A serpent's rescue
The boy under the stairs listened with great contentment as his aunt and uncle fought. He hoped desperately that they'd get a divorce; with all the yelling it seemed likely. The boy knew that at the moment they were only staying married to make their son happy, because if Dudley wasn't happy there'd be hell to pay.
Again the boy signed. He loved the fighting, but the aftermath wasn't all that fun for him. He should learn to fear fights, for they might be his downfall. But he figured he deserved the pain. He killed Cedric, and he murdered Sirius, didn't he? He was a worthless freak, just as he'd been told, who deserved everything, every punch and every kick, that he'd ever received.
As he sat on the floor huddled in dry blood, he tried again to remember Sirius' face, but he could only see the image of him falling through the veil. He couldn't remember the way his godfather's eyes would shine in mischief or the way his lips would curl delightfully into the biggest smile he'd ever seen.
The door to the cupboard under the stairs opened to a most unwelcoming face: the face of his dear uncle, Vernon Dursley.
"You, Boy!" he screeched, pulling the skinny boy from the floor. Without even fully extracting him from the closet, he swung a wild left hook, hitting Harry in his already broken ribs. The beating, much like all the others, continued for several excruciating moments. Then he was pushed forcefully back into his small room, landing on his bruised and bleeding back, until next time.
He lay flat on his back, his emerald eyes unclear and unmoving. He was thinking, just thinking.
The Man, or monster, known as Voldemort, was sleeping soundly when yet another vision forced its way through his strong barriers. His dreams were most unpleasant; in short, every vision showed a rather fat man beating him. He found it most unusual.
But this one was different; it started the same, the beating, the blood the cold heartless eyes and never a sound from him himself. But this time there was more, there were thoughts that weren't his, there were ideas, thoughts, and dreams he'd never have thought of. And then he realized just whose mind he was being sucked into. His arch foe, the bleeding saviour of the fucking wizarding world, and more importantly Voldemort thought, he pitied the boy greatly. Having grown up in an orphanage, he knew what it was like not to be loved, caressed, or held softly when afraid. Many people did not realize their good fortune. But from the glimpses he'd gotten from the boy's, for he was indeed still a boy, he not only never felt the love of another but was also brutally abused for discretions not even he, the Dark Lord, would punish someone for. And to do it to a child, no matter how evil people thought Voldemort was, he had never physically abused a child, other than Potter (but he was special), that was emotionally unstable, for he could not possibly fathom the horror of it all.
He had to act, but how? Bring Harry Potter here? Send him to Hogwarts where his mind would begin to heal? That was the question worth pondering over. Should he abduct Potter, keep him safe? But that would defeat the purpose of this war. He was here to kill Potter, not to save him. He realized then that he couldn't kill the poor boy, not after everything he'd seen. Maybe, he thought, I could convert him. He laughed at the absurdity of it all, and he imagined the possibilities. He laughed aloud, but in his mind the possibility unraveled. In his head, thoughts, ideas, plans, even dreams were forming quickly. And really, all he had to do was kidnap The Boy Who Lived and talk reasonably to him. He laughed again. He'd have to warn his most trusted faithful servant first, and the rest be damned. He'd hide him, yes, that's what would work, keep him hidden in his personal chambers where no one dared to venture. But it would be difficult. He'd have to prove to the boy that he was finally free, free not only of his bastard relatives, but also of manipulation. He wouldn't attempt manipulation on the savior; he was too smart for it too work. He'd try honesty first, something he doubted the boy had ever been subjected to. It'd be difficult, he admitted to himself, with his killing the boy's means of escaping from his relatives. If he'd known the boy was using Black as an escape, he would not have ordered his death. It was most regrettable. But that one had been labeled a traitor of kin, and he simply could not oppose that.
With his mind made and his resolve as strong as ever, Voldemort summoned Wormtail and, touching the mark on his arm, called his most faithful servants. They popped into the room without warning moments later, like he knew they would.
"Greetingss, my mosst faithful ssservantss. I have devised a new mission that needs completing. Who among you is worthy? Who among you will step up to task?" At first no one stepped forward, constantly afraid of punishment. Then a masked figured, dressed similarly to the others stepped forward, removing his silver inner circle mask.
"I am your most faithful servant, my lord. Allow me the privilege of accomplishing this most trusted assignment for you."
"Ahh, Severusss, my loyal Death Eater, rise and follow as I tell a most thrilling tale. The rest of you are dismissed. Come, Severuss, come, we have much planning to do." He stiffly rose from his throne of stone and, with a whirl of his robes, exited from the chamber, the potions master hot on his heels.
Disclaimer: I don't own shit but the plot, it all belongs to JKR. Lucky girl that she is.
A/N: I hope you liked it. Please review I am finished the next chapter to it'll be up within a day. Please tell me what you think I'd like to know if it's absolutely crap or I should continue. Also if you like my work go visit my other stories, you never have enough time to waste. REVIEW! Thanks to my new beta , people can actually understand this!!
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