Full Summary: Ra was once a happy little boy named Harry Potter. Then, everything changed and he was ignored in favor of his older brother and baby sister. Given to his aunt and uncle at the age of seven, Harry found himself in a brothel in Manchester. He is given a new name, Ra, although he never forgets his other name. Ten years later, Severus Snape finds and rescues him. Unable to speak, how will Harry react to living on the Dark side? WBWL, abuse, non-con, AD/LE/JP bashing, non-book compliant.

This is NOT by any means a crossover with Egyptian or Greek mythology. The names are just used.

Prologue: The Boy Called Ra

In the backstreets on Manchester, there was a boy's home of a reputable size. It housed anywhere from twenty to forty boys at any given time. The owner of the establishment, a Mr. Tender, was well known throughout the community as a respectable, honest man. He was famous for his charity, especially with the local church. He was a deacon and the conductor for the choir. He was an unfortunate widower, his wife having passed when she was very young, leaving Mr. Tender in the care of the elderly women who lived nearby. Everyone loved him.

However, here was a dark secret that was hidden beneath the pleasant exterior of the boy's home. Mr. Tender used the first floor as his own apartments; leaving the five upper floors for the use of the young boys he had charge of. What was unknown to the outside world was that Mr. Tender's Home for Abandoned Boys, as it was called, was in fact, a famous brothel.

Most of the boys that had been given to Mr. Tender were orphans or had been abandoned by their parents when they were young. No one would come looking for them. No one would love them and they all knew this fact. All they had to do was be good little boys for Mr. Tender and he may let them leave the brothel, bought by another man to be his pet. The sales transactions were hidden under the guise of adoption, of course. They all had code names, given to them by Mr. Tender himself in order to market them to his customers. None of them remembered their true names and those that had once known them had forgotten under threat of inexcusable pain. Well, except for one.

Ra was one of the oldest boys at Mr. Tender's Home, a true beauty with pouty lips, pale skin, and deep, green eyes. He was sixteen, unusually thin, and short, barely reaching five foot seven. His customers characterized him as the innocent type, a perfect stand-in when the situation arose where a special customer came and all of the younger boys were already entertaining others. He was the only boy among the current fifty at the Home that knew his original name.

Night had just fallen and Ra sat on the bed in his room, awaiting his first customer. He knew that he had a full docket tonight and he sighed. There would be no sleep for him tonight. He stared at the small clock in the corner, just waiting for his impending fate. Ra understood completely that there was no escape.

Through the thin walls, he could hear loud panting from the next room and his heart sank. Sprite was a few years younger, or so they thought, probably no older than ten. The boy had been brought in from another home in London after being picked up on the streets by police officers. He'd been with Ra and the others only for a few months. They all saw how their forced lifestyle was affecting the boy. His soul was breaking down, his heart shattering. Any hopes or dreams he may have had were tossed into the gutter and abandoned.

After a few minutes, the panting stopped and Ra heard a door slam. As footsteps passed his door in the hallway, Ra got up from his bed and padded to the door. Slowly, he opened it and poked his head out. Finding no one there, he slipped from the room and headed next door. He knew that Mr. Tender would be angry with him if he wasn't back in his bedroom by the time his customer arrived, but Ra had always put the younger ones ahead of his own physical pain. He'd lived with Mr. Tender's punishments for years already. What was one more?

Sprite was curled up on the red sheets, his shoulders shaking as he cried. Closing the door behind him, Ra slid up to the bed and sat down on it. Turning onto his other side, Sprite looked up at the older boy with sad, blue eyes and shuffled closer. Ra pulled Sprite up into his arms, setting the child on his lap.

It'll go away soon, Ra signed with his hands as Sprite winced.

Silence was the number one rule at Mr. Tender's. None of the boys were allowed to speak, unless prompted by a client. A few of the older boys, including Ra himself, were allowed to sing, but only as entertainment for a client. In order to communicate, the boys had set up a complex system of hand signals that they were all able to understand.

I don't want it at all, Sprite signed.

I know, but we have to think about things in the best way we can, Ra replied, inwardly cringing.

I'm scared, Ra, Sprite signed, burying his face in the teen's chest.

Why? Ra asked.

I'm never going to get out of here, am I? Sprite sobbed.

You will. Have hope. I will make sure that you get out of here, Ra promised.

He'd given up all hope for his own escape years ago. However, he always held the belief that, with his help, one of the others would some day break free and tell the whole world what was going on. Ra didn't think anyone would care about him specifically, but the younger ones, yes.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door. Ra put Sprite aside and went to answer it. On the other side stood an angry Mr. Tender, arms crossed over his chest. He scowled at Ra as he grabbed the teenager by the collar and dragged him back to his own room. Throwing Ra into the bare bedroom, he slammed the door and locked it. Ra sighed to himself and sat down against the wall that separated him from Sprite. He was relieved to not hear the sharp hits of a belt or any other source of punishment.

At 8:03, Ra's first client arrived. He was a pudgy man with a round face. His hands were large, his fingers shaped like sausages. He smirked at Ra as he closed the door behind him and beckoned for the teenager. Slowly, Ra stood and made his way over to the man.

As the client carelessly undressed him and had his way with him on the bed, Ra's thoughts turned to the life he'd once had. He had not forgotten, not like the others. He remembered tugging on his mother's robe, trying to get her attention. She would then scowl at him and push him out of the way. He remembered going to his father when he had a bad dream, but the man just sent him straight back to his room. He remembered the two uncles that had snuck him food and presents when his parents had forgotten his birthday.

A small smile played on his lips as the grunting man behind him finished. Padfoot and Mooney, his father's best friends. They had taken care of him as well as they could with his parents around and Ra had appreciated their love.

He'd never fully understood why his parents didn't, but he knew it had to do with his siblings. They were better than him in every way. They deserved the love of their parents. His brother was like their father, brash and wild. His sister was like their mother, sweet, but strong. Ra was none of those things After all, look where he ended up. He was just a dirty prostitute now, a whore as Mr. Tender called him.

Sitting up, he gingerly flipped himself onto his back as the client instructed. As the man started to play with him, Ra's mind drifted further into his memories. Michael had been his brother's name, Alana, his sister. Michael had been a little over year older, Alana just under a year younger. Michael was important. Alana was still in the womb when the incident that changed Ra's life occurred. And what was Ra? He was the hated child.

Half an hour later, the client was finished with him. Ra watched as the man got dressed and left the room, not even saying thank you. Falling back onto the bed, Ra sighed to himself and curled up against the wall. He threw a glance at the clock. There was probably another ten to thirty minutes before his next client came. This was how his life was: an endless cycle of clients, whether they were paying customers or Mr. Tender himself.

Lazily, he traced the two black letters that had been tattooed on the lower right side of his stomach, just beside the hipbone. Ra: it was his name now, but once it hadn't been so. In the very back of his mind, covered in layers of dust and cobwebs, was his true name. He had hidden it well; for fear that Mr. Tender would still find out that he remembered everything. At one time, he had been called Harry.