Welcome to my first HP fanfiction!

A trigger warning is in place for the following topics throughout the story:

Child Abuse: Not directly shown happening but the resulting injuries are stated, and I do give an idea as to the full damage

Child Neglect: Shown but not to the full extent it's happening

Sexual Abuse Against a Minor: Heavily hinted at, never directly shown happening as of yet, will most likely be mentioned in future, will warn heavily if so.

Emotional Abuse: As with any abuse comes emotional abuse, if people don't realize

Dumbledore is not good at all in this story. He's horrible and probably worse than the Dursley's, the only reason he's considered good is that he uses Light Magic. Tom Riddle is good in this story and the only thing that argues against this is because Tom uses Dark. You have been warned!

'Talking'

Thoughts

"Parseltongue"

Third Person PoV

'Boy! Wake up! You need to make breakfast! Quickly!' Aunt Petunia's shrill shattered her nephew's light slumber, her bony fingers rapping on the door doing little to help him fall back asleep.

After a quick 'yes Aunt Petunia,' the boy slipped on his round-framed glasses, wondering if by some terrible misfortune his parents hadn't named him at all, or worse, they had named him what the Dursley's often called him. Shrugging mentally as he walked into the kitchen, the boy knew that even if he did have a proper name, his family wouldn't use it.

'Make sure it's perfect for my Duddy's special day.' Aunt Petunia scolded the boy as he walked into the kitchen, causing the boy to mentally slap himself. How could the boy forget! How could he forget it was Dudley's birthday! A sudden sadness filled him though as he realized he didn't know when his birthday was... how old even was he?

Shrugging off the sadness that started to creep up on him for the second time this morning, the young boy made sure not to burn his cousin's favourite breakfast as he prepared the coffee for his Uncle. By the time he heard stirring upstairs, the boy had prepared three plates of bacon, two plates of pancakes and a plate of eggs, and quickly set the pot of coffee on the table after pouring it into his Uncle's favourite mug.

'Quickly go to the bathroom and then come back. I want to make sure Duddly-kins has eaten plenty for his special day!' Deciding not to argue against Aunt Petunia that really, Dudley could go a whole week without eating and still would've eaten plenty, the boy quickly dashed away from the breakfast he'd made but would never get to taste. Is this what the professional chiefs Aunt Petunia watches on telly feel like when they have to serve their food to customers?

The young boy stared at the reflection that the mirror showed as he finished washing his hands, hating with a vengeance that he couldn't be more like Dudley.

If doctors were worried about his Aunt Petunia and her tall and lanky shape, they would've paled at the sight of the young boy's. Even through ten-sizes-too-big clothes, which were hand-me-downs from Dudley, he could still see the bones on his wrist, which sun-tanned skin from long days working in the prized garden was stretched over, seeming as if it would tear at any moment. The rest of his body was in a similar state, his skin stretched thin over his ribs, the belt holding up his pants so small the young boy had had to poke holes in it to ensure the torn jeans wouldn't fall down.

The round wire framed glasses he wore, held together only by sticky-tape at this stage from all of Dudley's bashings, amplified the vibrant, emerald green eyes that the young boy hated more than the watery blue eyes his cousin shared with his uncle.

Dudley had loveable, tamable, blonde hair while the boy had hated, wild black locks that no-one had been able to tame, not even the most skilled hairdressers Aunt Petunia had taken him too. It had even grown back overnight one time when Aunt Petunia had had enough of the jungle the mop was and shaved off all his hair but for a fringe of it.

And resting underneath his ugly jet-black hair where his fringe lay, the scar that leads to his placement with his aunt and uncle, courtesy of his parents getting drunk because of how much they hated him, and deciding it wise to drive behind the wheel. The blasted red, lightning bolt scar that rested there because his parents didn't care if he survived or not, so long as they could rid themselves of his horrible nature.

He wished it was anger that filled him, not the darkness that always followed him around. He wished he could be angry at his parents but instead he was filled constantly with the lingering question that he would never have an answer for. A question that no one gave him an answer to because he was supposed to already know the answer, after all, it was so obvious, wasn't it?

Why wasn't I good enough for them?

Shaking the pointless thought from his head, he headed out to plate up breakfast while Dudley complained about his stacks of presents.

'THIRTY-SIX BUT LAST YEAR, LAST YEAR I HAD THIRTY-SEVEN!' Dudley screamed, only for Aunt Petunia to swoop in and promise to buy Dudley two more presents while they were at the zoo, Uncle Vernon gloating about how his boy was going to make a fine businessman.

Placing the plates of food in front of everyone, the young boy then retreated to his bedroom, waiting for Miss Figg to come and pick him up like she did every year. He just hoped that maybe, she wouldn't drone on about all the different cats she's had over the years.

'HE'LL RUIN EVERYTHING IF HE COMES! MUMMY, DADDY MAKE SURE HE DOESN'T COME!' The young boy heard his spoiled cousin yell, only for his bedroom door to nearly being ripped off its hinges.

His uncle's glowering face stared at him, nearly turning purple from rage and disgust. 'We have no-one to look after you today, which means you have to come, but I'm warning you now. If you do absolutely anything to mess up Dudley's birthday, you'll wish you died in that crash along with your disposable parents.'

The day had been going amazingly so far, the young boy hadn't made a single mistake and had been given a delicious plain ice lolly from the worker! He would've made chicken wings if it weren't for the fact that would earn him a week in his room, a week no food and three days with only one glass of water.

How could this day go wrong?

As they walked into the reptile house, the young boy hung back to admire all the snakes the place held, wishing he could read the signs fully so he could find out where each snake was originally from, and what type it was.

Dudley had just gotten bored with a banging on the glass in front of an incredibly large snake and had moved on to look at a baby animal the reptile house had, an alligator from what the boy had heard, leaving the large snake free for the young boy to admire.

"I'm sorry about my cousin, he hasn't been taught proper manners or how to show respect to beautiful creatures like yourself." The young boy spoke to the snake, unaware of the strange hissing he was emitting from his mouth and the looks he was getting from passer-bystanders

"You can speak to me?" The python inquired, causing the boy to take a jump back. Apparently, he could understand the snake as well.

"I-I thought I was speaking n-normally?" If Dudley or someone saw him talking to the snake, Uncle Vernon would play with him! This was not good, not good at all.

"It's alright young hatchling, I was just surprised. Haven't met a speaker before you see..." The python then looked at the boy and back to who had been there before him.

"So that pig is your cousin you say? He's an example of why I hate humans. Absolutely no respect! You on the other hand show complete respect, which is surprising for a hatchling as young as you." Nodding in agreement despite not fully understanding, the boy took a glance over his shoulder at saw that his Aunt and Uncle were about to leave, Dudley and his friend in tow behind them.

"I have to go now sorry. I hope everyone else respects you." He was about to run off when all of sudden Dudley turned around and saw the python moving.

'Mum! Dad! Look! The freak did something to the snake to move!' Said freak gulped as he was pushed out of the way, listening to the python curse the boy now standing in front of the glass.

The freak looked at the glass and just wished the snake didn't have to put up with people like Dudley, but then not even a second later, Dudley had fallen into the enclosure for the snake and the snake was slithering off, snapping slightly at Uncle Vernon, whose face purpled with rage.

That night, the young boy wished he had died in that crash along with his parents, all because he somehow vanished the glass in front of a snake enclosure. He should've known better than to strike up a conversation with the constrictor. He should've waited outside, claiming that snakes frightened him. But he didn't, no instead he got angry at Dudley for harassing the snake.

And now, five long days later of doing every possible chore in the house each day before bed with no food and a total of six glasses of water, he was going to be punished again all because someone from the school his parents had registered him at when he was born was taking him to buy the school supplies he'd be needing.

Would this person know he could only read what was on the Dursleys' mail, and the chore list they gave him? Would he know about the young boy's treatment somehow? The boy hoped not, because Uncle Vernon would only punish him further. He had stories after all to cover the treatment. He was skinny because he had a really fast metabolism and ran around a lot. The young boy preferred wearing his cousins larger clothes because they made him feel comfortable and he liked watching the sleeves move when he was alone and made his chicken wings.

All the freak had to do now was wait for the doorbell to ring, and act like he wasn't at all being hurt or mistreated. The boy just hoped that maybe the stranger would see through his mask but at the same time he hoped his mask would work, the punishment for someone finding out was worse than someone not seeing through his mask at all. He also hoped he didn't faint during the trip, because that would lead to his mask falling off and the person finding out.

And if someone found out, he'd be very lucky to make it out alive. He was already being punished for the chores he wouldn't be able to do today because of this unplanned trip but that was the punishment he could take. He would just have to keep his mask on nice and tight until he was locked away in his bedroom at the end of the day.

The young boy sighed as he sat on his dodgy cot under the stairs, hoping that maybe he could get something that wasn't just related to his school supplies, like some red army men to battle against his small fleet of green troops. Or perhaps a colouring book like the one Dudley had been given when he was two. He didn't put too much faith into his hopes though and was startled from his musings by the doorbell ringing.

It was going to be a long day...

Last fix of this chapter! There were some mistakes I didn't pick up on at first so I've fixed them up! Thank you to inthecupboard for pointing them out to me! That's what I get for not having a beta I guess but not to worry, I will always at least triple check future chapters ^~^

I'm currently typing the next chapter up and also hand-writing future chapters. I'm hoping for perhaps a weekly upload schedule for this story to take place on Tuesdays or Thursdays and hope to remain a few chapters behind what I have written out already. Yes chapters will be much longer in future (I'm aiming for at least 2000 words of story) and will have POV changes with clear statements of whose POV it is.

Before anyone asks yes, my AO3 set up and running, I will be posting all my HP works there as well. I actually am revising some chapters before I post them to AO3 but don't worry, I'll make sure both publications are the same.

Hope your day is going splendidly!

~Andama