SEQ CHAPTER h r 1DISCLAIMER: Nope, I do not own, nor claim to own, any of the Harry Potter... ANYTHING. I'm not making any money on this at all, yadda yadda yadda.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a responce to PxW's challenge. The criteria goes as follows:
Harry was raised by a serpent (or any other anguiform
being), so the only language he understand was Parseltongue.
Harry had stayed with the Dursleys until he was 4 years old, and was abuse by
them, thus his distrust of humans.
Harry learn to become an Animagus (by himself or from others, whatever), and
he choose his animagus form to be a silver (or black) serpent.
Voldemort would thinks Harry is just an unknown poisonous snake and take him
as his new pet (at first anyhow).
WARNINGS: OMG!!!1oneoneone!!1 This is going to be slash! Boys kissing boys! Shonien-ai! Yaoi! Gayness! Whatever! No likie, no readie. If you are offended by this sort of thing, and after reading this warning (or... not reading it, in which case you I will laugh at you more) you read this fic and flame me... I will laugh at you. And use said flames to warm me toeses at night. Nya.
ON WITH DA STORY!
It was always dark in Harry's room, but he wouldn't have been able to see much, anyway. He like seeing colors though, and would sit on his ancient mattress that took up the whole room, and pass his things through the thin lines of light that shone through the cracks in the grated window in his door. His blanket was red, his worn teddy-bear was tan with a tarnished blue bow, and his food tended to be many different colors (Carrots were his favorite food, on account of their bright orange coloring). Meals were always his favorite time of the day for that reason. Aunt Petunia would jerk open his door, flooding his room with light, briefly letting him see the yellows of his wall, and the vibrant hues of Petunia's garish dresses (Harry knew better than to touch her dress though; that would earn him a sound slap across the face). She'd drop a small plastic plate of food on his bed, in front of him, place a small cup of water (or occasionally juice) in his hands, and shut the door again with a snap. The only time he ever was allowed to leave his room (which was in fact a small cupboard under the stairs) was to be roughly pulled into the bathroom to relieve himself and to wash.
The drill company that Harry's uncle Vernon worked for was doing quite well. They were expanding, and Vernon was being transferred to a new building out of Surrey; which meant that the Dursley's were moving. So, one day, Vernon loaded the four year-old Harry into his car, and drove out of town. Neither Vernon nor Petunia wanted to deal with their nephew any longer, and had agreed that, sense the were moving, they'd take him to an orphanage before the move. Or, that's what Petunia though her husband was doing that day.
Vernon knew that trying to get an orphanage to take Harry would be a mess. There would be questions, like why he was trying to unload the four year-old while he was still more then capable of taking care of the child, and it would be a long and tedious process. Vernon wanted to wipe his hands of Harry and be done with it, which is why Vernon stopped at the edge of a wildlife preserve instead of an orphanage.
A/N: Yeah, I know the chapter's short. I have more written, but this seemed like a good place to cut it off, when the part that I actually cut it off at, did not. So, I'll just incorporate said part into the next chapter, which will hopefully be longer. Woot.