Lessee. The Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. Pretty much every character in this story is, however, orignal characters created by myself or by my friends. All Rights are Reserved to all of us, etc, etc, I hate writing these.

Oh, and Kolya is damned fine. ;)

Dearest Nicolai,

I am so glad that you are faring well in England. I know that Pavil is not going to treat you as you deserve--why he chose to live with your father over your uncle I will never know. But please remember that whatever happens, I will be here for you, for your father, and for your mother. Remember that your soul is always with you, and I will always be with your soul, Nicolai. I am sorry that I must leave so quickly, but a Judge is never finished in her work. I love you.

Baba.

At only eight years old, Nicolai Vasiliev was already as tall as his paternal grandfather, and taller than his mother and her parents. Nicolya Kresnyov-Vasiliev, his grandmother, still towered over him, like his father, but that wasn't a problem. "I love you too, Baba," he whispered to the parchment in his hands, hoping to use an owl as soon as his mother arrived, in the morning. At least Grandfather had been too full of drink to bother with the boy, leaving him blessedly alone and able to sleep in his bed, for the first time in three days.

The feel of snakeskin still haunted him, even after two baths.

He looked at the words again, neatly written in Russian, the woman's script easy to read and very beautiful in his eyes. "My soul," he muttered to himself before grabbing a little plush cat. "Vell, if I cannot see my soul, then I'll pretend that you are it." He squeezes the plush to his chest and sighs. "I can tell you anyzhing, if you are my soul. Even vhat I don't vant to tell Baba." He looks at the paper again. "I hate Grandfazher. He is a horrible person." He quickly hid the letter under one of his pillows when he felt tears begin to fill his eyes. "Soul, I vish zhat he vould die and take zhat snake vizh him."

Clutching the cat, he pulled his covers up and rolled onto his side, gazing out of the window as he drifted to sleep, crying until darkness overcame him.

"Good morning, Nicolai. Your mozher sends her regrets, but she vas delayed. She says zhat she vill be home as soon as possible."

Pausing at the doorway, the eight year old stopped, the look of surprise on his face fading almost instantly into fear and something close to tears. The old man grins and thumps the table. "Vhat is the matter, dear boy? Zhough a sniveling, pazhetic halfblood like you can hardly be called a boy. You vill certainly never be a man." As his grandfather stood, Nicolai felt something inside of him quiver, as if he was on the edge of falling apart inside.

"Vhere is fazher?"

"Avay on business, as alvays. Now, Nicolai, it seems ve haff an entire day togzher."

"Kolya."

"Vhat?"

"Call me Kolya, Grandfazher." Clutching the door frame in a hand, the boy forces himself to stand straighter and tries to meet his grandfather's eye. The letter from his grandmother that lay under his pillow had filled him with a sudden surge of defiance, anger. He was named for his grandmother--Nicolai from Nicolya--but she had always preferred 'Kolya.' The shock on the wrinkled face set the name in the boy's mind. It was his new, powerful talisman. "I zhink zhat I like zhe name."

"Bastard boy," the old man snarled, his wand appearing in bony fingers and flicking maliciously. Suddenly unable to move at all, the newly-christened Kolya realized that only his suddenly immobile grip kept him from tumbling to the ground. The man had cursed him. Tears of hot fear fill his eyes--he knew then where he was going to go. The cupboard. The talisman had failed him as quickly as it arrived.

"You horrible, tvisted, pazhetic halfblood. How...how dare you mention her here. To me!" Spit flew with each word as the wand waved again, and Kolya jerked away from the door and hovered in the air silently, weeping softly. "For zhat, I zhink, zhree hours vizh my snake. Anozher two to teach you to respect tradition, as vell." Floating along, Kolya tried to whimper, scream, anything, but he can't--that wouldn't happen until he was settled safely in the cupboard with that horrible snake. "Pazhetic."

As soon as his arms could move, he was in the dark, scales brushing against his leg while he pounded his fists against the door, screaming until his voice failed him. The snake, though well fed, was still a danger, he knew--something evil that would willingly strangle him just for the delight grandfather would find in the action. Pushing the snake back into the corner, as far from him as possible, Kolya curled up and wrapped his arms around his knees. "Soul, if I pretend zhat you are here, vizh me, you vouldn't hate me, vould you?"

His quiet voice, filled with his tears and fear and a touch of anger, received no reply, but he suddenly felt a little better--maybe it wasn't that dark, after all. "Zhank you," he whispers, burying his face in his knees.