I do not own Harry Potter- if I did, he would have figured out Dumbledore, shook off the expectations of the WW, and lived a comfortable life somewhere with lots of sun.

Summary: Harry starts to wonder if there is anything he can do to keep from having to go back to the Dursleys. He is pretty much open to anything.

Harry left Dumbledore's office, wondering just what it was about him that made fate hate him so much. Christmas was coming, and he was happy at the idea of spending his first Christmas away from his own personal hell. He had gone to the Headmaster in an attempt to maybe sign up for the summer, and he was told that things just couldn't be that bad at the Dursleys, after all, they were family. How could any ward be strong enough to protect him when it was obvious he wasn't wanted? He just didn't understand such stupid magic. Up until now, magic was the most wonderful thing in the world.

In frustration, he snarled at a painting of a snake wrapped around a pretentious looking man. "The only good thing about magic is that you portraits actually move. I hate the rest." He took a deep breath and sighed, hoping to make it back to the tower before curfew since he had wandered down an abandoned corridor in his frustration.

"Child, speak again to me. What makes you so distressed you would blame magic?" The man in the painting looked genuinely curious, so Harry answered him.

"I live with muggles that hate me and magic, and I asked the Headmaster, who is supposed to be my magical guardian, if I could stay here at the castle this summer instead of returning to their home. He gave me a sob story about how things can't be that bad for me, and to try and get along since they are family." Harry was gesturing wildly and didn't notice how his magic was starting to stir the air around him. "How can I get along with someone who hates my very existence?" He glared at the portrait, unable to stop the pain in his heart. He wanted to belong, maybe even loved. A family of his own; oh, how he longed for it.

The portrait saw the longing, felt the magic, and knew he was looking at the next generation's most powerful wizard. He knew Hogwarts' inside out, had seen and tasted the magic of all of the first years, and without a doubt this boy was going to be something. And to think, he had actually wanted to explore a different corridor in the dungeons, but his magic had pulled him here do he had come and waited. Magic never disappoints and must feel as if it needs to mend the rift between it and the boy.

" I may be a nobody, but even the muggleborn here are wanted at home. That's all I want, you know? Why can't I at least stay someplace where I won't be a slave, and get to eat? What is so wrong with me that the Headmaster feels I need to be punished in such a way?" Harry didn't notice the look of shock of the face of the man, he was busy brushing the few tears that managed to sneak out away as fast as possible. Tears made you a target after all.

"Thank you for listening. I need to go. Please don't tell anyone, OK?" Harry looked up from the floor with hope at the painting, pleading with his eyes to spare him the embarrassment he imagined at the hands of others if this conversation got around. Hermione did say he had puppy-dog eyes, so he tried to look pitiful as well as hopeful.

Harry had no way of knowing that he was talking to a portrait of Salazar Slytherin himself, and it was obvious he had no idea he was talking in parseltongue to someone who knew what that meant. It was also obvious to Salazar that this boy somehow belonged to him, he could feel the connection, and he wasn't about to lose him. "Of course, you can count on me. Listen to me closely now, what I am about to tell you is very important." He had Harry's undivided attention. "We are talking to each other in a language only understood by snakes or others of my line. You, little serpent, are a parselmouth and should not be in the muggle world for any reason. Tell no one of your ability unless I say to, it is considered dark and you will become a pariah. I will help you find a place to stay in the magical world in exchange for you doing the absolute best in all your classes you possibly can. Do me proud, and you will be amazed at what I will do for. Deal?"

Harry watched the man in the portrait with amazement. This was a nothing more than a painting, yet was willing to help him find a real home? His answer was yes. It couldn't be anything else. "Yes! Oh God, Yes!"

"Run along then. I will meet you tomorrow after dinner in the right hand corridor from the Fat Lady."

Harry wasted no time heading to his dorm, so he missed the satisfied grin steal slowly over the face of Salazar. He knew the story of Harry Potter, and he hadn't missed the lightening bolt scar. What on earth was the Headmaster doing, some sort of experiment on his heirs? Enough. He would snatch this one out from under the very nose of a manipulative old man. Did the child have no funds? No extended family elsewhere? Every pureblood family had relations around the proverbial corner. Time and enough to find someone who saw the value of having the 'boy-who-lived' in their family. By the time this year was over, Salazar promised himself, Harry Potter would be out of Dumdore's hands, and into his where he belonged. After all, no one plays politics like a Slytherin.