Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter or profit from writing this in any way, shape, or form.
Harry Potter is the property of J. K. Rowling.
This is Fanfiction and, therefore, written only for my own amusement, and the enjoyment of whoever reads it.

Summary:
During a raid, Lucius Malfoy came across an intriguing child and brought the infant home.
Raised as a meager servant, little does anyone know how bright his future would be…

Anamorphosis

Chapter 4; 'Abecedarian'

ab·e·ce·da·ri·an

"A person who is learning the alphabet."

CHAPTER WARNING: The final segment of this chapter contains descriptions of past child abuse. If this is not something you are capable of reading, please
skip that portion for your own mental health and safety. It is marked clearly with an X. Thank you, and enjoy the new chapter

"The bird fly."

Harry sat in a chair in the large living room. Opposite him on another chair was a tall, blonde haired woman holding flashcards with moving pictures. Her eyes were narrowed down into slits every time Harry made a mistake.

Mrs. Niche had been hired by the Dark Lord to teach Harry proper English. She was older, greying streaks in her hair. Her nose was long and sharp, her lips thin and pinched. She looked quite frightening and unpleasant. She reminded him of Lady Malfoy, though she wasn't as cruel. The woman would show Harry the cards, and he would make a sentence, telling her what the picture was of and what it was doing.

She was incredibly strict.

"No, try again."

"The bird fly'd." Harry said, with just a hint of annoyance.

The card dropped to the floor to join the others he had done wrong, "No. The bird flew, or the bird flies. This is how proper English works, you must master your tenses. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, not really understanding, but not willing to tell the woman otherwise. The woman nodded with a terse smile before holding up another, similar card, "And this one?"

The card she held was of a man, shaking hands with another. Harry thought for a moment, "The men shake hands…?"

The woman looked from Harry to the card, twice, before nodding and smiling kindly at him for the first time, "Well done, young master," she acquiesced, ignoring Harry's grimace at his title, "Perhaps that should be all for today, you have been studying for three hours already."

Harry nodded once swiftly at his teacher, feeling instantly proud of himself. He wondered if the Dark Lord would be proud of his progress before dismissing the thought. His teacher gave him one last, small smile before tossing some powder in the fireplace, climbing in, shouting something loudly, and disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

Harry coughed as some of the power flew into his throat.

Dobby the house elf trudged through a dense forest, using his own magic to find his son. His ears flopped gallantly above his head as his already shredded flour-sack of a tunic sustained even more tears.

His large eyes darted back and forth as he finally came into a clearing of sorts, in front of a large mansion. The gate in front was tall and oppressive, along with the massive stone fence. Dobby swallowed thickly, but quickly resolved himself.

His Boy was inside there, and he would get him out. Dobby was taking his son home.

The loud whooshing noise from the fireplace alerted Harry that the Dark Lord had returned. He lept off the chair and placed the book in his hands where he had been sitting only moments before.

It was a simple book, very few words and explanatory pictures; nonetheless vital to Harry learning to read.

The tall man shook powder out of his hair with a grimace on his face, only proffering a small smile when he noticed Harry staring at him from behind a corner, "I have returned," he stated simply, then asked with his smile fading slightly, "Why are you hiding from me?"

Harry slowly moved from behind the wall, looking downwards and shifting on his feet, "Don't know, sir."

He had taken to simply not referring to himself at all lately, easily confused by the continuous 'me's and 'I's that peppered the speech of wizards, of people, not house elves.

The Dark Lord huffed in distaste and Harry winced at the sounds that followed, "Must you act so disgustingly servile all the time? You are a wizard, whether you like the fact or not, you will act like one."

The man left the room with a loud outtake of breath, tossing his overcoat onto the coat rack that hung by the fireplace. Harry knew what would happen next. Mrs. Niche always left progress reports on Harry's lessons, and today's had not gone very well at all, despite his getting one correct. He assured himself that since he was strictly not a house-elf anymore, that he would not be punished for something as silly as a poor lesson, but that nagging part of him told him to hide, to run, to fear the Dark Lord as he still did Lady Malfoy.

His feet padded on the floor as he followed the man into the large office. The walls were a dark, nearly sinister, accented with slight hints of silver. Harry made to move into the room, when a hissing snarl and a snap of thin teeth stopped him short.

The Dark Lord's familiar, a massive black snake called Nagini, lay on the office floor near the window, soaking up the dying rays of the sun. Harry always got the feeling that Nagini didn't like him at all; hated him, even.

Perhaps because he always smelled like the house-elves she chased about the house, no matter how many times rough soaps had been brushed against his skin during his many baths…

He turned his head sharply when he heard the Dark Lord's strange whisper words. The man's head never lifted from the papers before him as he said more. Harry always thought the words were strange, like a real language, with spider webs winding around the sounds, obscuring them…

So many times, Harry had wanted to interrupt, to ask what was being said. But he never had.

And so Harry stood nervously in the doorway, watching the serpent as she writhed lazily on the floor, warming herself. He didn't move until the Dark Lord did, raising his bloody eyes up from Mrs. Niche's notes, "According to your tutor, you managed to form a proper sentence today, Harry."

The man's face was blank, and Harry gave a small nod, head tilted downwards, looking up at the Dark Lord who sat still as a statue in his chair. Dropping the paper down onto the desk, the man leaned back and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards, "Well done, child," and Harry smiled thinly at the bare minimum of praise, and then, "However, you need to be able to speak eloquently on all occasions and a simple sentence is definitely not enough to merit mastery of the language."

Harry sighed and his shoulders slumped. A sharp, small pain in his shoulder made him look up again to see the Dark Lord's wand pointed at him. Understanding, he stood up straighter until the wand was placed back on the desk, "Perhaps you need a better teacher. I shall look into the matter later," he stood up and walked over to where Harry stood, "For now, go get ready for bed, child. Goodnight."

The man placed a hand on his head and brushed the strands back once, before turning back to his desk. Harry swallowed and silently replied, "G- goodnight, sir." before rushing away, up the stairs and into his room.

After he had changed into his night clothes, he laid down on his bed with a sigh. Being a wizard was difficult, and Master Malfoy had always made it seem so easy! But for Harry, there were manners to learn, words to know, politics to follow, and all sorts of wizard-things that made his head spin.

He yawned and curled up in the bed, watching the remnants of the sun finally fade away as he drifted off to sleep…

X

When Harry opened his eyes, it was to find himself locked inside his cupboard, covered in his old rags with harsh, clacking footsteps drawing closer. He jumped in place when the door was hit loudly, in quick repetition, and a shrieking voice followed, "Get out!" it wailed, "Get out of my house, I hate you, why are you here, get out!"

A whimper passed through his lips as he recognized the voice. Lady Malfoy was outside of his cabinet. Again. Master Malfoy was always away when these things happened, and Harry inhaled unsteady breaths. It wouldn't be long before she opened the door.

With a muffled shout, Harry woke up. His face was muffled into the white pillow beneath him. He breathed raggedly as he came to realize it was only a dream, a nightmare. His tiny fingers found purchase over his left shoulder, twitching lightly over the raised skin.

It had been his first punishment at the hands of the Lady of the manor. He had been much smaller, not to say that he had grown much since then, but he still remembered everything about that day.

The weather was what came foremost to his mind as the door was beaten harshly. Hot and sweltering, Harry had been uprooting weeds from the gardens, little snaps of his little fingers making them disappear. It had taken him hours to finish, and he had nearly collapsed several times. Magic always made him feel weaker; he was such a terrible excuse for a house elf.

He felt as though his skin was on fire, and he had wandered back into the manor through the servant's door. Harry had wondered if Master would allow him some cold water, and he made his way into the kitchen. But his Master wasn't at home that day…

As his bare feet tapped almost silently on the tiles, Harry glanced around the corner, making sure that the Lady and the Young Master were not in the room. Of course they were. The Young Master was seated at the counter, wide and dark and made of wood, hands propping up his chin as he spoke happily with the Lady.

The Young Master, whose name was Draco, but Harry was not to ever address him by name, swung his feet to and fro as he talked. Harry was taken aback by the doting, loving, positively adoring expression on Lady Malfoy's face. It was the way his father looked at him when they passed each other by in the halls as they cleaned, the way Master rarely glanced at him from time to time.

Nothing like that had ever been given to him by anyone else.

Harry had caught the Young Master's eye, and the boy ceased talking. The Young Master's mouth dropped and his bright eyes widened, and Harry had briefly thought that he looked kind of funny that way. But the sharp, angry gasp to his left diverted his attention quickly. He had looked over to see Lady Malfoy, her face contorted and tinged with red splotches. Her shoulders were puffed upward in an indignant fashion and her nostrils flared once, and only once, before she was on him.

She had grabbed him hard by the hair, and he had shrieked at the pain, tears welling up in his eyes as he was dragged away. He had dug his feet into the floor, but realized how much that made it hurt, Harry had let his body hang limp as he was pulled roughly away. The Lady yanked and tugged him down into the area of the manor designated for house elves. Harry spent very few of his nights there, curled up with the others when his cabinet got too cold, or the threadbare sheets within it disappeared. He missed being small.

Once they had reached the bottom of those unsteady steps, she had tossed him down onto the floor. Harry didn't move, he didn't want to. His head had hurt so much. But nothing had hurt more than what had come next.

He had heard a dainty huff behind him, and the shuffle of clothes before something hit him in the arm. It had felt like nothing for just a tiny fraction of a second, and then it was as if someone had tried to rip his arm off. He had screamed and thrashed, barely able to move from where he lay. He heard the whimpering of house elves hiding around him. Something hot and wet ran across his back, then down his torso to his stomach.

And then everything stopped. Harry had twitched on the floor one last time, and he had faintly heard the sound of small feet approaching him before small, thin fingers touched across his face. His vision had faded into blurs of color, but he could make out the shape of a house elf in front of him. It had smelled of his father, like chimney soot and earthy roots. Something lightly dripped beneath him, like an unsteady faucet.

"You will never look at my son again, you filthy little vermin."

He had heard clacking footsteps fading away, going back up into the main house, and he slumped into unconscious relief. But he had never looked at the Lady or the Young Master again...

With a shaky breath, Harry climbed out of the bed and stood alone in his room. The moonlight peered in at him from the window and he walked over to it. He looked down into the garden, seeing how different it was from Lord Malfoy's. He sniffled suddenly. He hadn't realized that he was crying, but now he felt the hot tears come pouring down his face.

Harry rubbed the sleeve of his night shirt across his eyes and nose before he turned around and went back to bed. The thought that chased him into a dreamless sleep was that he would never have to see Lady Malfoy again…

Author's Notes:

I... am so so sorry. I don't mean to hurt characters, it's just my default setting I think. Also, I apologize further for the lateness of this update.
I'd been trying for three days to upload it but our internet is atrocious.