Harry lay with his hands under his head, staring at the clouds passing by. After all, as a twelve-year-old, he didn't have much to do. The family he lived with preferred not to pay him any attention, and Harry was happy to go along with this. His uncle, aunt, and cousin may have been his official family, but this did not mean that they had family ties.
His aunt was his mother's sister, at least that's what everyone told him. He couldn't see any resemblance between the lovely red-haired creature that was his mother in pictures in his album and the horse-like creature that was his aunt. The woman was too thin and had an abnormally long neck, which accentuated the horse-like features on her face. - But that was of course a matter of taste, Harry decided.
His uncle was a huge man, who bore a great resemblance to a walrus. The animal's thick whiskers weren't the only thing that could confuse the local TV station with a video of a walrus, or his uncle making 'Cannonballs' in the pool, nay, the man's sheer size, along with his silly expressions caused much glee in Harry's wild fantasies.
Finally, we got to the star of the show, his cousin, Dudley. Though his cousin didn't look like a walrus, or like a horse, his cousin had inherited his parents' stupid expressions. Unfortunately, he had also acquired the brute strength of his father and liked to use his thick, heavy fists on Harry, who in turn liked to antagonize him. Fortunately, Harry was light- the advantage of not being fed- and was able to run fast. This resulted in him leaping like a hare over fences and running fast across the green grass when chased by his cousin and gang.
The last Harry Hunt had been two weeks ago, and a lot had changed since then. What his cousin knew, but the rest of his gang didn't, was that Harry was a wizard; and, if he were to believe others, "a damn strong one. " However, it was the events of last summer that ensured that his cousin had stopped terrorizing Harry.
Dudley hadn't forgotten that he'd seen a pudding floating through the lounge. He had watched his aunt's great showpiece fly through the air, only to fall hard to the ground. Dudley's heart had tightened painfully at the sight of the pudding shattering. The tasty decorations could not even be saved and were immediately thrown into the waste bin. However, last summer's almost traumatic events weren't the only reason Dudley avoided Harry.
It had been the first week of summer vacation, and Harry had come home disillusioned from another perilous school year at Hogwarts. He had fought a huge snake, complete with a deadly, or at least, a look that the snake could petrify you with. The Basilisk had not been his main concern, however, no, his main concern had been Tom Riddle, who had triumphantly crawled out of an old diary and proclaimed that he was the mini version of Lord Voldemort.
Harry was then- quite logically in his humble opinion- slightly panicked and running for his life when the huge Basilisk was sent after him to kill him. However, the Headmaster's words had been clear to his mind, and he had hoped that Hogwarts would indeed send help. When it came in the guise of an old Sorting Hat and a songbird, his courage had waned further. However, Harry wouldn't be a real Gryffindor if he hadn't bravely persevered and then pulled a real sword from the hat. Long story short, Harry stabbed the snake; it fell dead to the ground, and Tom Riddle began his evil monologue. Harry will be the first to admit that he had only heard Tom's story with half an ear, but he had the story stored in his memory. Unfortunately, shortly afterward he'd been forced to stab the diary with a Basilisk's fang- it made Tom Riddle fade until the boy was gone.
After these tragic events, Harry had a chat with Dumbledore, who talked about Harry's similarities to Tom, but indicated that his choices would reveal who they really are, much more than our talents. And that was the ultimate reason why Dudley stopped doing Harry hunting after his first week.
Harry had been irritated and tired- yes, he'd been very tired most of all. He hadn't been in the mood for Dudley's tantrums as he ripped through the expensive polo shirt bought in at least 2 sizes too small for his stature for the umpteenth time. He also didn't feel like the severe migraines he got from the screams of his uncle, who stood over him flushed, spraying saliva. After all, he hadn't felt like doing all kinds of household chores like the next best house-elf.
Harry had thought hard about the conversation with Tom Riddle in his first week with the Dursleys and had recalled his precise words. He had managed to remember his way of speaking and his way of presenting; Harry thought his story of setting up Hagrid as a perfect example. Harry then realized that Dumbledore was right; it was all about the choices Harry made and how he chose to use his talents.
He had started his plan during a well-known Harry Hunt. He ran ahead of the group of boys, but this time had mapped out a very focused route. He started his plan by running past the church, making a very targeted tear in his oversized t-shirt, revealing his uncle's bruises from a few nights before. He had even timed the flight and had known that the vicar was working in the garden around the church that part of the afternoon. A clever jump over the church gate had sent Harry- quite literally- into the vicar's arms.
Harry had looked slightly disheveled, his shirt was hanging out of his pants, his pants were dirty and his arm was bleeding a little. What worried the vicar, however, was the frightened look in Harry's eyes. However, Harry had paid little attention to the vicar and had looked back timidly, searching for his pursuers. He had gasped in terror and ran out of the churchyard when his cousin and his gang came into view.
The next step in Harry's plan was to run to the local bridge club where all sorts of old women had been playing cards all day, gossiping about the neighborhood. Harry was aware of his image and knew that many people saw him as a deranged juvenile delinquent; it was therefore up to Harry to rectify this image.
He rushed to the bridge club and stopped, panting, in front of the group of ladies who knew each other well from church.
"Ladies, my humble apologies for this interruption," Harry began, smiling charmingly at the ladies. "First of all, may I compliment you on brightening up my day, if your gorgeous outfits weren't enough reason to start a bright day, your smiles are the icing on the cake. As my day goes on, you are my shining centerpiece."
The old ladies gave a ladylike giggle behind their hands and looked at Harry with new eyes. Harry had counted on this and answered their questions calmly and in control, with the necessary charm. He channeled his inner Tom and one by one wrapped the ladies of the bridge club around his little finger. When he saw the searching figure of Pierce, one of the goons in Dudley's gang, in the corner of his eye, he had said a hasty goodbye. As he'd expected, the old ladies squealed in dismay and asked in plain language where Harry had to leave in such a hurry and why such a neat boy was dressed so sloppily.
Before he could explain himself, however, he heard a few meters away: "Freak! Stand still! Dirty Bastard! We'll get you, poof!"
Harry had to hold back a smile, he couldn't have planned it better.
He turned his prettiest white smile at the ladies and looked over his shoulders at the approaching mob of rascals. "My apologies ladies, I hope you have a better afternoon than I will have. You know how it is today, polite behavior and genuine manners are seen as a sign of disposition; if you understand what I mean. Unfortunately, it is how it is, ladies. I hope to see you soon under better circumstances. Until then." Harry bowed to the ladies and conjured up a flower which he gave to the most dominant woman in the group. "Ladies."
Harry ran away when Dudley tried to grab him by his white t-shirt. He sprinted to the market, which was in full swing at this time of day; all kinds of colorful stalls, with even more colorful sellers, filled the streets. Harry slowed and moved through the crowd in a controlled manner. He apologized before bumping into someone, he helped an old lady grab a scarf that was hanging too high from the roof of a stall, and he managed to help a man balance his bowl of pulses.
However, his good deeds were short-lived as his cousin was the first to violently push aside the person Harry had politely let go of before. Pierce then ran into the old woman, her new scarf smashed by the many footsteps of Dudley's gang. Finally, two boys- who reminded Harry a lot of Grabbe and Goyle- had bumped into the Indian legume salesman, all of whom fell to the cold stones in front of his colorful stall.
Harry noisily apologized for the behavior of his pursuers and then quickly ran down the busy street, looking for the large lawn near the playground near his house. He soon found the extinct patch of grass, which was teeming with voles, spiders, and snakes. The latter category was particularly interesting to Harry, he had observed that several black vipers lived in this particular patch of grass. Although these snakes were not very venomous, their bite hurt and they grew quite large; bigger than a ring snake.
Harry soon found a large and grumpy-looking viper hiding in the tall grass. Harry took a mouse from his pocket and showed it to the snake.
~"Mighty serpent, I am not here to disturb your peace. I'm here to give you this mouse."~ Harry said quietly, keeping his language as simple as possible.
The snake looked at him curiously and emerged from its hiding place. ~"A Speaker?"~ asked the snake in astonishment. ~"I've heard of speakers but never seen one of your kind... I'm happy to share the food with you."~
Harry was about to give the mouse to the snake when he was pushed forward by a friend of Dudley's. Harry turned and released the mouse, which darted away into the dense grass.
"Freak. You've given us quite a few problems," Dudley said slowly. He took a threatening step toward Harry. "I don't understand why you didn't give up sooner, Freak," Dudley said in his high, taunting voice.
"You know that the longer we have to hunt you, the longer your punishment will be. And boy, I can tell you my legs are itching to kick you."
The small group of bullies chuckled at Dudley's words. Harry waited for the first kick. This came quickly. The pain Dudley's foot inflicted on Harry's stomach was more intense than he'd expected. He could hardly breathe and was literally gasping for breath like a fish on dry land. Dudley's friends quickly followed punching, squeezing, and kicking Harry in every possible spot.
~"Does Speaker need help?"~ the 35-inch snake hissed at Harry.
~"If you like,"~ Harry managed to say.
Dudley's friends didn't respond to Harry's weird hiss, but Dudley did. The fat boy opened his eyes wide in fear and looked around timidly.
"Freak?! What have you done?" he whispered to Harry.
Harry scrambled up and looked at the group of boys with a sardonic smile. "You are so stupid, I think it's great that you can dress independently in the morning... Although I must confess that I don't understand why you choose to wear your mother's dungarees... or your grandmother's blouse, for that matter." Harry cocked his nose condescendingly, looking down at the boys in those ridiculous "trendy" clothes.
"To answer your question, Dudley... I've effectively gone through our neighborhood and proved what an idiot and ridiculous bunch of morons you are, who can only act with brute force. I can promise you that your mothers will hear all about your wrongdoings at church tomorrow. But I won't stop there, I won't stop until I've limited your living space to your own bedroom... And Dudley- dear cousin mine- you know what I'm capable of. But let me demonstrate."
Harry looked down and saw that by now three Black Adders had gathered around the group of boys. He hissed maliciously at the snake, the boys now looking around anxiously. Harry grinned and decided to act theatrically: "Speak to me, O Slytherin, greatest of Hogwart's Four!"
The boys took small steps back, stumbling over rocks and branches.
~ "Friends...will you help me?"~
Harry gestured to the boys and the snakes slid forward. They moved silently through the long grass, which was usually green but was barren from the sun in places. Dudley's gang recoiled in fear, though the snake made no sound, they could see the grass moving.
"AARGH!" one of the boys yelled. Dudley pulled the boy up and pulled him toward the residential area. Seconds later, another boy screamed as he pulled his hand up, still holding another snake.
"Oh God!" he screamed.
"Mommy!" wailed another.
The boys ran away without looking back. Harry laughed and sat down in the thick grass. He fell backward and twisted his face in pain. He didn't have to pull up his shirt to see that his ribs were bruised. He tasted blood in his mouth, probably from a nosebleed. He couldn't care less about his injuries, though, not now that his plan had worked so well.
And so the weeks passed and Harry heard how his image improved by leaps and bounds. He was no longer the juvenile delinquent with a miserable background and even stranger appearance. No, he was now the polite orphan, who despite everything- because certain gossip spoke negatively of Petunia and Vernon Dursley- had ended up well. The epitome of good behavior and manners that made the elderly residents long for the 1950s.
His aunt and uncle bought better clothes for Harry under pressure from friends from work, book club, and church. The clothes were still of less quality than Dudley's, but the clothes fit and were comfortable for the first time in his life. Harry also got more free time, which allowed him to talk more with the ladies of the bridge club or the strict gentlemen of the church. He played his part with gusto and his aunt and uncle couldn't help but watch as Harry became Little Winging's new Golden Boy.
Dudley kept Harry at bay after the snake attacks. His cousin had tried to exert dominance over Harry one last time, but Harry had reacted appropriately. It ended with Harry announcing in a cold voice that last school year he had found out he was the Heir of Slytherin, a distant descendant of his parents' killer. Harry had laughed and added: "It explains why I like to talk to snakes, Dudley, a snake is the sign of Slytherin. It also explains why I'm so good at the Dark Arts... that's Dark Magic, Dudley. If you try to hurt me again, I'll cut your flesh and take some blood from you. 'Cause, you know what I've learned too? If you have someone's blood in your possession, you can do a lot of spells and rituals to kill someone slowly. Slow and painful."
Harry had chuckled lowly and whispered in his ear, "And you know the beauty of Blood Magic, my dear cousin? You don't need a wand."
Harry hadn't been bothered by his cousin after that. However, Dudley had repeated his words to his friends, making Harry known among the youth as a Dark Magician, who had, apparently, learned rituals from the Egyptians, complete with spells that could summon the dead and resurrect; as was known from films about mummies and curses of the Pharaohs.
On this beautiful summer's day, just before his thirteenth birthday, Harry was playing without any worries in the tall grass with the snakes that were now happy to visit the dark-haired boy. He frowned then the sunlight that shone into his eyes was blocked by a large shadow and slowly sat up to see what was causing this shadow.
Harry stood up when he saw a man wearing smart trousers, a white dress shirt, and a dark green waistcoat. He eyed the man suspiciously; the man appeared to be in his thirties, was tall, and had auburn hair, which lay on his head in healthy waves. Harry thought the man could easily participate in a fashion shoot - at least he was handsome enough for it. The strong jawline and straight nose were enough to start a successful modeling career, but his dark eyes, which seemed to glow almost red in the sunlight, gave a man a mysterious and dangerous look. Exactly what the modern housewife would like to see in a perfect man.
"Can I help you?" Harry asked politely, the viper still on his wrist.
"Is that a Black Adder?" the man asked in a dark, but a smooth, baritone voice.
Harry stared at the man in shock and looked at his wrist where, indeed, a Black Adder was curled up. "Um, yes, sir. That's right."
The man looked amused at Harry, cocking a dark eyebrow. "That's a striking choice for a pet, mister...?"
"Potter, sir. Harry Potter," Harry said quickly. "It's not my pet though, it lives here in the grass, I only bring him a mouse now and then."
The man tilted his head as he listened intently and looked at Harry. Harry blushed and turned his face away. The man took a step closer, bringing him way too close to Harry.
"I am looking for the Heir of Slytherin... Whispers of his existence have spread all over Surrey and led me here. Tell me, Mr. Potter... Do you know the Heir of Slytherin?"
Harry looked at him in shock. "Yes, sir... I mean- No, sir," Harry stammered.
The man chuckled softly and gestured to the snake. "Extremely docile for a Black Adder, one would almost think you are a Parselmouth."
Harry shook his head firmly. "This snake has always been calm, I think he got used to me because I often brought him food."
The man hummed casually. "You don't seem to be startled by the comment that you could be a Parselmouth... Nor was you shocked that you were approached by a wizard."
Harry shrugged uncomfortably. "No one in this neighborhood is dressed as perfectly as you. When you mentioned the name Slytherin, I knew enough."
A small, smug smile appeared on the tall man's handsome face. "Perfect, you say?"
Harry looked at his feet, blushing. "Um, yeah..." he began uncomfortably. "Going back to your earlier question, there is no Heir or Slytherin here. No idea who that could be."
The man laughed out loud now, it was a pleasant laugh, but teasing. "Really? I spoke half an hour ago with a group of boys - nothing more than a bunch of hapless illiterate band of baboons- who told me a remarkable story about a boy with black hair and green eyes, who can talk to snakes. Moreover- and now it gets really interesting- the fattest boy told me that the boy does Dark Magic and has intimate knowledge of Blood Magic."
He gestured casually to a fence, which was at least ten meters away. "The boy had taken the liberty of taking me to that boy, Mr. Potter. He brought me to you."
Harry looked startled at his cousin, who was standing uncomfortably near the gate leading to the gated playground. He looked uneasily into the dark eyes, which seemed almost red, now that Harry was so close to the man.
Please, let me die already.
But of course, the situation had to get worse. The handsome, tall man took a step toward Harry and took his hand, where the Black Adder was still on his wrist.
~"Little snake, tell me. Is this boy taking good care of you?"~
Harry stared at him, startled, and had to control himself not to immediately pull his hand out of the tall man's firm grip.
~"Another Speaker! As I had already told the Young Speaker here, I had heard about the people who speak the language of the Serpents, but to see an adult Speaker now is overwhelming. The Young Speaker takes good care of me, he gives me healthy mice in exchange for protection."~ said the serpent reverently.
The man's mouth twisted into a small smile as he found Harry's green eyes. He squeezed Harry's hand briefly. "The name is Marvolo Gaunt, Mr. Potter. And you are surely the Heir of Slytherin?"
Harry looked at him like a deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming car. He looked away from the man, who was looking at Harry far too intensely.
"Answer me," said the man in a colder, firmer voice, his face seemed to be cleared of emotion.
Answer me.
I only said that because I was afraid of my cousin and his gang, afraid of being chased on a daily basis.
I said it to terrify my cousin even more so that he would never hurt me again.
I said it because I wanted to make a change, I wanted a bedroom, a full meal, and a worthy wardrobe.
I said it because I was inspired by Tom Riddle, the real Heir of Slytherin.
Harry couldn't say any of that. He had gone to great lengths to build a good reputation and had finally arrived at a good place in his life. He'd spent too much time on this image built on fear, respect, and charm.
So instead, Harry looked at the man in his crimson eyes and straightened his shoulders.
"I think you can answer that yourself by now," Harry said firmly.
In an instant, Gaunt's expression seemed to change. His gaze grew darker, his teeth seemed sharper and his eyes redder. His crimson eyes narrowed and darkened in a mixture of amusement and anger.
"Hmm, I like a good question, you're lucky with that. Isn't it... Heir of Slytherin ?" Gaunt asked, his tone dark and dangerous, mixed with a good amount of sarcasm.