A Snake's Son

Privet Drive

Harry woke up to a pounding on his cupboard door. This was not unusual. Aunt Petunia's shrill cries could be heard through the thin, bare and draughty planks that make up the small door. Dust fell from the roof hitting the small boy lying inside. His Avada Kedavra green eyes open slowly as he surfaced from sleep, the dark in the cupboard was permeated by thin strips of florescent white light from the hallway.

As he stood one of the streaks light illuminated his scar, resting on pale skin underneath messy raven locks. Harry Potter is thin, too thin, the kind that comes from years of malnourishment but somehow regal looking with his red lips in a perpetual pout gave him the look of innocence while the sharp green of his almond eye leant you to believe he is wise beyond his years. His clothes don't fit his thin frame, they are much too baggy, but they also hid wiry muscle that he had developed over the years. They used to be Dudley's: he has to roll the sleeves three times to be able to use his hands and the trousers five times.

They had unlocked the door to let Harry out, the smell of bacon was wafting from the kitchen as he stretched his aching muscles. He did not fit in there anymore, not that that mattered to the Dursley's, their little Dudders is all that mattered and him out shining Harry was what Aunt Petunia put all her time and effort into. Harry was punished for outperforming Dudley in anything, they gave Harry nothing and bought Dudley everything, all Harrys clothes were second hand.

As he stepped into the kitchen a frying pan was pushed roughly into his hands and his aunt murmured at him that he was late, and nothing is allowed to ruin Dudders birthday, nothing. While Harry was stuck at the stove cooking the eggs and buttering the toast Dudley was whining in the background about the number of presents he had received.

When the eggs were finally done Harry sat down at the table (after serving the others of course) to eat his tiny portion while being ignored. Dudley's plate was piled high with bacon, eggs, sausage, toast, baked beans, tomatoes and mushrooms. He didn't touch the latter two. As Harry tried to savour his small slice of sausage Uncle Vernon spoke.

" I am afraid I have some bad news. I can't find a baby-sitter for Harry so......... (deep breath) he will be coming with us to the zoo."

At this Dudley exploded, he has never shared anything with Harry and never will. " NO! NONONONONO! It's not fair! He can't come! I don't want a FREAK following us around!"

"Surely there is something we can do? Have you tried everyone?"

"Yes dear, I have. Mrs Figg has broken her leg, so she can't take him. I am sorry Dudders but you will have to make do. I don't want to hear any more of your nonsense."

Dudley turned to look at Harry and whispered "This is all your fault freak. I think I will wish for you to drop dead."

Harry, used to death threats by now, replied "As long as that is not before we go to the zoo. If I'm going to die I want some of my last memories to be of you pissing yourself in the butterfly house again."

Not looking behind was most defiantly a mistake on Harry's part as Aunt petunia and Uncle Vernon had heard. A large painful clang resounded round the house, Harry fell forward onto the table holding his head by shaggy raven locks and wincing in pain. Some of the hair was now covered in his odd mix of dark and crimson blood. Uncle Vernon had hit him with the frying pan from earlier.

He leaned forward and hissed " Shut up! How dare you! A filthy freak speaking to my son in such a way, disguting! And now you made the pan all dirty. You wash the pan in the sink then got take a shower and get dressed. If any blood gets on to your top, then the consequences will not be pleasant. GO!"

Harry eyes flashed momentarily in the pain, his iris which shone with his usual avada kedavra green but with bright demonic red mixed in. Then they went back to their haunting powerful green with the injuries all healed and the pain fading.

At this Harry was pushed to the sink head still throbbing slightly from the quite forceful blow, the Dursley's always hit him and because they hadn't done permanent damage, yet, the blows only got harder.

Dudley pushed the pan and sponge into Harrys small shaking hands laughing the entire time.