Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anyone of its characters. However, any of the characters you don't recognize (there aren't any in this chapter) are of my creation.

Author's Notes: Right. This is a response to Blackest Grim's 'German Harry Challenge.' So… yeah. Anyway, I have no idea when I'm going to update this, so please be patient, after all! Patience is a virtue! Guh, anyway, review if you like it and even if you don't. Please?

Durmstrang's Viper
By Van Arat

Prologue

A two-year-old Harry Potter blinked sleepily at his uncle as the whale of a man threw a tiny, dark gray bag at his feet. He recognized the bag as the same one his aunt had shoved a single change of clothes into a few hours ago. The small child stood stiffly in a poorly lit corner of his family's living room, half hidden by shadows that threw his malnourished body into sharp relief. His jewel-like eyes had a glazed, detached shade to them that haunted his aunt, reminding her of his mother and her muggle friend who had been driven insane by a group of wizards only three years before, driving her to the point where she demanded that Harry be removed from her normal household. His uncle had quickly agreed, justifying the demand even more by saying that they didn't deserve having to raise such a freak, that they were normal, good people and that they certainly didn't want their wonderful son to get infected with Harry's abnormality. So, not even a week later, here he was, waiting in a corner for his uncle to finish dinner. He had never been out of the house before, he realized blankly. His thoughts turned away from his family and drifted to what the world outside of the house was like.

He smiled.

His aunt had chosen that moment to glance over and, with memories of her friend's empty, crazed face flashing in her minds, she screamed. His uncle and cousin jerked away from her at the sound. His uncle's plate, filled with his second helping of dinner, was knocked to the floor and is contents splattered across the unnaturally clean floor, staining the pale beige carpet a dust red. His uncle stared at the food in shock briefly before he snapped his head towards his wife. He narrowed his eyes and followed her gaze. His face turned a dark purple in rage as his eyes landed on his nephew. He jumped to his feet and stormed across the room with a speed that beseeched his stature. The obese man curled his fist and struck the boy, sending him to the floor with enough force to jar his already injured shoulder. Harry cried out, tears forming in his eyes and streaming down his cheeks.

He whimpered as his uncle grabbed the collar of his shirt and jerked him up, seemingly not noticing the boy's tears or the pain he was in. He dragged him to the entrance hall and slammed Harry into the little alcove next to the door. He unlocked the door and grabbed his nephew again, pushing him out the door and towards the car. He paused to unlock the backseat door before tossing Harry into the car. The boy didn't move until he heard his uncle lock the car door.

He blinked slowly at his uncle but said nothing as the obese man turned on his heel and went back into the house, slamming the door behind him. He folded his feet under himself and settled against the set to wait, for what he really wasn't sure. But he would wait; it was all he could do anyway.

Slowly, his eye lids began to grow heavy. The sun had already dropped behind the horizon, leaving the street lambs to light the world around him. He watched the closest one flicker unsteadily, the light disappearing sooner and staying away longer each time it flickered. He shifted as sleep claimed him. And as the savior of the Wizarding World slept in his uncle's car so did the people who had vowed to protect him, tucked tightly into their warm beds. However, their sleep was tainted with cold, death green eyes, serpents and graves stained in blood. As they and their savior slept, he was lost and forgotten by all.

The flickering street lamp that had watched him sleep flickered one last time before going out like a candle in a closed room. Silent, painfully and all alone.