Furtive

The first plants started to sprout, heralding spring. The warmth was a welcome change from the numbing cold. The Dursleys went out and bought Dudley an entirely new wardrobe; he had somehow managed to outgrow all of his shorts over the winter.

Harry was now outside more often. There were weeds to be pulled and flowers to be tended to. He continued his manual labour with sharper glares and louder silence. He refused to speak, oftentimes not even responding to Petunia's hissed demands from the kitchen window. He had learned to nod after she spoke, better to avoid getting smacked by the broom once again.

(The broom had broken. Aunt Petunia was obviously startled and hadn't intended for it to leave such a large bruise on his back, yet didn't confess her guilt if it existed at all.)

His daily tasks consisted of working outside in the hotter months, occasionally taking quick drinks from the hose when nobody was watching. He planted the many flowers and shrubs Petunia purchased from the garden centre, digging holes and removing grubs when he found them.

Dudley would return home and casually smack him around, sometimes with friends if any accompanied him, and he would resume work until Petunia had scrounged dinner. Then he would be sent to his cupboard, occasionally being allowed to take a quick shower. The whole thing would repeat itself the next day when Dudley woke up.

It was busy work, physically demanding but it let him have plenty of time to think.

Harry knew that underage wizards weren't allowed to perform magic outside of a certified premise or outside of a proper estate. He knew for sure that he wasn't allowed to perform magic in front of muggles.

Looking around furtively, he set a sickly looking tulip aflame, sweating with the exertion.

He spent the rest of the day scanning the skies and the fence posts of Privet Drive, looking for the sure sign of a Ministry owl.

None showed up that day.

Or the day after.

Harry smiled grimly. He now knew he could perform magic, without the Ministry knowing.

Late February he thrust himself into studying the single aged tome he had secured a lifetime ago. He read and muttered and practiced quietly in the dark when he couldn't sleep, or when he was sent outside for hours alone.

Harry grinned breathlessly, twitching his hands and whispering under his breath in the middle of the day. Anthills smoldered and the small insects scattered. Dried and brown leaves from last autumn burnt the fastest. Anything green, he learned, smelt foul and only gave off loads of smoke.

The more he practiced, the easier it became to set things on fire.

Unlocking his cupboard, although he hadn't found an actual spell in his book for unlocking things, was easier now than it had been. Despite how horrible his living conditions were, and how he loathed the Dursley's, he was rather optimistic now.

(He still occasionally had days where he didn't bother crawling out of his cupboard; when he woke up still expecting to see Lily and James. He became better and better at just ignoring those thoughts.)

Easter Holiday changed it.

He was outside, weeding the garden with torn clothing that had once upon a time been his. They were now stained and worn far past the endurance of the charms placed on them. A particularly pesky weed had him grasping its thorny stalk, heaving backwards with both arms, using his weight as leverage.

Something grazed against his side and he scrambled to his feet. He blinked, dazed and confused, what had hit him? Was it a squirrel or a bird? Some other animal that had hit him before escaping without being seen?

His hands touched something wet and he inhaled shakily. Actually seeing the red against his skin triggered the overwhelming sensation of pain.

He choked down a scream, hands pressing through the tear in his shirt against the gash in his side. It was lazily dripping down his skin and staining the side of his shirt further.

Dudley gave some sort-of delayed cry of surprise. Harry spun, looking for his attacker only to see his baffled cousin and his friends. Dudley was holding an industrial slingshot Petunia had bought him last Christmas.

'What was-' His thinking broke once he saw what had hit him, a decent sized rock with a few sharp edges.

Dudley blinked slowly, lowering the slingshot before releasing a piercing wail which instantly led Harry to clench his teeth.

Petunia hurried out to see what was going on, wringing her hands and rushing to her son. Dudley cried out something else, pointing with pudgy fingers at Harry while his friends ran.

Petunia's face tightened as she looked at Harry sharply. Her expression was pinched as she stomped over the grass, grabbed his arm and tugged him towards the house. "Come on," She hissed out sharply, eying his side, "And no bleeding on the floor."

Harry's face twitched in annoyance, it wasn't like she had cleaned the floors.

She yanked him inside towards the kitchen, fetching the rag Harry used to polish the iron burners on the stove. It was already blackened with polish, replaceable in her eyes.

"Here," She grunted, snatching a series of rags in similar shape, band aids, and masking tape from nearby drawers, "Clean yourself up and don't,"her eyes flashed, "touch anything."

Harry took the offered supplies sourly and locked the bathroom door behind him.

The gash wasn't large. It wasn't deep either, yet it seemed to continuously ooze out red like a wet sponge.

He shoved in the several rags, waiting until they had been soaked before taking them away. Everytime he tried, it would tear out the gooey clots just beginning to form, and start bleeding again.

Finally he settled with pushing in one rag, clenching his jaw against the searing throb, and using the masking tape around his waist to hold it in place. It held, he returned the unused rags, and was sent to his cupboard.

"Sanatas." Harry hissed, flushing angrily when nothing happened.

"Sanatas!"He tried again, more insistently this time, his voice wavering in his frustration. The crippling sensation of doubt started to worm its way through his forced bravado. "Sanatas!"

The skin around ugly black scab on his side itched and tingled uncomfortably. Harry groaned softly, smacking his fist against the small cot next to him in frustration.

What was he doing wrong? He'd done exactly what it said in the book, even checked his pronunciation multiple times just to make sure. The scrape refused to heal like Harry wanted. Instead it just tingled and itched never letting him forget about his injury. It was possible the constant buzzing of pain was clouding his ability to focus his magic.

Dudley was back in school, a true blessing considering for the first while only twisting a specific way would crack the scabs and cause the bleeding to start again. It had oozed a foul-smelling pus, to the point where Aunt Petunia had thrown a small tube of paste at him, ordering him to deal with it.

Now, it was a thick heavy scab with bumps and ridges on its surface.

"Sanatas." Harry tried again, swallowing and trying to direct the flow of something he couldn't see into his side.

In a moment of blind panic, Harry wondered if maybe his magic was gone, if maybe this was why people didn't use wandless magic. He cried out, then instantly realised his mistake and covered his mouth.

The damage was done, he heard the shuffle of movement above him and then the loud thudding sound of footsteps thundering down the landing towards the stairs. Uncle Vernon was awake. Harry's eyes widened in horror of the consequences, and he scrambled backwards on his cot, yanking his shirt down to try and hide what he'd been doing.

Vernon threw the door open. "What are you screaming about!" he thundered, his beedy little eyes glittering malevolently in the dark. "We have had enough of your racket!"

Harry tried to shuffle further back, tried to escape Uncle Vernon's reach. The obese man grabbed his ankle and forcefully pulled him from the cupboard under the stairs. Harry bit his tongue to crying out in pain as his shirt rubbed against the sensitive skin.

Vernon, not noticing or, more likely, not caring, yanked.

Harry scrambled with his hands to find something - anything - to grab hold of as he was bodily dragged out. Already his leg hurt from the intense pressure and blood was pounding in his head.

Vernon stomped through the kitchen and wrenched open the backdoor, dragging Harry along behind him. Still grunting something about how Harry wouldn't make any sort of distracting noise in his home, Vernon threw the small boy out.

Privet Drive was dark and cool at night. The cool night air felt almost soothing to the scrape which had, once again, cracked open. Harry could already imagine the bruises forming where Vernon had grabbed him.

Vernon had kicked him out, Harry thought in a dazed haze of disbelief. His uncle had actually kicked him out.

Harry was filled with the sudden, overpowering desire to run, to disappear into the dark and leave behind the Dursleys'... and leave behind everything.

But then Lily won't know where you went, a quiet voice whispered in the back of his mind.

Harry hugged his knees and tried to calm his breath so he didn't break down into sobs. He wanted to run away, but there was obviously some small part of him that still wanted his parents to come and rescue him.

He didn't know what to do.

Summer eventually took spring's place, schools were let out, and Harry was bombarded daily with rocks, insults, and the occasional water cousin had learned nothing, though Harry wasn't sure what he'd actually expected.

It was manageable. He stuck to the shadows of the house and only interacted with the Dursleys when he absolutely had to. Often times he could get by without saying anything the entire day- nobody actually initiated conversation. He began to wonder what a genuine conversation was like, he couldn't remember.

The oppressive dry heat of June officially ruined the last clean clothes Harry had brought with him. Sweat and dirt had stained his clothes and left a permanent smell that wouldn't come out no matter how many times he washed them. It was only a matter of time until Aunt Petunia threw them out.

June 23, Harry was released from his hard cupboard only to weave through the mound of wrapped boxes and gifts in the living room.

37 presents, which was one less than last year, apparently. Dudley had shouted and started throwing a temper tantrum. Watching the obese boy shed crocodile tears, Harry felt sickened. The presents filled the room and left little space to walk. His parents soon managed to placate their screaming son by promising to get him two more on the day's outing.

Which Harry was forced to come along on.

(More realistically though, the Dursleys didn't trust him enough to leave him home alone. Petunia had started to have suspicions that Harry could escape from his cupboard.)

This left him following quietly along to the zoo.

Harry trailed behind the Dursleys, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible.

He didn't particularly want to be associated with them, obnoxious-looking tourists even in their own country, but he knew that running off or disappearing on his own wouldn't end well for him later.

The muggle zoo was fascinating. Harry hadn't the opportunity to visit any sort of animal habitats since the dreaded and eventful night a year ago. Since then even the thought of seeing a collection of animals left him with a loud frantic pulse and a nauseating dizziness. Regardless, he couldn't find it in himself to admit that the assortment of fur and feathers interested him more than most everything.

Seeing real tigers without fangs or African gazelles lacking spines and extra horns was a surreal experience. Although most were lethargic in the midday heat, they each possessed a sort of mesmerizing beauty other people didn't seem to recognize.

He felt a deep seated fury bubbling up insideas Dudley and his friends continued to ponder the activity of hurling empty beverage containers or small rocks into the enclosures. His fingers clenched and unclenched when one boy actually hurled himself against the glass and thoroughly terrified one sleeping sea-lion.

The next step on the zoo tour was to visit the large imposing facility on the far side. It was embellished with decorative artificial jungle vines and large sandy boulders. The letters had been painted on in bright green: Reptile Den.

Entering the Reptile Den, Harry once more felt his heartbeat quicken. The air smelled stale in here, the humidity and filtered air of a carefully controlled climate. He stood in the middle of the hallways to avoid being too close to the lizards and staring crocodiles. The tank to his right featured an abnormally large turtle and a few dozen small fish.

He flinched when Dudley this time complained loudly and rudely about the waste of space each lizard was, evidently due to their inactivity. His voice bounced and distorted off the glass walls of the many tanks.

Harry twitched, already uncomfortable and tense from his rising anxiety and loathing for the blatant mistreatment his cousin displayed towards the creatures.

"Make it move!" Dudley complained loudly. He watched approvingly as Uncle Vernon huffed and rapped his cane sharply against the glass. The python behind the glass jolted back, eyes narrowing as it started to shake alarmed and confused.

Harry hated this. How could anyone care so little for a living thing?

Dudley cheered once a particularly loud whack stirred the snake into hissing and rearing. The action was entirely defensive, its tail whipped around wildly as its coils tightened protectively.

"Blasted thing," Vernon grunted, mustache twitching as the snake hid its head, "better use as a pair of shoes if I say so myself."

Harry's eyes widened. He shifted a little to watch the snake around his uncles girth. One of Dudley's friends, having been watching the crocodiles raced over to view the now active snake.

"Move it, freak!" Piers shouted, elbowing sharply into Harry's side and knocking him to the floor. He landed on sore elbows below a hot sandy showcase.

Pierce raced around Vernon before he clapped both hands harshly against the glass. It echoed, making the snake violently flinch and move for any sort of exit.

"Look at it squirm!" Piers laughed, clapping the glass again, "The ones at home don't squirm like that, do they Dudley?"

Harry grit his teeth and before his eyes, quite magically in fact, the boy leant forward and fell into the habitat.

Harry stared as Piers screamed, scrambling backwards as the mighty python rushed to freedom. Dudley screamed, jumping back against the wall as the snake hissed loudly.

Vernon belted something ugly while Aunt Petunia shrieked, clutching her purse to her chest.

"Oh, deserved." Harry heard, a snickering sound in a dialect just slightly off from English.

The python hurried, weaving between the concrete benches and decorative fake plants towards the exit, it hissed out a muffled yet distinct cry of "Goodbye!"

Harry watched the snake with a small smile, it seemed that the python triggered a chain reaction. Reptiles and similar snakes rose and jumped to attention. The reptile house was filled with the growing crescendo of rattlers and hisses and whispering voices.

Dudley and his friends ran, screaming at the glass enclosures which miraculously remained in tact. Vernongrabbed his wife and fled, with a muffled cry of, "no more of this freakish nonsense!"

Harry was left alone, in the growing din whispers while a few rattlesnakes prodded their glass walls curiously.

"Not open?" One whispered, muffled through the glass.

A coiled pit viper cackled something happily and danced on its synthetic plants. A large cobra flared it's hood and rambled out a series of words conveying its frustration.

"Not free? No sad, still funny." The voice behind him hissed again, humor in its tone. "Thank, magic hatchling."

"What?" Harry blurted, blinking and not feeling the specific accent that he'd had before. "What?" He repeated.

The snake pulled back, flickering it's tongue timidly "you speak?"

"Er, hello?" Harry offered, spotting it's dark scales and bright slit eyes, "How do you know it was me?"

The snake wavered, unsure yet interested. "You stay. They flee." The snake pulled out further and raised itself. It wasn't very big. "You magic, make things."

Harry nodded slightly. "I have magic. But most people don't know about it. How do you know?"

The snake paused, stiffening as if it was trying to comprehend the words, "I den with magic. Make prey make happy."

Harry frowned, "you were born with magic?" He struggled, not used to extended verbal interaction.

The snake slid further out onto a sandy rock, it looked at Harry enthusiastically, "den-mates magic. Humans, make prey."

Harry smiled a fraction and touched the glass, looking at the creature with slight awe. "I don't live with people that have magic. My family does- I mean did. I don't live with them anymore." Harry swallowed, "They're gone because it's not safe. But I don't think I'm safe here either."

"Hatchlings left. Den-mates left, alone too." The snake offered, ducking its head slowly, "Alone in box."

Harry frowned at the snake, "you lived with wizards? Was it dangerous?"

"No bite! No human prey." The snake flicked it's tongue wildly, "some human nice. Some cruel."

Harry nodded slowly, "some humans are cruel too. And some try but they just-" Harry ignored the lump in his throat "sometimes they have to leave you. Sometimes they don't care and sometimes they forget."

"Magic human sad."

"No, no I'm not-"

"Sad too." It quietly added.

Its scales were very small. A mixture of dark brown or black, its eyes were alert.

"Harry," the boy offered, "my name is Harry."

The snake flicked it's tongue, "magic child Harry. Den-mate Harry?" It mused, voice wavering with as much hope and hesitant longing as it could disguise.

"I-" Harry stumbled, shifting backwards and looking towards the entrance to the reptile house, "I can't-"

"Oh," it stated quietly, shifting down and curling around tightly. The action revealed just how small the snake really was, "I okay. Stay in box." It soothed.

Harry looked at it, wavering and watching as it crumpled into something mournfully sad. "I'm sorry."

"No. No sorry." The snake argued, "expected. No sorry. I have box."

Harry winced slightly and the snake seemed determined now to prove him wrong.

"Look, I-"

"I have box. Heat and cold prey sometimes. Space!" It urged, thrashing out its tail, narrowly avoiding the walls.

Harry swallowed and touched the glass once again. He was only partly speaking to the little snake now. "You're the first thing interested in talking to me. Normally it's my brother. Normally I'm the one saying it's okay..."

'But is it really?' That doubting little voice asked. 'Has it ever been okay?'

Harry's eyes narrowed and his hand curled into a sudden fist, heart hardening in resolve. "It doesn't matter because they don't care."

He eyed the snake through the glass, suddenly relaxing. He felt a sudden longing that was easy to place. He had something in common with this little snake. They'd both been abandoned by their families, cast aside like they were worthless.

Harry's insides twisted and he wasn't sure what exactly he was feeling.

He reached through the glass with the sensation of breaching water. The snake hissed in surprise, not opposing how gently Harry hoisted the serpent into the air. It wrapped its body around Harry's hand, coiling between his fingers for a more secure hold.

It twitched once traveling through the glass, tail thrashing in excitement as it flicked it's tongue quickly.

"You won't bite me, right?" Harry asked cautiously, lifting the eighteen inch snake closer to his face.

"No bite." The snake assured, "you help now I help."

"Help?" Harry echoed. Already he felt lighter. He'd found a kindred spirit. Someone who understood.

"Help," the snake confirmed firmly. "I help Harry."

Harry felt a genuine smile spread across his face. The glossy dark scales reflected the dim overhead lights.

"Are you dangerous?" Harry asked, rising from his knees and brushing off dirt with his unoccupied hand.

"Yes! Nasty bite! Humans careful. No bite humans unless Harry say bite," the snake offered. It sounded quite hopeful and seemed pleased with itself when Harry nodded.

"You have to stay quiet and you can't move," Harry explained carefully, "I can't have Petunia,Vernon, or Dudley know about you."

The snake stared and flicked it's tongue.

"Can you hide? Will you be cold?" Harry asked, growing worried with how he was going to smuggle out a snake.

"Winter." It stated simply and slowly started to climb up Harry's arm under his shirt and summer jacket. Harry flinched at the foreign touch, the snake seemed to slip a few times but after a few careful undulations it managed to nestle wrapped around his underarm and the top of his shoulder.

Harry stood wobbly and walked, carefully feeling for if the snake slid. It held, and Harry slid out of the exit doors, just as a group of zookeepers hurried by with special equipment that Harry guessed might be used to catch the runaway python.

Finding the Dursleys and friends were easy afterwards. Petunia was watching a zookeeper with hawk-like scrutiny. The zookeeper had been kneeling, talking to Dudley and his friends at eye level. Harry slipped around quietly and stood behind his uncle.

"-bout that? You can pick anything from the giftshop," Harry overheard the stressing zookeeper. He confirmed to the sniffing Dudley. The zookeeper rose, looking very apologetic. "I'm very sorry sir, I don't know how the enclosure was not secure."

Vernon sniffed and clicked his cane on the ground loudly, "you lot are lucky that ruddy cretin didn't bite my boy!" He thundered, pointing his cane at the quickly floundering zookeeper. "Sue! Sue we will! This bloody establishment should be shut down and all of those brutish creatures be put down!"

The zookeeper's expression quickly transformed into something of annoyance and masked irritation. When he spoke, his tone was clipped. "Sir. I am sorry that your experience was less than pleasant. Countless other guests have enjoyed our reptile exhibits and the various rare and endangered species on display-"

"Oh they better be endangered! I'd have them gone! Good to see others haven't lost their minds!" Vernon fumed, turning sharply and stomping loudly. "-and you!" Vernon fumed, finally having noticed Harry.

Petunia's eyes widened and she gave a little gasp. Harry shifted uncertain as her expression twisted into something ugly.

"Vernon." She crisply stated, grasping his arm sharply, "let's go."

Harry fidgeted.