A/N: Trigger warning: Rape (underage)
Chapter 1
Kidnapping
In a small, dimly lit room under the stairs of Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry Potter woke up to the all-too-familiar sound of his cousin Dudley's loud snores drifting down from the floor above. His makeshift bed, a worn and threadbare mattress, offered little comfort, its springs creaking beneath him. The thin blanket barely shielded him from the chilly morning air that seeped through the cracks in the walls. Broken glasses dangled precariously from his nose, resulting from Dudley's merciless teasing the night before. He must have fallen asleep wearing them.
But Harry knew today was a special day. He overheard the Dursleys arguing about what to do with him as they couldn't find a sitter.
He was going to the zoo!
Regardless, it was still a typical day for the most part, what with waking up early to make breakfast for his relatives and staying invisible.
As Harry got out of his makeshift bed, he carefully placed the broken glasses on the small, rickety table beside him. He rubbed his tired eyes, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the cracks in the cupboard door. Harry's thin fingers fumbled with the torn, hole-ridden clothes hanging limply on his scrawny frame. He didn't own much, and what he did possess was either Dudley's discarded attire, barely fitting, or clothes he had outgrown long ago.
A sense of quiet excitement bubbled within him despite the dismal surroundings. The Dursleys might treat him like an unwanted burden, but today was different. Today, he was escaping the confines of his cupboard and venturing into the outside world, even if it was just for a short while.
Harry, careful not to disturb the Dursleys, tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen. His hands worked quickly and efficiently, preparing a simple breakfast of toast and tea. He had learnt to cook early, a skill born out of necessity. Harry glanced at the clock as the aroma of toast filled the kitchen. He still had time before the Dursleys woke up.
His heart swelled with anticipation. The zoo might be a rare treat for most children, but for Harry, it was a glimpse of the magical world he had yet to discover. The thought of seeing real, living creatures filled him with wonder. Amid his mundane life, the prospect of observing animals, even from a distance, was a source of immense joy.
Once breakfast was ready, Harry set the table quietly, ensuring everything was in its place. He knew the routine well — be invisible, be silent, and above all, don't draw attention. The Dursleys didn't appreciate disruptions, especially on special occasions.
Harry's eyes fell on the clock as he finished setting the table. It was time to wake the Dursleys and embark on their family outing to the zoo.
The morning sun slanted through the curtains, casting a thin, dusty beam of light across the Dursley family's breakfast table. With his face buried in the newspaper's sports section, Dudley occasionally muttered to acknowledge his parents' conversation. Petunia Dursley, her hair in a severe bun, clucked disapprovingly at a news storey.
"Such dreadful people in the world. Vernon, did you hear about this gang of hoodlums?" Petunia enquired, her voice laced with disapproval.
Vernon, engrossed in his toast, grunted dismissively. "No time for nonsense, Petunia. We have more important matters to attend to."
Meanwhile, in the shadowy corner of the kitchen, Harry slipped in almost unnoticed, clutching a tray of food. His body was unclad, and his bare feet touched the cold kitchen floor. It seemed to be one of his punishments to serve the family before he dressed, but they were so used to it that they didn't even look up at him.
To make himself feel better, Harry reminded himself that he had only one set of clothes and didn't want to ruin them. It was the only thing that made him feel better. He refused to think of all the things his uncle had done before, taking advantage of his nudity. He just hoped that it wouldn't happen today. Sometimes, if he was lucky, more than a month could pass before Vernon would retake an interest in him. So Harry had trained himself to be the quietest servant there ever was. And sometimes, it worked.
"There's something I need cleaned in my room, boy. Best go do it quickly."
Harry's shoulders slumped. Vernon always made different excuses to take Harry away from everyone else. He wondered how his aunt didn't find this strange, or perhaps she just didn't care. He made his way to his uncle and aunt's bedroom and stood there, waiting.
"On your knees, boy." Was Vernon's way of saying hello as he unzippered his pants and pulled them down.
"Suck."
His uncle was never one to be eloquent. Grimacing, Harry did as he was asked, trying not to gag when Vernon shoved himself all the way down Harry's throat. When these things happened, Harry let himself go away to think of everything else except for this, to think of another world that might be kinder to him.
Five minutes could have passed or an hour when Vernon forcefully pulled himself free, then rotated Harry so that he was on his hands and knees, holding his neck down against the floor. Vernon never prepared Harry nor used any kind of lubrication to make it easier on him.
It was the only time Vernon enjoyed his tears. But he had learnt to stay silent, though perhaps this wasn't the best idea, as each time, Vernon came up with different ways to make him beg or react.
This time, Vernon grabbed him from the front, gripping Harry's dick so hard he saw white, even as Vernon pumped in and out furiously from the back. Harry inhaled sharply, but Vernon didn't seem to notice. His uncle had never touched him before. He only ever used him and then dumped him and left.
Whimpering, Harry shut his eyes. His uncle had won this round. He couldn't control the feeling growing in his tummy or how he saw stars when he orgasmed, shuddering pathetically.
Vernon grunted, and Harry knew it was almost over. This time, though, instead of finishing inside Harry, Vernon paused, and when Harry looked up at him, Vernon aimed at his face and chest and came all over him.
"See?" he heard his uncle say viciously. "You enjoy it."
Harry said nothing.
"Just admit it, you're a poof."
Unbidden, Harry felt the tears come. Vernon just laughed.
"That's your punishment for daring to come along on this trip and making our life difficult."
Without another word, Vernon left the room, leaving Harry curled up in a ball on the floor, shivering.
Of course, he wasn't allowed to shower, and if he was caught trying to use the bathroom without supervision, he'd get into even more trouble. And for once, it took Harry an excruciating amount of time to pick himself off the floor. Blood was on the floor, but Harry didn't bother cleaning it. Let Petunia see what her husband did. Ignoring his filth and the disgustingness of his existence, Harry returned to the kitchen.
Silently, he watched as breakfast continued, avoiding eye contact as if he were invisible. The stickiness clung to his body, a new way to feel humiliated, he noticed. His aunt didn't look at him even once. Vernon, it seemed, had built himself another appetite and was eating a second breakfast.
When Harry glanced at the clock, quick as a lick, he saw that a full hour had passed. Vernon had really taken his time. But it made sense as he was the only one still eating.
Clearing away the rest of the plates, Harry retreated to the hallway, his heart racing. The sense of vulnerability intensified as he pulled on the ragged trousers and too-small shirt left behind in the hallway.
As he buttoned the top of his shirt, his fingers brushed against the tender skin beneath, revealing faint, discoloured marks. Due to the violence he endured, the bruises marred his fragile frame, and Harry forced himself not to utter a sound at the painful spots when his shirt covered them. He dressed quickly, desperate to escape the prying eyes of his relatives, each button a reminder of his daily pain.
Petunia glanced at him as he adjusted his ill-fitting clothes, her lips curled in a sneer.
"Honestly, Vernon, look at the state of him. You'd think he could at least pretend to be normal in public," she remarked, her voice dripping with disdain.
Vernon shrugged, his eyes barely flickering toward his nephew. Harry, accustomed to the harsh realities of his existence, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the table. He finished dressing, tight clothes emphasising his emaciated figure.
Once dressed, Harry quietly moved to the corner of the kitchen, away from the Dursleys' line of sight. He stood there, waiting for the inevitable moment when he would be summoned into action, his eyes dull with resignation.
And, of course, like every other day, Harry got no food.
The Dursley family and their unwelcome companions squeezed into the car, leaving the boy no choice but to occupy the cramped space in the back. The atmosphere inside the car was thick with tension, a heavy cloud of disdain hanging over him.
"Dudley, you sit in the middle. We can't have you squashing our guests," Petunia said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. Dudley shifted his ample frame to the centre, grumbling under his breath.
Piers Polkiss and Gordan Williams, Dudley's two friends, settled on either side of him, their eyes gleaming with mischief. They delighted in making his life miserable, their cruel taunts echoing in his ears like a never-ending refrain.
"Hey, freak, didn't you know personal hygiene is a thing?" Piers sneered, his grin not meeting his eyes.
"Yeah, you're practically a walking rubbish dump!" Gordan added, his voice laced with mockery.
Harry clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to ignore their words. The car ride was an agonising journey through a minefield of insults and mockery. The Dursleys, engrossed in their own conversation, pretended not to notice the torment he endured.
Outside, the world passed by in a blur of colours and shapes. Harry stared out the window, his eyes glazed over, the excitement he had felt for the zoo extinguished by the cruel reality of his existence.
The car pulled into the zoo's parking lot, and the occupants spilt out, laughter and chatter filling the air. Harry followed, his steps heavy with the weight of his misery. He stayed a few paces behind, trying to make himself invisible amidst the bustling crowd.
Once inside the zoo, everyone seemed to forget about him. The Dursleys and their companions were too absorbed in the wonders of the animal exhibits to spare him a second thought. It was a reprieve, albeit a temporary one.
Left to his own devices, Harry wandered away from the group, his eyes vacant as he moved through the exhibits. The magnificent creatures behind the enclosures failed to capture his attention; his mind was consumed by the morning's activities.
As Harry reached the reptile section, a shiver ran down his spine. The cold-blooded creatures slithered and basked, their existence starkly contrasting his own. He stood before a glass enclosure, staring at a snake coiled in the corner.
Harry stared into the glass enclosure, his eyes meeting those of the boa constrictor coiled in the corner. To Harry's surprise, the snake flicked its tongue as if acknowledging his presence. He leaned in, his voice soft yet filled with longing.
"You know, I understand how you feel. Trapped with no way out," Harry said, his words barely above a whisper.
The snake, seemingly attuned to Harry's emotions, responded in kind. Its tongue darted out, caressing the air as if reaching out to him. In that moment, an unspoken bond formed between them, a connection that transcended the barriers of species.
"You have strength within you, young one. Don't give up. Life has a way of surprising us, even in the darkest of times," the snake replied, its words carrying a wisdom that belied its serpentine form.
Unaware that the snake's words were not mere hisses but a genuine conversation, Harry felt a strange sense of comfort. It was as if the snake understood his pain, his longing for freedom, his desire to escape the confines of his dismal existence.
The stares from the onlookers went unnoticed by Harry as he gazed into the snake's eyes, finding solace in the depths of its gaze.
"I'm tired of it all. Tired of being invisible, of being treated like I'm worthless," Harry confessed, his voice shimmering with vulnerability.
"Life is full of challenges, young one, but it's also filled with unexpected joys. You have the power to change your fate, to forge a new path," the snake reassured him, its tone gentle yet resolute.
Harry's heart swelled with mixed emotions as the snake spoke—hope, despair, and a flicker of determination. He realised he wasn't alone, that even a creature of the wild could offer him guidance.
Driven by an impulse he didn't fully comprehend, Harry stared at the enclosure thoughtfully when suddenly, the glass protecting visitors vanished, allowing the snake to slither freely. The boa constrictor, now unshackled, moved gracefully, its body sinuous and powerful.
"Where will you go?" Harry asked, curiosity colouring his voice.
"I dream of Brazil, the lush rainforests and the endless warmth of the sun on my scales. I want to see the world beyond these walls," the snake replied, its desire palpable.
Moved by the snake's simple yet profound dream, Harry stepped back, allowing the creature to slither out of the enclosure. To his surprise, the snake didn't retreat but coiled around his ankle as if inviting him to join in its newfound freedom.
"I can't take you to Brazil," Harry whispered fretfully.
"That's quite alright," The Boa responded, slithering up Harry's neck to curl there. "It's my first time to be near a speaker. I think I'll stay with you."
With the snake as his companion, Harry walked away from the exhibit, their bond unspoken yet palpable. As they moved through the zoo, Harry's steps became lighter, his spirit lifted by the newfound connection and the silent encouragement he had received.
In his happiness, Harry all but forgot to ask what a speaker was.
The distant wails of terror merged with the cacophony of the zoo, but Harry remained untouched by the chaos around him. His steps were listless, his gaze vacant, as he wandered away from the snake enclosure. The boa constrictor, draped comfortably around his neck, seemed unperturbed, its coils settling into a tranquil slumber.
Amidst the frantic screams, Vernon's grip tightened on Harry's arm, jolting him from apathy. A choked cry slipped from Harry's lips, promptly stifled by Vernon's hand, leaving only a pitiful whimper lingering in the air. The snake, attuned to Harry's fear, sprang into action. Sharp and unyielding, its eyes locked onto Vernon, a silent promise of retaliation.
Vernon, momentarily paralysed, averted his gaze from the snake's menacing stare. He understood Harry's peculiarities, even if Harry himself remained blissfully unaware. Feigning ignorance, Vernon pulled Harry into a nearby gift shop, the artificial cheerfulness of the surroundings clashing with the tension in the air.
Inside, Vernon snatched a haphazard assortment of clothes, thrusting them at Harry with a rough force that stung. The shopkeeper, a perceptive woman with sharp eyes, observed the scene with curiosity and suspicion, her silence echoing her unspoken questions. Harry hesitated, torn between defiance and a bitter self-loathing that ultimately led him to accept the offered attire, including the hoodie meant to shroud his battered body.
Ignoring the shopkeeper's scrutinising stare, Vernon fumbled for money, his hands trembling imperceptibly. His gaze darted away from her watchful eyes, seeking refuge in the mundane act of payment. Once outside, he released Harry, his attention quickly diverted by a distraction elsewhere, leaving Harry standing alone amidst the bustling crowd once again.
The world moved on, heedless of Harry's internal turmoil, and he remained a solitary figure, the snake coiled around him a silent witness to his desolation. In the heart of the bustling zoo, where humanity's despair met Harry's numb existence, the invisible bonds between man and serpent went unnoticed, lost amidst the throng of oblivious souls.
Harry moved amidst the crowds, his new clothes counterbalanced to the despondency that weighed on his shoulders. Every step felt foreign, a reminder of his fleeting escape from the clutches of the Dursleys. The weight of his impending return bore down on him, overshadowing any glimmer of hope his new attire might have brought.
His gaze, ever watchful, fell upon an unusual glint on the ground – a trinket that seemed out of place amidst the chaotic zoo. Its allure drew him closer, a hesitant hand reaching out. When his fingers brushed the cool surface, an inexplicable force seized him. His very essence seemed to shift, his skin darkening, his features altering, and his body taking on unfamiliar contours. The change was swift, profound, and utterly bewildering. It felt like an intrusion, a violation of his very being.
A gasp escaped his lips as he released the trinket, his body snapping back to its original form the instant he let go. The foreign transformation vanished as if it had never occurred, leaving him breathless and shaken. Confusion and terror clouded his thoughts, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.
In the periphery of his consciousness, he sensed a presence, a pair of eyes fixed upon him with keen interest. The man and the young boy stood, their gazes locked onto Harry with a predatory intensity. A primal instinct screamed within him, urging him to flee, to escape the unseen threat that loomed.
With adrenaline fuelling his movements, Harry sprinted, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His legs, weakened by hunger and abuse, struggled to carry him. The man, determined and relentless, closed in, his hand raised, holding a stick and poised to strike.
The world blurred around him as he ran, his senses heightened to the point of overload. The man's incantation hung in the air, an invisible force that struck Harry's body, rendering him powerless. Darkness enveloped him, his last coherent thought a desperate plea for freedom.
And then, there was nothing.
