Sadly, I own nothing except OC characters and the plot. Also, Parseltounge will be written underlined.

The scarred young boy walked the corridors of Hogwarts. The occasionally moved his hand to push up his slipping, poor quality, round glasses that kept sinking down his nose. Harry made his way to his newly appointed DADA teacher's office for his detention. However, he knew that this detention would not be about his behaviour, if only it were. Things would be less complicated.

Far too quickly, he found himself at the door of the DADA class. Knocking timidly, as if he was trying to remain unheard, he waited until there was a soft 'enter' from inside.

'Potter. You are late.' As always, the greeting was curt and gruff from Snape.

That was the idea. He thought to himself. They both knew that Harry was reluctant to be here, putting it mildly.

'Sit there, in front of my desk.'

Try as he might, Harry Potter could not stop himself from being intimidated, which was laughable with the situation he was in.

'Now. Let's just get to the point, for I wish not to waste my time with listening to the pointless dodging around this subject.' Snape leaned back into his chair, but he still maintained this formal atmosphere, despite his slouched back. 'Last night, as I patrolled the corridors, I came to a sight that... confuses me.'

Harry voiced no deny or affirmative to Snape's words. He only stared with a stony face that was rarely seen on the Gryffindor.

'Mr Potter,' Snape adopted a calmer, and dare Harry say it, comforting manner, 'Why is it that you have not spoken of these injuries?'

Harry inhaled sharply and exhaled slowly, trying to steel himself for the harsh truth.

'I had gone to Dumbledore, professor.' Snape did not bother to correct Harry in the address. 'I had gone to him in my first year, begging him to save us from them. He only said that I was being absurd and there was no need for any fuss, I had bigger problems. I, being the golden boy.

Snape was frozen in shock at the Headmasters treatment to the child, but then something dawned on him. 'Us?'

Harry only nodded solemnly. 'My Serena and I.'

'Who is Serena?'

'My love, my soul and my duty to protect. But most of all, she is my Angel.' The words fell off the young boys mouth that Snape didn't doubt it for a second, no matter how unnerving hearing such age in the voice of the boy-who-lived.

'I do not understand.'

'Serena Dursley. She is magic.'

'Being a magical being like us, why does she not attend Hogwarts?' Snape was becoming more confused by the moment, every answer bringing new questions.

'No, I mean that she is magic personified. Her silver eyes show the magic moving in her body.' Harry leaned back into his chair, mirroring Snape. 'I came here in hopes of you saving us, as Dumbledore as proved to be an unreliable man.'

Severus Snape saw three options.

1. Consult Albus about maybe Harry Potter needs mental help.

2. Put this down to his need for fame. (Something he was happy to do).

3. Believe in what the Potter boy speaks of and help him.

And though it went against all logical thinking, and was the easier path (but when was life easy for him?) Severus followed with his instinct, as it had served him well in the past.

'Mr Po-... em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"Harry/em, tell me everything.'

'Professor, I think it is better that I just show you.'

Nodding, Severus leaned forwards and took out his wand. Looking into Harry's emerald eyes, he whispered the incantation.

'Legilimens'

Three years old, Harry Potter was curled up in his cramped cupboard, not daring move in fear of reminding his dreaded aunt Petunia of his existence. But He could not, try as he might, drown out the screams that sounded through the walls of the Dursley household. Harry wondered why no one came. Why didn't anyone save the angel that was trapped in the basement?

The time the cries and pleads of mercy from the precious angel were unimportant. The all young boy cared about was it to finish, so he can mend and care is angel. He would be there now, stopping the pig that was named Vernon Dursley from harming the beautiful girl, but how could he. He had em style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"promised/em her he would not put himself in trouble. All he could do was wait for it to finish so he could rush down the stairs into the basement.

Finally, the screams went down to whimpers, quiet to even Harry's listening ears. He waited until he heard the heavy breathing of the Uncle to walk past his door and slowly thunder up the staircase to his comfy bed with his wife.

When it was relatively safe, Harry tentatively moved out of his cupboard and crept towards the door that led to the dreaded basement. Ever since he was able to walk he had walked down the creaky stairs, now knowing every jolt and loose end to the steps. Quickly and silently, he moved till he got to the bottom. There, he took a deep breath before walking towards the blood-soaked metal table that stood in the middle of the room. Only a flickering light bulb, held by a few wires to the cracked ceiling, lit the damp and cold room. Weapons and tools hung from hooks around the room, blood still clinging to the metal, rusting from lack of maintenance.

'Angel?' Harry whispered, his voice trembling.

'Is that my little Serpent?' Came a soft hiss. A form slowly shifted, turning towards the approaching little boy.

She was in quite a state. Blood mattered her inky, ebony hair and was dried and crusted on her pale, tattooed skin. The marks swirled with black ink, symbols of Salem times where ones marked witches to be indentified and warn the villages. Shackled to the table, she could not move much, but it was clear that she was determined to see the young boy. The wounds were deep in her side, blood profusely exiting her body, dripping off the table.

And she still was the personification of beauty, even hidden behind a layer of her blood.

'My angel! Are you going to be alright?' Despite all that the three year old had been through, Harry still maintained this innocent quality in his green eyes that sparkled in his freckled face.

The girl could be no more than seventeen, but it was another matter entirely. Though her looks said different, she was centuries old. However, being locked up the entire time, she still had the mental ability of a seventeen year old. She was a paradox in its human form.

'I am now that you are here.' She hissed gently, beckoning the boy towards her. 'span style="text-decoration: underline;"Do not fear for me, my little serpent, for everything will soon be alright. You'll see. So wipe those tears my sweet and rest with me./span' Harry needed no further invitation and crawled into the bruised arms of his kind angel.

'When I'm big enough, I'm gonna do everything in my power and beyond to save you.' Harry repeated the words he said every night, words that a three year would not normally say, but then Harry was no ordinary boy. All he received as an answer was a hand coming to stroke Harry's messy hair.

Severus snapped out of the boys head quickly. He had seen enough.

He turned his head back towards the young boy, obsidian eyes seeing him in a new light.

'Harry...'

Harry only raised his hand up. 'Just help us.'

Severus silently nodded, mouth still ajar.

Ignoring the shocked stiff former potions teacher, Harry rose from his chair.

'Please do not alert the headmaster. He will stop us with everything he has. This isn't the first time he has put a stop to us escaping.'