Title: Life as a Snake
Disclaimer: I own nothing…but the plot.
Summary: What do you do when the only person you know can understand you is your most hated enemy? And I don't mean this figuratively people. Harry, after making some weird witch mad, has found himself seeing from a different angle, with no arms and with scales.
He is a snake, very literally.
How the hell is he supposed to defeat Voldemort now! Or does he want to after meeting Nagini from a different perspective.
Warnings: SLASH(Male/Male parings) Dark Harry, Snake Harry
Parings: Lord Voldemort/Harry, Severus/Remus, Draco/Hermione
Spoilers: Books one – five, I will not include book six, and though I am finally getting around to reading seven, I will not include it either. Dumbledore is alive. Also, please refer to the HP Warning on my profile, please.
" Parseltongue "
"Mind link between Voldemort and Harry"
A/n: Here I go again, I've been pondering this plot for some time now and finally decided to write it before it escapes me. I am starting Chapter six now, as I refused to post it until that point. Please enjoy my story.
Chapter: The terrible day
Harry wanted to cry out to the world just how horrible his life is as the events of the day finally squeezing down on him.
First, no one was there to pick him up from the train station. He was there long after everyone left. Thankfully the Weasleys had taken Hedwig with them so he wasn't sitting there getting odd looks from passers, drawing unwanted attention to himself.
At about eleven he finally gave up on sitting there and called on a cab. The trip was quiet, and thankfully the man did not ask any questions about a sixteen year old riding home in the middle of the night and just drove.
Secondly, when he finally got to his family's house and unlocked to door, he discovered why they hadn't picked him up.
They had moved, without telling him. Of course, they probably moved because of him.
Everything was gone, all the furniture, and you could tell that all the walls had been repainted. He had dropped his bags in the doorway, running up the stairs to his room. Even that had been left bare, the closet hanging slightly open. They had probably burned everything he had ever touched.
He wanted to scream so badly, but held it in with effort.
His first instinct was to owl Dumbledore, but squashed down those thoughts knowing he would truly snap if he so much as glanced that those maddening, twinkling blue eyes and that all-knowing smile.
Even so, he did not have Hedwig to which to owl anyone.
Thirdly, his cab driver had not left yet, and ended up not being as good of heart as Harry had imagined him to be.
The man had sneaked in the house after Harry, noticing the lights coming on in an empty house. He had forced Harry up against the wall with an evil smirk upon a face disfigured by the man's life, but did not and could not recognize a wizard trained for battle on the brink of snapping.
At the time, Harry did not care if the ministry stormed in; it was the last thing on his mind in that moment. All he knew was there was a man trying to take advantage of him.
His wand was in his hand the second he called it, a spell on his lips. It was a very dark curse left the end of his holly wand, and feeling such darkness made Harry's blood rush with adrenaline, and he could not help the dark glint in his swirling green eyes.
The man did not die, but he would, the cuts on his body being too deep and severe to be helped even if Harry wanted to help him. A whole year of reading forbidden text by candle light came to him and he knew he had to leave, the thought of Veritaserum being used on him made him act quickly.
He had left the man laying there, dying in his bare old room. Harry had not cared about alerting the ministry anymore so he had shrunken his luggage and pocketed them in the dark cloak he had pulled out of them seconds before, and he left after turning off all the lights and locking it tight. Leaving it the way he found it.
Then he ran, knowing the current surroundings better than any other wizard; if they followed him he could easily loose them, even if they were the ones that were usually 'watching' the house.
That brought him to the fourth and last thing that just topped off his day. He had accidentally run into someone walking down the street. In his frame of mind, his normally polite demeanor had disappeared as he just wanted to get away, but the high pitch voice belonging to the person he had knocked over had stopped him.
"How dare you, you impolite Mudblood!"
He had turned to her and saw her wand directed at him; instinct had him reaching for his own but he failed to reach it in time as a spell hit him dead on. Then all he knew was darkness, the old witch's glare was the last thing he saw.
He had woken up in the middle of a forest, feeling incredibly cold. It had taken him some time to get his bearings, but when he had he noted the downward angle of his current position and moved. He found himself incredibly small, that the only way he could explain it. Even if he was only five foot eight, this was ridicules. Around his head he could see leaves, the size of his head.
At first he had wondered if she had shrunken him, but then realized that if that was the case, he would have arms and legs to move with, which he did not. It took him all of twenty minutes to discover his new serpentine form and that is where the story now starts.
With no sun up in the sky he knew it was still night, and also that there was no source of energy for his cold blooded form. He had curled up inside the nearest hole, which ended up being a hollowed out opening between two large roots of the nearest tree.
As he let his mind drift he again wished he could cry, but sadly he has so tear ducts to do so from. He wonders what will happen of him, and why it happened to him, always him. He wonders what will happen when the Order does not hear from him and finds a dead –and probably rotting- body in an empty house.
But as he falls into dream land, he wonders if he will even survive the night.
A/n: Edited 2/25/11
Thank you for reading this,