Chapter 1

Harry was in the library. The book he picked for today was the first in its series, the story of an apprentice knight who longed to be a protector of the Queen. His inner mind was engrossed in the adventure. His outer mind was scanning his surroundings.

Even though Dudley and his gang tended to avoid the library, Harry had a feeling that after escaping their torment for so many lunches, the group was bound to catch him. He'd kept watch all lunch, as attentive on the entrance as he was on his book. He wasn't splitting his attention. If anything, it was like he had two attentions, each free to do as they wish.

Still, periodically, he'd lift his eyes to make sure he was still alone in his nook. Harry didn't want a repeat of the time when he was trying to steal a cookie from the pantry, focused on the way to the bedrooms upstairs only to get caught out by Aunt Petunia who'd been returning from a late lunch at a neighbour's. It was like he could only sense a limited range around him, but even then, it was extra security that allowed him to escape into the land of princesses and noble deeds.

The bell for the end of lunch rang, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. His cousin hadn't bothered him this time, but even as he returned the book to its place, Harry knew he'd had to find another spot to hide the next day. His cousin wasn't stupid, however poorly he did at class. Dudley simply didn't care about school work. What he did care about… well, Harry supposed it was recognition. Recognition he got mainly by picking on younger kids. And Harry.

"Are you sure you don't want to take a book home with you?" The librarian asked.

Harry looked up at her. The woman was young-ish, maybe Aunt Petunia's age but the smile she offered quickly shook that comparison away.

"No thanks," Harry said. "I can come back tomorrow."

He wasn't coming back tomorrow. Instead, he'd tell Rosie and Bailey and a handful of others of the cool new book he'd discovered in the library. They'd tell his cousin, or his cousin would shake it out of them, and then tomorrow lunch he'd hide out in the bathroom or the grassy bit behind the gym.

The rest of the day passed without a hitch, though Uncle Vernon was in a bit of a mood when he arrived back home. Harry quickly found his way to his cupboard before the man found an excuse to shout at him.

His cupboard was dark, the single light bulb broken for months. It didn't matter. He could feel every ridge of the wood panelling, was able to right without looking the toy soldier that had fallen from its place, and knew without a doubt that there were exactly twelve little spiders nesting in the cricks and the corners. He left the spiders alone, instead, settling back with his hands behind his head, and let both his attentions drift.

When he slept, it was with one eye open. Or so it felt. He was aware of his cupboard, the stillness of the house, but it was a vague awareness, as if he was seeing through woven glass. Not that it was sight.

Time passed differently. With the world so still, his body so still, with his outer mind best focused on the broad brush strokes instead of the minutiae, the eight hours he slept merged together until pink dawn dredged through the cracks of his cupboard door.

Harry woke with a groan. It was Saturday. Saturday meant no school. No school meant staying home. He lay around a little longer before getting up and starting breakfast.

Uncle Vernon came downstairs first, dressed in his striped night clothes, hair a mess. Harry placed a plate of eggs and bacon on the table as his uncle settled in, folding open the newspaper.

From upstairs, his cousin's voice, strangely excited, accompanied the thumping of the floor boards as Dudley ran down the stairs.

Another plate for the table. There was still plenty of food left in the pan. His Aunt Petunia wouldn't eat much, and neither did Harry, but both Vernon and Dudley would be due seconds.

"We're going on a walk today," Vernon said behind his newspaper.

The revelation didn't seem to surprise Aunt Petunia, though the Dursleys hadn't once 'gone for a walk' that Harry remembered.

"But I said I'd go over to Pierce's today," Dudley whined. "He got this new game I've been wanting to-"

"Quiet boy. We'll get you the game if you're good, but today we're going on a walk."

Harry tuned the discussion out as he cleared the plates, trying not to belay his giddiness. With the Dursleys gone for the day, he'd have the house all to himself.

That giddiness disappeared when Aunt Petunia shouted for him to hurry up and get in the car.

Harry, still with soap suds on his hands from the dishes, poked his head out the door. Sure enough, the Dursleys were waiting, Vernon impatiently waving his meaty fist at him.

"Come on boy, we haven't got all day."

Harry wiped his hands on his trousers, didn't even go back to get one of Dudley's cast-off jumpers before he ducked under Petunia's tight-lipped grimace and climbed into the car.

Dudley was on the phone for the entire ride, and Harry found himself more or less left alone to stare out the window. Little Winging drifted away into the expanse of farmland within an hour, then bush. A marker for a picnic area flew by on the side of the road, and there had been few other indicators of civilisation since. Vernon pulled off into a side road, gravel, which the car didn't seem to handle well, rolling onwards a little longer before stopping by wooden bench next to a rusted out husk of a bathroom.

"There was supposed to be a track somewhere here," Vernon mumbled, sticking his head out of the car window. "Boy, get out and see if you can spot it."

And then Harry knew exactly what was happening.

"Are you going to leave me here?" The words were faint. He hadn't even wanted to say them.

Aunt Petunia stayed silent in the front seat, though her flinch was more than telling.

"Boy-"

"You can't do that! There's laws against abandoning people in the woods. The police would get involved. You'd get into trouble!"

"Get out of the car boy, don't make me say it again."

Dudley was silent now, his face a blotchy pale of shock. Harry thought he should have been grinning, insufferable, but no.

"We saw them," Petunia said, her first words since leaving the house. "What you were doing."

Harry gaped. "What?"

"You were doing m- ma-. You were doing something to the spiders, to make them move. It was unnatural, just like her. I don't know what we expected." She shook her head. "No. You have to go. I'll not have this unnaturalness soiling my house, I'll not have you near my Dudley."

Harry shrunk back in his seat. She'd seen him? How? When? He knew there was something different about him, and that the Dursleys were creatures that hated that. He thought he'd kept his secrets secret.

"Just leave. There's a bag in the trunk. Go get it. Find somewhere else to live. Don't try to find us. We're moving away."

She shuddered, and that single act drove Harry to move. He was numb, his hands working without intention as he let himself out of the car. He let the door swing shut. Inside, Dudley's voice, for once timid, without reply from his parents.

As his Aunt said, there was a bag. Inside, some water, some bread. No money. The car shifted into reverse as he rifled through the bag. A spike of hate, only now rising at the thought that the Dursleys, even as they were going to abandon him in the woods, were too cheap to leave him with some money.

Momentarily blinded by the headlights, Harry made sure to twist his face in his best scowl. Was it his imagination or did their retreat speed up? He clenched the bag tight, shaking, wanting to throw it on the ground, but not foolish enough to abandon the scant help he'd been left.

His mouth was dry. Harry tried to slow his breathing, tried to keep his head clear. He'd read stories where people survived by themselves in the woods. But alone, already getting cold, and still in disbelief, the words didn't come to him. Both of his minds were in disarray.

He stood there for a little longer. Perhaps they were going to come back? Maybe this was all a trick, just to scare him into behaving. It was working that was for sure. Harry knew that if the Dursley's car appeared down that gravel road to retrieve him, he'd throw himself willingly into servitude.

But the Dursley didn't come back. No cars came. When the shadows grew longer, and Harry was full on shivering in his shirt, he took a deep breath and swung the bag onto his back.

First things first. He checked the bathroom. The thing stunk, but in an old, dried way that meant it wasn't often used. He sensed several insects who made the place home, a moth and a handful of other critters. He left them, not sure what use they'd be.

There was a metal sign attached to the door for emergency numbers, but no phone. He memorised the digits just in case. No toilet paper. He guess he couldn't just camp out here hoping for the station to be serviced.

That meant he was in a dilemma. Vernon had driven for quite a long time. Hours. Harry didn't know how fast he'd be able to walk, but he was sure he couldn't get to anywhere useful before the sun set. He bit his lip, turning to the trees.

There weren't anything too dangerous out there, right? He wasn't in Africa, or Australia. He had his secrets. He'd be somewhat aware when he slept, with his outer mind. And the other secret…

Already he could feel them. The forest was teeming with small minds. Insects, and bugs, in the ground, in the trees, and in the air. Minds that he could gather, maybe use to help him through the night.

Harry made a face. Maybe he'd be forced to eat them.

Then, with another glance down the gravel path, just checking, he set off to find a nice tree to take shelter in for the night.

That was easier said than done, with his short, ten year old limbs reaching short of even the lowest branch, Harry resigned himself to a small hollow in the roots. He drew out a handful of crawlers, centipedes and beetles and the like, set them around the perimeter. An altogether unimpressive guard, but it made him feel more secure as the sun set.

Harry hugged his bag close, trying to keep as much heat to his body as he could. Then, with his outer awareness buzzing, feeling the trunk, the leaves and branches at his feet, his insect helpers, and the distant croaking of frogs, Harry let his inner mind drift, and fall asleep.

His sleep was restless, hovering on the edge of waking, especially when an unexpected noise or visitor entered his space. A small, furry body, a raccoon, sniffed around the base of Harry's shelter before disappearing. A bird drifted down to peck at the roots.

It started to rain. What started as a thin drizzle that his outer mind ignored soon became thick, fat droplets that threatened to overcome the scant shelter of the tree roots. Harry shifted. Still tired, he kept his eyes closed as he used his senses to guide him through the forest, stepping over roots, ducking leaves and searched for a better spot to rest. The insects capable of braving the weather came with him, and he gathered several more. A timid defence, with small fangs and claws, but valuable nonetheless in higher numbers.

A large tree, fallen against an outcrop of land offered a more sturdy ledge against the rain. There, Harry leaned back, and allowed his body to settle back into sleep. All the while, some part of his attention remained, guarding, keeping his insects close.

That night, Harry felt more in-tune with his outer mind than ever. The feeling lasted until the next morning, when he was more aware of the dew glistening on the undergrowth than the crick in his neck. His mind was cast broader than usual, scouting the area rather than lingering on the sensations of his body.

It was only when the sun was high in the sky that he realised the foolishness in letting himself drift. The trees were thick around him. He hadn't remembered which way he came and everything looked the same.

He'd gotten out of the rain, alright, but now he was totally lost.

Harry looked around. He had a complete coterie of insects. Flies, moths, beetles, cockroaches, spiders. There were even a few frogs. He gathered them together, as easily as he'd close his fist, and the clumped up, never minding that there were predators and prey mixed in with the lot. Harry knew he could command the spiders in his cupboard, knew that it was strange, but only now, seeing how he formed a ball of insects did he realise how absolutely crazy it all was.

Maybe the Dursleys were right. They'd always said he was a freak. Maybe he deserved to be left out in the forest. Was he even human?

Harry sniffed, then shook his head. He relinquished control over his night-time guardians and turned away as in a frenzy, they dissipated to their own little nooks. But not before some had been eaten by others.

He needed to find his way back to the rusted old bathroom. With that single thought in mind, Harry started to walk. He retraced his steps as best as he could. At times, he thought he'd recognise a tree, or a strange shape of a rock. But as he walked, he felt the rising fear that maybe he'd never be able to find his way. Maybe he'd be stuck here, die here as the ants crawled over his body.

Would he be aware as he died, like he was aware when he slept?

That thought, haunting him through the day, urged him onwards. Onwards until the sun sank again, and he was still no better off than he had been that morning. Worse still, his stomach had been rumbling for hours.

Harry broke out the bread that the Dursleys had left him. It was dry, white, and entirely unfulfilling. He went through a quarter of the loaf before he could stop himself. Then, fed for the time, he found another spot for the night and resigned himself to once more gathering his insects and keeping guard.

It didn't rain this time, but as the second day dawned, Harry knew he had to find some way of feeding himself. The thought of eating insects remained with him. A last resort, he promised himself, if he couldn't find berries or fruit or something else he recognised.

At least, he thought, it was easier spotting berries with his outer awareness. As soon as he stepped within range, he'd become aware of them. It wasn't long before he came along a smattering of berry bushes, bearing clusters of small, black berries that he thought he recognised from the grocery shops.

The first bite told him his recollection was wrong. He spat the thing out, wiping bitter juices off his chin and hoped it wasn't poisonous. His second haul proved better. Strawberries he recognised, and the small handful he picked were tasteless but safe. Mushrooms he was more wary of. He knew the basics, to never touch the red ones, or the spotted ones, but was hesitant to risk it. Instead, late in the afternoon, he came across wild carrots, barely the length of his finger but decidedly non-poisonous. He ate three as he found them, brushing the soil off as well as he could, and kept some for the next day.

When night fell, he again gathered his insects. The ritual, almost a routine, provided some comfort to his situation. He'd managed alright today. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as he thought.

Of course, he was wrong. His outer awareness warned him just in time. The twitch of a tail, a hiss. Harry stumbled, just barely avoiding the snake, caught his balance and sidestepped-

He saw it, too late.

-onto the eggs.

"No! My babies!"

Harry took in a sharp breath. Without intending to, he summoned a handful of insects around him before extracting himself from the broken eggs. He banished them just as quick.

"Hello?" He scanned around, keeping some of his awareness on the snake, but searching the forest for the speaker. A woman? Was she lost too? "Hello? Please, I'm lost. Could you help me?"

"Get away. Get away from them. My babies. No, my babies."

The snake was poking around the egg shells. Harry glanced down at it. No, that was ridiculous.

He looked back up, trying again. "Hello? Is anyone there? I'm lost!"

"It's making such a noise. I should chase it away. Bite it. No, it's too big. Dangerous."

Harry gulped, looking down again at the snake. Maybe the berries he'd eaten were dangerous after all. Was he hallucinating?

"A speaking snake?" He asked himself.

No sooner had the words left his mouth, the snake stilled, head flicking towards him, tongue darting out.

"It speaks?"

There was no doubt about it now. The snake was talking. There was a talking snake.

"You killed my babies!"

An angry, talking snake!

"I'm- I'm sorry," Harry said. "I didn't mean to. I didn't want to step on you and… It was an accident, I swear."

He had a moment of disbelief, where his head spun at the thought of what was happening, before the moment passed and the snake replied.

"Didn't mean to? Accident? What are you going to do to make this right?"

The snake lifted its head and Harry took several steps back when its height reached his shin. It wasn't a big snake, maybe half a meter long, but he was ten and didn't have fangs of his own.

"I… I don't know. I don't have very much. I'm really, really sorry." A thought struck him. "Do you eat bugs? I could bring you lots of bugs."

"You think bugs will make up for my clutch? How dare-"

"Every day! I'll make sure you're never hungry again!"

The snake paused. It looked back at the broken eggs, then at Harry, who was cursing himself.

What was he doing? He could hardly take care of himself, let alone a snake?

"That… would be suitable repayment."

"Oh. Really? Uhh."

"Don't say you mean to go back on your word so soon."

"No! I mean, I'll do as I say. And I really am sorry about your eggs."

The snake shook her head. Her? Harry assumed it was a her, but now that he thought of it, the voice didn't carry much feminine inflection. It was just… snakeish. Strange he couldn't hear the slight hiss before. He didn't stray too long on questioning how exactly he was understanding the snake, or how the snake was understanding him. It was just another part of the strangeness of his life.

"They are no matter. What's lost is gone."

Harry nodded. There was sense in that. Practicality was especially valued in the wild, he thought. In return, he called up a trio of crickets who'd been hiding under some dried foliage and hopped them towards his new… companion?

The snake ducked its head, tongue flickering out.

"Strange." It sent a glance at Harry. "Perhaps it would be good to have you around, if you bring delicacies like these in troves."

With a snap, it snatched the closest cricket. Harry watched with stark fascination, slightly uncomfortable. While the connection between him and the insects he controlled usually ran one way, he thought he sensed a sort of primal terror for a fleeting second as the snake lunged. He shivered. It didn't seem fair, somehow, to force something to stay still as it was eaten.

But it was just a cricket, Harry reminded himself. He'd eaten meat from animals far more complex and intelligent than a cricket. Still, he was thankful the snake seemed satisfied with a single meal. He made sure the other two crickets were far away before he set them free.

"Do you have a name?" Harry asked. "And are you male or female?"

"I am female," the snake said, confirming Harry's suspicion. "And no, I have no name. And you? You speak, but are not snake. I cannot tell from your scent your sex."

"I'm human. A human boy. My name is Harry. And I suppose that means you don't usually talk to people?"

Great, Harry thought. So it wasn't the snake who was weird, it was him.

"I do not talk to many things. Perhaps if I had, more would talk back."

Harry shrugged. It wasn't like he was the resident expert on snake-talk. He squatted down, taking a closer look at the snake. She was brown, rather unremarkable but she blended in well with the forest floor. That was partly why he'd had so much trouble spotting her in the first place.

"I'm going to be moving around a lot," he said. "You could come with me if you like."

"That would be acceptable."

"Are you going to bite me?"

"Not if you continue on your repayment. More of those delicacies would not be amiss."

Harry sucked in his cheek before holding out a hand. "Alright then. You can ride in my pocket."

The snake climbed on, wrapping around his fingers with more confidence than he had. Harry raised his hand so they were eye-level.

"Do you mind if I name you?"

"What would be the point in that?"

Harry paused. "No real point, I guess, but I've got a name and it would feel strange if you didn't."

The snake made a sound comparable to a human scoff. "Such strange creatures you are. Strange but warm. If you feel the need to refer to me by a particular name, go ahead. I may or may not answer."

Harry snorted in amusement despite himself. "I'll ask you first, of course." It would be rude otherwise, calling people names they didn't want. "I'll give it some thought."

The snake bobbed her head away from Harry. He turned to follow her gaze.

"Can trees talk?"

"No, I don't think so," Harry said.

"You haven't tried, have you? How can you know if trees talk or not if you haven't tried? Hello tree."

Harry grinned, amused.

The offer for the snake to rest in his pocket went unrealised. She seemed more than comfortable around his wrist, going by her quiet murmuring about his warmth. The company, even when the snake was silent, was a strange feeling, and Harry found himself more relaxed than he had been in the last few days.

Walking on, he couldn't help but think that maybe the Dursleys had done him a favour. If nothing else came out of this whole mess, he'd have made a new companion, if not friend.

AN: Hello, this is my first story on this site. I hope it's not too confusing.

The inspiration for Harry's powers come from a web serial, Worm. It's a great read and has all sorts of really well thought out superpowers.

Anyway, Harry can control insects now, and has a second sense that extends around him in a short radius. It allows him to feel things but not really see. The idea was that a part of his mind is leaking out into the world. What this means will be explored more later.

Hopefully this first chap has been interesting. What should Harry call the snake? Requests will be considered! Anyway, if you enjoyed, please leave a review.

Thanks for reading!

L. Thatcher