La Serpiente de oro

*Warning: This is story is an AU containing a dark /creature /Sherlock Holmes like /powerful harry, Ron- Ginny- Potter family and Dumbledore bashing, yaoi, mpreg, time travel, snarky but nice Snape and all around ooc-ness*

A/N: I pushed forward the years that HP is set in e.g. harry's birth – 1980 is now 2000

A/N: There is a very big time difference between the underground and earth. Instead of changing the year once a year like we do (2013-2014), in the underground they change it every 25 years as everyone in the underground live very long lives or are immortal. So they don't get confused they add 01, 02, 03 etc…to the end of their year (1326/01) till it reaches 25, which is when they finally change the year.

. 1yr (Earth) it would be 25yrs (underground)

. 10yrs (Earth) it would be 250yrs (underground)

. 20yrs (Earth) it would be 500yrs (underground)

. 1 century *100yrs* (Earth) it would be 2,500yrs (underground)

So with the 7th (we call it 8th on earth) century (both earth and underground) as a starting point, when it's the 20th (we call it 21st) century (Earth) it would be the 14th century (underground).

Guide

"Hello"… means talking

Hello... means flashback/memories/thoughts

"Hello"…means Parseltongue/ other creature languages

"Hello"… other languages e.g. spainish, german, Chinese etc…

"~Hello~"… means Latin (main language in the underground)

-Chapter 1-

-England, 4 privet drive, little whinging, surrey~ 31th October 2005-

All is mostly silent at on the street of Privet drive as the only sounds that can be heard is the light whistling of the bitterly cold autumn wind, as well as the rustling of the dead leaves that lay randomly on the damp ground. The coal coloured black clouds that fill the darkened night sky move to reveal a shimmering white, silver tinted crescent moon, just as a screeching cry of an owl pierces through the cold night air. Said owl, a male barn owl by the looks of it, could be seen sitting on top of a black lamp post with its head cocked to the side, as its heterochromia eyes stare intently at a black-brown roofed and red-beige bricked house, which is eerily identical to all the others, on the other side of the street called 4 privet drive as if waiting for something to happen.

Inside said house an uncomfortably fat six year old boy with short dark brown hair and watery blue eyes, Dudley Dursley, lays in his expensive single pine wood bed fast asleep, as a thin horse faced woman of thirty-two with dark dull brown wavy hair and mud coloured brown eyes, Petunia Dursley nee Evans, puts away a randomly picked storybook before leaving the room to go to sleep herself. In the master bedroom next to Dudley's room is the boy's father, Vernon Dursley, a very heavyset man of forty with watery blue eyes, short greying blonde hair and moustache, who at the moment is finishing up his nightly routine before slipping into the king sized bed to sleep, with his wife joining him not a moment after.

Meanwhile downstairs a young boy called Harry Potter, who looks to be no older than four, sits on a hard, lumpy and broken cot in a cupboard underneath the stairs, staring into the darkness that surrounds him with teary, glazed empty emerald green eyes as if looking at something only he can see; a sudden and violent set of cold shivers shoot unexpectedly through his thin, malnourished frame causing him wrap the threadbare blanket tighter around his unnaturally thin shoulders, while he blinks rapidly causing his glazed, empty eyes to gain, no matter how small, that fiery spark of life as he starts to focus on his surroundings once again.

Once his eyes are fully focused, Harry slowly looks around finally realizing how dark it is, and without thinking moves to light the candle that sits next some cleaning produces on a small shelf. It's with such quick and sudden movements that have Harry crying out at the sudden fiery pain, that lashes mercilessly and sadistically at his back, the back of both of his arms and his whole right leg; sniffling quietly to himself for a few seconds, Harry carefully wipes away the tears from his cheeks being careful not to agitate the bruises on his pale gaunt face, or any of his other injuries he sustained from the beating his uncle gave him just earlier that day.

Harry takes a couple of deep breaths to calm and compose himself, before slowly and cautiously reaching out again to light the small candle. Once the candle is lit a rather dim but warm golden glow stretches across the walls of the cupboard, chasing most of the shadows away and causing Harry to let out a relieved sigh at there being enough butane (1) left in the lighter to light said candle again later. "I am bored! I wonder what I can…My book!" Harry suddenly thinks as a bright smile appears on Harry's chapped lips before swiftly, still being mindful of his injuries, grabbing his only pillow, shoving his hand into the pillow case and quickly pulling out an old, worn leather storybook, his most precious treasure.

The storybook, quite advanced for his age, is dark red in colour with the single word 'Labyrinth' written on the front of it in gold old English script, in fact the whole book is written in the same font with a few small illustrated pictures dotted here and there throughout the book, the biggest picture being that of the goblin king Jareth. Harry stares at his treasure with twinkling happy eyes as he pushes a clump of short wild raven black hair out of his face, before laying himself down in a more comfortable position on his cot, opening his book to the very beginning and begins to read the story in his head, instead of reading it out loud as he didn't want to be caught by his family, "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl whose stepmother always made her stay home with the baby. And the baby was a spoiled child, and wanted everything for himself, and the young girl was practically a slave. But what no one knew is that the king of the goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and he had given her certain powers. So one night, when the baby had been particularly cruel to her, she called on the goblins for help! "Say your right words," the goblins said, "and we'll take the baby to the Goblin City. And you will be free." But the girl knew that the king would keep the baby in his castle for ever and ever and ever, and turn it into a goblin."

It is a couple of hours later that we find Harry finishing his book, much to his disappointment, and so with a tired sigh closes the book with a gentle snap as he sits up, and then places his book back inside his pillow case before laying back down again, all the while thinking on what his life could be like if he didn't live with the Dursleys, "(sad sigh) I want to live in the underground with Jareth and do magic. If I lived there I would find someone to teach me magic and to how to use a sword. Then I'll go on the most amazing adventure slaying evil dragons, exploring haunted forests and rescuing elven princess. Become a hero! It'd better than here I'd bet. Ha! Anywhere would be a 100x, no 1000x better than with my 'family'… (Silent for a few seconds)…I wish…I wish…" Harry thoughts are cut off for the moment by a large yawn which he attempts to cover with his small bony hand, as he tries to get into a more comfortable position on his cot, "I wish the goblins would come and take m (yawn) me awa (yawn) away right now," Harry whisper while yawning again as he slowly starts to fall asleep, his head being filled with dreams of elves, dragons, fae, goblins and most of all magic.

As soon as those words are uttered a loud triumphant and happy cry of an owl can be heard, then not a second later a small flash of white, gold tinted light appears in the hallway right in front of the locked cupboard door. When the light finally disappears it reveals a tall man of thirty three with wildly spiky shoulder length, pale golden blonde hair (picture a spiky mullet hairstyle with a fringe which stops just above his eyebrows, as well as slightly longer hair around the temple area that stops in line with his nose), and two different coloured eyes (heterochromia) one being brown while the other is a silver tinted blue. The man looks at his new surroundings with a disinterested expression on his pale white regal features, before a look of fury crosses his face when he turns to stare at the cupboard door; hissing in anger the man pushes back his long white cotton cloak, which has white, beige tinted thick plumage of feathers around the shoulder area (imagine barn owl feathers), behind him as he kneels in front of the off white cupboard door.

With a wave of his white leather gloved hand the locks on the door unlock with resounding 'clicks'. Reaching out the man opens the door carefully and quietly, as he didn't want to scare the child inside, and once open peers inside the small, cramped candle lit room. Then man glares around the small room feeling disgust and sadness well up inside him at the poor abused child's living conditions, while thoughts of anger and disbelief fly wildly around inside his head, "How can they do this to a child?! Abusing him, probably treating him as a slave! Acting as if they didn't care whether he lived or died! Which to be honest they probably didn't. They don't have the right to call themselves his family!" Pushing away his anger for the moment, the man takes a deep breath to compose him-self before carefully gathering the tiny, broken child in his long arms, being mindful of the child's injuries, and once he has the sleeping child resting snugly against his torso, which is covered in a white poet shirt that's open in the front, the ruffles on the front falling into a deep V shape causing the bare part of his chest to be more noticeable, he begins to slowly stand from his kneeling position.

The man, now standing, froze for a moment when the sound of a creaking floorboard is heard from upstairs. For the next minute or so the man listens intently for any other sounds indicating that the family upstairs might be awake. Not a second later the sound of a toilet flushing can be heard, followed by the creaking of a floorboard then nothing. He waits for another minute and when he hears nothing except light breathing, that's coming from the sleeping child, gives a sigh of relief, though it's not like they could do anything to him if they did catch him as being non-human and immortal has its perks, such as rapid healing and sharper senses.

The man wraps apart of his cloak around the child, who's shivering slightly due to the cold air sweeping through the hallway, as he pulls said child tighter against his chest, all the while staring down at the child in his arms with a soft small smile on his handsome aristocratic (meaning regal or refined) features. Once he is sure the child is safe a white glow begins to surround them both, and then in a small flash of white, gold tinted light the man and child disappear into thin air. Just as the pair disappear the book, Harry was reading earlier, and a few of Harry's personal belongings also disappears in a flash of light, leaving no evidence to suggest that Harry ever lived at Privet drive. The only way you would be able to tell that he ever lived there would be by the broken cot in the cupboard, as well as a small piece of paper suck to the cupboard wall, by a strip of masking tape, that has the words 'Harry's room' written on it in red crayon.

-End of chapter 1-

(1) butane is the fluid in a lighter.