Chapter 1

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting for the bus, Harry began to suspect that running away from the Dursleys had been a mistake.

It was a cold night, the moth-eaten jumper providing little warmth. It was dark, and far more frightening to be out alone so late than he'd imagined from the safety of his cupboard.

He'd already eaten the packet of crisps he'd filched from the Dursleys pantry, as well as half of the biscuits, and they had been meant to last him at least until he arrived in London, where he'd have to figure out somewhere to live and a way to get food.

Maybe, six-year old Harry thought, he should have planned it all out better.

Running away looked much easier on the telly or in Dudley's comics than it was in real life.

Nobody in the comics ever sat in the dark waiting for a bus that didn't come, wondering the whole time if there actually was a bus to London at this time of night. Nobody in the comics was afraid of rustling bushes in the park, or of the bats he was sure he'd heard.

Nobody in the comics gave up and turned back.

It was what he would have to do, he realized, fists balling up in frustration at the thought.

It wasn't fair. He'd overheard Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon complaining about him earlier that night, saying that they wished he'd never been dumped on them.

He'd been locked in his cupboard at that point, all because a stupid glass had exploded during dinner after Dudley kicked him under the table.

As if that was his fault.

They didn't want him. He'd known that for a long time, but it still hurt to actually hear it.

It wasn't his fault that his parents had died in a car crash and that there's been nobody else to look after him. If he'd have been able to choose, he'd have taken anyone over Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon.

And now he had to go back, because the stupid bus wasn't coming and he was cold and thirsty and wanted to sleep and what would he even do in London anyway.

He wiped away a tear and turned around, stomping his feet unnecessarily hard as he took a shortcut through the park.

As he walked past them, the bushes rustled madly.

Harry pulled up short, hand rising to his mouth. His heartbeat sounded like a madman had been handed a steel drum.

There hadn't been any wind, and no good reason for the bushes to make that noise.

There was something there. Maybe a fox, or a bear, or one of those crazy people Aunt Petunia was always talking about, something that would love to hurt or eat a small boy like him.

All of a sudden, he really, really wished he hadn't run away.

And then the strangest thing Harry had ever seen slithered out of the bushes.

It was a snake, definitely. A big one, easily double Harry's height if it had been standing up. It was bright orange, so bright that it glowed in the dark, with black stripes around it.

It also had three heads, all of which were staring at Harry.

Slack-jawed, Harry stated in astonishment, not noticing the further rustling from the bushes, or the other, smaller shapes which slithered out toward him.

The giant snake reared up and moved toward him, a chorus of hisses erupting from its heads.

Harry fell back, losing his bag, and began to try and shuffle away.

"Please don't eat me!"

The snake paused.

"Eat you?" The rightmost head said. "Look at you. Far too stringy to make a good meal. You don't smell like you'd taste too good, either. And we're not big enough to simply eat something your size, anyway, idiot."

"More importantly," the left head said, snapping around to bare its fangs at the right head for a moment, "you can speak. The master will want to meet you."

"Of course the master will want to meet him. Unlike some, I don't bother stating the obvious."

The left head looked like it was about to attack the right, when the middle spoke, sounding half-asleep.

"Imagine if we could be big enough to eat a whole human in one go. We'd be the master's favourite then, and we wouldn't have to fight Iago for the spot by the fireplace. We should try to become bigger."

Both the other heads started shouting at the middle head for that, and Harry seized the opportunity to slowly push himself further away.

By the time he got over his shock that there was a three headed snake who apparently could speak English in Little Whinging, plenty of other snakes had come out of the bushes and were swiftly making their way toward him.

One of them was even stranger than the three-headed one. It only had two heads, but no tail, with a head on either side of its body. It had coiled into a u shape and moved forward in a queer shuffling motion, one which looked quite uncomfortable.

The others were of all colours and sizes, several with small wings, and one with, Harry blinked, tiny feet sticking up into the air from its back.

"Go tell the master that there is a young human here who speaks," the left head said to the crowd at large.

"I'm not going back," the double-sided snake said. "I've told you, it hurts like fuck to move."

"It wasn't aimed at you, obviously. By the master's balls, could you be any more stupid? With double the brains you should-"

"Oh, shut it! We're all sick of your shit!"

This was from the largest winged snake, who looked like he could eat Uncle Vernon whole, nevermind Harry, and who had reared up dangerously above the rightmost head.

The three heads dropped to the ground.

"We are sorry, Iago."

Iago huffed and drew closer to Harry, wings fluttering. Behind him, the legged snake was retreating to the bushes, feet kicking at the air.

"What's your name, young human?"

Harry shook his head. Was this really happening?

His fear was starting to ebb away, now that none of the snakes seemed interested in eating him. Most of them had circled him and were looking at him not with hunger but with curiosity. If snakes could grin, most of them would be doing so.

"My name is Harry," he admitted. "How come you can speak English?"

"What is English?"

Extremely confused at this point, Harry was about to answer when a man appeared in the bushes.

The bushes, which couldn't possibly have hidden Harry, let alone this man who was now striding toward him.

As he drew closer, Harry made out his features and once again tried to scurry back. He was old, his face as crumpled as a leaf in autumn, his thin hair whiter than snow. His body looked healthy though, and his eyes…his bright yellow split-pupil eyes were alive, alight with what even Harry could tell was madness. He wore strange clothing, all linked together and shiny. A long cloak was wrapped around him, but as he walked, it trailed out like a tentacle, grabbing a snake and petting it before releasing it.

"How remarkable! How utterly remarkable!"

Waving a hand, he leaped forward, landing an inch from Harry, eyes locking onto Harry's scar.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!"

Desperately, Harry tried to move, tried to scream, even, but he was locked in place, his body not responding at all.

The man was hopping from foot to foot, clapping his hands softly, his head bobbing as if to a dance.

"Impossible! Completely absurd. And yet…"

He leaned forward until his face was all but touching Harry's. Then he sniffed deeply smelling Harry's face, and touched one wrinkled finger to Harry's forehead.

No matter how hard he struggled, Harry couldn't move. He began to cry.

"It is! How wonderful! What a wonder! A boy, a Parselmouth at that, with a half-formed Horcrux in him. How incredible! What's your name, boy?"

He frowned at Harry's lack of response, and then a look of understanding stole over that worn face.

"Ah," he said, waving a hand, "that's it. Speak, miracle child. What's your name?"

Something loosened around Harry, and he found he could move and speak again.

"Please don't hurt me," he whispered. "Please let me go."

"What a fittingly odd name. Well, Please Don't Hurt Me Please Let Me Go- Wait. No, you misunderstand. I don't want to hurt you."

At that, the strange, scary man began to laugh hysterically.

"Hurt you? I could never harm such a wonder as you! You are a miracle, child, an impossibility. Perhaps you are what drew me to this land, what made me leave sunny, beautiful Africa and return to the continent of my birth. Although I would never have stepped foot on this accursed island with its terrible climate and boring people if I hadn't had a good reason for coming here, I'll tell you that. Isn't that right, Agamemnon?"

He looked to his left, where, as far as Harry could tell, nobody was standing.

After a few seconds, the man nodded.

"Exactly. At my age, I shouldn't be in such a place. Why did I even come here? I had a reason, I'm sure of it. What was it?"

He looked to the left again, and waited. There still was no response.

"Well, if you can't remember," he said waspishly, "and I can't remember, then what am I meant to do? I had a reason for coming here, I'm sure of it. England," he spat, "is what happened when Gaia took a shit and accidentally stood in it. Wouldn't you agree?"

This last was aimed at Harry. Thoroughly confused, Harry said nothing.

"What do you think about England vis à vis another country, say for example…Greece?"

"I've never been out of England." Harry said, a bit timidly.

The man straightened up in an instant, hands waving around hysterically.

"Never? You've never been to Greece? To Egypt? To Peru, or the Sahara?"

Harry shook his head.

"We must remedy this at once! At once! What sort of young wizard, a Parselmouth, horcrux, beautiful creation, has never seen the world? What sort of wizard are you, boy?"

At this point, Harry began to think it was all a dream. There was no such thing as three headed snakes that could speak, or yellow-eyed men who appeared from thin air.

Although the wind currently freezing him certainly felt real, as did the spittle from the stranger's exclamations.

"Wha-what do you mean, wizard?"

The man went stock still, face slowly reddening.

Then, very gently, he bent down.

"What's your name, boy?"

"Harry. Harry Potter."

The stranger didn't blink.

"Well, that didn't help much. Bring me to your parents. They're doing a terrible job raising you, and I will have to take over. Not knowing what a wizard is, when you must be one of the most remarkable ones in history? Preposterous. Whatever they want for you, I will pay them double-no, triple. A treasure like you, not knowing what he is? Preposterous."

"I don't have parents. They died in a car accident when I was a baby. I live with my aunt and uncle."

"What is a car accident? Never mind. Where are your aunt and uncle? Do you live in this park?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the man waved his hand and Harry's mouth closed. Again, the stranger looked to his left, head cocked as if listening to something.

Harry tried to listen, but he couldn't hear anything except the wind. Not even the snakes were speaking.

Was this man offering to take him away from the Dursleys?

Whatever it was he was hearing, the man didn't like it. His expression grew thunderous, and he stared at Harry with eyes that burned like flames.

"Why are you in this park, alone, at this time of night?"

"I was running away. But then the bus didn't come, and I wanted to go to sleep and-"

"And why," the man asked, his voice sharp as a razor, "were you running away?"

Harry started to talk about life at the Dursleys. It went on for some time, and at some point, he cried a little bit, not even embarrassed to do it in front of this strange man.

As he spoke, a few of the snakes curled up to him, whispering soothing statements.

It was rather nice.

Thick, heavy silence fell when Harry finished. The man's face was completely blank, devoid of all expression.

"You are a wizard," he said. "truly. You can perform magical feats that will set you apart from peons like your Aunt and Uncle as if you were a god. I will teach you. Enough, that you are a wizard, but a Parselmouth as well. No, I will take you in and treat you as you deserve."

"What's a Parselmouth?"

"You can talk to snakes, boy! We're speaking their tongue right now!"

Harry's jaw dropped.

"I just thought-I didn't know I'm speaking something else!"

But now that he thought about it, he could hear the hisses coming out of his mouth, overlaid upon his words.

"Even among wizards, a Parselmouth is extremely rare. Likely, you are one of my descendants. I lost track of them a millennium and a half ago. Well, boy? Do you want to come and live with me, to live in a palace and not a cupboard, to be fed and cared for as you deserve, and learn to be a king amongst men? Or do you want to stay with your relatives?"

Could he trust this man? A strange, crazy old man who had come out of nowhere and was now telling him all this madness?

"Look, boy." The man flicked his wrist, and a ball of fire appeared, held in the palm of his hand.

It was real. Harry could feel the heat of it, could see the way the flames flickered and sparks danced.

"I can teach you this. And more, so, so much more. I will swear to never harm you, to never allow harm to befall you. Or you could go back to those beasts who never wished you in their lives."

Harry swallowed, making up his mind on the spot.

"I'll come with you."

"Excellent," the man grinned, clapping his hands and doing a little dance again. "Excellent. How wonderful this all is. What providence! Now, to make sure your relatives do not make a fuss…I must go and speak with them. Where do they live?"

"Over-over there. Number four. But they won't agree, they won't let-"

"Don't worry about me, boy." The man smiled and stood, drawing something from within his cloak. It looked like a long, hollow bone, full of hair. "I can be very persuasive. All of you," he gestured to the snakes, "guard him with your lives. If so much as a gnat touches him, I will feed you all to Aegeus."

Hissing their promises, the snakes slithered around Harry protectively.

While the man was gone, Harry kept pinching himself. He was sure it wasn't a dream, but it still didn't feel quite real. When he'd run away from the Dursleys, he'd thought anything would be better than living with them.

He hadn't imagined anything at all like this.

Almost unconsciously, Harry clapped his hands, feeling like he wanted to burst into song.

Then-

"Do you smell something burning?" He asked.

The largest snake, Iago, laughed.

"Look behind you."

Harry gasped, scrambling to his feet.

He could see flames billowing into the sky, huge columns of smoke erupting, right from…right from the direction of Number Four, Privet Drive.

Right then, the man appeared again. He smelled like smoke, and he looked very smug.

"Well then, that's taken care of. Come now, let's go."

"Did you-did you set fire to their house?"

"Had to, dear miracle boy. You know how it is, you try to have a civil conversation, they start asking why you're in their house and telling you to leave, then they start screaming and throwing things at you. Nothing a good fire won't fix. Come, let's go."

Jaw agape, Harry stared at the conflagration.

"Let's go already."

Something occurred to Harry, an obvious question he hadn't thought to ask.

"What's your name?"

The man smiled, taking Harry's hand.

"My name is Herpo."