center>Chapter Three

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Little Harry woke in the dappled light of the late afternoon sun through the trees. It felt strange. He'd never woken up to sunlight before. But Uncle Vernon had left him here and told him to stay. And if he was here, and Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and Dudley weren't, that meant they couldn't hit or yell at him anymore. Cheered, the little boy sat up and took a look around his new home.

Awake at last. I was starting to think you would sleep the whole day away. Startled, the little boy looked around for the source of the low, hissing voice. But the only thing he saw was a snake bigger around than Uncle Vernon staring at him with glowing, interested red eyes. Nah, couldn't be. Or could it?

Excuse me, but did you just talk? > he asked the snake hesitantly.

To say Moirethe was surprised would be an understatement. Utterly gobsmacked was more like it. This human boy had just spoken Parseltongue.

You mean you understood me? > the basilisk hissed, perhaps more harshly than she meant to.

Y-yes ma'am. Wasn't I supposed to? > stammered the boy, unsure enough to risk the question but unwilling to annoy a creature that could swallow him in one bite.

Few can, > replied the snake thoughtfully. The last time I met a human who spoke my language was long before you were born. Even among wizards it is a great and rare gift you have, child. >

Okay, she didn't seem annoyed. >

Wizards? My aunt and uncle say I'm a freak. That's why they left me here, I think. >

Then they are fools twice over. You are a wizard, and a very powerful and special one. >stated Moirethe categorically. Where are your parents? >

Dead, > sighed the boy. My aunt and uncle take care of me. >

Pretty poor care from the looks of it,> snorted Moirethe. When did you last eat? >

Well, I got some bread and water last night. >

And do your 'caretakers' eat the same way? Are they incapable of feeding their family properly? >Moirethe was developing a dislike for this 'aunt' and 'uncle' and her tone was again hostile.

N-no ma'am, I was being punished. >

By deprivation? How crude. For what? >

Not being able to cook. >

Who taught you to cook? >

No one. That was the problem. >

Sso you were being i>punished /i> for not being able to do something you never learned how to do. >

Yes, Ma'am. > Her opinion of these so-called caretakers was dropping by the moment.

I see. And my name is Moirethe, not 'ma'am'. >

Yes, ma-Moirethe. >

Good. Do you think they'll come back for you? >

I hope they don't. I like it better here with you. >

Good grief, these people must have been terrible indeed. Moirethe knew that most humans liked sentimentality and she certainly wasn't being 'warm and fuzzy'. Still, twice in one conversation the boy had managed to surprise her and to Moirethe, that capacity alone made him worth keeping. And he was a charming child, really, so adorably unsure of himself for one who showed such potential power.

Then you shall stay. What is your name? >

I don't really have one,> Harry-who-didn't-know-it confessed. My aunt and uncle call me "Boy" and my cousin calls me "Runt" and that's it. >

Ssss-sss… that won't do. We shall have to find something better for you, > the snake declared. She looked him up and down for a minute, her tongue flicking out to taste the boy's aura and potential.

How about Naiser? Founder of nations? >

Yeah, I like that. > replied Naiser, happy to be called anything as long as it was said kindly.

I'm glad. Now that that's settled, let's see about finding you some real food. >

After showing her new charge how to recognize and pick the herbs and mushrooms that would be safe and nourishing for him to eat, Moirethe, equally at home on land or water, went fishing in the nearby river for something more substantial. She quickly snared a trout of suitable size, only to remember another problem. Humans liked to sear their food with fire before eating it and Moirethe had no way to make a fire. Ah, well. Naiser was a wizard, after all and, youngling or no it was never too early to start learning to do for oneself. He could magic up his own fire, or eat the fish raw.

When Moirethe and her fish got back to the clearing where she'd left Naiser, and she explained that, he was all for trying to conjure fire. So, Moirethe helped him get set up, the two of them building a fire pit and arranging the fish over their kindling on a spit.

Now, you need a straight stick to wave around. Try to find one that fits comfortably in your hand, > Moirethe instructed, continuing when Naiser had one.

All right, that's called your want-stick because you make things happen by wanting them. You look at the wood and want it to burn. Want it as badly as you've ever wanted anything. Picture it burning. See it in your mind, and focus on having it happen. Got that? >

Naiser stared at the wood in concentration for a minute and then nodded.

Good, now you point your want-stick at the wood and tell it out loud to burn. >

Burn, Naiser hissed obediently, still focused on the wood. The boy didn't make a real fire but he was able to produce several small sparks that caught quickly on the dry tinder and had the same end result. For a first effort at controlled magic, it was pretty spectacular, and Moirethe said so.

Very good Naiser. Few younglings could have mastered that kind of focus on their first try. >

Well, I really didn't want to have to eat it raw and I'm hungry, > replied the boy, blushing at the praise. Moirethe was still pretty impressed, but decided to drop it. Instead, she asked little Naiser to tell him more about his life before he came to her forest. By the time the boy was done with his account of abuse and neglect, Moirethe was determined that if these relatives of his ever did show up again she would kill them at once. And by the time he was done with his meal and asleep, Moirethe was wrapped around him protectively and was starting to think of him as her own.