not that he knew about psuedoscience, he was only six after all). But, alas, Harry only had that to utilize. So he did so, as best he could. He looked nearby for some sort of target, next to the back corner of the house was a short stack of empty small flower pots. The tiny child took one and set it apart from the others, giving himself ample space for him to narrow his focus.

Harry set his gaze on the pot, and felt inside himself mentally. Looking for any sign of his magic as it had been described to him. He pressed his eyes shut, and searched deeper. He opened his eyes again, only to see the pot undisturbed. It hadn't so much as moved a milimetre from the spot he'd placed it.

Harry set his jaw in place, trying not to grind his teeth. His eye twitched slightly. He tried to calm himself, the raven adjusted his stance and drew a few deep breaths. Ok. He threw himself at his task again. He searched inside himself deeper this time. He looked and looked, he felt as deep as he could. Mental tendrils groping around for any trace of that cold raging fire described to him. He began to grow angry again as he found nothing. His frustration boiled like an overfull tea-kettle duct taped shut on an over heating stove. His eyes snapped open and he let out a low growl from deep in his throat, it almost hurt. Something flashed forward within him, he grasped it and let it billow forth like a gale at his target.

Harry opened his eyes at the sound of shattering crockery. His pupils contracted and focused on what used to be a flower pot. Now in it's place was a litter of red dust and shards of brick colored debris. His eyes were wide with absolute astonishment. A smile crept up on his face, giddyness rose within him as if he were a child on christmas morning and there was a sizable pile of gifts beneath the tree. His smile faltered, and fell flat.

This isn't good. This magic is no use if all I can do is blow stuff up.

"That is good, very impressive," came soft, congradulatory hissing.

Harry turned to stare at his companion. His brow furrowed in thought, and disappointment.

"It may be impressive, but it isn't good enough. For days you've told me of great wizards using magic to do extraordinary things. Exploding a flower pot isn't anything compared to actual spells, like the one you talked about that can kill with no marks, no evidence. It won't do if I can only do it when I'm stressed, either."

The snake cocked her head to the side, her version of a pensive expression. "Then you should practice with your magic. Find out how to make it do your bidding. Strange though, I've heard from my brothers and sisters that most magic users need special tools to do anything at all."

Special tools? Does she mean... "Like a wand?"

"If a wand is like a strange stick, then yes, I suppose they use wands."

Harry considered this. Did that mean he was special? Even among wizards? Or were other magical children able to use magic like him, and later lost the ability?

Harrys thoughts continued for a moment, each question spawing more like beheading a hydra made of queries. He realized that, despite her limited knowledge and lack of valuable terminology, what little she could provide was however invaluable at the moment. She could prove to be a valuable ally for the time being.

"What is your name? What do you call yourself?" He questioned, before now it hadn't made sense to actually learn her name, given that before this point she was potentially just a hallucination.

She paused a moment, she didn't remember ever having a proper title. Her mother had never given her one, and she'd never been asked on account of her life essentially being a constant competition for survival.

"I... have no name. At least, not one I remember. I never needed one."

Harry was suprised. He couldn't imagine not having a name to be called, The Dursleys had always called him something. Even if it hadn't always been his given name.

"Would-would you like me to give you a name?"

It was the serpents turn to be suprised, him give her a name? Some emotion rose in her body, like she was happy to have been offered this thing she'd never had. Nor knew that she had wanted, at some low, unconscious level.

"Why not?"

Harry thought for a moment, he'd never had the chance to name anything before. Really he never learned many names, only those of The Dursleys and the various plants he tended to on the daily. Petunia had taught him some of the scientific labels of some of the garden plants. He supposed that he would have to use one of those.

"What do you think of... Delphinium?"

She thought for a moment, going over the lithe beautiful sound of the name.

"I quite like it. I would be happy to take it as my name."

"Well then Delphinium, come along, I need to finish weeding the garden."

"Yes sir."

Harry walked up to her and crouched down, offering his arm for her to climb on. She made her way up the limb and made his shoulders her resting place. They felt something pass between them, The Raven shivered. He wasn't sure what had happened, but a deal had been made between them. Something deeper than a simple allignment.

Chapter Text

A few weeks had passed, and Harry was busy washing dishes in the early afternoon. He'd been practicing his magic as much as he could, every solitary moment he had outside of his cupboard. Strangely (or not) he found himself with more time alone (with the obvious exception of Delphinium, whom he'd taken to occasionally calling Delphi) since Dudley hadn't gained back the nerve to provoke him. Regardless, progress was slow and tedious. He had much less trouble accessing his magic now, though he still struggled slightly. The most pertinent issue was controlling the flow, and getting it to behave as he wished. Which currently meant using his magic to move objects in whatever way he wanted.

So far he'd had the most success with items about the size of a large drinking glass. The bespectecled boy found large objects to be the easiest to move, he had discovered that mass had a very minimal impact on his ability. And their surface area meant that he needn't be quite so accurate with his targeting. Targeting happened to be the most prominent obstacle, as "grabbing" anything at all was comparable to having a third hand that just so happened to be invisible, and his sense of moving this invisible apendage was somewhat inverted compared to his corporeal and visible hands. It didn't help that the "hand" as he imagined it, was almost entirely disembodied. It felt similar to having a helium balloon taped to the inside of your sternum, yet it sprouted out of every point of your skin at once.

But his magic was not his current focus, and neither was the shrinking pile of greasy crumb covered porceline plates in the sink. No, Harry was focused on the feline observer he had on the edge of his vision, outside the window and sitting on the wall. The animal had been there since a few days after Harry and Delphinium's official allignment. It was a peculiar cat too, as he'd thought he saw white goggle like markings around the eyes the few times he'd let it come into center view. He wanted to maintain the illusion that he was unaware of his beastial stalker.

"She watches you again, Harry," came a hissing sound from the boy's torso. Delphinium had taken to wrapping herself around Harry's stomach and chest when they weren't either outdoors or in his cupboard. It served to be a good hiding place for her, as Harry's malnourished frame and extremely loose clothing left plenty of room for her to lie almost unnoticable. She made him look almost like a healthy child wearing oversized clothes.

"Quiet, I noticed her."

"Are you sure you do not want to confront her? She does not appear dangerous. I sense no malignant energy from her."

"Possibly, I may wait until it is time to tend the garden if I choose to try and speak with her."

"Very well."

The only reason they knew of her at all was because of Delphinium's ability to sense the magics of others. She had found it suspicious that the same magic kept appearing nearby every other day, in the same place and almost at the exact same time. She had heard stories of human magic users that could transform into animals, it was her theory that this cat may be one such magic user. Lending credit to this explanation was the fact that the feline had a much larger magical presence than any normal animal she'd encountered. It came very close to Harry's own presence and power, this cats magic felt like it was fortress. As if the magic were stones in a nigh unbreechable wall, strong and unyeilding. Yet behind that fortress it softened, feeling like the love of a parent.

-////-

Come time to tend to the garden the sun was beginning to set, the dishes had taken him so long because each one was more crusty and disgusting than a homeless blokes diseased bleeding sphincter after getting rammed by a drug dealers HIV riddled cock for his next meth fix. Nor did it help that the two gargantuan pigs he had for an Uncle and Cousin ate about as much as a band of starving competetive eaters with free admission to an all you can eat buffet and that days special was a tables worth of the messiest foods you could imagine and none of them had the common courtesy of using the provided utensils to slop the stuff into their gaping gullets. 

After the first twenty minutes of spreading fertilizer over one of the flower beds Harry had made the decision to talk to the mysterious cat that lurked around his reluctant residence. He stopped manipulating the nitrogen enriched mulch and wiped his brow with his shirt. After a quick look at his surroundings, he made off toward the wall where the cat was inconspicuously lazing about with her tail wagging slowly and rythmicly. She startled as she felt him come near, her head snapping up when he approached her for the first time ever. She made no move to run away, he may have thought she was just a friendly stray.

The began to lose confidence in her assumption when he stopped a few feet from her perch, and stared at her. His face etched with a quizzical look. After a moment he spoke.

"Who are you?"

Her heart stopped, so had the motion of her tail. How had he found her out? He couldn't have really, she hoped. She decided to continue playing the role of unambiguous stray. Her head cocked to the side to, her face neutral. She made a quiet noise like she was annoyed, as a normal cat would be if a person decided to interrupt their peaceful sunbathing session. Harry furrowed his brow, his jaw set.

"Who are you?" He asked again.

The game was definitely up now, they both knew for sure of the other. The Cat looked around, making sure those bastard relatives weren't keeping watch. No one was, so she locked eyes with the green ones before her and flicked her tail. A gesture that he took as "follow me."

With that she hopped off the wall, to the side walk on the other face of the wall. Harry hesitated a moment. He thought this may be the time to express a little more caution. But he soon followed as quickly as he could, which wasn't entirely fast considering he was a malnourished six year old who was also bogged down by the considerable weight of an 84 centimetre long serpent. There was also the issue of getting through the gate quietly, not an easy task as it rattled like a maracca at the slightest push when the chain link scraped over the side walk. He only opened it wide enough for him to make it through with little headway, he didn't want to squish Delphi.

He followed the strange cat for a short ways. They stopped after ducking behind a shed down the street. Harry was a bit confused.

"Why are we here?"

His question was answered when what had been a cat suddenly became a tall, stern faced woman with glasses. Harry stepped back in suprise, eyes bulging from their sockets at the display of magic. He definitely wanted to learn how to become an animal at will, he felt it extremely advantagous.

"I knew it!" Delphi hissed from beneath Harry's shirt.

"Knew what? That she was a witch?"

"No, I thought she was a very convincing statue of a woman. Of course she's a witch!"

"No need to be mean about it..."

Throughout the exchange the newly revealed witch watched with suprise and a hint of horror. Harry was a parselmouth?

"You can speak to serpents?" It was more a statement than a question, but it demonstrated her suprise none the less. Harry fixed his gaze on her, his brow furrowed and a slight frown appeared on his face.

"Yeah, what of it? You miss, are a witch. I think thats the more relevant part of this."

"I think I will decide whats relevant, Mr.Potter."

Harry froze at the mention of his name. How had she learned it? How long had she been watching him before Delphi sensed her?

"How do you know my name?" He asked, a wave of scenarios and explanations raced through his head most of which involving magic in some way. Though what he really wanted to know was why she knew his name. He'd only recently discovered his magic and doubted that outside of being able to speak with snakes he wasn't terribly remarkable. Really, what strange perverted reason would this woman be stalking him for?

"It's my job to know your name. Though, just about everyone in the wizarding world knows your name. You're famous after all."

Harry's eyes would have popped out of their sockets like corks from over pressurized champagne bottles if they were any wider. Why could he possibly be famous? What could he have done to warrant his name being common place among witches and wizards like some sort of pop culture icon? Such a large revelation, yet it only brought forth more questions in his head. Nothing was making sense.

"What do you mean 'everyone in the wizarding world'? Are you mad? I'm nobody. I'm a six year old who just discovered magic less than a month ago."

The woman's face fell a little. How horrible, that those creatures he was forced to live with had denied him knowledge of who he was.

'Dumbledore is such a damned fool,' she muttered to herself. "Quite the contrary dear. You are the one who saved the wizarding world, as a babe no less. From He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The greatest dark wizard of all time. He gave you that scar on your forehead."

Well, that answer only seemed to inspire a multitude of new questions. But what of his scar? He'd been told differently.

"What? No. I got this scar in a car crash. It killed my parents."

The womans face fell further. This had gotten way out of hand. Even before he had come to face her, everything was so wrong. He didn't know who he was, what he'd done, where and what he belonged to. Everything he'd ever been fed was lies.

"No, you got that scar from the killing curse. Your parents were killed by the very same curse."

"The... killing curse? I thought that it left no marks! How could it have scarred me even if I did survive? Actually, how did I survive? None of this makes sense!"

"How do you know about the killing curse? I thought you'd only discovered magic recently."

"Delphi told me about it."

"Delphi?"

At this Harry lifted his shirt to reveal Delphinium wrapped around his torso. She had momentarily forgotten about the snake, she was too absorbed in revealing to Harry the infirmation he'd been denied. Harry spoke again to the snake.

"Go hunt or something for a while. I need to speak with her more."

"Yes sir."

Delphi slithered down from his torso, traveling down his leg and disappearing into a nearby brush. The woman stared at the empty space left by the serpent. She hadn't seen anything like it for a long time. His stomach was horribly distended, the snake had been able to fill the space so well that he looked normal until she'd left. His ribs were so apparent she could have counted them without needing to feel for them. Hell, he looked like a human xylophone. Now she took a closer look at his arms, they were extremely thin. His legs were no better, she almost couldn't fathom how he functioned. She was sure that he was unconsciously using magic just to stay upright. Then there was the bruising, a large amount of his skin was blotched with purple and red. Like his ribs had been broken. Is that why I stopped seeing him for a few days? She needed to talk to Dumbledore immediately, she could not believe he would leave this child in this environment. Bloodline wards be damned.

"I need to go, I have urgent matters to attend to."

"What? No, I still need to speak with you. There's so much more you need to explain!"

"I'll explain more at a later date, but I need to leave now."

"Wait a minute, I haven't even got your name!"

"Mcgonagall, Minerva Mcgonagall."

And with that, she was gone. A cracking noise went off like a silenced pistol. Which was loud, but not so much as to alert the entire neighbourhood. Harry was left with one question among the others that had spiralled into his head.

"The hell kind of name is Mcgonagall?"

Chapter Text

"What?! You aren't going to remove him from the Dursley home?"

Mcgonagall stared at Albus Dumbledore, incredulity showed plainly on her face. The moment she reappeared at Hogwarts she'd virtually attacked him in his office with inquiries on what he planned to do, along with a much more concerned and furious version of "I told you so." She knew for a fact that putting Harry in that environment would result in his being abused. The only part she was wrong about was the level that the abuse would be at, which was to say, much worse than she'd ever imagined. She hadn't known sooner because, well, you can only discern so much information on a child's situation from afar.

"Of course. I know what I am doing, he needs to remain at the Dursley household. The wards set by his mother are the only thing standing between him and Voldemort. If he were to be removed, we couldn't hope to replicate the level of security he has in that place."

"So what? Those wards mean nothing if he's dead, or crippled. I saw what they've done to him. It's a miracle that Harry is alive. I'm almost entirely sure that his magic is the only thing that keeps him functional. Do you want the memories? I'll gladly give them if it means convincing you to have him removed."

"I assure you that won't be neccessary. I need you to trust that his safety is of my utmost concern."

"Bollocks! If you were trully concerned about his safety you would have him placed under my care, or under Remus' care even. Give him to someone who could nourish him, give him an environment where he can grow appropriately! If you cared, you'd not leave him in that place. Where they starve and beat him, and Merlin knows what else."

Albus' mouth twitched slightly, she was beginning to irritate him. "I won't have you using that sort of tongue toward me. I am your superior, I won't hesitate to use that against you. I am under the impression that you like your job. It'd be a shame if you lost it, for using inappropriate language toward the headmaster."

Mcgonagall held her tongue at that. She needed to tread more carefully now.

"What of the boy's abilities as a Parselmouth? Surely that warrents some attention. It would be a waste of potential to have his growth stunted by such hostile surroundings."

The bearded wizard contemplated her point. "I'll think about that. Private intruction may prove difficult, should I allow it."

The stern faced woman was beginning to lose her patience again. She'd been making perfectly reasonable arguments and requests the entire conversation. The way Tom Riddle had grown to be crossed her mind. She questioned if he really took this seriously, which was pretty fair considering his suspicious willingness to sit idly by and let this child be abused and caged like something feral.

"Please. Do consider," she said. It took all of her will to keep as much venom out of the words as possible. She turned toward the stairway leading out of the office.

"I'll be going. I have things that need tending to."

"Such as?" Asked Dumbledore, a cold look on his face. As if he were looking for some discrepancy in her actions or words.

"Grading assignment, planning lessons. My normal duties, what else?" Her face maintained its stern, gentle look. Except her eyes glinted with an air of innocence.It wasn't exactly a lie, those were things she needed to tend to. But it was a lie in that, those weren't things she planned to do tonight. What she really planned to do was plan her schedule for teaching Harry in secret, regardless of whether or not she or anyone else was granted permission to train him.

"I wouldn't know."

With that, she turned back toward the stairs and headed down, hoping her role as Harry's teacher wouldn't be cut short.

-////-

Instructing Harry turned out to be an amazingly easy task, especially considering he did not have a wand. But outside of teaching him, it was a difficult experience. Scheduling and secrecy were hard to work out. She tried to mostly work with him on weekdays, on account of the other male occupants of the house were at school and work respectively. Meaning that they only had the attention of one person to avoid. But this came with the consequence of needing a decoy to stand in for her at Hogwarts.

She tracked down a spell that existed in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library, the "Body Double Spell". It created a corporeal "clone" of sorts that lasted for a specific amount of time based on the caster's proficiency and the complexity or quantity of commands/knowledge. It took Mcgonagall two months in order to make the spell last for an entire lesson whilst also teaching with a limited ability to help outside of the lesson plan. To compensate for the lack of ability to answer all questions a student may have, she told her students that she would be available on weekends and during free time to give extra assistance.

Harry, however, almost never needed extra assistance. He would either quickly accomplish a task he was given, or keep trying until it was obvious even to him that he needed Mcgonagall to give him more instruction. Even when it was obvious the he needed help, asking for it was like pulling teeth. It didn't help that he almost always refused offers of assistance. Strangely the raven almost learned magic faster than the average Hogwarts student with a wand. Even more impressive, was his insistence on teaching himself to do most spells non-verbally.

Within the first few weeks Harry had an elementary grasp on almost everything a first year would have learned up to that point, the animagus was astonished how well he grasped each subject considering his age. He excelled in the theoretical aspects of magic the greatest, often coming up with complex analogies that nonetheless made near perfect sense in relation to the actual magical action or occurrence. Sadly, their lessons would cease soon enough.

As Mcgonagall appeared back in her office one day after a visit with Harry, she found she had an unexpected (and wholly unwanted) visitor there. Albus stood in front of her dark wooden desk, inspecting the items that lay atop it. A small collection of books and nicknacks organized pleasantly about the surface, framing  her workspace where papers were carefully spread about.

The bearded wizard spoke as he picked up one of the objects, a small replica of a quidditch broom (a prized gift from another messy haired student, long gone). "I have been wondering where you've been, Minerva. Care to tell me?"

She stayed silent, surprise and fear mixed within her like a clumsy students cauldron. She knew lying would do nothing, she had just been caught in her act. She elected to remain silent, her lips tightened and her eyes steeled over with grim determination.

"Staying silent will not help your case, I'm afraid. So please, speak up. It'd be a shame to lose your job over something so abashedly stupid as not speaking to me, Minerva."

Satisfaction and glee shined within his startlingly blue eyes. She knew that he was only doing this to torture her, to get an admission of guilt. He was enjoying watching her struggle with her thoughts, her words. A small,  sinister smirk played at the corners of the old man's mouth

Chapter Text

McGonagal's nerves were all firing at once, her body felt stiff, paralyzed. She had to resist her hand's urge to twitch toward her wand. She took a steady breath, calming her nerves.

Her mind raced to find a suitable explanation, and it begged the question as to why she hadnt done so preemptively. She couldn't let Albus win this battle of wills, she needed to beat him. Him and all that cunning that stormed behind those steely blue eyes. A thought occurred to her, she was never explicitly forbidden from seeing potter.

"I've been visiting Harry Potter, observing his condition," stated McGonagal.

Albus' smile twitched quickly into a frown, but resumed a confident and subtle smile. He placed the model broom back on her desk, taking the time to position it as it had been before. It irked her that he touched her belongings so lackadaisically; He thought he had her against the proverbial ropes.

"Checking on his condition? Is that all?" The old man inquired, clearly suspicious.

"Yes, I've already expressed my concern to you about his state of wellbeing. It's been eating at me that he's in constant danger, while residing in a place that's supposed to be his home." She wasn't exactly lying, that helped her not to betray her to his impeccable sense for lies.

His eyes sparkled with that familiar cunning. "If you're so concerned about him, as to leave Hogwarts in the middle of lessons, it may actually be worth my direct intervention. I should visit him myself, see what he is getting up to." His tone had just a hint of his self satisfaction.

"Maybe I should even talk to him, ask about any shady characters."

Those words made her nervous. She hoped that Delphine's animalistic intuition was enough to warn the two not to give any vital information. Cautiously, she attempted to dissuade him, while also doing her best to not seem nervous about his newfound "concern" for the raven's wellbeing.

"Why so worried now? You didn't seem too concerned the last time I approached you about his safety." Her irritation pricked at the edge of her voice.

"Your concern seems so great, I may as well involve myself. I still have yet to decide if removing him from the Dursleys' care is paramount to his survival." Dumbledore said this in an almost mocking tone.

The bespectacled woman didn't know how to respond, she couldn't exactly rebuke his words without displaying desperation. She huffed quietly, and crossed her arms loosely. Her posture verges on defeated. She closed her eyes and mulled over what had just happened. Perhaps this should be taken as a small victory? This thought crossed her mind before she opened her eyes to see Albus patiently staring at her, subtle, yet victorious smile just barely visible beneath his long grey facial hair.

"Do as you like, I can only advise you. Your authority supersedes my own." She said, a hint of defiance tinted her tone. The Headmaster seemed momentarily taken aback, like he expected her to fight further, and prove his internal hypothesis.

He quickly gathered his composure, as if it hadn't ever broken. "Well, with that, I'll be returning to my other duties." He walked to the door as he said this. As he placed his hand on the doorknob to her classroom, he turned his head back to look at her.

"Goodnight, Minerva."

And with that, he was gone.

-////-

It had been a few days since Harry had seen Minerva, he was beginning to get anxious. His eyes scanned the sidewalk for any hint of a glasses clad tabby cat. Something collided painfully with the side of his skull. He clutched his now aching head gingerly, that would bruise soon.

He looked over at what had hit him, a small steel bucket. His eyes quickly flicked over to the origin of the vessel as an angry voice began to berate him.

"I thought I told you to get to weeding?" Growled his extremely heavyset uncle, Vernon. His face, practically swollen with adipose tissue, was twisted into an ugly scowl; his brow was furrowed deeply, a vein bulging from his temple.

Harry's thin pale face lowered, his hand lowering to his side. Emerald eyes peered from under his brow up at the mountainously obese man. "Apologies, sir. I got- distracted..."

Harry winced as a huge, pudgy hand gripped the top of his head, pressing into the tender side of his cranium. He felt his head being tilted upward to face Vernon more directly. The fat man's face was pink with disproportionate anger.

"Don't let it happen again, boy." He said in a low, threatening voice.

"Yes, sir." Harry said, gritting his teeth slightly in pain. The pressure was immense. Then it was suddenly released, and he was thrown back on his rear. He winced as he landed roughly on his coccyx.

Harry's glittering green eyes glared at the bulging, roll covered back walking toward the front door. The fabric of the large man's sweater vest stretching and pulling across his flabby skin. Sweat darkened the crevices between the folds.

The boy with messy, dark hair grimaced as he pushed himself to his feet. Limping slightly to the bucket, he picked it up, slowly bending over. He did his best not to agitate his injuries. He looked over the garden and the lawn. He was forced to perform near constant maintenance on the yard, which meant that weeds weren't a huge issue. Though they sprung up all the time regardless. Petunia insisted that herbicides would harm her precious flora.

Nonetheless, this was a task that would take him a considerable amount of time. His only tool was the bucket, and a single weed would result in dire consequences. He hissed after listening for anyone who could be listening.

"Delphi?"

A response emanated from a nearby rose bush. "I am here!" Hissed Delphinium.

"Oh, good. Come help me, please. With both of us this shouldn't take as long." He was glad to have the serpent, she made a good friend, and excellent company when he was lonely. He winced again as he stepped toward the most immediately visible patch of weeds, being sorely reminded of his recent injury. That would be a hindrance.

-////-

Twenty minutes had elapsed since Harry and Delphinium began their search for every weed they could possibly find, when Delphi sensed a new presence. Something unsettling. She alerted Harry of this disturbance, something on the air. A vaguely malignant magic lingered nearby.

"Something watches us, Harry." She hissed, her coils tightening around Harry's leg.

"Whom?" Harry inquired.

"I know not. But I smell their magic. Be on guard." Her tongue waggled, taking in more of the unnerving scent.

"Will do, thank you, Delphi."

Soon enough, a man dressed in robes walked casually down the sidewalk. Long grey hair, and a beard to match. He had a kind face, framed by a pair of half moon glasses, which aided steely blue eyes. Harry watched him intently out of the corner of his eye. Delphi had hidden herself among the flowers, she hissed quietly to Harry.

"That man, he is the source of the strange magic. Exercise caution." Her tone was wary, almost urgent. Harry didn't answer, he didn't want to risk the stranger hearing him. He almost jumped when the aged man spoke to him.

"Hello! How are you today, young man?" Hid voice was kind, and possessed a wizened eccentric energy.

"I've been told not to talk to strangers, mister." Harry replied, innocently, but verging on being curt.

"Oh, I'll only be a minute, my boy. I was looking for a friend of mine, I heard she had passed through this beautiful neighbourhood recently! I'm hoping you've seen her?" His demeanor was almost too calm and kind to be legitimate.

"Depends, what does your friend look like?" Harry did his best to maintain his image of childlike ignorance.

"She's an older woman, but much younger looking than me, I assure you. Wears glasses, very pretty face. Sharp features. Grace of a cat I'd say, when she walks." He talked about her as if she were a good friend. At the mention of cat-like grace, Harry almost tensed up. He had to remain calm, and not express anything that could tell the man he knew the woman he spoke of.

"I don't think I've seen her, mister, sorry. I think you should be going, my mum doesn't like me talking to strangers. I'm supposed to be weeding." Harry did his best to appear anxious about his 'mum' being upset, instead of the danger posed by this stranger. Harry realized he was leaning awkwardly to take pressure off of his tail bone. He straightened his posture, his jaw tightened at the twinge of pain.

The stranger seemed disappointed, but over more than just Harry not having seen his friend. "Hm, well that's quite unfortunate. My apologies, young man. You have a nice day, and thank you for the assistance!"

He headed off on his way, disappearing down the street, humming a meandering tune to himself. Harry knew that man wasn't trust worthy, as kind and eccentric as he seemed, there was some whisper of insincerity that crept through to Harry's intuition. The fact that he was a wizard, and that he was looking for his teacher were also warning signs.

-////-

Later that night, Harry was washing up the dishes in the kitchen. His hands red and pruning from the hot soapy water. He scrubbed at plates, and cookware. Everything had food crusted onto it from use. The load was astronomical since Vernon and Dudley ate enough food for a small family, each (If each member ate second helpings, along with dessert). Tonight's meal was especially difficult, French onion soup. All the cookware and serving vessels had cheese crusted and melted onto it, it loved to cling to the oven-safe ceramic. The brown, beefy broth nearly seared onto the sides of each ramekin. Jammy, caramelized bits of onion and their natural sugars refused to be removed from the large Dutch oven in which they had been cooked to a sweet, flavourful mass.

Harry elected to focus on the other items in the sink, such as the plates. His hands were aching from scrubbing though, which turned out to be a massive disadvantage. As he was reaching over to the dish rack, his fingers gave out, while he was holding a plate.

On instinct his magic lashed out, and grasped the disc in the air; it remained there, suspended, Harry's hand extended towards it. Suddenly, a cold wash flooded the kitchen. The hairs on the back of the obsidian haired child stood on end.

Slowly, his green, gemstone like eyes turned toward the entryway.

There stood Vernon, still as a stone. Somehow his flabby lard bloated body seemed stiff and tight to the core. The fear and shock of having been caught shook Harry to his core, breaking his connection to his magic. The plate shattered on the floor.

The noise seemed to disturb the walrus of a man's stupor. Suddenly, fury envelopes his face. Blood rushed through his skin, veins popped in his temple, his teeth were bared. He lunged forward and grabbed Harry roughly by the scruff, ignoring the cries of pain as his meaty fist gripped his supple skin.

Vernon dragged Harry to the hall near the stairs, the boy prepared to be tossed cruely into his "room." He was unfortunately surprised by the walrus' next actions.

Massive pudgy hands fumbled with the wholly unnecessary belt around his waist, the buckle seemed to slowly come undone to Harry. Vernon roughly yanked the belt from it's loops. He gathered it in his bear-like paws and folded it in half once.

Terrified green eyes widened to the size of saucers as his uncle raised the belt above his head, muscles tight beneath the fat. Harry almost didn't see the belt come down upon him. On impulse he raise his arm, feeling the momentary pressure of the leather strap before it burst into searing pain that streaked over the surface of his forearm. Harry cried out in pain and clutched his arm to his chest.

The next blow followed swiftly, striping across his shoulder and face. Then his legs. The pain made his muscles spasm, he couldn't curl up his body anymore. His torso was exposed, opening him up to a more furious barrage of blows. His cries rang through the whole house, the pale boy tried crawling away. Another mistake, he was slow, and moving on his belly exposed his backside. The mountain of flesh struck him again and again across his back, thighs, and buttocks. Every place he could conceivably be struck with a belt suffered injury.

It wasn't long, but to Harry it felt similar to an eternity. The whole time he couldn't gather his thoughts enough to reach his magic. All he could think was the raining lashes upon his body. Finally, it was over.

Vernon stood above him, they had neared the end of the hallway. His broad shoulders heaved with breathlessness. His belt hung limp from his hand, the leather made astoundingly pliable from it's extreme use just a moment before. He stared at Harry, who was sobbing and hiccuping with agony, with a smoldering rage.

He stomped toward the boy, belt still in hand; Harry no longer had the ability to attempt escape. A gigantic hand reached toward the mop of messy noir, and grasped it harshly. Vernon yanked the small boy down the hall to the cupboard, Harry almost screamed, and weakly raised his arms to grip the fatty digits pulling at his hair.

Suddenly his remaining breath was thrust from his lungs as his back impacted the wall of his miniscule living space. The young one crumpled like a sac of bones, and moved no more. His skin was mottled purple and yellow all over is body, a variety of strips of many lengths.

Nary an inch of his skin wasn't covered in a shade of red, purple, blue, or yellow. The only sign that he had a shred of life in him were the shallow breaths he tried to take, his lungs wouldn't inhale. He felt like he was suffocating. Like his lungs were full, but he needed more air, he couldn't exhale. Suddenly, his ability to breathe returned to him, like having a heavy boot step off his ribs.

He was too exhausted and anguished to cry anymore, or move. Everything hurt too much. He just laid there for the rest of the night, and much of the next morning. To him, nothing could cause him more pain than he had just experienced. He had much to experience.

Chapter Text

When Harry woke up he didn't know what time it was, or what day it was. His eyes were nearly crusted shut with sleep. He felt bloated and sore. He looked over his arms, which lay limp in front of him; his skin was a myriad of ugly bruised colours. The surface was coated in thin long scabs, like someone had scraped him with a stick, repeatedly. His skin looked like a quilt, swollen and lumpy.

He took a deep breath, and quickly came to regret that decision. The raven's ribs exploded with pain, groaning with pain, he clutched his chest. Another mistake, every movement felt like being struck with a brick. Wherever his skin came into contact with (or worse, had pressure placed on it), sent screaming pangs of agony through him. Tears streamed from his eyes, and it took all of his effort not to vocalize his suffering. Just as much strain was exerted to not begin hyperventilating, and risk even more pain.

And so, he sat there. Waiting. The world swam around him, his cupboard threatening to atomize and disintegrate. Inside, Harry could hardly muster a thought. Why wasn't he sad? Or angry? Or afraid?

Numb. That is what he felt. If you could call numbness a feeling. All of his senses felt dead except for being very aware of his aching body. Green, emerald coloured eyes lacked their usual brightness. As if the transparent body of a crystal had somehow become slightly opaque. A glossy lusterless film had formed over his spirit.

Even his hair seemed to lose it's attitude, laying across his scalp and on the floor in a more messy and unkempt fashion than his usual handsomely tousled locks. It was greasy, but lacked shine. It's volume was reduced to the point of almost being manageable.

Harry had no clue how much time had passed. At least an hour, but likely more. He started to feel an ache in his chest that wasn't from physical injury. This ache was emotional. He was alone. Unwanted. A freak. A mangy dog, needing to be beaten away. He felt as if he should die.

Tears streamed from his eyes, and the broken boy sobbed as much as he was able, without disturbing his bruised ribcage. Mucus dribbled from his nose, and spittle leaked from his mouth as he cried. What was wrong with him? What was so wrong with him that he deserved being beaten within an inch of his life with a belt? Why was his magic so vile, and disgusting to them?

He needed someone. He wanted love. He crave acceptance. Maybe he could find it. Not in a person, but something else.

"Delphi?.." Harry called out, quietly. Doing his best to not be heard by anyone else.

Minutes went by, no snake. "Delphi, please..." Harry pleaded.

A moment later, he heard a sliding sound in the walls, along with a muffled "I am here!"

Soon, Delphinium slithered through her port hole in the wall. Her alarm and fear was almost palpable, her aura impressed that upon him without words or expressions.

"What happened? I couldn't sense you for two moons. You never returned to the yard." The serpent expressed her concern for him. Though he couldn't really tell why she was concerned, did she care for him? Or was he a means to an end that she wanted?

"Please, I would rather not talk about it now. I just- I need you." She could sense the pain in his heart. She slithered closer.

"Are you hurt?" The reptile questioned, examining the patchwork of bruises and swelling that dominated his flesh.

"Yes. Please, just, stay here with me." His tone verged on begging, so she complied. They laid there, quiet for several moments. Harry was the first to break the silence.

"Delphi, do you care about me?"

She was puzzled, and would have expressed it with her face if she could. "What do you mean?"

Harry was silent for a minute, before responding with, "Do you love me?"

Her confusion was evident in her voice as she said, "What is that? Love?"

"It's, a thing that humans feel. For their kids"

"What does love entail?"

Harry thought for a moment. He didn't really know what love entailed. He hadn't ever really experienced it. So, he said what he imagined love to be.

"Love is, when you stay with someone, and they stay with you. Forever. You help them and support them. You keep them safe. You make them happy. You do anything you can to be stronger together. They also do these things for you."

Delphinium lay silent, thinking about his definition of love. It took her a few minutes to develop a response.

"I do not know. I've never experienced that. But, I think I could try. I definitely want to stay with you, and help you. You are an interesting human."

Harry seemed content with that answer. "I will take that. Thank you," Harry paused, "I love you, Delphi."

Delphinium was surprised by those last words. It sparked something inside of her, a feeling she couldn't describe. It was warm, and light. Ironic, considering her cold blooded nature. She couldn't help but to return the sentiment.

"I love you too, Harry." Tears came back to his eyes, and he closed them. The tears dripped slowly to the floor of the cupboard. They remained like that for a while, content with each other's presence.

-////-

Harry was once more up an about, albeit, slowly and painfully. During the interim before he could move enough to complete tasks, he got a meal once a day, for each of the 3 days that he rested. It was miraculous that he was even up to begin with. He likely shouldn't have been, as every movement was still excruciating.

Once again, he was in the front yard, tending the flowers. Gradually tending each plant as necessary. His tools all felt leaden in his hands, and each task lacked his usual attention and grace. He bore the pain as well as he could, resulting in a barely acceptable gardening performance.

His torso was especially tender, which was unfortunately the place that Delphi preferred to take up residence. This made her annoyed, not with Harry, but with his "guardians."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw a familiar tabby cat loitering by the fence gate. Deep green eyes scanned around, searching for his tormentors before approaching the cat, and following her. She kept looking back toward him, her large eyes conveyed a deep sense of curiosity. This was most likely directed at Harry's languished pace.

"I'll tell you in a moment." Harry said, his voice possessing a defensive bite. McGonagal gazed forward once more, understanding that this was not an easy subject. They kept walking in silence, McGonagal's curiosity grew as she heard Harry making just barely audible noises of exertion.

They crept into their hidden alcove, and McGonagal turned as she transformed back into her human form. Crossing her arms, a questioning expression on her face. Her brows were knitted in concern.

"Well, Harry, care to explain? What happened?"

Harry looked away, with an expression on his face that made McGonagal's concern to grow. He seemed afraid, as of he were looking for some threat in the distance.

"Well- well..." he trailed off, not knowing how to tell her he'd just spent nearly a week unable to move because his violent uncle beat him severely with a belt. His mind suddenly wandered to the memory of it. The ravens breathing became short, the pace of each breath quickening.

Everything began to rush to him, warped and fragmented flashes of being struck. The panic and fear began to rise up again in his chest. Emerald coloured eyes glazed over, as if he were no longer there. His breathing quickened more, until he was clearly hyperventilating. His hands were shaking visibly. McGonagal quickly realised something bad had happened, she needed to calm Harry down. She grabbed his shoulders gently and made him look at her.

"Harry? Harry, I need you to focus on me."

He came to somewhat, he seemed to see her. Immediately panic consumed him, his eyes widening, he shoved her away then fell backward. He searched around wildly, looking for whatever had caused him such intense panic.

"Harry, dear, it's me, McGonagal. Please calm down, what happened?" She spoke as calmly as possible, lowering herself closer to the ground. Doing her best to make herself as non-threatening as possible. Harry barely managed to get the words together.

"He- he- he beat me. With a belt." Tears began to stream from his eyes. The glasses wearing woman felt her heart drop.

"Who beat you?" She had a feeling that she already knew the answer.

Harry's voice shook as he said, "Vernon."

The tears began to flow more heavily now, Harry sobbed and drew his knees to his chest and hugged his legs. McGonagal crawled closer to him, and put her arms around him. He stiffened for a moment, before relaxing and leaning into her. Only now did she see the faint bruises covering his skin. Her blood boiled at the thought of that man harming a child as he did. She could only imagine how bad it must have been to cover his skin so completely, for him to have trouble walking days later.

"I'm going to do everything I can to remove you from that environment, you hear me? I promise," She told him, her voice filled with determination.

Harry's sobs had calmed to sniffling and hiccuping, "Please." He sounded as if he were begging.

"I assure you. We won't have a lesson today, yes? You need to recover your strength."

"Yes, miss." Harry suddenly threw his arms around the older woman, surprising her. She smiled and held him closer. Soon she sent him home, and returned to Hogwarts to confront Dumbledore once more.

-////-

"No, I dont think it will be necessary." Dumbledore, once again, declined her suggestion to remove him from the Dursley household. It was late in the evening, after that days lessons.

"What? No?" She almost yelled, incredulous. "How could you possibly not remove him from that place? He is suffering abuse, you should have seen the bruises. Children his age shouldn't react that way, days after any form of 'discipline.'"

"That is the safes possible place for Harry to reside until he has to begin his schooling. The enchantments placed by his mother made sure of that." His tone was assured, verging on arrogant.

"No enchantments placed by a single witch could possibly protect him more than the combined talents of magic users throughout history. There is no way, not a chance in hell." She crossed her arms, why did the wizard have so much faith in Lily's abilities?

"You seem to underestimate the strength of a mother's love, Minerva." His blue eyes weren't so much as lazily gazing in her direction. Instead, they were staring with scrutiny upon the documents placed in front of him on his desk. He absently made scribbles and notations on the pages.

"A mother's love? What has that to do with anything? Are you talking about your baseless hypothesis, in which Lily Potter miraculously protected her son from the killing curse (post mortem) using love? That, is why you insist on him staying in that dangerous environment?"

"Call it what you will, Minerva. I know what I am speaking of."

"Forgive me, Headmaster, if I'm not one of the ministry's drones who will believe your prattling based purely on your authority."

"I will not, you are dismissed. You're disrupting my duties." He glared at her from beneath his brow.

She stared angrily for a moment in silence, before turning on her heel and leaving his office. She returned to her office, slamming the door behind herself. She leaned against the door, and slid down until she sat on her classroom floor. She closed her eyes, as tears slowly fell from them. She felt as if her promise to Harry had already been broken.

Chapter Text

Minerva McGonagal had just returned to Hogwarts after another session with Harry, it had been a few weeks since their encounter in which she discovered his injuries, he was doing much better mentally. Though it was obvious the event would have lasting effects on his mental state. He seemed more anxious and wary than before.

She was simultaneously surprised and annoyed to find Dumbledore in her classroom once again. He was facing a window, quite dramatically. His wrinkled and weathered hands clasped behind his back.

"May I help you, headmaster?" The feline woman asked, curtly.

The wizard looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Hm, I doubt you could. I've just discovered something troubling, just today."

"And why does this concern me, may I ask?"

"You see, I had noticed you'd visited the boy during a lesson, again. I decided to shadow you." The edges of his eyes wrinkled as they narrowed. The witch's heart stopped. She was afraid to speak, she felt the blood drain from her face. He continued to speak.

"Yes. You can see where the issue lies. This is quite serious, Minerva. The consequences for this could potentially be extreme." A glint in his cunning, steely eyes told her he had more to say.

"There's more to your visit than relaying your discovery of my transgression, isn't there?" McGonagal asked.

Dumbledore's subtle, crooked smile confirmed her suspicions. "You either know me too well, or I am too easy to read, Minerva. You're correct. I was going to say, you could maybe escape said consequences by doing one simple thing."

She had to control her voice as it threatened to shake. "What would that be, Albus?"

He pushed his glasses up his nose. "Simple really, cease all contact with Harry potter until it comes time for him to start his schooling as Hogwarts."

"What? You can't be serious!"

"Oh, but I am. Furthermore, you will not continue to insist upon his removal from the Dursley household."

She had trouble finding her words. "What would the consequences be for a lack of compliance?"

Somehow the distance between them seemed enormous, and Dumbledore appeared as a giant. "Your removal from your position as a professor here, at the very least. I'm honestly not entirely sure what more could happen, but I'm sure more has the potential to ensue."

Professor McGonagal swallowed, there was no way she could escape this. "Can you grant me one thing, Albus?"

"Maybe, that depends on your request."

"I want to be able to terminate our current relationship personally, to say goodbye for the time being."

The bearded wizard contemplated her words for a moment, her breath felt as if it were caught in her throat.

"I'll allow it," he finally said, his expression grim. She had a feeling that he secretly knew about, and enjoyed the pain this would cause her. "I want it done tomorrow, your usual time, if you would."

She was on the verge of tears, she was being forced to break her promise. She was terrified of the consequences this would result in, more for Harry than herself. "Thank you, Albus."

She nearly flinched as Dumbledore started walking toward her, she realised she was still standing on front of the door as he said, "I'll be excusing myself now."

As he closed the door behind him, she walked toward her desk and leaned heavily on it. Her whole body seemed to sag with the weight of what she was being forced to do. She slowly trudged to her quarters, to rest and prepare for tomorrow's task.

-////-

Harry was sat in the garden, as usual. He patiently awaited the arrival of McGonagal while he completed his gardening duties, Delphi wrapped around his torso. They hissed quietly to each other, about what new magics the raven would be introduced to that day.

"Most likely more transfiguration, or charms. She did say she taught transfiguration at Hogwarts." Harry said passively, he didn't mind learning about those. Though he was more interested in defense against the dark arts, because they seemed more interesting and practical, considering who he was.

"I would love if the witch would show you how to make mice, I would never need to hunt again." Delphinium fantasized, she was slowly but surely getting bigger. She had shed her skin a few days ago, leaving Harry with a translucent Delphi shaped husk to admire. This explained her ever increasing appetite.

"I'll definitely ask her about it, Delphi." He smiled, he'd heard Petunia conversing with one of the neighbours about the steadily declining rodent population. The serpent definitely improved the quality of his cupboard, he no longer woke up to mice and rats scratching in the walls. This, and the rodent feces had disappeared from his space, remaining gone after he had swept it out.

Delphinium flicked her tongue through the air. "The teacher approaches, Harry."

He looked over, an expectant expression on his face. A moment later, McGonagal appeared from down the way. He walked toward the fence, noticing her troubled expression as they approached each other.

"What's wrong, Professor?" His brow knit together, he hasn't seen her like this yet. She didn't speak for a moment, electing to simply stare at him as if he were barely there. A fight unfolded behind her eyes. Suddenly her expression hardened, she looked stern, but hints of pain flickered in her face.

"I'm sorry to tell you that from this point forward, I will no longer be able to teach you, or interact with you in anyway until it comes time for you to attend Hogwarts. This will be the last time we see each other, I apologize. Goodbye, Harry Potter." With that, she turned and walked away. Her voice had sounded as if she didn't want to be speaking to him.

"Wai- wait, what?" He ran toward her, until the fence stopped him. "Professor! Wait! Please!"

She didn't turn back to look at him. He sank to his knees, and looked sadly as she turned a corner and was gone. He couldn't process what had just happened, his forehead wrinkled, his mouth hung agape. The obsidian haired boy felt a tightness in his chest.

"What did I do?..." He asked himself.

He felt as if his chest were being crushed underneath the weight of a car. The pain was sharp and dull at the same time, his chest cavity felt like a vacuum; a cold, empty sensation permeated his body. The grass beneath his knees seemed to sag from his weight, nearly giving way to dark cavernous depths. He felt all alone again.

Suddenly the raven became aware of a shifting mass surrounding his body, he remembered that he still had Delphinium. She spoke to him softly.

"It seems it is just us, Harry."

"Ye- Yeah."

"I won't leave you. Ever."

Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, he felt as if Delphi was the only one he could trust at this point. Was it safe to let anyone else in?

"Why are humans so bad to each other?" He asked her.

"I do not know. I've avoided humans for a long time. But when I do encounter them, they always seem to hurt each other." She warned him, she wanted to keep him safe. Something within her said they belonged together.

"If human's always hurt each other, why trust anyone?"

"Maybe you shouldn't trust anyone, except me." Delphi said this, hoping to protect Harry from more pain at the hands of other humans, at least, any who could hurt him if trust were placed into them.

"But, what if there are some I can trust? Who won't hurt me?" He questioned, wisely.

"We will see. But you should keep your guard up, no matter what."

Harry took that to heart. It was then that he decided to only ever trust Delphinium. He never wanted to feel this pain again.

"I want to protect us, Delphi. From everything. I want to be safe."

"I'm sure you will, Harry." She slithered her way up his body, staring into his eyes.

"I love you, Delphinium."

"I love you too, Harry."

For the next few months the bespectacled boy would have nightmares, awaking every time in cold sweat, panicking wildly. In those nightmares, he dreamt of being abandoned by faceless people he felt he loved and cared for. When they faced him, he had that same crushing feeling as when McGonagal dismissed him. Eventually he became numb to them, waking suddenly, but laying there empty as tears flowed down his pallid cheeks. He continued to train his magic in secret, slowly getting more proficient at doing whatever he could imagine.

-////-

Harry opened his eyes suddenly, it was the middle of the night. Those faceless people flashed before him again, the crushing weight on his chest. He was ten years old now, he could no longer comfortably sit up in his tiny cupboard. Nor could he lie remotely flat. These days he laid curled up in a ball on his side, hugging his extremities to his body.

He glared at the wall in front of him, eyes fixed at the hole through which his serpent used to enter his miniscule abode. She was far too large now, her body was the diameter of an American football. Several times larger than the small rodent sized entryway. So, for a couple years now he slept entirely alone. No longer able to depend on the loving comfort of Delphi when he woke up from his nightmares.

Since he was up, he decided to contemplate his most recent and pressing issue. Uncle Vernon has been looking at him strangely for the last few months, glaring frustrated at Harry when he thought he wasn't aware. The obese man almost looked like he wanted something from Harry, maybe to beat the living hell out of him again. Nevertheless, Harry didn't know how to approach the problem.

He couldn't very well have a heart to heart talk with the man. The young boy couldn't even ask for a drink of water without fear of being yelled at. There was always something threatening about the man whenever something involved Harry. The young wizard held out his hand from his body, he reached down into his core and let magical energy flow into his fingers. He focused on a specific abstract aspect of the magic, suddenly, flames were dancing along his fingertips and knuckles. Magic was a potential solution. But only as a defense. Even then, it wasn't the greatest option. His control over his magic was so limited, even as he practiced these past 4 years. His connection to the fire wavered and he cut the flow before something disastrous and unpredictable happened.

He needed to come up with something soon, Delphinium has been warning him more and more often of Vernon's malicious intent. They both grew increasingly concerned about Harry's safety. He needed a second opinion. Harry touched his fingertips to the lock on the door.

"Alohomora!" He whispered, the lock clicked open in response. The emerald eyed boy felt embers smoldering in his chest, he still felt bitter toward McGonagal. Extremely bitter, his resentment flared every time he thought about her, or used the magic she had taught him. He rarely smiled at people anymore, oftentimes passersby on the street would be deterred by his disdainful expression as they passed Number 4 Privet Drive. He shook these thoughts as he walked to the front door. Quietly, he unlocked said door and walked onto the front step.

"Delphi!" He called quietly into the night, hoping she was awake. Or that she even had the energy to carry out any sort of conversation.

"Delphi?" He asked again, listening out for movement in the brush.

"I am here..." replied a tired voice off to his left.

He looked over to see a remarkably large snake sluggishly slithering toward him, in the dark he could almost swear he saw a groggy expression on her face. He knew this was a ridiculous notion, considering she was a snake, with no ability to emote. But he couldn't shake the impression.

"We really need to talk about Vernon, friend."

Chapter Text

"Ah, I see. What is it you are thinking of?" Delphi questioned, she still seemed sluggish and tired. Her tone gained energy by the minute.

"I'm not sure, I think magic might be my only option." Said Harry as he sat on the last step in front of the door. Anxiously, he combed his hand through his messy hair to calm his nerves.

"That may be so, but what else have you considered?" She poised herself lazily, her remaining mass that couldn't be lifted coiled around her. To Harry, she almost seemed like a human sitting with her legs crossed. The thought amused him, he relaxed slightly.

"I can't simply avoid him, or talk to him. I need a defense." The messy haired child pressed his fingertips to his forehead.

"Mayhaps you could simply hold him in place? The way you hold objects and such." It was a good idea, one that he had already thought of. It wasn't lethal, as long as Harry didn't mess about Vernon wouldn't even be harmed in the process.

"I suppose. But, what then? I couldn't hold him forever. I dont know what I could do next." His knee bobbed with anxiety. More problems seemed to arise with every solution. Harry had to take a moment to comprehend what Delphi suggested next.

"We could leave."

"What? Are you batty? Where would we go?"

The serpent dipped her scaly head forward slightly, and flicked her tongue; a sign that she was excited.

"Anywhere!"

Harry didn't know what to think. Possibilities upon possibilities swarmed through his head like angry hornets. He could go anywhere? Do anything? He had been with the Dursleys his entire life, this house was all he knew. These people, they gave him everything he had. Not that he was grateful, they took almost as much from him as they gave. They couldn't even be bothered to feed him enough, he was wire thin compared to Dudley, who seemed to get rounder and larger every week. Leaving. It would mean freedom. Absolute freedom.

Harry looked Delphinium in the eyes and said, "Yes, we could."

It was settled. The moment that aggression prone pile of lard made his move, Harry and Delphi were gone.

-////-

Two weeks and three days later, Harry sat in his cupboard, boredly awaiting his meal for the day. The night was setting in, and all of his chores had been done. No reason for him to be allowed to wander or entertain himself. He heard the telltale clicking of the lock, Vernon dropped a tray of food in front of Harry, spilling some of the food onto the tray. Some water splashed from the cup.

"Here's yer dinner, mongrel..." Spat out Vernon, his lips turned up into a snarl. He slammed the door shut, rattling the tray, and locked it. Harry eagerly grabbed the glass of water as heavy footfalls thudded away down the hall. The water had a strange taste, a faint bittersweet flavour that left an off aftertaste on the center of his tongue. It was probably just the fact that water from the tap wasn't great, is the explanation Harry assigned to the bad taste. Not that he minded too much, he was parched. He had been denied water that entire day. The messy haired child felt like his throat were a desert.

He finished the entire glass in a series of gulps. He set the glass down and sucked down a few large breaths of air. He looked down at his food, a cold messy casserole made from various leftovers and such. He mechanically spooned some of the slop into his mouth and cringed with each bite. It was disgusting, the flavours mixed in an awful way. All the ingredients were days old. None of that was aided by the fact that it was absolutely frigid. The same bittersweetness lingered in the background.

It took Harry 10 minutes to eat just a few bites. An abnormal feeling began to creep into his head, like a fog obscuring his thoughts. Something was wrong, each breath felt thick. His eyes rolled slowly in their sockets. He slowly became more sluggish and laboured. The world dissolved before him as unknowingness consumed him.

-////-

The same fog clouded his consciousness as he regained it. Harry was only cognizant enough to realise that he was no longer in his cupboard. The walls of this new location were covered completely in white plastic sheeting. The raven attempted to push himself into a sitting position, only to find his hands bound behind his back. There was only enough clearance for him to lie flat. His feet and legs were bound together also, only enough for him to spread his knees a bit wider than his shoulders. Harry shuddered, he noticed that he was not currently clothed. Everything laid bare.

The moment it became apparent that something was different, panic set in. It took all of his will to not hyperventilate, images of what Vernon did 4 years ago flashed across his vision. He was reminded of the sense of helplessness, the vulnerability. Why was he here? What did Vernon plan to do to him? Why was he naked?

His mind raced to discern some explanation or possibility. The bittersweet taste of the food and water made sense now. Harry managed to calm himself down to think properly, and reached into his core for his magic. It floundered and slipped in his grasp, as if it were a water balloon coated in oil. He couldn't pin it down and allow it to flow. Anxiety crept back into his mind, flooding with terror over not having his magic to defend himself as planned.

The raven's body stiffened to stone when the plastic that lined the wall rustled to his left. Vernon shuffled in through the curtains, he himself was also naked. His round, flabby body flustered in the dim light above them. The plastic crinkled beneath his feet as he walked toward Harry saying, "So you're finally awake, mongrel."

The obese man spat the words at Harry, but the tone was different from how he usually addressed the child. There was something about it that utterly terrified Harry, it sounded hungry, lecherous. The man's eyes seemed glazed over with an emotion Harry didn't understand. The boy squirmed, attempting to break his bonds in vain. His struggling got more frantic as Vernon stepped closer, Harry noticed the roll of duct tape grasped in one of those hammy fists.

"No! Please, Uncle, please!" Harry cried. "Wai-" He choked as Vernon pressed his palm to Harry's throat, while holding his jaw in place. Harry tried to turn away, poinlessly, while Vernon taped his mouth closed.

"I've waited a long while for this!" Growled Vernon, a grin spreading across his face. He was straddling Harry's hips now, Harry could feel the man's warm sweaty crotch grinding against him. Vernon stroked Harry's cheek, as the child shied away.

Soon the weight was gone from his body, and Harry felt himself being flipped onto his stomach and propped up onto his knees. Harry tried to struggle, only to be struck heavily on the back of his head. Tears streamed from his eyes, he couldn't even to begin gathering his thoughts due to the terror that scrambled his brain.

Harry jumped as a cold substance dripped down his backside, and began struggling intensely as he felt fingers prodding at his anus, slithering the orifice with the cold slippery fluid. Tension and fear continued to mount. Another strike to his head made him sit still.

Harry arched his back as he felt something slowly and agonisingly push its way into his rear. His entire body tightened and relaxed repeatedly with the pain of the intrusion. Nausea welled up in Harry's stomach, nearly causing him to vomit. He screamed ineffectually, the audio being muffled by the tape over his mouth.

He yelled again as the object pulled out and slammed back into him roughly. The pain slowly faded with each thrust, until each was just a throb amongst a dull ache. His fear was gone after a few minutes. Replaced by numbers and apathy. Emerald eyes faded and glazed, unseeing, though there was nothing wrong with them. He could hear Vernon huffing heavy breaths, pleasure was evident in his gasps and groans. Harry felt meaty palms and fingers roaming his skin, groping his private areas, along with wherever else his uncle could reach.

He couldn't tell how long Vernon continued to hump and grope him, but eventually he slowed down, his breathing becoming more laboured. Harry breathed in sharply as he felt something warm and slick ooze into his belly. Vernon stopped his motions and one else behind the child breathing heavily. Harry felt relieved as he felt Vernon's member slip out of him. He watched as Vernon trudge off to the side and sit down, his penis half erect and covered in thick fluids, including blood.

Harry felt the numbness fade into a smoldering hot ball in his chest as he watched Vernon sit there in his ecstasy, covered and sweat, slouching lazily whilst sitting on the floor. Harry's emerald eyes squinted and twitched with fury and shame, magic flooded through his veins like a tsunami.

His bonds snapped apart, startling Vernon, who flinched at the sound. He stared wide eyed as Harry slowly pushed himself into a kneeling position, glaring at him with molten fury.

"What in hell are you doin', you lit-" Vernon's question was cut short by a sudden pressure around his throat. He pressed his own hands to the spot, trying to pry away at invisible hands. He kicked and struggled for breath, watching Harry slowly peel the tape away from his face. His lips were twisted into a scowl, eyes almost glowing with rage.

Vernon felt himself being pushed backward through the plastic sheets, his skin sliding along the concrete floor of the remaining room. His head and back collided roughly with the far wall, he watched Harry limp through the sheeting. The light behind him cast Harry into a menacing silhouette.

"Little... Slut!" Vernon managed to choke out before he felt immense pressure on his groin. He groaned aggressively as he felt his genitals be eviscerated. Next his hands were torn from his throat and forced against the walls in a T-pose. Out of the corner of his eye he watched his hands compress until bones splintered, and the flesh popped open, finally splattering like fleshy cysts.

Harry yelled and swiped his hand through the air in front of him like a claw, large gashes appeared along his front. The obese man's abdomen split open along the most prominent laceration, his intestines and waxy yellow fatty tissue spilling onto the floor in front of him. Vernon no longer had the strength to struggle anymore, his body went limp, the light drained from his eyes.

Vernon was dead.

Harry breathed heavily, staring at the desiccated corpse of his uncle. His legs suddenly couldn't take his bodyweight, and he sank to his knees. He slumped down, and barely managed to stay upright. An emotion he couldn't describe rose up into his chest, he let out a guttural and primal scream. It almost felt like his vocal chords were about to tear.

He sat there for another moment, unmoving. He started to look around, he was in the basement of the Dursley house. His clothes had been tossed into a corner by the stairs. He got up and stumbled over to the little pile, and clumsily pulled his garments on. Then he slowly, and painfully climbed the stairs, and busted through the door. The sound of it slamming against the wall startled Petunia who was cutting vegetables in the kitchen, whete the basement entrance was located. She brandished the knife at him in defense.

Harry lazily waved his hand, knocking her blade from her hands. He limped slowly past her now cowering form, to the front room. As he passed he glared at Dudley, who seemed about to yell at him. His words never left his mouth as he caught Harry's eyes.

Silently, Harry left the house, not even bothering to shut the front door. Without a noise, Delphinium joined his side.

Together, they stalked off into the night.

Chapter Text

Harry and the serpent traveled until they couldn't that night, taking care to stay off of main roads, and remaining in the shadows. The young wizard knew Petunia would call the police, he heard sirens soon after he made his escape. He traveled as fast as he could, but both Delphi and his violated rear end made swiftness impossible. He couldn't keep track of where or how long he was traveling, every second felt like an eternity. His body was all but numb, which made it easier for him to endure the endless trek.

He didn't know where he was when he stopped. His bleary and exhausted eyes could only see that they were in the outer edges of a city. Light was beginning to creep its way over the horizon. He stumbled blindly into a nearby alleyway, collapsing into a pile of trash bags. He didn't remember losing consciousness.

-////-

He woke up to the noise of feet treading the sidewalk down the alley, and grey sunlight filtering down from above. His butt and lower back were killing him. He forgot how he got there, wherever he was. He wondered what happened last night.

He tried to sit up, and grimaced at the soreness. Flashes of the Dursley's basement overwhelmed him. He curled up into a ball, cradling his head as the events of the previous night washed over him. He couldn't breathe, no matter how much air he sucked in. He could feel Vernon's hands wandering his body, fondling his buttocks and genitals. The alleyway warped between itself and the basement, the pristine, plastic sheets hung and spread all around. He felt that hot slick stuff pumping into his stomach.

Images of what he'd done to Vernon plagued him. His bruised throat. Mangled hands, a bloody pulp, with irregular bone fragments spread throughout, tendons twitching and pulling at nonexistent digits. Eviscerated and emasculated crotch. Bloody pulsating intestines spilling onto the cold, dirty concrete. The adipose tissue around it a dirty yellow, a myriad of clumps and bulbs. So much blood flowed slowly across the grey and brown floor of the dank basement.

"Harry!" A small voice whispered, almost being lost among the white noise. The visions continued to warp and shift around him, his head was dunked into a paint mixer of tortures.

"Harry!" The voice grew louder, but his torment continued. A very clear memory of his cheek being stroked so tenderly by that hulking mound of fat that posed as a man.

"Harry!" The alley way slowly faded and warped back into view. He found Delphinium wrapped around him, staring him in the face.

"Del- Delphi!" His face was wet with tears, and now they flowed forth with increased fervor. She unraveled him from her coils and allowed him to hug her.

"You were having another waking nightmare." She attempted to comfort him as he cried into her scales. She wanted to ask what happened, but she could tell his pain was too great to talk about at the moment.

"I love you, Delphi." Harry sputtered and sniffed through the words, burying his face deeper into her body. The snake felt herself being hugged closer to Harry's warm body.

They laid like that for a while, basking in each other's company. Harry taking comfort in having his one and only friend by his side.

-////-

Hours passed before Harry was ready to be up and about, in part due to his aching sore body. The emotional exhaustion made it difficult for him to move whatsoever. Eventually he could walk on his own, however, slowly. A brisk pace was painful, though he could manage it for a few minutes at a time.

Harry decided he should explore his new environment, a small city that he discovered was a considerable distance from the Dursley residence by way of a map. Said map was appropriated from a small travel shop nearby to his alleyway hideout. Unfortunately Delphinium could not accompany the boy without suspicion or outright causing panic.

Apparently last night he had managed to travel a little over 38 kilometers. He attributed this distance to delirium and unconscious use of magic to fuel his muscles, along with potentially numbing his pain. He continued to explore the city.

Most of it was older architecture, cobblestone streets, old sidewalks, slanted and uneven buildings. Elements of newer structures were patched in, and became denser in certain areas. He assumed that this was because of those areas proximity to more major and densely populated cities.

He decided to not stray from the older areas, hoping to avoid being spotted by police. He couldn't hope to escape being pursued by cops, especially if they had vehicles.

There were mainly restaurants and cafés in this town, along with a few petrol stations, and various other service providers. Some flats were also nearby, within walking distance of his alley. A couple of times he stopped by the front windows of shops that sold food, looking longingly at their goods. He hadn't eaten or drank anything since last evening, when he had been drugged. Thinking about it made him nauseous, and he craved to erase the taste of it from his mouth.

He wondered about what he would eat, he had no money. He wanted to avoid begging. What avenues did he have for getting essentials? He contemplated this as he walked along the street. He heard faint music nearby that pulled him from his musings, and drew him in that direction. Turning a corner, he saw the source of the noise: a man playing his guitar. He strummed out covers of popular songs Harry had heard on the radio with the acoustic instrument. In front of him lay an open guitar case, as Harry neared the musician he saw a small collection of coins and bills. A young woman standing next to him tossed in a few pounds. The man gave her a grateful smile, which she returned before continuing on her way.

He noticed that the man had a few scars on his neck and face. All of them were old and faded, earned years ago. They looked as if he had been clawed by an animal. His hair was light brown and he looked very tired and worn, but played his guitar expertly in spite of this.

Harry took notice of these details while making it seem as if he were simply enjoying the music. It stopped for a moment, which caused Harry to look at the man again. The guitarist seemed shocked by the scar on Harry's forehead. The boy looked down, pushing his glasses up his face and pulling his fringe over the blemish.

"You play beautifully!" Harry said as he hurried away. The man seemed startled, but continued to play his music. As Harry glanced back, he caught the man's eye once more, before turning and rushing to round the corner.

-////-

Harry returned to the alleyway, trying to push the image of the guitarist from his mind. He had an idea for how to make money anyway. He could become a street performer!

But what would he do? He didn't have an instrument, much less the skill to play one. He wondered what talents he could put on display, something he could entertain with. He relayed his thoughts to Delphi, who was attempting to sunbathe in the back of the alley, where some warm gilded sunlight managed to peek through the light grey cloud cover.

"Mayhaps you could use your magics to take their moneys from them? You need it more than them, the humans can do without a little bit." She offered, she still didn't quite understand the concept of currency and theft. Nor that the latter was considered unacceptable and could land them both in extreme trouble.

"No, no. That is stealing, I dont want to do that. I need to earn it, so that they give it to me..." an idea sprang to Harry's brain. "I know! I can pose as a magician!"

"A what?" Questioned Delphi, woefully ignorant of most human conventions.

"A magician! They're humans who use pretend magic to make others happy!"

"Do the other humans know it is pretend?"

"Of course, most think that real magic doesn't exist." Harry said, as if it were obvious.

"But if they know, why is it fun?" The serpent was clearly baffled.

"Becuase magicians use clever tricks to make their magic look real. The fun is wondering how they did it." Harry explained, he seemed excited.

"Why use pretend magics when you are able to use real magics?" Delphi didn't quite seem to follow Harry's plan.

"I will be using real magic, but the people will believe it is just a trick!" As Harry elaborated the light seemed to spark in her eyes as she understood.

"Ah! Deception and deceit!" She almost seemed to grin mischeviously.

They continued to discuss what Harry's performance would consist of for a length of time, finally deciding upon every detail a short while before sunset.

-////-

"Gather around for a little show everyone! I am about to amaze you!" Harry called out to the passers by on the street. Few seemed to take any interest, one or two stopped for a second to look at Harry before continuing on their path. Some seemed to be headed to their flats for dinner.

Harry was frustrated, he had been standing on the corner trying to get some attention for 15 minutes. Finally, Harry decided to call out a particular man on the street.

"Sir, you! Please, let me amaze you with a magic trick! You won't regret it!" Harry flashed a smile, and flourished his arms dramatically.

The man hesitated for a moment, before deciding to humor Harry. He began to walk closer. "Come come! Stand before me, and wonder at my magic!"

In front of Harry sat a small crate he had found in the alley, he was using it as a table.

"Do you have anything in your pockets I may borrow? A pen, perhaps?"

"Yes, sure, boy." The man chuckled a little as he pulled out a cheap ballpoint. Harry took it and placed it on the crate. Harry held out his arms, showing off his palms, and rolling up his sleeves.

"See that I have nothing hidden?" Harry asked, smiling and raising his brows.

"Sure do."

By this point a couple other people stopped to watch Harry's little show. Harry walked over to a small white sheet that sat in a pile behind him.

"Before I take this sheet, do not be scared, under it lies my assistant!" He pulled it of in a wide motion, revealing Delphi beneath it in a coil. A woman gasped, the man next to her put his hand over his mouth.

Harry strolled back to his crate, trying not to display any sign that he was in pain, which was very much the case. His rump ached severely, and his lower back protested. He held the cloth toward the man he had called over.

"Check it please, show that I have nothing hidden in the sheet." The man did as asked, and confirmed: absolutely nothing.

"Watch as I transform this pen before your very eyes!" He declared, placing the cloth over the pen and slipping his hand between the pen and the cover.

"Please place your hand on mine, make sure it stays still, no funny business!" The man made a sound of affirmation to Harry's command, and complied. Under his breath, Harry muttered a transfiguration spell.

"I am going to lower my hand so that it does not escape, yes?"

"Ok, kid."

Harry lowered his hand, trapping the item beneath the sheet.

"Please pull away the cloth, sir!" The man did as requested and pulled away the sheet.

"Behold, there is no longer a pen! In it's place, a cigar!" Harry declared, lifting his hand to reveal a thick cigar. Now there was a tiny crowd watching his little play. A small chorus of gasps and "oooooooh's" ran through it.

"Do you smoke mister? Or do you want your pen back?"

"Depends, where did ya get that cigar, kid?"

"A man at the drugstore forgot it on the counter today, thought it might come in handy."

The man picked up the cigar and inspected it. It seemed quality, and smelled fresh, and hadn't even been trimmed yet. The tobacco leaf was completely intact.

"I think I'll take the cigar, thanks."

"You're very welcome, sir! Might anyone have any money to offer? This show is free, but I'm not very well to do."

A few people murmured before digging into their purses and wallets, offering a few bills and coins of various values. Harry took these and pocketed them, thanking each donor profusely. He continued to perform magic, each time his gathering increased in size, until an hour later, he had a crowd of 20 people gathered around the street corner.

He had transfigurwd several objects, levitated several more, and summoned fire in his hands. At one point he did a short dance with Delphi, pretending to be a snake charmer. By the end of the hour, the sun was nearly finished setting, and his crowd has dispersed, heading home to their families and pets. His performance had accrued a bit over 40 pounds!

He went to his alley that night hungry, but happy that he had found something to fill his pockets. No amount of money and magic could prevent him from having horrible nightmares, unfortunately. He slept through much torture that night. He never knew about the man that peered at him from the entrance to the alleyway momentarily, before disappearing into the night.

Chapter Text

Harry woke up the next morning shivering and with an aching belly to accompany his side backside. Luckily, he had something in the way of a blanket in the cloth he had used during his magic show yesterday. Delphi also helped to act as an extra barrier of insulation against the elements, her thick, lengthy body covered the majority of him beneath the cloth.

In his sleep he had nightmares about Vernon, and about being left by close friends he didn't have. He had woken up multiple times in the night, feverish and in tears. One thing that perturbed him above all else, was the dream he had.

He was back in the basement, Vernon restrained against the wall. Except this time, Harry was clothed, and unharmed. The events that followed mirrored reality, until he gutted his uncle. That point is where the two diverged. A sense of elation and joy filled Harry, a smile crept across his lips. He lifted his hand in front of him,  and lazily pointed his index and middle finger toward the nude, obese man. A chuckle escaped his lips as he flicked his wrist downward.

Vernon attempted to scream through his restricted airway as a slash appeared along his wrist, very close to his mangled hand. Harry took a few steps forward, hand still pointed at his uncle, his thumb and middle finger tips together. He twisted his hand sharply as he snapped his fingers. A crack sounded through the concrete room, reverberating in a morbidly satisfying way.

The dream seemed to continue forever, Harry finding a variety of methods to inflict pain. At one point Harry removed each of Vernon's teeth individually. Harry shuddered as a mix of disgust and pleasure ran through him. He decided to not dwell further on the disturbing occurrence.

His green eyes scanned the sky, it appeared to be midmorning, a couple hours after sunrise. Most shops would be open by now.

"Breakfast time." Harry whispered to himself, a hint of excitement in his voice. He was going to have the best breakfast he'd had in his life. There was a place he already had in mind. It was an interesting little restaurant, it served "American food."

He found that the establishment was run by a man and his wife, both from the colonies. He assumed that at some point they decided to move to the UK from the states, and open a restaurant serving their home cuisine. A lot of it looked very interesting, either cooked on a griddle or fried in hot oil.

An item that caught his eye was called "chicken and waffles." He'd never considered that the two could be paired, much less taste good together. It was also the cheapest option at 13£. So he ordered his meal and waited. A server shortly came and set down a glass of water, several ice cubes floated in it, with a lemon wedge slotted onto the rim.

His breath hitched in his throat, the bittersweet taste of whatever Vernon drugged him with coated his palette as a memory. Tentatively he took a sip, swishing it across his tongue, searching for any abnormal flavours. He found that it tasted like water, nothing to it other than the sweet minerality of filtered hydration.

He swallowed happily, and dropped the lemon wedge into his cup, swirling it with a spoon. Taking a few gulps, he relished in the refreshing hint of citrus. As he awaited patiently for his meal, he looked around the restaurant.

It's interior was similar to that of a 40's American diner, with cushy red leather booths, and chrome accents. Everything was colourful and had character. There were a few patrons also enjoying their first meal of the day, a family of four, an elderly couple, and the busker that inspired Harry the other day. He spent the short while simply absorbing his surroundings.

Due to it not being a busy morning, his food arrived with relative swiftness. Before him was placed two plates with more food than he remembered being fed in his life. On one, a stack of three thick Belgian style waffles, their exterior was crispy golden brown and steaming slightly. A generous dusting of powdered sugar coated the stack. The second plate had two large chicken legs on it, both fried and crispy to a deep golden brown. Their surfaces were craggy and well coated with fried flour and spice dredge. Then, next to his plate of waffles was set a pitcher of syrup about twice the size of a shot glass.

He marveled at the virtual mountain of food in front of him. He doubted he could finish it all, but he decided to dig in. He tackled the waffles first, occasionally taking bites of the fried chicken. It was delicious, the waffles had a crispy exterior and a soft, fluffy interior. The combination of the sugar and the syrup added a delectable layer of sweetness. The chicken was also amazing, sweet and tender thigh meat coated in a crispy and crunchy exterior. The breading was flavourful, tasting of rosemary, thyme, and dill.

The flavours melded and complimented each other. Harry couldn't hope to finish it all, he's never eaten anywhere near this amount of food in a single sitting, ever. Halfway through the second waffle, and as he started his second leg he began to feel nauseous from the amount of food in his belly. He sat back, his stomach uncomfortably full, and waited for his server. He asked for a to-go box as the man passed.

Soon he walked out of the restaurant, his belly felt awkward and bloated. Though he was satisfied and happy. In his hand he clutched a plastic bag, which contained his food.

He made his way back to his alley, however slowly. His stomach feeling strained, he almost regretted eating so much. Except he was filled with an amazing sense of euphoria and satisfaction. He arrived at his nook and settled comfortably into his friend, the heft of his meal lulling him into sleep.

-////-

When he awoke it was very early afternoon, and the street was as empty as it had been since he woke up. He decided to wander the streets again that day, exploring stores and loitering about. He considered buying himself a new outfit to replace his tattered and oversized hand-me-downs.

Looking at price tags, he found he would have to work a little more to be able to comfortably afford an entire outfit. He decided to wait until that evening to put on another show, when the streets were filled with people hurrying home after a busy day. Until that time came, he continued to walk about.

He wandered upon the same guitarist from the other day, in a different part of the town. He decided to sit and listen for a while a several feet away. He closed his eyes, relaxing into the rhythm of the man's chords. He became lost in the music for a little while.

A voice stirred him from his trance.

"Are you going to sit there forever, child?"

Harry startled and replied, "Huh, oh, uh, sorry..."

The man chuckled, "No worries, I'm only joking."

"Oh, erm, ok." Said Harry, awkwardly. "How'd you learn to play the guitar?"

The man looked sad for a moment, before a small smile returned to his scarred face. "Needed something to occupy myself with while on the road. Besides, some songs remind me of old friends."

"You didn't say how you learned, mister." Harry chided.

"Oh, yes. Well over the years I read some books, and learned from teachers where I could. Practiced a lot. Pretty similar to most who play, I would say."

"Hmm." Acknowledged Harry, thoughtfully. He imagined the man spending time in libraries, studiously practicing notes and chords. Playing through practice scales and such. He absently combed his fringe over his scar, which almost seemed to catch the gentleman's eye.

"I saw your little performance the other day. Very impressive tricks, mind my asking how you did any of it?" He questioned, playfully, knowing what answer he would receive.

Harry giggled. "A magician never reveals his secrets." While he acted relaxed toward the man, he remained guarded. His instincts told him to be wary, and not reveal anything about himself.

"I should have known." His expression changed to something inscrutable. "Might I ask how you came to possess such a snake? I'm not sure I've seen anything like it."

Harry froze up a little, his nerves were on alert. He tried to maintain his friendly exterior. "I just, found her one day. We kind of became friends somehow."

The older male's brow rose. "Friends? Interesting thing to be with a snake."

Harry wasn't sure whether to take offense to that comment. A sensation in the back of his mind made him think that this man was hiding something. He was unnervingly curious about the emerald eyed boy.

"You could call it that, mister." Said Harry, trying his best to not let his distrust leak into his tone. He looked up toward the sky, he wanted to explore as much as possible before he had to return to Delphi.

"I really should be going," said Harry, rushedly. "Maybe I'll see you again, mister..."

"Lupin. Remus Lupin."

"Lupin... I'll be seeing you, maybe. Have a nice day." Harry waved as he wandered in the general direction of his alley. He looked distractedly through shop windows as he walked, conceptualising new magic tricks for that evening.

He became a little too absorbed in his thoughts as he came upon the entrance to what he thought was his alley. He only barely realised anything was different until he tripped over a pile of trash that hadn't been there before. He fell clumsily over it.

He recognized it wasn't only a pile of trash that he had tripped over, as the mound of newspapers and torn bags stirred beneath his legs. A very angry homeless man rose up from beneath the refuse grumbling.

"Who the bloody hell?.." the man stopped and stared when he saw Harry, taking time to let his eyes roam over Harry's loose fitting clothes. The boys shirt was hanging off his shoulder, exposing part of his chest. The vagrant also noticed Harry's lack of shoes. A familiar expression formed within his eyes. Harry felt the hairs on his body stand on end.

"It's not very safe for a boy to be wandering the streets by himself."

Harry felt panic rising in his chest already. "Uh, yeah, I should be heading home now. I'm very sorry to wake you up, sir."

"Maybe I should help you on your way, boy." He said, barely bothering to even try hiding his malevolent intentions. He started moving toward

"No, no, I can make my own way, thank you." Harry said, scooting back and trying to get to his feet, but in a flash the man was on top of him. The young boy's hands were flailing, in an attempt to avoid being restrained.

"Come here!" Growled the dirty man, baring his teeth.

Harry reached for his magic on an impulse, and wildly lashed it outward. His assailant was thrown over Harry's head, toward the deeper end of the alley. Harry struggled slightly to his feet, panting. The raggedy man was laying on the ground, groaning and dazed.

Harry walked toward that end of the alley, a grim expression on his face. His eyes were filled with rage and fear, his uncle flashed across his vision. He walked past the man who had tried to violate him, into a part of the alley that was definitely not visible from the street.

The dazed and confused man was barely getting up when he felt himself being dragged on his back via his throat, his breath caught in his chest, and he panicked. He saw nothing dragging him, and felt nothing when he grasped at his own neck, prying at an invisible force. He was about to pay very dearly for his transgression.

Chapter Text

Harry threw the man against the cobblestones of the wall, a thump echoed through the dark and dirty alleyway. The raven loosened his magical grip on the rapists throat just enough for him to breathe, but only barely. The man's limbs were thrust against the wall, he couldn't move them from their place no matter how much he struggled. He made futile efforts to scream and yell as Harry approached him, slowly.

The young boy wanted to see if his assailant could be useful before he was absolutely dismantled. So he searched the old man's pockets, hoping to find a wallet, or even some pocket money. He found the former within an interior pocket on the breast of the jacket, along with some curious crumpled documents.

The man seemed to struggle more as Harry flattened and smoothed the papers, making him more curious. Harry couldn't have been prepared for what the sheets revealed. They were physical documentation of the man's sinister past, horrible acts performed by one Charles Crocker. Harry learned some new words, such as sex offender, child molester, and sexual assault. Now he knew what to call what happened to him.

His heart sped up, and tears threatened to form in his eyes as shame and fury boiled in his chest. It was a volatile reaction, akin to dumping potassium metal into a vat of water. The documents contained a wealth of information, such as the prison Charles was released from several months ago. This, along with it's address.

Harry stored this information away for later, rifling through the wallet to find an ID card and about one hundred pounds. He stored the latter away in his pocket, and replaced the wallet with Crocker's ID in the interior breast pocket after wiping his fingerprints from everything he touched. He had heard enough crime shows in the background as he did chores to know about such things.

The young raven had nearly everything he wanted from Mr.Crocker. He continued onto the part he was most interested in: punishment.

Harry remembered a spell the witch had taught him all those years ago. He thought it could be perfect for this moment. He pointed his open hand at the sex offender, and spoke one word.

"Incendio!"

The older male's genital area erupted into flames. He attempted to writhe and scream as fire incinerated the clothing covering that area and made it's way to the sensitive organs held therein. Harry felt an indescribable sense of euphoria as he watched the man in agony, flesh bubbled and seared as it burned into organic slag. He felt momentarily tempted to release his grip on Charles' throat, just to hear him wail and scream. He held onto his resolve though, not wanting to risk any attention from anyone who could be walking down the street.

He held up his hand again, and snapped. The homeless man's left leg spasmed as a muffled cracking sound emitted from said limb, Harry had just broken his femur. He slowly repeated the process with each major bone in all four limbs. At one point Charles lost consciousness, Harry jolted him awake by bumping the man against the wall, only enough to hurt. The man groaned intensely as his injuries were agitated.

Once Harry had broken the bones he wanted to, he started on Crocker's teeth. Forcing open his mouth, and with a flick of his wrist, wrenching each individual tooth from it's socket. Blood was gushing from the new holes in the gums, the dark crimson fluid coated the molesters mouth with a copper like flavour.

Harry began to run out of ways he could think of with what magic he knew, while also having the man remain identifiable. So the green eyed child decided to terminate the older persons suffering. With a wave of Harry's hand, a large slash appeared across Charles' throat. He soon died of his external bleeding, paired with whatever internal bleeding he was already suffering from. Harry left him behind, a mission formulating in his mind.

-////-

Harry had returned to the alleyway  and was speaking to Delphi. He figured now he was ready to talk about what had happened to him with Vernon. His retelling was stressful, and emotional. Tears began to flow from his eyes in the middle of his story. Delphi expressed her condolences and love to Harry, and vowed to never let that happen to him again. She also expressed her guilt for not having been able to prevent either occurrences. They sat silently for a moment, before Harry disclosed his plans for that night, in regards to his discovery.

"What happened to me was a crime. If it's a crime, that means it happens enough to be noticed by law." Said Harry, a plot forming behind his eyes.

"Yes?" Delphi was curious to see what Harry was implying.

"This means that there are more like them, and that they are in prison. A place where bad people go when they break laws." Excitement crept onto his face, mixed with a considerable amount of vengefulness.

"What do you plan to do, Harry?" His excitement was contagious, she was anxious to hear what he wanted to do.

"I don't think that prison is punishment enough. I want to punish them myself." With those words, Delphinium had an idea of what Harry meant to do. "We won't be performing magic tonight. You'll be joining me."

"Of course, Harry."

He knew full well that he couldn't simply break into a prison wearing his street clothes, or show his face. Especially considering he was definitely a wanted person. He'd murdered his uncle after all. Harry remembered a shop that sold costumes a few blocks away. He would gather what he needed from there.

He waited until everyone was definitely in their homes, tucking into bed or eating their dinner, maybe watching the telly. Then he made his way to the costume shop. As he approached the door, he unlocked it with magic, and slipped inside, Delphi trailing behind him.

He stalked the aisles and the racks of clothes, examining masks and cloaks, etc. After approximately 10 minutes, he found something that he fell in love with.

It was a plague doctor costume, a very high quality one too. The costume was made of thick cotton cloth, which made it heavy, though managable. The mask was beautiful, made with real leather and glass. It was well ventilated, which prevented it from getting stuffy. Though it was made for an adult, the reducto charm eliminated that issue. Now it was the perfect size for him.

He quickly changed into it, and set out, electing to carry Delphi upon His shoulders after realising the reducto charm would make her small enough to be easily shouldered for long periods of time. His destination: The Thornwell Mid Level Security Prison.

-////-

It was, conveniently, not a long walk for him. The prison happened to be only a few kilometers from where Harry had taken up residence. This was going to be a very large undertaking, he would have to accomplish as much as he possibly could in a single night. He had no doubts that security would increase immediately after his work was complete.

The complex wasn't extremely large for a prison, but it was definitely a considerable amount of ground to cover for a ten year old boy. He would have to infiltrate administration first, which he assumed would be nearby to the prisons main entrance.

Though first, he needed to overcome the chain link fence bordering the perimeter of Thornwell. It was topped with razor wire, which eliminated climbing in its entirety. He supposed he would need to bend the fence to accommodate him.

He reached into his magic, and directed it toward the section of the fence in front of him. He twisted his magic until he felt it click, and he willed the steel of the fence to deform and bend. He went as quickly as he could, while making as little noise as he could manage. He stopped when he had just enough clearance to walk through. He was lucky that there was no patrol nearby, he hoped that it would last.

He made a sprint for the front of the prison, avoiding uniformed officers as they made their rounds, dropping low to the ground to make a smaller target to spot. Their flashlights made them easy enough to avoid, but it was a long distance to traverse. It took him several minutes to near the structure.

He knew that he couldn't just wander into the place. He needed to find another avenue. He clung to the shadows, and considered what to do.

"Delphi, look for a route in, please."

"As you wish, Harry."

She swiftly slithered off in search of a weakness for him to exploit. Harry sat in wait for a short while, at least 15 minutes. When the serpent returned, Harry felt like she bore bad news.

There were no places for Harry to enter through. Forcing Harry to contemplate a means of getting inside, by creating his own entrance. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't come up with a stealthy way of breaching the fortress. He would have to do this loud and up front. At least his stolen costume would serve a larger purpose.

Harry abandoned the shadows, and strutted up to the main gate. The guards immediately took notice of the short human being garbed in a completely black plague doctor's outfit. They didn't quite know how to address someone breaking into the prison, and Harry's stature caught them off guard. Cautiously they placed their hands on their firearms.

"Who are you? Put your hands in the air and kneel on the ground." Commanded one of the two guards.

Harry smirked beneath his mask, with a wave of his hand he flung the two aside into a wall. The collision knocked them unconscious. They both more than likely had either a concussion or broken bones, so they were incapacitated. As he walked past them he confiscated their weapons, he twisted them apart with his magic. Useless pieces of steel and plastic clattered to the floor.

He turned to face the main entrance. Further ahead there was another officer, asleep at his post in a small cubicle where the controls for the gate were located. He didn't want to bother attempting to figure out what opened the doors, he would be attracting attention either way. He just needed to be rid of the guard in the booth. The masked child flicked his finger in at the man, launching him at the wall, putting him out of commission.

Now he was standing several feet from the doors, heavy duty, electronically activated. He focused his magic on the door, letting build, and build, and build. He allowed it to feel as if it were about to lose control, before releasing it at the door. The blast was deafening, Harry had to cover his ears. Even still, his ears were left ringing. He looked forward through the doorway, seeing no one injured by his little explosion.

He quickly ran into the place, searching for anything that could lead him to his goal. On the wall was a directory, he followed it to the records room, in administration. He heard heavy footsteps approaching rapidly. He sprinted off as fast as he could towards the records office.

His heart was pounding, a mix of terror and exhilaration filled his body. There were less footsteps behind him now, they didn't know where he was yet. As he ran, he spotted a camera in the corner of a hall. He was sure to be located within a minute. The raven soon came upon his destination, only to find the door locked. Not a problem for him.

"Alohomora!" He said, as he grabbed the handle. The door was slightly heavy, made entirely of steel. Entering and closing the door behind him, he looked around for something to blockade the door with. There were several desks that he tossed against the door in a pile.

There was a sound like metal hitting brick to his right. He turned to see two wires laying across the floor, leading to the shaking held Razer gun in an officers hand. The man wrapped his digits around the handle of his pistol and prepared to pull it out.

"Free-" his command was interrupted by his sudden collision with the wall behind him.

The masked child looked around the room, a few people in suits cowered on the floor. One of them stood out, a man wearing wireframe glasses, his nametag read "Lead Records Associate," along with his name: Bernard. Harry spoke to his serpent.

"Drop to the floor, and restrain the man with the eyeglasses."

Delphi did as she was told, as she descended Harry returned her to full size with a whisper. Bernard yelped as the huge snake approached him, cowering further as she bound the man in her scaly and muscular body. Harry walked briskly toward the records associate. Harry did his best to disguise his voice.

"Show me the your records for all child predators in your custody, I want to know where they are. Be quick!" He shouted those last words. He hissed at Delphinium to release, allowing the man to scramble to the records room. Harry followed closely behind, a loud series of banging noises indicated the arrival of a group of officers.

Harry needed to be swift, his barricade wouldn't stand forever.

Chapter Text

"I want a list of their Identification and cell numbers, every one you can manage." Harry demanded, Bernard rushed into the backroom, visibly sweating and shaking. Harry watched him hurry to a desk, on which sat a bulky desktop computer.

"What are you doing?" Inquired Harry, preparing to stop the man from performing some act of treachery. He hissed for Delphinium to strike if necessary, she reared up in response.

"We have an electronic database of the majority of our prisoners, I will be able to print a list! It will only take a few minutes!" The bespectacled man explained, frantic.

Harry narrowed his eyes behind his mask. "Be as quick as possible. Do nothing other than retrieve that list."

"Ye- yes sir!"

"I'll be back in a second. Get to it" with that, Harry walked to the front of the office. He caught the employees attempting to remove the desks from the door.

"Get back, you fools!" Harry screamed, throwing them away from the pile. The banging hadn't stopped, the desks were slowly but surely being moved away from the heavy steel door. Harry forced them back into place, looking around the room for more heavy objects to secure the entrance.

Filing cabinets lined the walls on either side of him, no doubt filled with folders and files. Paper was deceptively heavy. He stacked those against the barricade, it almost didn't move now, with each collision with the door. He retreated back into the room with the computer as an alarm began to blare through the room, and likely the rest of the facility.

Bernard was sitting in an office chair at the desk, intently watching the computer as it scanned for items pertaining to his search terms. It was almost excruciatingly slow. Harry looked around, a few feet away, sat a large machine. The raven assumed that it was the printer, though it had a variety of slots, trays, and buttons he supposed served other utilities.

"How much longer, bernard?" Harry questioned, his voice still on edge.

"Another minute or so, plus a couple more for printing. The list is a couple pages long, or so." The man's voice had calmed down a bit, but it still shook with fear and anxiety. His curiosity was piqued by something about Harry. "How old are you?"

The masked child was taken aback. He thought for a second before replying, "I'm afraid I've forgotten."

Bernard's eyes widened with that information, he had no choice but to believe the boy, considering what he had seen in the last few moments. He and Harry waited together for the next few minutes. When the pages finished printing Harry simply grabbed them, and thanked the records keeper.

Harry returned to where the blocked door stood. He hadn't taken the time to think of how he would escape the office. He considered that he could simply, remove the wall. The officers would likely be injured in the process. Potentially even killed. Though Harry didn't exactly mind that prospect, they were obstructing him from his ambition.

So Harry stood before the wall, and prepared himself. Steeling his nerves and building up the magic within himself. He aimed his will at his target, and allowed the energy to rush forth with explosive force. It flew away into the hall in a cascade of bricks, shrapnel, and dust. This accompanied by a smattering of twisted metal and other structural elements. The hallway was filled with the echos of collapsing infrastructure, accompanied by screams and yells uttered by the several guards attempting to enter the records room.

He stepped deftly through the rubble, and ran off toward the cell blocks. Eventually he came up to the barred door that separated it from the rest of the facility. He heard more footsteps gaining down the hall behind him. He quickly unlocked the door, and slammed it behind him, willing the locking mechanism to twist until it would remain locked, but inoperable via it's respective key.

Harry stared at the list in his leather gloved hands, each of the few dozen felons was listed in cell order. He would be able to do this quickly, and efficiently. He had to anyway, if he wanted to get out of here. He had no doubt that there were more entrances somewhere else along the block.

He broke into a sprint to his first cell, running out of the prisoners reach. They were rioting in their cells, asking who Harry was, and what was happening. Some made ineffectual threats. All of them were standing pressed against the bars. He soon came upon his target, he didn't bother to read the name. He only cared about the prisoner ID, which was displayed both across the back and front of the prisoners uniform.

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment. The prisoner knew Harry wanted something, but felt himself unable to speak. There was something foreboding about the raven, a vengeful aura emanated off of his heavy black cloak. Time seemed to slow for the both of them, as Harry lifted his hand and flicked his wrist.

The two prisoners shared a moment of confusion for a second before Harry's target began to bleed crimson from the entire circumference of his neck. Both prisoners eyes widened, and the molester burgled in surprise as blood filled his severed throat. He took a step back, which revealed the extent of Harry's attack. The backward motion cause his head to slip forward from it's perch. The head fell with a solid thump, the gorey clean cut stump spurted dark and viscous arterial spray as the heart continued to pump. His cell mate exclaimed in surprise, pressing himself firmly into the corner where the wall and bars intersected.

"What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!" He looked at Harry, terror in his eyes. "How- Who the fuck are you?"

He never got an answer, as Harry quickly turned and ran to his next cell. He got very much the same reaction with each encounter. It was almost monotonous, running from cell to cell beheading those who ever dared touch a child sexually. He did this all while terribly aware of how many seconds closer he got to the resident police force storming the cell block.

Harry knew he didn't have enough time to approach every cell he had on the list. He estimated that he had enough time to kill maybe half of the men on his list, if he were very quick, and didn't take time to admire his handiwork. So he did his best to follow these rules, managing to eliminate slightly more than half of the men due to their proximity to each other. But soon he heard a stampede of footsteps coming from the opposite end of where he entered, a large sect of officers were uncomfortably close. He made a sprint to the where he had first entered. He got close when he saw them, maybe twenty heavily geared men flooded from the far end of the block.

Harry then acted more out of instict than thought. With a few movements of his hands, the entire ceiling collapsed in a strip behind him. A cloud of dust and large hunks of rubble and debris rained onto the floor and walkways. Then a series of cells opened on the opposite side of the curtain of damage. Harry continued to flee toward where he had originally entered, as prisoners spilled out of their cells and made a charge for the platoon.

The two groups had no choice but to engage, creating a diversion for Harry. He came close to the gate of which he had mangled the lock. He just barely saw the small group who had been stationed there to ambush him. Again on instict he used his magic, completely destroying the gate. Shards of metal and twisted bars showered the men, incapacitating all of them.

The costumed boy ran even harder, hoping to outrun whoever may still be pursuing him. He managed to reach the front doors, running out into the expanse between the complex and the perimeter fence. He got around 10 meters from the building before he felt a terrible pain in his leg almost instantly following by a deafening bang. He tumbled to the ground, and looked at the prison.

One of the guards he had taken out when he entered was conscious, and holding his gun, it's barrel pointed toward Harry. Anger boiled up into the raven's chest, and he flung his hand at the officer. The uniformed man was flung into the adjacent wall with such force that he left a red smear on it as he flopped lifelessly to the ground.

Harry looked at his leg, in the dark he could hardly see his blood darkening the cotton of his pants even further. Pain hit him again in a wave, he nearly screamed as he attempted to put weight on it. He spoke to Delphi.

"Wrap yourself around my wound, tightly! Do it quick!" His voice was panicked and laboured.

"Yes, Harry!" Delphi responded, her tone matched his own. She was filled with the fear, she couldn't help but think that Harry was going to die.

Harry continued to flee at the maximum speed he could muster. Which wasn't incredibly fast, he was in agony. He limped heavily, and each step was nauseatingly painful. He walked generally in the direction of the city, doing his best not to lose consciousness from pain alone.

He was relieved to find that there didn't seem to be anyone pursuing him. He supposed that all the chaos he had caused had overwhelmed the facility too much for them to immediately dispatch any squads to arrest him. He considered it a blessing, but decided to focus on getting back to his alleyway. He had no idea how to proceed from there.

What could he do to treat his wound? How severe was it? Harry had no clue, but it was more important to reach his alley first.

Soon he noticed that he was getting extremely tired, and his nausea was not extending beyond only being caused by pain. He felt faint, and lightheaded. His head began to throb.

He was entering his town, the street lights made his eyes hurt. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, his sight was blurring into blobs and streaks. He stumbled for a few more blocks before collapsing. Near the end of the street he saw a silhouette. He babbled an incoherent stream of noises that were supposed to be a call for help. His vision faded momentarily to black.

He opened his eyes again to find his mask being removed, still in the street from the lights. He was in the arms of a vaguely familiar blur. He didn't remember the rest of what happened.

-////-

He was back in the basement where he had been raped by Vernon. This time he wasn't bound and immobile. Another difference was the nonexistence of the curtain. Instead, it was an infinite black plane, occupied by a crowd of men. Among them were Vernon and Charles.

The rest of the mass was comprised of all the men he had just murdered. Every mans' face was just as they had been in life before they died, only they all had the same lustful expression. As soon as Harry noticed them they converged on him.

He felt terror as they crowded and crushed his relatively tiny and frail body, all of them madly grasping for any part of his anatomy. The boy felt a plethora of body parts mashing and grinding against him. Hands, feet, arms, erect genitalia. Harry attempted to scream, but his mouth was taped shut, as it had been when Vernon had given his first taste of what it had been like to have his innocence stolen.

Harry woke suddenly, breathing heavily, nearly gasping for air. He attempted to sit up, but immediately fell back as he was hit with waves of nausea and pain.

"Careful, Harry. You lost quite a bit of blood." Said the voice of one Remus Lupin.

Though bleary and exhausted, one question immediately popped into the emerald eyed boy's head.

"How do you know my name?"

Chapter Text

"How do you know my name?" Harry knew the voice, though he couldn't see who it belonged to. The room was dimly lit, what little light sparsely illuminated the space made Harry's eyes ache slightly. He heard Lupin let out a chuckle.

"I've known your name since the day you were born." Said the guitarist, his tone hinted at bittersweet memories.

"That doesn't answer my question." Spat Harry, Remus was silent for a moment.

"I know your name because I'm a wizard. I also was close to your parents." His voice was tinged with sadness, threatening to break.

"How so?" Harry was extremely suspicious.

"I went to Hogwarts with them. Your father was one of my best friends; he... helped me through many things." Remus looked away, his heart aching.

"Things?" Harry queried. "What kind of things?"

"You'll learn in time. You should rest more, I'm going to make some food." Remus stood, the chair he'd been sitting on scraping across the floor. He walked over to the door, opening it slowly.

Harry covered his eyes with his arm, and shut them tightly, the light on the other side of the doorway was blinding. The door shut, and Harry felt himself relax a bit. His shoulders and neck had been stiff the entire time due to anxiety toward Remus. Exhaustion claimed him quickly, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-////-

When he awoke, the room was brighter, but not by much. Soft sunlight filtered through the closed curtains of the sparsely furnished room. All that resided in the room was a twin sized bed, and a nightstand sitting beside it. Atop the nightstand stood a lamp, next to it a glass of water and an analogue clock which read nine a.m. He also noticed the weight of a shrunken Delphinium coiled onto the bed beside him. He whispered the engorgio charm and returned her to size. She continued to sleep beside him.

He slowly sat up, nausea rushed into him, but it was managable. He took the glass of water, and inspected it. It was crystal clear, pristine. He took a small sip, no abnormal flavours to speak of.

He gave in and quenched his dry throat. He didn't realise how thirsty he was until he began drinking. He finished the glass in several large gulps.

Once finished with the water, he found himself slightly more nauseous with how much water he had drank in a short period. He was also hungry, so he decided he would look into that food Lupin had mentioned earlier. Harry shifted his weight and moved his legs off of the twin bed.

This turned out to be a mistake, as the moment he moved his injured leg it essentially exploded with pain. Emerald eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched, he resisted the urge to cry out. He grunted through gritted teeth and looked at himself. He was naked with the exception of his boxer briefs and a very large T-shirt that he assumed belonged to Remus. It smelled of dog, he picked a long black hair out of the well worn cotton. Delphi seemed only mildly perturbed by these movements.

Harry knew he had no chance of standing, much less walking. "Remus?" Harry called out.

"Coming!" Came a tired sounding response, followed by a hurried shuffling to the door. The brown haired head of Lupin poked through, his face tired and slightly flustered. "Yes?"

"Can you help me? I can't seem to get up." The injured child asked sheepishly, a faint blush formed on his pallid cheeks.

Remus seemed surprised for a second before saying, "Oh, of course!"

They worked together for Harry to get into the scarred man's arms without causing much further pain for the former. They made their way to the living room of the flat, where Lupin shakily placed Harry onto an old and worn leather sofa. It wasn't a very comfortable piece of furniture, the cushions were worn and sagging from age along with use over time. Though, the leather was worn and supple in a comfortable way, preventing it from sticking to Harry's skin.

"Before I went to sleep, you mentioned food?" Coincidentally his stomach growled loudly at that moment. Harry blushed.

"Oh, yes, of course! I have it in the fridge, would you like me to warm it up?" Lupin asked, turning toward his kitchen unit.

"Yes please." Harry relaxed against the back cushion of the couch. His eyes ached at the sunlight coming in through the curtains windows. The aching wasn't anything he couldn't handle though, so he looked around the room.

It was very sparsely decorated. A couple of picture frames hung from the walls, curiously they all seemed to be animatedly moving. From his position on the couch he wasn't able to see who the subject of these moving photographs was. Across from the couch sat a small television set. Next to Harry sat the remote, which he picked up and pressed the power button. With a click the television came to life with a news broadcast; said broadcast covered Harry's escapade from the previous night.

Shots of the destroyed cell block panned across the screen, and clips of interviews with officers and other staff intermittently interrupted confused takes of the carnage. Censored pictures of injured officers and the bodies of Harry's various fatalities popped up. In the corner, a kill count hovered. It was separated into multiple categories: prisoner fatalities, officer fatalities, prisoner casualties, and officer casualties.

Harry hadn't even bothered to count how many people he had murdered, whether by accident or with intent. It was made clear that they didn't differentiate between how or who the subjects had been injured or killed, though the intruder (Harry) was responsible for the majority of the victims. In total about 60 people had died, Harry assumed about 40 of those were a direct effect of his assault on the prison.

Harry was so absorbed in learning about his achievements that he hasn't noticed Remus returning from the kitchen. Harry was slightly startled when he saw Lupin standing beside the couch, plate of food in hand. His expression was that of horror, which deepened when a footage of Harry running down the halls. The costume was easily identifiable as the one he had found Harry wearing.

It hadn't occurred to the boy that Remus would find out about the previous night in such a manner, and it dawned on him how horrific it would seem to any other person. He had essentially committed an atrocity. With a shaking voice, the older man spoke.

"Har- Harry, what have you done?"

Harry wasn't quite sure how to respond. He remained silent for a moment. "I did what I felt had to be done."

Remus turned to look at Harry, incredulous. "What the hell do you mean 'had to be done?' You murdered... well I don't even know how many people last night!"

Harry glared at Lupin, feeling indignant and angry. "You have no idea what I've been through! What it's like to go through what those men have done! They deserved to die!"

"Deserved to die? What about the officers?" Remus rebuked, his horror intermingling with his own anger.

"They were in my way! A means to an end!" Harry made an attempt to justify his actions.

"How could their lives mean so little to you?" Remus still didn't understand what drove Harry to these measures.

"Because my goals are more important than some stupid muggles! Did you not hear me? You haven't a clue what I've gone through!" Harry shouted at Remus now. He couldn't stand to have his revenge criticized by this man who didn't even know him. Nobody knew him.

"I have had everything taken from me! Everything. I never had a home. I never had a family. Nobody loved me. I didn't even know who I was until I was six, and even that was taken from me!" Tears streamed down his face.

Remus looked shocked, and his face grew sad. "I- I didn't know. I sympathise with you, but what has that got to do with any of this?"

Tears continued to coat Harry's cheeks. "Those men deserved to die! I know what it's like to have that done to me!"

The guitarist felt his heart break. He had been lied to. Harry wasn't safe in the Dursley place. Remus set the plate on a small table beside the sofa. He had wondered where all of those scars had come from, he attempted to extend a hand toward the boy.

"Harry..."

"Don't touch me!" Screamed Harry, flailing his hand in front of him. Remus felt himself being pushed back by an invisible force, sliding a couple meters back and falling onto his rear.

"Don't you fucking dare touch me!" Harry shouted.

Lupin's face was pale, and he started to sweat. At that moment he looked at the television to see footage of Harry doing endless magic effortlessly. It dawned on him that Harry hadn't just accidentally used magic in defense.

"Look, Harry, please settle down! I won't touch you! I want to understand!" Remus pleaded in a panic, fearing what Harry would do if placed under further stress.

"How could you understand? You don't know what it's like; to be hated for what you are, to be misunderstood, to be used... abandoned." Harry continued to cry, he didn't mean to open up so much. The stress of everything was finally breaking him.

Remus expression changed to that of deep sadness, his forehead wrinkled, brows furrowing, and his mouth formed into a frown. "Unfortunately you're wrong there, Harry. I know exactly what that is like. It's horrible, and I have to live with it every single day."

Harry froze and stared at Lupin, sniffling, tears still flowing. "What do you mean? How do you know?"

"I-," the man paused, before sighing. "I am... A werewolf."

There was a long and pregnant pause. Harry scoffed. "What? A werewolf? Do you expect me to believe that?"

"You're a damn wizard, Harry, is it so hard to believe?" Another pause ensued.

"You still don't understand. You couldn't understand. It didn't happen to you."

"I can still try to understand, Harry. It's not the same, I didn't go through what you may have, but I can relate to other things." Remus started to stand. "Please, let me in?"

Harry's eyes showed his internal conflict. He felt so alone, he didn't trust Remus, no matter how much he wanted to. Everything in his heart told him that he could only be hurt by allowing the wolf a place in his heart.

"I- I can't. I couldn't. It's too much to bear." He couldn't risk to be inhibited by such a relationship with anyone other than Delphi.

Remus seemed to shrink a little. "I understand, Harry. I don't want to push it, but I hope you can come to let me in some day." He started walking toward Harry, who flinched. "Relax, I just wanted to give you food."

"Oh, thank you." Harry cautiously took the plate, noticing that the food was only somewhat warm now. Remus walked toward the front of the flat, grabbing his guitar case along the way.

"I'm headed out, I hope you will be ok on your own for a while?" The lycanthrope inquired.

"I think so." Harry slowly began to eat the food. It wasn't much, some cheap pork sausages from the local deli and a bowl of microwave oatmeal. A few minutes into his breakfast he realised an issue: how would he use the toilet with his injury?

-////-

Remus made his way to Diagon Alley, having just arrived at the train station in london. On his journey he'd removed some of the non-muggle currency he had stored in his guitar case for safekeeping. He needed to make several stops that day, for one, the apothecary. Harry's leg wouldn't heal very well without seeing a proper doctor, or the use of magic. Secondly, he needed to send a message via the owlry. Lupin had a feeling something was definitely amiss with Dumbledore.

Chapter Text

Hey guys, I just wanted to give an update to say that this fic is going on hiatus for a while. Hopefully not more than a couple weeks, but we will see. Do not fear though, I wont be abandoning this fic anytime soon. Too many hours of work have gone into it.

The thing is, I haven't been feeling too great recently. I'm not sick or anything, my mental health just hasn't been very good. I've been pretty depressed and lost in regards to my self worth.

In the meantime, I'll be doing my best to crank out some more of this fic, and potentially write some other things to try getting my flow going again. But it's probably best to not expect any content for about 2 weeks at the time this is being posted. I would appreciate some feedback on what exists of this fic, whether or not you guys like it. Part of why I'm so down is because I've been feeling pretty unappreciated when it comes to the things I create, whether it be my stories or my artworks.

This isn't a ploy to get attention, I don't mind if I don't get much in the way of feedback while I'm on hiatus. It would just be appreciated, and might help me get back on track creatively.

Thank you all, and I'll hopefully be seeing you guys in a couple weeks.

Chapter Text

McGonagal sat at her desk, grading essays she had received that day. Two stacks sat on either side of the heavy dark oak surface, each about nine centimeters in height. One ungraded, the other graded; between them sat the essay she was currently grading. She glanced at the unopened envelope at the edge of her desk.

The bright red lettering that read "URGENT" filled her with dread. The alarm caused by the note wasn't something she needed, as Harry Potter had been missing for two weeks. The anxiety surrounding his disappearance had burst a vein in her eye, a rosey red splotch bordered the iris of her right eye. Her every nerve urged her to tell everyone around her of the news, but everything was being kept quiet. Dumbledore threatened her job when she had objected to the secrecy, it had become a habit of his, to threaten her at the slightest sign of rebellion. Slander, imprisonment, death. All sorts of things she couldn't risk him going through with.

His excuse for classifying the event was that he wanted to prevent panic and hysteria in the wizarding world. Minerva suspected that he was simply trying to preserve his own ego. It had already bean bruised quite heavily within the upper government level, he struggled to maintain his influence. If word reached the public that the Boy Who Lived was missing, Dumbledore's image would be unsalvagable.

Minerva couldn't stand the tension anymore, hastily placing her quill into its inkpot and grabbed the letter. She grasped it in both her hands, the envelope creased and deformed in grip. The edges of the letter quivered as her hands shook, her heart pounded thunderously in her aching chest. The elderly witch drew in an unsteady breath, steeling her nerves, before she slipped her right index finger beneath the fold of the yellowed envelope. She dragged her finger along the edge, tearing the paper and allowing access to its contents.

After another breath, she drew out the page therein. It was folded to fit into the envelope, the back facing outward, blank except for a name.

"Re- Remus?" Her voice trembled, she was confused. What urgent message could an old student possibly have for her? She quickly unfolded it, anxious to read the news.

"Dear Professor McGonagal,

This message must remain a secret, ultimately so. The information I'm about to reveal could prove dangerous to us. It's in regards to Harry: I know he's missing."

The woman inhaled sharply, questions filled her mind as she continued.

"But fear not, I've found him. He's in poor form, very poor. Though he's alive, and safe, for the time being. He's been through much abuse, at the hands of those who were supposed to protect him. He has surprising control over his magical abilities. I think that Dumbledore is aware of what Harry was suffering, how could he not?"

Minerva felt tears coming to her eyes.

"I've always viewed you as a motherly figure, I'm sure that you're very truly concerned for they boy's wellbeing. Or, so I hope you are. I pray that this message isn't a mistake, and that you don't divulge this information to any unsavory characters. Please send a response as soon as you're able, I hope that you can provide necessary information. I'm afraid though, I don't know how long I can sustain the both of us.

Kindest Regards,
Remus Lupin"

McGonagal leaned back into her chair, her nerves buzzing with relief and elation. Not only was Harry safe, but he was with Remus. That, and now she could operate while leaving Dumbledore unaware of her schemes. She still had to be careful, a single misstep and they could be discovered.

The witch opened a drawer to her left, removing a sheet of parchment from it. She wrote to Remus, giving him more information on the situation in regards to Dumbledore, and giving more background. She also expressed her gratitude for making the effort to house the child.

Her finger tips tingled as she proofread her letter and folded it to fit into an envelope. She sat for a moment, contemplating her next actions. She feared being caught if she responded immediately, and didn't want Dumbledore to investigate her attempting to be stealthy. What to do?

Going to the owlry made her nervous, and she didn't have a personal owl. Then an idea occurred to her: why not use a student's owl? But then, who's owl? It had to be a dependable student, one she could trust. Someone smart, but not potentially devious like a slytherin. Bravery wasn't really a necessity, she could simply lie about the contents of the letter, and the likelihood of accidental revelation though lack of care was anxiety inducing. With Gryffindor out, she realised that hufflepuff was a bit too unpredictable, she couldn't be sure their loyalties would lie with her. Her use of their owl could spread through the house.

She came to the conclusion that it would have to be a ravenclaw. Someone smart, though reserved and private enough to keep things to themselves. Too studious and hyperfixated on reading to have any curiosity or interest in her asking to borrow an owl.

She sighed and rested her head in her hands, rubbing her temples. She would have to continue her contemplation later, it was bringing her undue stress. Besides, she needed to finish her grading.

Taking a deep breath, and recomposing herself, she continued the task at hand.

-////-

Remus returned to the flat, feeling he needed to check on Harry before heading off to work. He was startled to find the bedroom door open, Harry and his serpent gone, along with the chair that used to stand by the dinner table. Then he heard Harry's muffled voice echo from the lavatory.

"Remus?" He asked, alerted by the front door opening and closing.

"Yes harry?"

"Thank goodness, I've been here forever! You appear to have run out of toilet paper..."

Remus sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. He hasn't been able to buy that recently, money was tight, he'd barely had the money to pay his bills and some groceries. He muttered under his breath to himself.

"Shit..." Then he spoke up. "Right, erm, just a second!" Thhe werewolf walked briskly to the kitchen and opened then shut a couple drawers, finally finding what he was looking for in the drawer next to the refrigerator: a bundle of napkins he'd grabbed from various sit in restaurants around town. He walked over to the restroom door and knocked softly.

"I don't have toilet paper, unfortunately. It's sadly not really within the budget at this moment." He said, opening the door very slightly and slipping his hand through. He felt the wad of napkins being tugged from his grasp.

A moments pause rang out before Harry replied. "Thank you, this is fine."

"You're welcome." Remus shut the door and waited quietly beside it, hearing the rustling of paper through the wood paneling. His mind wandered to what he'd discovered that morning. Images of the edited and blurred viscera flashed across his eyes. The wolf leaned against the wall as the toilet flushed. His chest felt tight, he pressed a hand to his mouth. What had Harry become?

The doorknob began to turn, causing Remus to realise he hasn't been breathing. He drew a couple calming breaths before the door drifted open, he stood in the entrance to see Harry on the toilet looking sheepish. The serpents tail slipped from behind the door, apparently it had been the one to open it.

"Help me to the front room, please." Harry said, Remus couldn't decipher whether it was a demand or a request. There was a hint of bitterness behind the otherwise neutral tone of his voice. Harry felt humiliated, having to be coddled by some stranger. He didn't want to be saved. He didn't want to place his trust in this man he barely knew.

As Remus carried the boy to the couch, Harry pondered last night. The interaction had felt rushed, and left a lot of questions. Remus' expository revelations felt odd, though he had probably been holding onto that weight for a long time.

Harry shook his head a bit, prompting a questioning look from the man carrying him. The glassy, green eyed child didn't want to allow himself to sympathize with Remus. He couldn't risk it. So much could go wrong.

He was pulled from his thoughts by his being placed on the worn couch in the living room. He looked up Remus sighed and flopped onto the couch beside the boy. The worn leather sagged under the wolf's weight, and the floor creaked strenuously beneath them.

Harry scrutinized Lupin, taking time to observe more of his features. Remus' face was pale, and sagged as though he were a middle aged man. Yet it still seemed supple like that of a gentleman in his 30's. The deep bags beneath his slightly sunken eyes were dark. Sleep was a chaste stranger to him.

The steady rise and fall of the werewolf's chest told Harry the Lupin had fallen asleep. He snored quietly as His head rolled back, resting against the back of the couch.

Harry considered using Remus while he could, exhausting what resources he could before moving on to wherever else he wished. He couldn't very well stay in this town. Not with both Remus and the authorities attempting to trace him, and very possibly other wizards.

Delphinium slithered up to his feet, and slowly made her way up the sofa. She was sluggish, since she hadn't been able to sunbathe whatsoever. The serpent siphoned what heat she could from the television, it was enough to keep her going. Harry would have to talk to Lupin about getting one of those heated lamps he'd seen in a pet store once. The ones all those reptiles basked beneath during all hours of the day. Meanwhile, she draped herself around him, and rested.

The emerald eyed boy sighed to himself. He would be there for a while, may as well enjoy what he could of it. He lazily grabbed the remote as he leaned back, clicking the button to turn on the telly. He watched random programs for a while, some newscasts which amused him (most of them still covering last night's misadventure), some boring and overdramatic soap opera's, some bizarre children's programs. Soon he felt his eyes grow dim, and his eyelids heavy. He couldn't fight off sleep as it claimed him, gently tugging him away from lucidity.

-////-

Papers shuffled as Dumbledore leafed through various documents anxiously. His hands trembled with the stress and smoldering anger he felt burning within his chest. The days following Harry's disappearance hadn't been kind to the old wizard, as he scrambled to maintain his reputation and influence among the chaos.

He had managed to maintain his hold over a considerable percentage of his pawns in the ministry. But his grasp was shakey over most of those he possessed. He personally had only those most firmly in his palms personally searching for his most important piece in the game. He had one saving grace amidst this debacle, the muggle prime minister.

The man allowed him access to very intimate affairs within the muggle community of Great Britain. Access to news all over the country, an ear to the door of all government operations.

The open window behind Dumbledore let air gently circulate through his office. The currents so gentle they didn't perturb the flame of the candle fully illuminating the parchment before him, until suddenly a gust of wind sent the flame sputtering slightly more. The old man listened intently, the flapping of wings told him of an incoming message.

Dumbledore turned in his chair to greet the arriving owl with an expectant look. It grasped a letter in its talons, the seal on it told him it was from the prime minister. Dumbledore took the letter and sent the owl on its way.

He opened and unfolded the piece of paper, and read it's contents. His eyes widened, and his hearts pace quickened, his lips quivered as a hesitant but excited little smile broke onto his face.

"Very interesting! Could that be you, killing prisoners, Mister Potter?"

Chapter Text

Hello anyone who is still following/wanting to see more of this story, you're in luck! I'm going to start developing more chapters soon-ish. I apologize for the complete lack of updates, my life has just been a rollercoaster of "fuck you" this last year or so. My job was being incredibly stressful, my relationship with my partner was falling apart, and in general I was just having trouble getting my life together. On top of all that, I hate to say that I had no real idea where to take the story next... I didn't know what I wanted Dumbledore's motivations as an antagonist to be, what course of action I was going to have Mcgonagal take, etc. To be honest, I still don't know right now. Though the occasional kudos or bookmark I get on this fic inspires and motivates me to continue, I still love this thing, I love writing, I love creating! I just need time to brainstorm ideas!

So thank you to those still waiting on me, or newcomers that want to see more from this fic, I hope to surprise you all soon with brand new chapters of this fic in the coming months!

-Evie

Chapter Text

A month had passed since Remus had discovered Harry after the boy’s frolic through the local prison, and Harry was finally walking again. He had even gained a little weight, having been getting regular meals for the first time in his life. In spite of his leg still aching when he put his full weight on it, Harry was walking easier than he had in a long time now that his muscles weren’t being subconsciously aided by magic. His butt still twinged with pain on occasion, but was doing so less and less each week. 

Harry’s face nearly glowed with improved health as he limped slightly alongside Remus. The pair were walking at a leisurely pace away from a train station in London. Harry spoke for the first time since Remus had woken him and told him they’re going on an adventure.

”So… where are we going?” The boy asked, suspicion bordering his tone like lace.

”Shopping.” Replied the wolf flatly.

”For what?”

”Not much, this and that, you know?”

Harry wrinkled his nose and frowned.

”No actually, I don’t know. That’s why I asked!” Harry retorted.

”It’s simply not important, ok? You don’t need to have an attitude with me my boy. You’re lucky I’m not your father.” Remus chided.

Harry huffed indignantly and said under his breath, “I don’t see why you won’t tell me if it’s not important.”

The brown haired man let out a small sigh.

“Look, Harry, sometimes that’s just how it is. Haven’t you ever decided something wasn’t important enough to tell somebody else?”

“No,” the boy said pointedly, “I’ve never had anything to tell anybody other than Delphinium. I tell her everything.”

Lupin felt his heart drop a little in response, has that snake really been Harry’s only friend?

“Well, one day you will be in that exact sort of situation, and then you will know exactly what I mean.”

Harry crossed his arms.

“I think what you mean is that you just want to keep your stupid secrets.”

Remus chuckled. “That may just be it.”

The pair approached a dingy little building with a sign hanging off the building above the front door that read “The Leaky Cauldron.” Harry gave Remus a puzzled look as they went around to the back of the inn. They approached a wall with a rubbish bin sitting next to it.

Remus handed Harry a bandana.

“We’re about to enter a place called diagon alley, think of it as a magical shopping center.”

“Why do I need this?”

“Because everybody will know your face. Well, really they know that scar upon your forehead. We could get a lot of trouble if you’re discovered, so stay out of trouble, ok?”

Harry nodded as he tied the cloth around his forehead, “Yes sir.”

With that, the scar faced man pressed a stone into the wall and suddenly an archway opened up before them. Through it Harry could see a sprawling alleyway lined with dozens of shops. Wizards and witches strolled through the street in shifting streams of bodies. The ravens mouth was hanging agape, he had never thought there could be so many magic users in one place!

They quickly shuffled through the entrance and joined the throng of people parading the streets. They walked for several minutes before stopping front of a store. Harry peered inside, seeing a variety of magical knickknacks and toys, among other strange devices that he couldn’t even begin to guess the utility of.

“Aren’t we going in?” Harry asked.

“I’m going in,” said Remus as he’s leaned down and pressed an enclosed hand to Harry’s chest. Harry flinched a little, feeling something inside the gentleman’s fist. The boy held his hands up and accepted the things (plural). In his hand was a little pile of coins he didn’t recognize.

“This is… money?” Asked the raven.

“Yes,” said lupin, “and you’re gonna walk down to that store over there and buy yourself a little treat.”

He pointed a few shops down at a place that sold sweets.He quickly explained the names and values of the coins.

Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Why?”

Remus chuckled. “So you can have something to enjoy while we walk around!”

Harry was taken aback. Stunned. Nobody had ever just given him money to spend, much less on candy. For himself. The only candy he’d ever had was what he’d managed to steal from Dudley in secret during Halloween. And that was only after that yoga ball shaped boy had prized out every one of the candies that he liked, completely discarding everything else. Oftentimes all that was left were the sweets the few or no kids enjoyed, but Harry ate them anyway.

He watched lupin walk into the store and start talking to the clerk at the checkout desk. Harry took that as his queue to walk down to the sweets shop. Along the way, his eyes locked with those of a dirty, malnourished looking Yorkshire terrier sitting between the fronts of two adjacent stores. The emerald eyed child noticed that the dog’s eyes followed him intently. What he didn’t notice was that the dog began to follow him once his back was to it. He entered his destination and shopped the aisles slowly and carefully, taking a mental note of the cheaper candies available on the shelves and inside the dispensers. He eventually settled on something called fizzy flavor ferns. A bag of what appeared to be small ferns, and there was some loose brown powder that had been knocked from the ferns sporangia.

He made his purchase, spending about half of what Remus had given him. And decided to taste the powder as he was walking toward the door. The sweet and sour substance fizzed and popped on his tongue in a pleasant way. It tasted of apples, then pears, then watermelon. Harry was very pleased with his purchase and smiled to himself, wishing Delphi were there with him so she could taste it herself. What he didn’t know was that snakes don’t really “taste” the way humans do. (I looked it up)

His thoughts were interrupted by him bumping into the dog he had seen just a few moments before down the street. It stopped two meters from Harry, sat down, and stared the boy in the face for what felt like an eternity but was in fact only a minute. Harry felt frozen in place. It was Mcgonagal all over again. Except this time he was the one being confronted.

Suddenly, the canine stood and turned toward the direction opposite from the direction Harry needed to go to rendezvous with his caretaker. The terrier turned its head to gaze at him expectantly. Very clearly radiating the desire for Harry to follow. Harry wasn’t sure what to do. This dog was probably a wizard. That wizard had probably deduced who Harry was somehow. What happens if Harry chooses to return to Remus? Would the dog later tell someone that they had discovered Harry Potter, hero of the wizarding world, buying candy in diagon alley? He decided to risk walking to a trap and began walking after the dog. He wasn’t entirely sure he could take an adult wizard or witch in a fight. He thought he might have a chance with nonverbal magic, but that required a lot of faith in oneself when facing an experienced spell caster. Really Harry just hoped that whatever this dog wanted didn’t involve Harry being abducted or worse.

What a terrible time to not have Delphi with me, thought Harry as he trailed closely behind the small canine. They walked for several minutes, Harry had a little difficulty making sure he knew his way back. Soon they entered a decidedly more gloomy and claustrophobic part of the district. It was much less populated here, almost devoid of life entirely outside of the few odd shady individuals loitering the alley. Harry grew less sure of his decision by the second as they passed lightless storefronts, broken windows, creepy shops that looked like they sold dangerous and cursed objects. Which a lot of them did. What Harry didn’t realize was that he had been lured into the worst place for a young unaccompanied wizard, Knockturn Alley.

They went a few minutes without seeing another soul, ducking into an abandoned store. It looked like it had been the scene of an arsonist attack. Its windows were broken, the pieces of blackened splintered glass still littering the street in front of them. Its door was all but gone, the blackened bottom half hanging just barely by the bottom hinge, the door way open and looming. The sign that covered the whole storefront was totally illegible, thin bubbling strips tattered chipping purple paint indicating where the top edges of the letters were. The bottom 90% of the sign was a charcoal drawing of a pitch black room.

Harry looked around the inside of what might have been a bookshop once. Mostly burned bookcases still stood, although having mostly been turned to ash. A few even still had what were potentially functional shelves, fractions of incinerated books still scattered upon them. Burned scraps of leather littered some parts of the floor mixed with piles of ashes. It appeared somebody had come here specifically to burn the books themselves.

Harry finally looked expectantly at the dog, expecting it to finally transform into a human and start lobbing spells at him. Instead, the dog spoke itself. Its voice was a man’s, high pitched and cold like a walk in freezer at a commercial kitchen.

“Harry Potter! We finally meet again, I would recognize your father’s son anywhere. Not to mention your mother’s eyes.”

Harry couldn’t believe himself. This dog knows what his parents looked like? Did Harry resemble them that much? A million questions surged through his mind in a torrent of queries. One rose to the top of the list though.

“We meet again?” Harry prodded. He couldn’t remember having ever met a talking dog.

“Ah, of course you wouldn’t recognize me. you were only an infant after all. And yet still you managed to destroy my body, and survive the killing curse!”

The reality dawned on Harry in an instant, he tripped backward and fell on his butt. His utter shock numbed the pain. He started shaking.

“He- he who must no-“

“Do not call me that!” The dog snapped, before softening his tone.

“My name… is Voldemort.”

“Voldemort…” Harry repeated. He rolled the name back and forth in his mind as he wondered what was going to happen to him now that he’d just come face to face with the greatest threat to the wizarding world.

“What do you want from me?” Harry finally managed to ask.

Voldemort giggled. “I want to make you an offer.”

“An offer?”

“Yes, but first, it is story time. You see, we are part of a prophecy, us two. According to that prophecy, you are fated to become a hero and defeat me forever. And so, when you were born I decided to take matters into my own hands-“

“You killed my mum and dad!” Harry interrupted, fury boiling up in his chest.

“Yes! I did! And I sure did pay the price for that didn’t I? You completely obliterated my body you know? Turned completely into dust it did. Quite painful, not pleasant. Would not recommend, nope. And then on top of that I’ve spent the last ten years hopping from body to body just to sustain myself. Rats, snakes, cats, dogs. Whatever I could get my hands on.”

Harry was horrified.

“What happened to them?” He asked, not sure he really wanted to know.

“They died, of course. Now, back to my story. You see, I know where you’ve been this whole time. I followed you, as a spirit. To that quaint little house on number 4 privet drive. Here’s the thing, dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts as you may know him, put you there for a very good reason.”

Harry listened intently, curious as to where this was going.

“He claimed that what destroyed me was my own magic, redirected by the power of your mother’s love.” Voldemort’s voice dripped with sarcasm during the last several words.

“He also claimed, that the same love would protect you from me at your little hideaway. But guess what?”

“Wh- what?” Harry stammered.

“He lied about the second part! I could have tried to kill you again any time, had I a functioning body. You were never truly safe from me.”

Harry’s eyebrows knit together. “What? Why would he do that?”

The snake in a dog’s body did its best to shrug.

“No idea. Few can get a read on that man. Never know what he has in mind.”

“But if he knows I wasn’t safe from you there, why was I there? You don’t know what they did to me. He does. He has to.” Harry looked at the floor.

“They hurt you, didn’t they?” Voldemort asked, his voice took on an almost soothing tone. Harry didn’t think the dark wizard was capable of such.

Harry nodded. “You have no fucking idea.”

“Dumbledore would never admit it, but we’re the same he and I. We both crave power. Lots of it. I think that’s what he might be doing. I mean, how can someone become a hero without hardship? You needed your tragic backstory. He wants to be the one responsible for molding you into the ultimate weapon against evil.”

It dawned on Harry what Voldemort was implying. “He wants to use me to bolster his reputation.”

“This is where my offer comes into play. Don’t play into his games. Join me. Just think about what they did to you. The things they allowed to happen to a little boy like you. Tell me, don’t you want to see all those muggles suffer? Because they’re all like that. Deep down. You could stand at the top of wizard society with me. The top of the world.”

Harry remained silent, absorbed into his thoughts considering what the dark wizard had revealed to him, and considering the choice he had been given.

“What if I refuse?”

“You die.” Said Voldemort, matter of factly.

“Do I have to choose now?”

“Oh surely not!” Scoffed Voldemort. “Take as long as you could possibly need. Just know that you cannot out-wait me, I cannot die. Even if you defeat me I will simply find a way to come back more powerful than before. If you refuse you will die by my hand.”

Harry crumbled some ashes in his hand, grey dust falling through his fingers in front of him.

“I’m not exactly being given much of a choice here.”

Voldemort laughed. “You think I’d give my prophesied killer a choice? As I said, take all the time you need.”

With that he walked past Harry and out the battered doorway. Harry slowly got up, trembling. He couldn’t even to begin to process what he had just been told. He was a child of prophecy? Why?

It then occurred to him what it truly meant to accept Voldemort’s deal. It would mean betraying the entire world, just to get revenge for how it has treated him. It meant hurting innnocent people just to get what he wants. Harry wasn’t sure he could do that. Then he remembered the officers he had murdered a month prior. They were in his way then. And many people would be in his way if he pursued his revenge against the world. Could he let Dumbledore get away with what happened to Harry?

The idea made Harry clench his fists and seethe. No, one way or another he would make Dumbledore pay.