A/N: This story is discontinued! I am posting it here after erroniously posting it under another story. I got so manny e-mails that I have decided this will be a challange! I dare anyone to finish this story. I couldn't, so Iabandoned my handwritten chapter notes and outlines. I've dug them up, so anyone wanting to see a summary of my notes can go to my Yahoo!Group listed on my profile. This is a first chapter challange, feel free to ADD OR SUBTRACT from this AU fic.
This AU fic assumes Harry to be slightly more abused than in cannon, shorter (naturally, not all from abuse), and decidedly darker. In this challange Harry can be strait or gay. I have him pegged as queer because that was part of an idea I had that got so tangled in the plot that I decided to make him starait later on in my notes, but the original opening I typed was never changed.
I wash my hands of this monster, and submit it for your own use!
The Serpent's Rose By: Sofia Dragon Set after Harry's fifth year. Spoilers abound for first five books.
Prologue – The Wandering Mind of a Serpent
Harry James Potter lived in number four Privet Drive with his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Cousin Dudley Dursley. He had lived there since he was fifteen months old, roughly fifteen years, and for the most part his life had been tolerable.
His Aunt and Uncle were very normal people living in a very normal house where nothing extraordinary would even think of happening. After all, child abuse is quite common. Harry didn't get much to eat, and his clothing was always old, oversized hand-me-downs, but he had an inner light that refused to go out. After all, Harry was a very special boy living an extraordinary life, not that most people would have noticed.
Now, plenty of people knew he was a wizard, that he had fought Lord Voldemort five times in his short life, that he was an excellent Seeker, and that he was top of his class in Defense Against the Dark Arts. At least, most of the wizarding world knew those things. He was The Boy Who Lived, their eventual savior for a second time.
Then there were the things not many people knew at all. He was 1.44m tall (4'9") and not likely to get much taller before his growth spurt ended. He hoped for 1.52m (5'). He was not a late bloomer who would shoot up to a respectable height in the next three years; he was an abused child that hadn't gotten enough food before the age of ten to ensure proper development later on. He had nearly starved to death at age six when his Aunt decided that out-performing her beloved Dudley in school was a serious offence. He loved classical and rock music. He was as queer as a two galleon coin, but had not quite managed to act on that yet. His greatest fear was a Dementor at midnight; his friends slumped at its feet. He took comfort in drawing a silver snake twined around a rose.
It was this last one that had the most complicated, soul shattering, and scandalous explanation behind it. Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Golden Boy, was a member of a secret club. The Serpent's Rose, just thinking about their name made him feel safer! It was odd the way a person could forget something so important until he had need of it. Or maybe that was just another of Harry's personal quirks.
Now the old stories made so much sense. Tales of children watching their families slaughtered, seeing parents and siblings being tortured or changed into animals before their deaths, came back as if he's heard them yesterday instead of nearly a decade ago. He had put them off once, even though most of the older kids did not. He thought that they were using scare tactics to keep everyone in line, giving a greater reason then mere survival for their alliance. A mythic tale about their origins that was set 'just a short time before you lot were born' so they could be bound by something deeper then bodily need.
The wild stories explained why there were so many orphans, when there hadn't been before. It explained why now there were enough of them to band together, enough of them to build a society where they weren't second class, enough of them to survive on their own terms. They made from the symbol of the great evil that created them, their own symbol. This was a symbol of life and protection. The snake came from the Dark Mark, though they called it the Deadly Stars. They would become like their enemy, like the snake, in order to survive. Thorns from a rose protected their snake, and the rose itself was beauty and life. Quite simplistic, but what else could come from frightened eight year olds?
Wherever it started, and whoever first came up with the general idea, they didn't know. The now twenty-three year old founders had left ages ago, but those left behind had carried on. The oldest of their group was nineteen, and lived in London. Since he had only been four when Voldemort had been temporarily taken care of, he didn't remember much, but still believed that something had happened. The wild tales were still told to the youngest of them when they joined.
The horrible acts were committed by 'Sculls' according to the stories, but Harry was sure they were Death Eaters. The Sculls wore masks and black cloaks. They came and went by magic, used wands and other terrible weapons. They were part of a secret society that killed anyone who found out too much about them. Their symbol was a snake coming out of a skull's mouth.
Harry might not be as astoundingly brilliant as Hermione, but he was street-smart and survival oriented. If it looks like a duck, smells like a duck, and acts like a duck: it is either a duck, or someone under Polyjuice. The Serpent's Rose would be willing to fight tooth and nail, or fang and thorn as they often said, to protect themselves and those like them. The network of communication and free flowing channels of food, clothing, and other necessities needed to remain intact or many abused and homeless children would die.
Harry used to wonder why people didn't notice their activities. How else could a three year old street rat survive to become a ten year old thief, thirteen year old student, or eighteen year old worker? How could these kids learn to read, write, add, multiply, and even build and repair homes before they went to high school? He knew now that he had seen it for himself that people simply did not want to believe a problem existed. Their precious normality was more important to them then anything else, and they believed the government programs worked. Just like the witches and wizards would rather believe that Dumbledore and Harry were lying about the Dark Lord, and never mind that dead body Harry had come back with.
Since Sirius' death, Harry had decided that people in general could snuff it, and he didn't care. He had his list, and that small group of people he would care about. It made things easier, and was much simpler then he had expected. After all, wasn't he supposed to be a great caring savior who loved all of humanity or some crap like that? He supposed he could add that to the list of fallacies about Harry Potter: tall, handsome, strait, charismatic, attention seeking, and immortal.
He wondered which divine being, if any such thing existed, took credit for giving him a second life in which he was important without being famous. He supposed he ought to thank them. Unfortunately, there were more important things to be worrying about at the moment then seeming impolite to a creature that might not exist.
Chapter One – Night Ranger
"BOY! Get up and make breakfast!" Harry woke suddenly to his Uncle's bellow.
"Coming, Sir." Harry answered automatically, the same way he always had. The good intentions of the Order of the Phoenix had made his life much worse then it had been in some time. Uncle Vernon watched him as he wrote his first letter, made sure it said he was home safe and sound, and laid down the law as far as the post was concerned. He would write every three days, give the letter to his Uncle, and his Uncle would send Hedwig to his friends from her new home in the tool shed. Other then that, things were to 'Get back to normal around here, and you'll be glad for it you little freak!'
I can't do this again, and the Serpents need me too much to spend all summer locked up. Harry thought to himself. Last July I spent almost all my time running letters and packages on their way from London to South Hampton and back. Harry paused his wonderings long enough to get the bacon, eggs, and other fixings ready. Aunt Petunia thought that the diet had been fine, and Harry would be the first admit that his cousin looked great compared to two years ago, but Dudley's personality hadn't changed in the least. He had whined that dieting all school year was enough, and Petunia had agreed instantly. Harry certainly didn't get any more food then he ever did, but he was expected to cook again.
Gives me more opportunity to pinch food for the Serpents, heaven knows we need all we can get. With all the snack food around, and Dudley's appetite as a scapegoat, those kids in South Hampton can get something fresher then beef jerky from London and cereal from AlfoldHarry was exaggerating of course; there was a lot of food going to South Hampton these days. They need it, the orphanage blew up and they have no where to go. The bureaucrats are dragging their feet through the miles of red tape as usual, but with the fire at Sandhurst in May and Cranleigh's heating system blowing back in February, there are too many kids moving in too many directions, and not enough beds to sleep in.
Harry served his relatives and sat down, waiting to be given his share. If I'm locked up in here I won't get any news, muggle or wizarding. At least the Rose Post lets me know what is happening on the streets. That's settled, now how can I break out? The lock picking kit is in the cupboard, locked. I'm in my room, also locked. Vernon was droning on about some meeting or other he had to attend. Harry heard the words 'overnight' and 'London' in the same sentence, and tuned in to hear if the odious man would make him wash the car.
"…traffic will be quite a beast. Take me an hour to drive across London during rush hour, but there's nothing for it I suppose."
"Did you take the car to the shop to get tuned up, dear? It wouldn't do to have trouble with it in London." Petunia nagged.
"Yes, and that reminds me… Boy, I want you to wash my car after I get home today." Vernon's multiple chins waggled as he used his most commanding tone. "And do a good job of it; polish the wheel rims and the bumper."
"Yes Sir. Can I have something to eat now?"
"Here, eat that and get back upstairs." Harry ate the scraps offered to him and ran back upstairs as quickly as he could. He knew there would be dishes to wash later on, and carpets to vacuum if he hadn't missed his guess, but if he could snag some quiet time to do some serious thinking he could come up with a suitably Slytherin plan by ten after five.
At ten after five Vernon Dursley arrived home after a day at Grunnings. Harry had washed dishes, clothes, floors, and windows. He had also devised a simple but elegant plan that would ditch both his Uncle and whoever was tailing him from the Order. It would also put him in the perfect position to help the Serpents, a definite plus with all the orphanage attacks lately. Tom Riddle getting back at a terrible system, while we work around it.