A Much Prized Pet

A Much Prized Pet

Response to a challenge, by PxW. Harry is abused by the Dursley’s until he is abandoned at four years old- he is taken in by a Naga and, as the years passed, discovered by a wizard and given to Voldemort as a pet. The criteria for the challenge is:

* Harry was raised by a serpent (or any other anguiform being), so the only language he understand was Parseltongue.
* Harry had stayed with the Dursleys until he was 4 years old, and was abuse by them, thus his distrust of humans.
* Harry learn to become an Animagus (by himself or from others, whatever), and he choose his animagus form to be a silver (or black) serpent.
* Voldemort would thinks Harry is just an unknown poisonous snake and take him as his new pet (at first anyhow).

Ummm...this chapter features abuse of a very young minor (physical and sexual). Violent.

~Parseltongue~
'Thinking'
"Speaking, fools!"

~~~~~

H-A-R-R-Y. One, pale finger traced the letters in the dust that lined every surface of the closet under the stairs, illuminated in that thin strip of light that gleamed from the crack below the door. A small, pouting mouth curved into a proud, infantile smile. Next to that word, the dark-haired boy began to write out a second. P-O-T-T- The four-year-old paused, bright green eyes wide in the darkness. Dust was falling from above, as a heavy person above him stomped down the stairs. The light became clouded and, try to muffle it as he might, a small, choked cough escaped him.

The toddler, Harry Potter, froze in pure terror. He’d made a noise! And, judging by the fact that the thudding footsteps he’d heard had stopped, he’d been caught. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip as the footsteps began, faster with purpose. Harry scrabbled away from the door, the words he’d written forgotten, to huddle in the corner.

He blinked back watery tears, as the door was flung open and a bear of a man was framed in the light.

“Boy!” came the snarled order. “In front of me- now!”

Harry slunk forward, head faced downwards. He was a strange, ethereal creature. His skin was like ivory, marked with purple and yellow bruises from past beatings. His raven hair, uncut, hung just below his shoulders and was very silky- in his cell of dust, forgotten memories and companionable spiders, Harry took pleasure in ensuring that his hair remained silky and smooth. The slender frame was too skinny for such a small child and his ribs could be seen. He wore only an over-sized shirt, a hand-me-down from his already obese cousin. Not that the other boy knew he existed.

You see, Harry was no-one. Harry was nothing. He was just a ‘boy’, the ‘blight’ and the ‘freak’ and nothing else. He lived under three rules: never leave the cupboard, never forget the debt to his generous aunt and uncle and, of course, never ever make a noise. He was just a shadow, a forgotten memory. But it hadn’t always been so. Harry remembered a time, when a auburn-haired lady had taught him how to spell the letters of his name and to lisp words out. He remembered a chortling man, with messy black hair that he’d wrench in his chubby fists, chortling and boasting about the uncommon intelligence of his son. He remembered clutching at the edge of the crib, staring in wide-eyed fascination as there was a blinding flash of green light. He remembered being left at the front step of his horrible house and never speaking another word.

Harry kneeled, dark hair curtaining his face, as the monstrous figure of his uncle loomed above him. A thick hand grabbed his feminine hair, wrenching him to his feet. He bit his lip till it bled, but didn’t whimper. His uncle made a satisfied grunting sound, before slapping his nephew firmly across the face. As his cheek reddened, his tears began to spill over. A slap across the other cheek, his uncle’s engagement ring trapped on his swollen digit, split open Harry’s cheek. Hot tears and hotter blood spilt down Harry’s cheeks and he didn’t sniffle, lest he provoke his uncle into a wilder rage. He must never make a noise.

“Good boy,” his uncle said, in a voice that might have been a croon, without the rough edge. “Never make a noise. Ever. We don’t want the neighbours finding out about the freak and getting rid of you, like they did your parents. Now show me your gratitude for taking in.”

Harry’s hair was released and he fell to his knees. He wiped his running nose on his sleeve, before lifting his head. He knew what he had to do. He knew what to do to make it go quicker, to end his punishment. Harry lifted his head and raised his body from the ground, as his hands tentatively picked at the fabric covering his uncle’s thick legs. He didn’t know why his uncle made him do this, made him put it in his mouth and suck and use his tongue. He didn’t like it. Harry hated it when his uncle thrusted into his wet mouth and into his throat, hurting him and pulling his hair. He didn’t like it when the gross liquid would fill his mouth and not being allowed to spit it out.

Harry unzipped the work trousers carefully as his uncle leered down- the stupid brat would do anything he was told. Vernon would be sure to give him an extra nice surprise for his birthday. Harry tentatively stroked the short, thick member- which had hardened during Harry’s beating- until a gleaming drop formed on the end. Harry, standing now, not having to kneel, hesitantly licked the tip.

“Suck it, faggot,” Vernon growled, automatically grabbing Harry’s long hair. “Dudley’s going to be home soon.”

Harry blinked back tears and opened his mouth, taking the head. His pouting lips surrounded Vernon and suckled softly, then harder. His uncle made a weird moaning sound, which merged with the word ‘fuck’ as he began to force himself in. Harry automatically pulled back, as his lips were stretched and he choked. Vernon snarled, pulling back and thrusting in hard as Harry once more tried to retreat.

This only incensed his uncle, who threw him against the wall and an audible cry left Harry, as old bruises were covered with new ones. His uncle advanced.

“Never. Make. A. Sound,” he growled. “Your mouth is only good for one thing, boy.”

Vernon picked Harry off the ground and leaned the shaken, frozen boy against the wall, before forcing himself between Harry’s lips and into his mouth again. Harry was too frightened to cry out, to bite down- to do anything. Instead, black clouded his vision as his uncle began to thrust hard into him, making his head hit the back of the wall with a dull thud as his mouth was fucked hard. Vernon looked down at the partially closed green eyes, bright with tears, the face covered in blood and tears and decided to make another addition. He thrust twice more, hard, then pulled out, cumming hard. Creamy white strings decorated the boys cheeks and dripped from his lips as Harry wheezed for breath, coughing.

“Shut up,” Vernon growled. “They’re back, you cock-sucking slut.”

The sound of a car door slamming had signalled the end of Harry’s punishment and he was shoved firmly away from Vernon and into the corner. The narrow door was slammed shut and locked as Harry hit the floor with another muffled cry. Merlin forbid that this strange entity known as Dudley, or ‘ickle Duddy-kins’ find out about the small, abused creature under the stairs.

“DAD!” came the jubilant yell, as Dudley stormed inside. “Piers traded my turtle for a garter snake! It’s way cool!”

Harry held a much-soiled cloth to his split cheek and rocked himself in an effort to silence the growing pain and anger that swelled in his chest that could only be expressed in wailing howls or outraged yells. He retreated to the corner, gathering the flattened pillows and torn blanket that made up his bed, as a small keening sound was in his ears. His sobs went unvoiced and his eyes were shut tight. Why did he have to be a freak? A faggot? A slut? Why couldn’t he be outside, laughing and talking in the beautiful sunlight? Why could he heal his own wounds, fix his eyesight, but not fight back? There was a small silence in the praise of Dudley and even the other boy’s loud words were silent, when Harry gave a small sob. He bit down on his hand, quieting himself. In that brief silence, a voice could be heard and little Harry Potter decided that it was something quite...different. It was a liquid voice of low whispers and sinuous tones. It’s words were horrible, vindictive and terribly, incredibly appealing.

~Stupid human. I will tear you. I will choke you in your sleep. The crows will pick out your eyes and I shall catch the rats that come for your entrails. For every scale you’ve touched I shall crush you...crush you....~

The footsteps neared the stairs and there was the mandatory dust shower as the steps were climbed. Harry suckled gently on one thumb, concentrating on the voice that had gone silent. It renewed, rife with interest.

~Blood. I smell blood. Beautiful blood. Little serpent princeling...oh, He’d give much to have you, strange, broken human.~

Harry stood up- serpent princeling? That voice spoke to him. With a thrill of fearful delight, Harry realised that it was the snake speaking to him, about him. He stood up, climbing onto a small stool and pressing his ear against the stairs, trying to listen to the snake’s passing words.

~I will call the Mother Snake and she will destroy you all, disgusting two-leggers~...was the last thing the serpent said before leaving earshot.

Perhaps it was the dizzying shock of learning that one could understand what a snake was saying, maybe it was the heavy blows to his face and neck, the lack of oxygen, as his uncle had raped his mouth, or that he survived on water, bread and slightly mouldy fruit and treats, that his aunt was unwilling to throw out...Harry swayed and slipped as he stepped down from that flimsy stool. There was a thump and a loud bang, in quick succession, as Harry’s frame hit the ground and the stool hit the wall. Harry clung to the ground desperately and a small whimper escaped his fragile form as tears built anew.

“DAD- THERE’S SOMETHING UNDER THE STAIRS!”

A broken sob escaped Harry’s swelling throat. Footsteps echoed through the house and on the stares above him and the dust started to rain on the Boy Who Lived.

~~~~~

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