Hunger clawed in his belly violently, roaring like a wounded dog. They had not fed him the entire day, had not allowed him to walk out of his 'room' or breathe the fresh air. And it was not even his fault.

At school the previous day, he had somehow ended up on the top of the roof. He was running from Dudley's gang when suddenly the world around him twisted and he found himself on the top of the roof. He did not know how that happened and could only surmise that the wind had taken him up. He was not the healthiest boy, skinniest and weakest in his class. The wind doing that did not seem like the most outlandish thing. It certainly would not be the first time something unusual happened to him.

His stomach twisted painfully, breaking him out of his thought process. He looked out through the narrow slits on the door, hoping he'd find someone on the other side. Total darkness greeted him. It was night time and the house had probably gone to bed. He could have snuck out and grabbed a bite had the door not been locked from the outside.

Something brushed against his leg, something cold and smooth. Not his roommate the spider.

As fast as his hungry body could he turned the lights on, throwing the blanket off his legs. Emerald eyes met crimson and the boy stiffened.

The thing that had brushed against his leg was long and slim, its scales white as snow and eyes red as blood. A snake. A bloody snake had slithered into his room.

"Do not be frightened" the snake hissed, speaking in perfect English. No, the snake was not speaking. The creature's mouth had not moved when the words were spoken. But the boy could hear the animal like he would hear any normal human.

"I will not hurt you. Rather I am here to help you out" the snake went on.

"Help me how?" the boy couldn't help but ask. He could have sworn the snake smiled. Could snakes smile?

"How about we start by feeding you."

No sooner had the snake spoken, than the boy heard a soft click and then a thud. The door to his 'room' slowly opened, much to the shock of the boy.

"How did you do that?"

"Magic!"

"Magic isn't real."

"Yet the door opened. And you are speaking to a snake."

The boy watched the snake slither out the door and after a moment's hesitation, the boy followed.

Dizziness hit him like a truck and he would have fallen over had it not been for the wall he leaned against. Hunger clawed at him like a wild animal and his legs wobbled from weakness. Still, he made his way to the kitchen in the dark, the path as familiar to him as the back of his hand. The snake was waiting for him in front of the open fridge, the smell of last night's dinner making his head swirl.

Carefulness be damned!

The boy ran to the fridge, tripping but not falling as he did so. Roasted Chicken, roasted potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, roasted parsnips, and so much more. The family had a Sunday roast for dinner, he had smelt it from his room. Below the hunger, another emotion had laid dormant, and the more the boy ate the more that feeling bubbled up.

Hate, he hated his aunt and uncle for starving him. He hated his cousin for putting him in this situation. He hated them all for the things they'd done to him.

The light in the kitchen flickered to life and the boy stiffened.

"YOU DARE STEAL FROM US YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT!"

The boy turned slowly to find his uncle standing at the door, his obese face purple with rage. The boy could imagine what the man would do to him for this, the beatings he would receive, the days he'd have to spend in his cupboard.

The hate turned to fear in no time.

The man charged and the boy threw his hands up in defence, eyes screwed shut. He felt something churn in his gut, something hot and sizzling. Nerves, that's what he thought it was. But the feeling soon spread to all his body, to the hands he'd thrown up to defend himself.

He heard a sickening crunch, followed by a howl of pain and a loud crash.

The boy slowly opened his eyes and found his uncle on the floor. He was howling in pain, tears leaking from his eyes. He was clutching his leg and when the boy saw it his face whitened. His uncle's leg did not look good.

The boy heard footsteps rushing down the stairs and in no time his aunt and cousin had entered the kitchen. With a strangled cry, his aunt rushed to her husband, his cousin not far behind.

"What did you do boy?!" his aunt snarled.

"Are you really going to let them talk to you like this?" the snake crooned in his mind. It was wrapped around his neck, comfortably watching the scene before him. When did it get there? How did he not feel it get there? "They've done so much bad to you. Your cousin bullies you, and instead of punishing him for it, they punish you. They starve you, beat you and say such harsh words about you and your dead parents. Are you going to let them get away with all that? See what you did to your uncle. You can do so much more. Isn't it time you did something for the abuse they throw at you?"

The longer the snake spoke, the less afraid the boy felt. All the abuse came barreling back to him, the memories of the beatings, the harsh words, all of it. Anger rushed back up, burning hotter than any fire the boy ever felt.

The table and chairs in the room began to shake violently, the glasses bursting one after the other. The look of loathing on his aunt's face changed to fear, an expression that the boy found he liked.

"Mummy? What's happening? Is there an earthquake?" his cousin asked, pathetic little thing squealing in fear. He liked that too.

"Just one thought and you could do what you did to your uncle to them. You could do far worse. They'd deserve it too, for what they did to you."

They did deserve it, they deserved every bit of pain that he could inflict on them for the years of pain they inflicted on him.

But would that make him any better than them?

A small voice at the back of his mind was all it took the boy to pause and think, to see the faces of the people who were his family. It would make him a bully like his cousin, an abusive asshole like his aunt and uncle.

The shaking of table and chairs stopped and the boy could have sworn he heard the snake click its tongue in disappointment.

"Take care of him," the boy said hoarsely, motioning to his uncle. "Tomorrow morning we will have words. But before that, nobody speaks of what happened tonight. What I did to him tonight."

He took out what remained of the roast dinner from the fridge and walked around his crying uncle. His aunt flinched when he got near but did nothing.

"I'm taking Dudley's second bedroom" the boy declared. Whether his cousin had any complaints against it or not he did not wait to see.

"You should have hurt them more."

"It would make me no better than them."

The empty plate of food was balanced on Dudley's old broken television, the boy lying on the dusty bed that was covered with his cousin's broken toys not long ago.

"They would have deserved it."

The boy sat up, his eyes falling on the snow-white snake curled around the cage that once held a parrot.

"What are you really? And why can you talk? Snakes can't talk."

"I can assure you that I am a snake. You have a gift young man that allows you to speak with snakes like me."

"I do?" the boy scrunched his face in confusion.

"Yes, you do. It's a rare gift that only powerful witches and wizards possess."

"Excuse me? Witches and Wizards?!" asked the boy in shock.

"Exactly that" the snake smiled, just a slight tilt of the slit that was its mouth. "You are a wizard."

The normal reaction to that would have been to laugh and blow it off, to roll his eyes and ignore it. But how could he not believe it when he was speaking to a snake? When not too long ago he injured his uncle, made the tables and chairs rattle, and exploded glass in the kitchen. Perhaps all the odd things that happened in his life could be explained with magic, the way his hair regrew overnight that one time his aunt cut it in an ugly way, the way the ugly sweaters shrunk when his aunt was forcing it on him. And there was the stunt that landed him in his latest punishment, him practically flying to the roof of his school.

Could he really laugh and blow the snake's claim off when it all made so much sense?

"I could teach you" the snake hissed, "I could teach you how to master your magic, to become so strong that nobody would ever think about messing with you."

It did sound good to him, to have nobody mess with him.

"Okay," said the boy. "My name is Harry Potter."

The snake smiled at that. "Before we begin training Harry, there are matters you must see to."

The following morning nobody woke him, no incessant rapping on his door nor a shrill voice screaming for him to wake up and prepare breakfast. If not for that and the soft bed he was lying on, Harry would have chalked all of last night as some dream his hunger-addled mind had conjured.

Harry found his table family at the table, none of them looking like they had much sleep. Uncle Vernon's face looked ashen but furious, while Dudley and Aunt Petunia looked scared. Those emotions magnified when their eyes fell on Harry. Harry met each of their stares with his head held high.

"We have things to discuss, about things that need to change."