feud

What's your name?" Harry asked, peering down at the small snake which coiled around his wrist.

"Name?" It questioned, flicking its tongue curiously. "No name, Den-Harry."

They were hidden away in a park just down the road from the Dursleys'. Harry had created a soft glow with no real source, just enough for him to see by really. The subtle warmth of magic thrummed under his skin, feeling almost tangible. Harry had forgotten the multiple times since his outburst, that his blood was only deep red and not illuminated by the magic pulsating with each heartbeat. He had plenty of opportunities to try and remember this fact, Dudley and his friends were almost obsessive with maiming him whenever possible now.

"Just Harry," he corrected, using one hand to pet the sleek back of the snake. He enjoyed the feeling of its scales; he'd expected the snake to feel slimy, but it was smooth and dry. Its scales were a dark brown, almost black, but they had a faint, splotchy pattern: dirt stained, like Harry's own fingers.

"I could name you, if you'd like?"

"Den-Harry, yes." It flicked its tongue, catching itself quickly. "No Den-Harry, Harry?"

Harry nodded his head, before realising that the small snake probably didn't understand human body language enough to know what a nod meant . They had totally different bodies after all, Harry and his little friend. " That's right. I am Harry. "

"I am?" It asked, its voice rising at the end to indicate a question.

At first, he'd thought talking to a snake would be just like talking to another person, only with foreign-sounding hissing, which, to Harry, sounded just like English anyway. The little snake didn't understand the majority of the bigger words though, some of the bigger concepts. Its vocabulary was very limited. It made talking with it a challenge, but an interesting challenge.

Realising that his little friend was asking for its name, Harry tilted his head, looking at the serpent curiously. "I'm reading a book, the creator of this spell is Nikkoli Lutain. I don't know what it does. But the name sounds interesting."

" Lutain? " The little snake asked, pausing in what seemed like concentration, " I...am? "

Harry nodded, then, remembering himself, he smiled. " You're Lutain. "

The snake looked as confused as Harry thought a snake might look. "You're Lutain?"

Was it the contractions that the little snake didn't understand? He thought about it for a moment, then realised that the problem might've been one of perspective.

"Okay, I am Harry. You are Lutain. In your eyes, I am Lutain, you are Harry," Harry said, gesturing with his hands, before realising again that, since snakes didn't have hands, his gesturing might not mean anything to the little snake.

It seemed to understand despite the language gap. "I am Lutain! You are Harry! You are Harry no prey!"

" Not prey, " Harry agreed.

"You are Harry," It hissed gleefully, "You are not prey."

"What Harry prey?" Lutain asked one day, curling around a flower pot while Harry pruned carnations by the side garden.

"What is Harry's prey." Harry corrected instantly, not looking up from where he tugged at a few browning stalks. They'd been working on overcoming the language gap between them.

"What is Harry's prey?" Lutain repeated, flicking its tongue.

"Well," Harry started. "I am human. I eat many things, sometimes I can eat certain plants or fruits. I can eat meat, but we eat larger animals like pigs and cows. "

"Plants?" Lutain seemed baffled, "Human prey plants?"

Harry plucked off a dandelion that was trying to grow up through the ground. He held it up for Lutain to see, then stuffed it in his mouth.

Lutain reared back, hissing in disgust, "Not plant! Not want!"

Harry smiled. "Plants we eat are called vegetables."

"Vegetables, not want," Lutain rephrased firmly. "Vegetables, I not want."

"I do not want." Harry corrected.

Lutain slid forward, flicking its tongue against the dandelion stump where some sap was beading. "I...I do not want vegetables."

Harry smiled. He reached down, holding his out hand and Lutain wriggled against it, pleased. For the first time in a long while, Harry chuckled.

"When do Harry shed?" Lutain asked quietly, peering at Harry's skin curiously. Harry paused, looking over his shoulder where Lutain coiled on his cot. He had smuggled the snake inside earlier that day; it was supposed to rain that night.

"Humans have skin. Snakes have scales." Harry explained, finding a shirt to change into, "Humans heal their skin over time."

"No shed mark?" Lutain tasted the air with its tongue, then moved its head closer to something on Harry's body. Its tongue flickered out again, tickling his side.

Harry peered down at his body and saw the thin scar along his side from where Dudley had grazed him with his slingshot. It was an angry red still.

"No, the mark may fade. Some scars do. Some scars never will," Harry offered, brushing his fingertips over the raised skin.

"Humans skin no want. Humans skin hurt."

Harry hummed in agreement, pulling on his shirt and moving to sit on the bed next to the snake, "You know, I never asked what gender you are."

"Gender?" Lutain asked curiously.

Harry thought for a moment. "Eggs? Do you lay eggs?"

"No eggs! Lutain no eggs." Lutain hissed.

"If you don't have eggs, you're male. If you do, you're female," Harry explained, reaching for the one well-loved spell book, "I am male. You are male. Male and Female are genders."

Lutain nodded as if understanding, peering curiously as Harry pulled up the book and opened it to a specific page, a certain spell he had been working on. " This is a book of spells. "

" Book? "

" Talking, each marking is a letter and letters together makes a word. You can look at the letters and understand what someone says. "

The little snake's tongue flickered and it brought its head closer to the old pages. There was, of course, no way for it to actually know how to read; it had no idea at all what each of the words said, or even what sounds were represented by which squiggles on the page.

Harry didn't mind, in fact he enjoyed the conversation. He wasn't quite as lonely anymore, now that he had someone to talk to.

It was when Dudley blamed an injury on Harry, that his living arrangements once again changed. Brookdale Residency was a large white building on the outskirts of anywhere. It was just miles of countryside in every direction, bordered only by a small copse of trees on the furthest south side. The building had large windows shrouded by dull blue curtains. There was a porch swing by the front doorstep.

"Here we are!" Vernon thundered, seeming quite pleased as he heaved up the steps using his cane. He rapped his cane against one of the decorative white pillars under the overhang. "Wonderful establishment, this one here!"

"Where are we?" Lutain hissed quietly, from just under Harry's shirt around his left shoulder. Harry didn't dare answer his little friend.

A tall, thin woman stepped out. She was taller than Aunt Petunia and wearing shoes which gave her a few extra inches. She peered down at Harry and Uncle Vernon with an imperious, pinched expression.

"Leave the trunk here," she ordered, nodding to the porch. Her voice was a sharp, no-nonsense kind of voice. "I'll have one of the workers carry it inside."

"Excellent!" Vernon blustered, wheezing and leaning on his cane. "So, you..." He motioned between Harry and the woman. He wouldn't meet Harry's eyes. "Yes."

Turning quickly and lifting one hand in a half-hearted and entirely insincere wave, Vernon hurried back towards the car without ever looking back.

The woman crossed her arms, looking down at Harry with a scowl. The sound of Vernon's car tearing away, leaving Harry behind with this complete stranger was background noise to what she said next. "Brookdale Residency is an orphanage. It's where children who have no family, or family that don't want them, end up."

Harry twitched slightly.

"Some children are troublemakers, some aren't. You aren't going to be one, are you?" she sniffed, her every word dripping disdain.

Lutain stiffened and the low gatherings of a hiss seemed to bristle.

"No," said Harry, his tone mirroring hers. The woman didn't seem surprised.

"I am Madam Clover. You will address me as such and obey all rules. Do we have an agreement?" The woman said sternly. It was clearly not a question.

"Master, I do not like human," Lutain whispered, voice dangerously cold, "I do not like her much."

"We do." Harry confirmed, shifting his arm enough to move Lutain slightly.

"Good." She turned on her heels and walked back into the building.

"Harry want Lutain to bite?" Lutain offered.

" No, " Harry murmured under his breath. "We'll just have to make do. "

Harry's room was nestled on the left side of the hallway, four doors down from the stairs. The room was square, in drastic need of a renovation, and had a larger cot with stained sheets. It was already much better than the cupboard.

The company was at times questionably better, and worse. Brookdale Residency was large and mostly empty, because of this each child was gifted an individual room. A bathroom was shared between each neighbouring door, connecting each room to the other. Each room was old, creaking floorboards and broken window ledges. The walls were an off-colour white, the lights were a buzzing fluorescent that made each vein and artery pop just a little more under the skin.

Harry's trunk sat at the foot of his bed. Although his room came equipped with a wardrobe, he kept all of his belongings in the trunk, with the exception of a few supplied toiletries. He noticed almost instantly that his trunk had shown signs of tampering and his toiletries had been swapped with mud paste.

There were two children in particular who seemed to have a grudge against Harry more than others: David Forestar and Ralph Lingburg.

Harry didn't know the exact details or their story, but he didn't care enough to actually learn it either. Both boys had apparently been left at the orphanage at an early age.

Left to his own devices, Ralph wasn't generally motivated enough to get into much trouble. David was another matter. David had no qualms about attacking or stealing from the younger children. It was when they were together that things got really out of hand.

Both boys were eleven years old and already they were a force to be reckoned with in the small world that encompassed the orphanage. They'd somehow managed to convince the otherwise strict Madam Clover to overlook any incidents when they were unfortunate enough to be caught in compromising situations.

The boys were fascinated with Harry, or rather his apathetic views that were so different from the shriveling mess that most children became. They wanted to get a rise out of him. They broke into his room often, he could tell. They were the ones who had most likely had tampered with and tried to break into his trunk.

Then one day, Harry was at the top of the stairs, intent on going outside for a bit of fresh air and to let Lutain try his best at snatching a mouse in the neighbouring fields, when Suzie Forestar, David's younger sister, appeared.

Suzie, short for Suzanna, was relatively harmless. She was seven, having just had her birthday a week earlier. Most of the time she was a sweet, naive little girl, but sometimes… sometimes she was a biting gossip who liked nothing more than insulting other people.

That was the mood she was in now.

"Harry!" She snapped out, batting her eyelashes and giving him a large, devious smile. She quickly got in between him and the stairs.

"Care to move? I'm going outside."

"Are you?" She gasped, hands dramatically covering her cheeks, eyes widening in a mock caricature of real surprise. "Is that what you said to your parents?"

Harry stopped. "What?"

Suzie's grin widened; normally Harry ignored everything she said. Not this time. He'd taken the bait, he realised a moment too late.

"Or maybe… Maybe your parents just left you!" Suzie accused, with an over-exaggerated sense of false shock. Harry flinched. Suzie nearly squealed, realising that she'd struck a nerve. "Maybe they realised just how freaky you are! Maybe they never loved you at all!"

Harry saw red. Because it was nothing he hadn't thought to himself, during the long, dark nights in the cupboard under the stairs. His jaw clenched and for a brief moment, all he wanted was for her to take that back, for her to pay .

There was a rush in his ears, a pounding, painful pressure, and his jaw tightened again as she giggled victoriously over his hidden hurt-

And then she was screaming, her arms flailing wildly for something to grab onto as she slipped and fell backwards down the stairs. He watched in shock as the little girl tumbled end over end painfully down the stairs, until she came to rest at the bottom. She started wailing in pain and screaming for help.

Harry heard the hurried footsteps of the adults and likely Madam Clover, rushing from the lower level.

Harry quickly hurried away, one hand sliding into his pocket to wake Lutain and shush him as he headed back to his room and locked the door, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

The incident report for the file had been filled out by suppertime that night. Harry knew that he wasn't officially mentioned in the documentation. If he was, or if he'd been suspected, they would have sent him to be questioned in Madam Clover's office.

Unfortunately, one of Suzie's more impressive skills was spreading rumours quickly and efficiently. By suppertime that night, everyone knew. He wasn't a fool and it was impossible not to notice that the table he was sitting at was completely empty, while children were practically sitting on each other's laps at the other tables. They kept throwing him looks, somewhere between glares and anxious peeking. Their quiet whispering filled the room with hushed and hissed conversation which left Harry feeling isolated.

The worst happened when David stormed over, grabbed Harry's plate of food, and dumped it all over his hair.

Harry felt a flash of anger. Instantly, David leapt back with a cry of surprise and pain. One hand quickly clapped onto his other wrist, where the fading imprint of a red ring was starting to form around his arm.

The next day, they learned that David had somehow developed first degree burns on his left wrist after coming into contact with hot metal. That was the official story anyway, but everyone knew what really happened.

Harry just kept Lutain with him more, now that even the other orphans wanted him to be alone.