Disclaimer: My first ever fanfiction, and it's not mine twice over! :P Harry Potter's world, plot and characters belong to JK Rowlings. And the inspiration for this fic, "Abschlussrede" (Graduation Speech), was written by Puh-Schell. I own nothing and make no money with this.

Warnings: Unforgivables, attempted suicide, mind rape, mental abuse, torture, several apparent character deaths... HP/DM Slash (Note: explicit scenes will only be available on adult-fanfiction org.). Dark Lords that are incapable of staying Dark. Peculiar mix of angst and silliness.

A/N: Translation of my German fic "Schlangengrube", written some 8 years ago... Old one, and has some minor logic issues, chapter length varies wildly, and so on. I still think it's fun, though. Hope you'll agree. ^^

Please note: This is based on "Abschlussrede", if you haven't read that yet, I strongly advise you to do so now. :P

Snake Pit

An answer to Puh-Schell's challenge to continue her Graduation Speech

by Dime

Chapter 1: Number 4, Privet Drive

So where do we begin
And what else can we say?
When the lines are all drawn
What should we do today?

-Fates Warning, A pleasant shade of grey

"…and then that swollen-headed division manager had the gall to tell me -" Vernon Dursley was interrupted mid-phrase by the sound of the door bell. He frowned. Who might have any business with them at 7 pm on a Friday night? It couldn't be Dudley, he'd gone to Amsterdam for the weekend with his friend Piers Polkiss.

While Petunia got up and went to open the door, Vernon pensively lowered the digit he had been wildly waving around during his tale the better to express his outrage at the afore-mentioned division manager. He still could not understand that they had promoted Leech and not him.

Darkly pondering the unfairness of life, the large man sat at the table - until a scream from his wife nearly made him fall from his stool in shock.

"YOU?! What do you want? You no longer have any business here! Get you gone, or I will call the -"

Petunia Dursley broke off abruptly. Vernon, who had finally managed to get up and follow her into the hall, saw that her lips kept moving; but no longer was there any sound.

"The police, you meant to say?" a cold, derisive voice could be heard. Petunia retreated, white-faced, thus opening Vernon's view on the door. "But that really isn't nice of you at all, dearest aunt."

Vernon's eyes widened in fear when he recognized the man stepping through his door.

Harry Potter.

No longer the browbeaten little boy who had lived in their house for so many years, in front of Vernon now stood a grown man, a dangerous wizard, whose voice attested to his deep hatred and whose eyes held a dangerous power, a sense of barely-restrained vengefulness glowering in their depth.

Vernon Dursley pulled himself together, this was still his ill-bred nephew.

"Boy, what do you think you're doing, coming back here? As I remember, you personally told us a year ago that you would never darken our doorstep again. So what do you want?" Vernon said in what he hoped was a firm and intimidating voice.

The man in front of him was not impressed.

"I had, in fact, only said that my days of living here were over; but I never explicitly ruled out a quick visit for old times' sake. Uncle" - he looked down his nose at his relative - "Aunt" - his gaze wandered toward the long-necked woman leaning pale and trembling against the wall, "will you not welcome me and my friends into your home?"

It was only now that Vernon became aware of two more wizards standing behind his nephew, a muscular blond and a tall man looming dark and dangerously.

"I will not," Vernon wanted to say. But even as he opened his mouth to utter his indignant denial, he suddenly wondered why he would want to do that. It would be much nicer to bid the gentlemen to come inside, no reason to make a fuss, was there? He had failed to notice the man's tiny hand gesture, as well as the mumbled Imperio.

A short time later, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape were sitting at the Dursleys' kitchen table, drinking tea. In one corner of the room, they had deposited what looked alarmingly like an unconscious - or dead! Petunia thought with dismay - person.

Vernon could not for the life of him understand how they had gotten into his home. He certainly wouldn't have let this rabble in! His wife was a little better informed than he was for she had been privileged to witness him doing just that.

At the moment, though, Petunia was fully occupied with watching the dark-haired man with the menacing air sat opposite her at the table who was exuding coldness even as he brought a steaming cup of Earl Grey to his thin lips. The man was pale; his dark hair and black robe completed the picture and gave his face a nearly bloodless look. And maybe it is, Petunia thought, shocked.

Her sister had once upon a time enjoyed torturing Petunia with tales of the many magical creatures that actually existed, and given a then eleven-year-old girl nightmares by promising that it wasn't entirely implausible for such a dark magical creature to one day find its way into her room while she was innocently sleeping in her bed. A vampire, for example... Petunia concentrated hard on watching the man sitting opposite her so as not to miss the crucial moment when the time came to jump up and high-tail it.

"Well, as you may be able to imagine, dear uncle, dear aunt," Harry spoke up once more, "my visit here is not for the sole purpose of maintaining social bonds - which, as you never failed to assure me, can be considered non-existent in our case..." As Harry went on, his relatives seemed to shrink in their seats. They sensed that they would not get away scot-free.

"You better believe that I feel sorely tempted to show my gratitude right here and now for the love and care you have provided me with all my life." The pale wizard's face twisted in a wolfish grin, while Harry Potter still looked down on his relatives with impassive, cold eyes. "And trust me, I would, were there not others I hate even more and who deserve to feel my vengeance first."

Vernon was confused. Others? He knew that the ungrateful brat had not appreciated the strict upbringing they bestowed upon him; yet he had always thought that the boy was spoiled rotten at his blasted wizarding school. According to Petunia, the boy was something of a hero for those freaks. Why would he hate them?

Petunia's thoughts seemed to go in a similar direction. "Are you talking about... you-know-who?" she asked fearfully.

Harry barked a short laugh. "Voldemort?"

Petunia flinched.

"No, I already took care of him last year. He's not going to cause me trouble ever again. I am more powerful than him. In fact, many are saying" - he leaned closer across the table, bringing his face up close to his aunt's so she could see the manic gleam in his eyes - "that I am the new Dark Lord. And you know what?" Petunia gulped. She stared at her nephew, stricken with fear, as he withdrew and casually leaned back in his chair once again. "They are right."

Vernon didn't understand any of this. "New Dark Lord? What is that supposed to mean? I thought this Wall-de-Mart or what-have-you was so powerful that all wizards were deadly afraid of him?" Vernon was visibly baffled; he never even noticed that he had just used the word "wizards".

Meanwhile, Harry seemed greatly amused by his bewilderment. He already suspected the reason for his uncle's difficulty in grasping that Harry had taken the place of the most powerful and evil wizard of the century. But he wanted to hear it from his uncle's own mouth. Thus he only lifted an eyebrow in a gesture strikingly reminiscent of Snape and tilted his head a little. "Yes, Voldemort was too powerful to be vanquished even by the strongest wizards of the Light. So?"

Vernon did not spot the mocking tone. "Well, so it is impossible that you should have defeated him and taken his place. After all, you've been a doormat all of your life who could never be a match for our Dudley -" He broke off, startled, as the blond young man next to Harry uttered a furious growl.

"Harry, a doormat? The nerve of that Muggle!" He had half risen from his chair and was reaching for his wand. But Harry put a hand on his arm and said: "Calm, Draco." Petunia watched with amazement as the imposing young man meekly returned to his place.

"You know," her nephew now mused out loud, "they really couldn't have known any better. They know next to nothing about my yearly conflict with Voldemort, have only seen me do magic without a wand, if at all - and you know that I still lack perfect control of my wandless ability - and, last but not least, I was never allowed to stand up to them.

"The ministry already sent me a reprimand just for Dobby using a simple hovering charm in this house. What do you think would have happened if I had tackled my relatives with a Stupefy or maybe, later, a well-motivated Cruciatus?" At the last words, he had casually drawn his own wand and was now lightly turning it around in his hands.

Draco grinned. "It's a good thing you don't need to give a fig about the ministry any more."

Petunia decided that the time had come to take to her heels and run for her life, for her nephew had obviously abandoned all restraint and was here to take revenge - and different from her husband, she was perfectly aware of how much reason for it he had. With a scream, she jumped up, her stool crashing to the floor behind her, and high-tailed it to the door.

She didn't make it five steps.

"Stupefy!"

"Immobilus!"

"Pedes Aquae!"

All three wizards had simultaneously raised their wands and uttered spells to stop her, with varying degrees of indifference colouring their voices. The bony woman had frozen the moment her legs turned to water and refused to carry her; the Immobilus had prevented her from crashing to the floor. So there she now hovered in front of the door, hand still extended towards the handle.

"An interesting combination," Harry said while making Petunia float back over to the table with a wave of his wand. "Release your curses," he said, cancelling his Immobilus.

Petunia collapsed helplessly.

Harry frowned. "Draco, the water-legs curse as well!" he ordered.

The blond teenager grinned at him insolently. "Sorry, must have slipped my mind." The older wizard next to him snorted, while Harry smirked at the nonchalant answer.

Vernon Dursley sat in his spot feeling thoroughly intimidated and did not even dare to get up and lend his wife a hand as she struggled back to her feet.

"Please have a seat, dearest aunt," Harry addressed her again. "If you have an urgent appointment, you will have to give your excuses tomorrow for you are going to miss it. You had to participate in an important meeting."

A pale Petunia stared at him. "Tomorrow? But you are going to kill us!"

Her nephew shook his head in a mockery of sorrow. "I am saddened by how little you listen to me. Where did I go wrong?" he asked his two friends with contrived perplexity.

His question was met with amusement. The older one answered with a dark, silky voice: "Well, Mr. Potter, you know how I tend to call inattentive students to order. If you would leave your uncle and aunt to me for a moment...?"

Harry seemed to seriously consider the offer for a long moment before refusing, this time with true regret. "Severus, much as I'd love to, I have to decline. If you intimidate them too much, they won't be able to grasp what I need them to do." His eyes swept over the lifeless body lying on the floor in one of the kitchen's corners.

Again, Petunia wondered if the person was still alive. Not much was visible of his face, since a few red strands of hair nearly completely covered it; but he did not seem much older than her nephew. Her attention was quickly pulled back to Harry as he once more addressed her directly.

"Aunt Petunia. As I already said at the beginning, I did not come here today to take revenge for all the wrongs you have done me over the years. I could even accuse you in a regular court of law and would probably win." Petunia felt her husband trembling next to her - she could not tell if it was with suppressed anger or fear.

"No, I hardly feel the desire for vengeance against you any more - at least you were always honest in your hatred of me. I never had reason for false hope. You did not pretend any affection towards me, nor did you expect any.

"At school, it was different. The friends I made there regularly abandoned me, turned their backs on me on a whim or due to the influence of a rather jaundiced newspaper. When it would have mattered most, they usually weren't there for me. And from them, I had expected loyalty and real affection. It was a dark hour for me when I realized that I could not trust anyone at all."

"HEY!" the blond interjected indignantly.

Harry's look at him bordered on fondness. "That was before I understood that you were not my enemy, Draco. Back then, you were still Malfoy to me." The other seemed mollified and Harry continued.

"One thing they never understood at school was my withdrawn, introverted nature, which I blame entirely on you, dear aunt. Every wizard knew the story of the heroic Harry Potter and his defeat of the Dark Lord - the first defeat. The general opinion was that I had grown up as a venerated hero, pampered and spoiled; surely, as a child I'd had my every wish anticipated and been spoiled six ways from Sunday. Isn't that right, Draco?"

Said man had the grace to blush.

"Severus?"

The older man did not sheepishly lower his eyes, but returned Harry's look expressionlessly. Then his mouth twisted in the cold smirk his students had all learned to fear. "Does the golden boy of Gryffindor object?" he asked smugly.

Harry's only reply was a barking laugh. Then he turned back to his aunt. "I thought some of my so-called friends" - another look at the miserable pile in the corner - "would profit from some first-hand experience with just how much I've been spoiled growing up."

The two wizards next to him looked at each other with dawning realization. Apparently, Harry had not informed them of his plans beforehand.

Harry got up and walked over to the lifeless figure in the corner. "Enervate."

Petunia could not quite suppress a relieved sigh when the figure began to move and slowly, as though in pain, raised its head. So the man was not dead, thank God.

"Allow me to introduce you," Harry said. "This is Ronald Weasley, my former best friend and a pureblood wizard." At the last words, he had firmly looked at Vernon and seemed to rejoice in the disgust he found in his eyes. "I know you cannot abide wizards; still, I must ask you to let this one live with you for a few weeks."

That was a bit much for Vernon. Throwing caution to the wind, he snapped at his nephew: "Why should we do as asinine a thing as that?!"

The wizard with the lightening-bolt scar just seemed to have waited for this question. "I've always wanted to do this," he whispered to his friends. "Crucio."

Vernon and Petunia Dursley screamed, she in shock and he in pain. The two other wizards had now gotten up, as well, and stood by watching with evil smirks as Harry's uncle thrashed on the floor, screaming.

But after just a few seconds, Harry lowered his wand. "Oh, I don't know if I'm really cut out to be a Dark Lord, Draco! I always wanted to pay my uncle back for all the beatings, the humiliation, the slave labour... but now I'm not really enjoying it. It's dull." A somewhat whiny tone had crept into his voice.

In front of the thoroughly shocked Petunia, Draco pulled the previously oh-so very terrible-looking Harry Potter into an embrace and whispered: "My silly Gryffindor. No matter if the Hat wanted to put you in Slytherin way back when - it is not just Dumbledore that made you a Gryffindor. You really do have too big a heart."

The sweetly affectionate scene was broken by a derisive snort. It came from the young wizard on the floor who had by now succeeded in sitting up and returning to consciousness little by little. "A big heart, him? Don't make me laugh!"

Four sets of eyes abruptly turned towards the young wizard; none of them looked friendly. He gulped. This was not good at all...

A/N: Please remember to feed the author, reviews make me translate faster. :P - Dime