Ok, I am such a terrible person! I kept telling myself to update, but I always put it off. I'm sorry. I know I am totally mean to you guys, but it won't happen again, I promise. (I lie, most likely)

raider09: Thank you so much! You don't know how great that makes me feel. This is the first piece of positive feedback that I've seen in a while.

DarkNaruto002: Thanks! You think a lot like I do, actually. I also wish that Rowling had developed that specific connection as well- it would have been more dramatic. As for your question, you'll just have to wait and see! ;D

crassreine: Thank you for telling me I had a typo. And that I forgot the Disclaimer. :)

Thank you to all that reviewed! If I didn't mention you above, that just means that I didn't have a comment. Sorry to disappoint.

Disclaimer: I don't own.

P.S. Harry is now 11...

Harry woke with a jolt, sitting straight up in bed and sweating profusely. He'd had the same nightmare every night since he could remember. His dreams always involved his mother dying, a horrid, tragic death. True, he didn't know it was his mother, but he knew she loved him. Getting up, Harry quickly got dressed and wandered out to the garden. He knew he wasn't supposed to be in the garden so early, but he didn't particularly care what the matron of the orphanage did anymore.

Harry sat down in the bushes surrounding the brick wall and started to sob. He always did after those dreams. If she hadn't have died, he wouldn't be in this place. If she hadn't have died, he would be warm and safe, not cold and hungry. It was all her fault he was in this predicament. Just as he was about to get up and go inside, he heard a voice.

"Ooh, little human came out to play."

Harry jumped up and pressed his back completely to the wall. The voice sounded again, but this time it was closer.

"Lookie, lookie, little human's afraid!" Laughter echoed around his feet and he looked down cautiously. There, under the same bush he was just a moment ago, was a two foot long, green and black snake. He slowly knelt down and looked straight at the snake.

"Hello, there," he said, feeling stupid. "My name is Harry."

The snake gasped, and slithered a little closer.

"You Speak? Well, sir, I am most sorry. It will not happen again, sir," the snake hissed, bowing slightly to the small child.

"It's alright. Tell me your name."

The snake looked apprehensive for a slight moment before responding.

"Salazar. My name is Salazar."

Harry blinked, confused by the obscene name.

"Salazar? What type of name is Salazar?"

The snake looked offended, but bowed again and spoke.

"My name has been passed down from generation to generation. It comes from the Great Speaker himself…." Salazar trailed off, glancing behind Harry.

When he turned around it was not the matron, as he expected. Instead, it was the largest bully in the orphanage, Hester. Hester disliked Harry with a passion, to the point where it was almost hatred. Unlike Harry, Hester was tall, burly, and looked muck like an ape on steroids.

"Oi, look," He said to his gang, "'Arry's got 'imself a job, now 'innit he?"

The rest of the group looked at him with varying looks of stupidity. Harry just sat there, Salazar had slithered off.

"He's a bloody snake charmer, he is."

Hester's gang laughed, catching the joke on the tail.

"Shut up! I am not!" Screamed Harry automatically.

"Ooh, look at this, wee Pottah' can ev'n defend 'imself, can' he?" The larger boys chuckled evilly. Harry's eyes widened and he looked for a possible escape route, but there was none. While Hester had been talking, his cronies had been baking him into a corner.

Just then, the matron, Mrs. Winklevosch started across the lawn, carrying a small parchment in her hand.

"Potter!" she snapped. Hester's cronies immediately backed off and took shelter inside the orphanage.

Harry replied by tilting his head to the side, knowing that if he talked to her, he might get beaten for 'disrespecting an elder'.

"This came for you; I just wanted you to see it before I burnt it." The 'motherly' matron sneered quite viciously.

Harry reacted quite violently, leaping for the letter in the old hag's hand, his strike as swift as a viper's. But for as quick as he was, and considering the age of the atrocious woman, she lifted it from his reach, and stormed back into the home, but not before saying something that should not have caught him off guard.

"Nasty little brats do not deserve to receive mail, let alone from a private school for freaks like you."

Harry sat in shock, tears welling up in his eyes, as Hester quietly and graciously opened the door to the five-story building. Shooting a large grin behind the fat old lady, he shut the door, and locked it.

Harry sighed, and wished that every day could be as great as this one. He hadn't even gotten hit by the crow! And considering the mood she was in, she would be hitting her store of whisky, and hitting it hard.

The only reason Harry knew about the store in her wardrobe was because of one day, five years ago…

Harry had gone to ask Mrs. Winklevosch a question late at night, most likely about why he was there. He could not, for the life of him, remember. The one thing he did know was that the old crow had been drinking; he could smell it on her breath as she towered over him and yelled at him to get out of her quarters. He had never gone back into that room, unless it was to clean it, which he did not do often, as the hag did not trust him with what she kept in her room. Of course, he thought bitterly, maybe I wouldn't be so untrustworthy if she treated me like an actual human being. His musings ended there, as he could feel a pair of cold, dark eyes on him. Turning slowly, he caught the figure of a tall dark man, hiding in the shadows, watching him carefully.

Slowly backing away, he froze suddenly, and then took off at a dash for the ladder which got him access to his room. Quickly flying up it, Harry disappeared into the window. When he peeked out of his door, he found a message tacked onto his door.

'The letter has been burned. Be warned that if anymore freakish letters come, boy, they will be delt with in the same way.'

Harry quietly closed his door, sliding to the floor. Clutching the note hopelessly to his chest, he could not help but think that his only way out of this miserable place had been ripped, burned and thrown into the wind before his very eyes. He sobbed twice before hearing, with his extraordinary hearing, a man walk up to the door and knock; three slow and steady times.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Then dead silence.

OMFG! Who is this mysterious stranger whom is stalking Harry, and why have you not killed me yet? *trembles, hiding behind Voldemort*

I am terribly sorry to all of those that had/have high interest in this story, and I have to say that I just recently re-joined with my muse. It is quite inspiring. I already have most of the story planned out just from listening to the song (Through the Glass by Stone Sour) fifty-two times. Yup! I AM OFFICIALLY BACK! WHEEEEEEW!

Oh, and should anyone be awesome enough to leave me a little review, I will give them their own one-shot of choice. Of course, it might not be out at the exact moment you review, but I will complete this story and give out occasional freebies!

Lots of Love;
Your faithfully unfaithful servant;
Kati