Hey guys! Okay, so this is an idea that popped into my head while I was gorging myself on Jelly Beans, I was thinking what it would be like for Harry to go back in time and see the Berty Box Every Flavored Bean invented. Then I thought that it would be cool for him to go beck even further to the Founder's Era! And then I thought that him going back to the Marauder Era would be awesome, because he could meet Snape and Sirius and all them while he was their age. And THEN I thought that it would be interesting to see the actual Cannon time from Harry's POV as an adult….so that got me thinking….
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and I will be updating this a tad less frequently than "The Enigma of Uncle Mort" as well as "Eleven-Teen Again", though I bit more frequently than "The Guardian Angel" (BTW If yall would be really nice to me and go check out those stories, I'd be super happyz!) And anyway, I haven't decided if this should be a Snarry or Harrymort, so leave your preferences in the reviews! You've got about until chapter 5 or so (I think) for me to decide on what the Shipping will be…however I won't do threesomes. They can be interesting but I don't really feel like writing one.
WARNING: CHILD ABUSE IN THIS CHAPTER! (Will put *666* at the place where child abuse starts and ends, just in case you want to skip past it. Thank you)
May the gods be ever in your favor!
It had been a normal day for Freak so far. He'd woken up to the sound of Aunt Tuney banging on his cupboard door. "Freak! Get up! Get up! We're late, you stupid boy. Why didn't you wake us up?" Freak rubbed the sleep from his eyes, hurriedly tossing his worn little blanket away from where it was tangled around his legs. He squinted around him, everything was still fuzzy, his eyes have been weird for the last week or so, ever since Uncle Vernon had thrown him through that window. His eyes had bled for a while, then, a spark of green magic later, his eyes felt fine, but he couldn't see as well.
"Freak!" came a different, more masculine voice. "Haven't you started breakfast yet? I have to leave in twenty minutes, you lazy brat!" Freak flinched and tumbled out of his cupboard, which had been unlocked minutes ago by Aunt Tuney. Freak got up, ignoring that he had ouchies up and down his small body. His back hurt, but he made his way to the kitchen anyway.
"Yes, Aunt Tuney?" Freak asked politely. Petunia was clanging around the kitchen, practically tossing a mixing bowl onto the counter, closely followed by ingredients from out of the pantry.
"Mix up batter for pancakes, be quick about it. I want Vernon's breakfast on the table within ten minutes so he has time to eat," she told the five-year-old briskly. "Plenty of time."
"Yes, ma'am," Freak said meekly, pulling a stool over and stepping on top of it. He added in the eggs to the powder Petunia always had him use to make the batter. He carefully measured out the milk and poured it in before stirring. As he did so, he poured a small amount of oil into a pan then began to make the first pancake.
He heard his cousin getting ready for the day. Or, rather, Aunt Petunia trying to get his cousin ready for the day. "Please put your shirt on, Diddydums. You can't go to the park in your jammies!"
"I-I-I-I d-d-don't w-want to g-go to the p-p-p-park!" Dudley wailed, heaving obviously fake sobs. Freak rolled his eyes, putting a completed pancake onto a plate before sliding it into the microwave to keep it warm.
"Please? Pretty please? Do it for mummy?"
Five pancakes later, Vernon came back into the kitchen. He took the entire plate from the microwave without a word of thanks before heading into the dining room. Out of the corner of his eyes, Freak blurrily watched Vernon douse his pancakes in syrup. "Make them bigger next time!" he ordered Freak, who didn't bother answering; he might just get himself in trouble.
Tap tap tap
Freak turned to the window, and was surprised to see some kind of bird. He flipped the pancake he was working on, then slowly slid over to the window, hopping of his stool. He squinted out the window. It was big, and brown. That much he could tell, but other than that, he couldn't tell what it was. Maybe some kind of hawk…but why would a hawk be tapping at his window?
Freak shrugged it off, birds sometimes brought him things every now and then. Usually they were letters to someone named Harry. Sometimes they had other things, like food or candy or small toys. Sometimes a pouch of shiny coins.
He opened the window, and it soared in, dropped something, then flew away with a screech. Freak frowned, then picked up the piece of paper. An envelope. It was sealed with something that felt a bit like remolded crayon. It had markings on it, but he couldn't make it out. Freak opened the envelope, but he couldn't read it, no matter how much he squinted. And it wasn't like he was that great at reading anyway. His kindergarten teacher always ignored him, the Dursley's made sure of that. But then something else fell out of the envelope with a loud clatter.
"What was that?" Vernon demanded from the other room. "I swear, freak, if you've broken anything—"
"I dropped a spoon Uncle Vernon. Everything's fine. Just making more pancakes!" Freak called back, remembering about the pancake on the stove. He took it off quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it wasn't burned. He put more batter on, then picked up the thing that had fallen out. It was a circular thing, attached to a chain. It was beautiful. The chain was some kind of metal, but whiter than silver, and shinier than any jewelry Freak had ever seen. The amulet had a clock face on the center. There were jewels all around it, in flower-like design. The metal was pure white, with green jewels making leaves and purple gems and golden flakes making the flowers. Freak caressed it lovingly. He'd never held anything so…so magical. It practically glowed. When he held it up to his ear, he found it was humming. Freak smiled softly, imagining that it was singing in a tiny little voice.
Just as he lifted it over his head, tucking it under his oversized shirt, after he'd trashed the letter so his Aunt and Uncle wouldn't be able to find it, Aunt Petunia came in, screaming. "IT'S BURNING YOU IDIOT!" Freak jumped. Oh, no. he'd forgotten about the food. "You useless waste of space!"
"What's going on?" Vernon asked gruffly as he came into the kitchen. His face turned from the normal, bland red to a bursting purple. "WASTING FOOD, ARE YOU?" he demanded with a bellow. "THOUGHT MAYBE WE'D GIVE IT TO YOU IF YOU DID? WELL, YOU'VE GOT ANTHER THING COMING, FREAK!" Vernon grabbed Freak by his overly long hair and dragged him out of the kitchen.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whimpered helplessly. Not that it made any difference. Vernon took him into the living room, where the was more space. He shut the curtains before turning and growling viciously. But he didn't say anything. He only walked out the backdoor. Freak didn't dare move. He only stayed there, trembling in fear of what was to come. He knew Vernon would come back, and then he would be punished. Freak wanted to hold onto his new necklace for comfort, but he didn't dare do it. It would only be taken from him if he was seen with it.
A few moments later, the door slammed and Vernon came in.
He was holding what Freak recognized as a leg that had fallen off of one of their neighbor's wooden chairs. They'd been planning on throwing it out, but Vernon had asked them if they minded him using it for firewood for their backyard fire pit. They'd given it to him without a second thought. It had been sitting out back for the last couple of days. Freak was afraid of what Vernon was going to do with it, now.
Without warning, Vernon swung the chair leg, bringing it it down hard on the side of Freak's ribcage. He cried out in pain. "Shut it," Vernon said, his voice dangerously low, his eyes glinting as he brought it down on Freak's back. Then his legs, his back again, his stomach. The beating went on, Freak was coughing up blood. Some was dripping from a cut into his eyes, blinding him completely. He couldn't think, the pain was clouding his mind. Somehow, he'd ended up on his back, staring up helplessly at his Uncle. He wanted this to stop. He wanted his parents. The people he'd never known…surly they loved him.
He cried, tears streaming out of his blind eyes as the wood came down again, breaking one of his legs. He wanted his real daddy. He wanted to be loved. Why did no one love him? He wished, wished with all of his heart that he would be saved by someone who loved him. Surly he had family somewhere! He wanted them. He wanted to leave, bad.
Then, he felt weightless, like he was being picked up and help by an invisible man. "Stop it!" he heard his uncle cry, somewhere in the background. As though a harsh wind was between them. But Freak didn't feel any wind. "Stop!" Freak felt Vernon hit his chest hard. Something came a loud crack. Something that wasn't a part of his body. Freak smiled.
And then he was gone.
Salazar Slytherin had been a relatively good day. He and Godric had been successful in convincing another three children to leave their Mundane families behind come fall, to attend their school. Hogwarts, Godric and Helga had decided to call it. Salazar snorted. It was ridiculous, really, but once those two decided on something there was no changing their minds. Salazar smiled fondly at the thought of his 'siblings'.
After that, he'd had a nice meal, curtesy of the house elves, while discussing the lesson plans with his co-Founders. They would need to hire more people eventually, as the number of students grew. But right now, they would only have around three dozen at the start of the school year. The youngest being eight, the oldest being sixteen—practically adults. Salazar himself was still a relatively young man: only twenty-four. Even though he really should have been married about a year or two ago, according to Rowena. She was pressuring him into marrying a sorceress who was almost seven years his junior…and he really didn't want to.
"There is always blood-adoption, my brother," his best friend, Godric, had suggested. "I may. Though I'd still want to wed a worthy wife, one day." Salazar had seriously considered this option. He enjoyed the company of children, there was no denying it. Even though it hardly went with the stony picture he'd tried to pain of himself in recent years. Everyone knew he had a soft spot when it came to children.
However, he wouldn't share his blood with any child. No, this child had to be exceptional. But he hadn't found one yet. And he'd been looking, he really had. None of the students coming in had enough potential. Sure, a few of them were gifted. A good many were intelligent. But none of them had that ceratin…power he was looking for in an heir. Perhaps he had set his bar too high?
A loud crack, not unsimilar to that of apparition, echoed through the hall. Salazar sighed before turning around, thinking it was Godric. After he'd told his friend that he'd be putting up anti-apparition wards around the castle, his friend had made a point of apparating as much as possible.
But when he looked, it was a child. A boy or a girl he couldn't tell. But they were wounded. Badly bloodied. Several, if not all of his limbs broken or at least fractured. He was trembling, shaking in fear or pain, Salazar didn't know. Didn't care. All that matter, was that a child, a magical child, was dying.
"HELGA" Salazar roared at the top of his lungs as he raced to the child. He scooped them up, whispering softly. "There, there, rest young one. I'll not let them harm you again. Hush now. There, there." The child, he was tiny. Salazar guessed him to only be three years old, perhaps a few months more. He was frail, several of his ribs were broken, protruding out of his skin. He was too skinny. This babe had been starved.
Memories flashed before Salazar, of when his own father had locked him up, chained him, called in priests and monks to beat the 'evil' the 'devil' out of him. They starved him, treated him like a rabid dog. It was only his mother, who'd beg for his father to spare his life, that made it possible for him to escape. It was the very same night he'd met Godric. Godric, who had nursed his wounds, who had been raised by a third generation wizard and a sixth generation witch.
He was brought back to the present by a soft whimper from the babe in his arms, and the thunder of footsteps. "Salazar!" Helga called out to him, worry in her voice.
Salazar kissed a clean patch of skin on the otherwise bloody face. "Rest my young one. It's alright, I swear to you. Keep your eyes closed, the pain will soon leave, child." He looked up to see Helga and Rowena turn the corner.
"What's wrong?" Rowena asked, before gasping at the sight of the tiny, broken body. "For the love of all things holy…"
"Can you heal him?" Salazar asked Helga, almost desperately.
She hesitated before nodding. "If we hurry."