Harry Potter and the Bite of the Serpent

Special thanks go out to my beta reader Cheryl, you rule!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The only things I own are the plot, any characters, spells etc that you do not recognize.

Author Notes: First chapter of a new series, hope you enjoy.

CHAPTER ONE Rice cakes & Rumbles

The warm clear night granted the full glistening moon access to the dark candlelit room. The stonewalls shining onto the dark wooden floorboards. A tall man stepped into the room, his silhouette sharpening as he stepped further into the light. He whipped a silky red nightgown around his body and pulled a scarlet nightcap onto his thick black hair.

The man perched himself on the edge of his four-poster bed pulled the covers over him and picked up a thick book from his dark wood bedside table. He tugged the curtain around his bed and opened the book to where the piece of parchment lay and began reading.

Five minutes or so passed and the man froze when he heard a slight pop echo in the room. He shifted his eyes from left to right quickly and attempted to shrug off whatever the noise had been. He continued reading before he heard another noise this time a light clumping. He snapped the book closed and placed it down on the covers beside him. He then opened the curtain a crack and his eyes widened in horror before a blinding flash of green light blazed the room and then the man saw no more.

*

“Potter!” Harry snapped bolt upright in his bed his Uncle’s bellows were enough to wake up the whole street. Harry had only a matter of seconds ago been reliving the death of his Godfather, Sirius Black, the event that had plagued him every night for the entire summer. “Potter!”

“Coming,” groaned Harry dragging himself out of bed. He opened up the curtains the sun was shining brightly causing him to close them as quickly as he had opened them. It was definitely too early for that sort of light. He moved out of his bedroom that felt more like a cage and walked across the landing and down the stairs into the kitchen. Where his Uncle Vernon, thick moustache twitching, Aunt Petunia, nose high and Cousin Dudley, stomach rumbling were seated around the kitchen table, three suitcases were stacked next to the table.

On the table before Uncle Vernon laid the remains of bacon and eggs, as did Petunia’s, while Dudley prodded his spoon at a half eaten bowl of Fruit ‘n’ Fibre. Dudley was still being forced to diet and it had worked a little, although Dudley still resembled a warthog from Harry’s point of view.

Uncle Vernon pushed off his chair and walked over to Harry waving a finger in his direction. “Now listen here boy, we will only be gone for one week and I don’t want any of your lot here and if you attempt any sort of funny business Mrs Figg will inform us immediately. She’ll be watching you from across the road.”

Harry rolled his eyes and nodded. “Okay,” he mumbled, knowing none of this would matter because Mrs Figg knew all about the wizarding world anyway.

Vernon shot Harry a suspicious look before continuing. “Now, before we can begin our journey we need you to fetch some rice cakes for Dudley. You can get them at the newsagents.” Harry sighed and nodded before making his way back up the stairs to change. “And try speaking when I talk to you!” Vernon yelled from the kitchen.

Five minutes later Harry descended the stairs and nipped quickly out of the front door not wanting to fall into any more conversations with the Dursleys than necessary. He wandered along the quiet hot streets of Little Whinging his thoughts drifting to his deceased Godfather and his best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They had sent him a few owls over the summer but he hadn’t responded. He wanted to keep himself rather than offload his problems onto other people.

*

Harry returned to Privet Drive about forty minutes later. He stepped into the kitchen and dropped the rice cakes on the dining table before beginning his exit.

“Hold it right there boy!” ordered Vernon. Harry unwillingly stopped in place and turned to face his Uncle who had one hand on his waist and the other aiming at Harry, one sausage-like finger lingering in mid-air as he stepped ever closer until Harry found himself wedged between his Uncle’s bulging belly and the dull wallpaper. “When we’re gone, I want none of your lot here none of those Wazley’s or that convict you call a Godfather.”

Harry gritted his teeth and looked as calm as possible while nodding. “We want no more letters, especially talking ones, and no more bloody owls! And if you even begin to threaten us with that insignificant convict again I’ll see he is sent back to the slammer and given the treatment he bloody well deserves!”

Harry felt a sudden rage of anger burning on his insides and the next thing he knew his fist had connected with the tip of his Uncle’s jaw and Uncle Vernon was lying on the ground at the feet of an open-mouthed Dudley and a shocked Petunia who held a hand over her mouth. “Don’t you ever talk about Sirius like that again you bastard!” Harry yelled no longer caring what anybody thought of him. “I hate you. I hate all of you it makes me sick to my stomach to even think that I can be associated with venom like you!”

Harry turned on his heels sharply, strutted down the hallway and out of the front door slamming the door as he left. He carried on storming away to the end of the drive and into the road when he heard a loud bang. He turned to see Hedwig’s cage rolling towards him and his trunk in pursuit. “And don’t ever bloody well come back!” Vernon yelled clutching his nose. However, Harry didn’t care anymore, he didn’t care if they had thrown him out, he didn’t care about the ‘contract,’ if Voldemort wanted a fight then he could have a fight. After last year’s events who is to say he was safe at Privet Drive anyway? “Bullshit,” Harry said aloud grabbing Hedwig’s cage and moving quickly in a rage down Little Whinging with Hedwig soaring above. Harry didn’t look back once at Privet Drive insisting to himself that he would never see the damn place again.

Dusk fell, as a slight chill began to develop, the wind grew slightly stronger and the night began to close in. A few spots of rain sounded on the ground of the derelict roads. Harry had walked for over six hours and had no idea where he was as he approached yet another long and seemingly endless road. His legs felt as though they were going to collapse at any second, as if they had only been running on adrenaline for the past hours. Harry moved further forward, however, as the path seemed never ending he eyed a few street lamps in the distance. As he now had a target the thought of a drink running solely through his mind, his legs continued working themselves.

Harry had considered flagging down The Knight Bus but at the minute he wasn’t in the mood to put up with neither Ernie nor his continuous questions. Harry sat down on Hedwig’s cage for a moment as the beautiful owl landed softly on his shoulder. She nibbled lovingly on his forefinger as he held it up for her to perch on and brought her down before his eyes. “You go to The Burrow, okay? Ron will look after you for now. I’d attach a note but I haven’t got any parchment.” Hedwig chirped and with one last nibble at his finger, took off into the sky. Harry watched her move smoothly through the air and stood up again and continued onward, leaving the cage behind. It was only slowing him down.

The streetlamps became clearer and clearer as Harry took one step after another. Before the streetlamps became crystal clear he found himself opposite a large thatched roof pub with two large, pointed, black street lamps on either side of the entrance surrounded by a lush green trailing plant. However, it was silent. Harry found the atmosphere somewhat eerie. He walked past the presumably empty pub and stopped quickly when he heard footsteps. He peered around the corner of the pub onto a cobbled street where he could see a frail woman running down the street two men following her both howling with laughter. Harry spotted a glass bottle in one of the man’s hands.

Harry shuddered slightly as he saw the woman trip and fall to the ground causing another round of laughs from the men. Harry was now flinching with anger. He couldn’t see the woman because she was wearing a red coat with the hood pulled over her head to block out the strengthening rain. One of the men grabbed the woman by her left arm and dragged her to her feet and then pushed her against the wall of some rundown toilets. Harry moved a little further forward attempting to get a closer look when he felt himself stumble over a loose brick on the ground. The two men seemed to have heard and they began approaching where the sound had come from.

Harry’s natural instinct was to hide, but then he thought of how the Dursleys had treated him and sympathised with the woman. He glanced once more in her direction. She was stood frozen in shock. “Run,” he mumbled to himself, “Why doesn’t she run?” As the men got closer to Harry he scooped up the brick and crept quietly behind the pub. In a tight squeeze opposite a fence he turned his head to the right the rain now dripping from his nose. He caught a glimpse of one man’s shadow. He darted quickly out of the gap and cracked the brick over the man’s head sending him tumbling to the ground a few specks of dark red blood sprinkled on the ground and Harry’s fingers.

Harry looked around frantically for the other man when he suddenly heard a clicking sound and felt a cold metal on the back of his head. “Don’t move a muscle,” the man growled pointing his gun directly at the back of Harry’s head. Harry gulped hard. Now what Potter? Playing hero again, what do you do when you get a life-ending weapon in the back of your head? Panic? No, pray for some luck to be on your side. Harry heard footsteps again and the next thing he heard one ‘whack’ and the man was kneeling down clutching the back of his leg with the woman, still blocked by shadow, standing behind him. Harry felt a strange sense of safety and warmth with her was nearby. Brushing his thoughts aside, Harry whipped up the gun and swiped it over the man’s head sending him to the ground joining his friend.

Despite the feeling of safety, Harry had grown to trust no one and he thrusted the gun in the woman’s direction. “Who are you?” he demanded seriously. The woman held up a shaking hand and stepped out of the shadows revealing her soft brown eyes glowing beneath the shadows of her soaked hood rain dripping down in front of her face.

Harry dropped the gun to the ground the clunk deafening in the silent streets and took a step closer to the woman. “Hermione?” he said softly peering into her eyes once more. He peeled the hood back over her head and noticed instantly that her eyes were drenched with tears. Her face was soft and she moved forward into his arms and began sobbing uncontrollably. Harry did the only thing he could in his current state of shock and disbelief he wrapped his arms around her and held onto his friend tightly.