Harry Potter: The Boy Loved by Beasts

Chapter 4: Annoying world!!!

The author's voice sounded, filled with desire to mock. "What's up with you, Vira? Looking all sentimental like that. If you're trying to impress someone, let me tell you, it's pointless. That woman of yours? Way too crazy to be impressed by this kind of thing. And the animals? Please, they're already obsessed with you!"

Vira, clearly fed up by all this, screamed, "Shut up!"

The author froze for a moment, startled by the sudden outburst. Then, He did what he did best and switched the topic as if it was natural course of conversation.

"Alright, alright, no need to yell! Let's just start now, shall we?"

It was a snake, one that, for some reason, seemed obsessed with getting close to the child—or more specifically, the child who would soon be named Vira.

The serpent's presence wasn't new. It hadn't appeared when Caroline received Andrew's frantic call about the child, nor during her theatrically staged "hero helping distressed beauty" scene. No, it had been there much earlier, from the moment Caroline arrived at Andrew's doorstep to deliver Vira.

But you need not to dwell on that, as its presence only became known when Caroline finally saw it.

Yes, it was the same serpent she had seemingly scared off.

Its scales, with a reddish hue, shimmered like the sky at sunset—if not for the dark, twisting patterns coursing across its entire body. Its tail carried a faint greenish tone, blending almost seamlessly with the shadows of the earth. But its eyes were what truly demanded attention. Red like its scales, with vertical pupils that swam like predatory shadows, they left no doubt about its venomous nature.

The snake, after drilling its way into the house through a hole in the decayed wall, had never left Vira's side. Not when Caroline placed him in his crib—it was there, lurking in the shadows. Even when Caroline returned to take Vira to the doctor, the serpent followed, hidden by the darkness of the night.

It was there when Andrew raged under the shadows of the car seat. It remained unseen during the silent and chilly atmosphere of the car throughout the entire journey. And now, even under the bright lights of the clinic, it slithered unnoticed.

Somehow, the nurse and everyone else missed it as it silently crept onto the bed where Vira had been placed. Even Caroline, her eyes closed as she lay resting, remained oblivious to the creature's presence.

A snake—a venomous one at that—would be terrifying on its own. But one staring intently at a small child, its tongue flicking through the air, would have been enough to spook the soul out of Andrew, a 6-foot-tall grown man. Even the 50-year-old doctor, a man who could confidently say he had seen enough of the world, would have felt a shiver of unease.

But in the ward, this wasn't the strangest thing….

At least not to me, with my near-omniscient view, or to you, the readers, who know this world through my perspective.

The strangest thing wasn't the snake—it was the child itself, unnoticed by the Muggles, even by magicians who held power beyond ordinary comprehension.

There was a soul present, one that did not belong here, not in this era, perhaps not even in this world, and absolutely not in the body of this child.

If there was one who could peer inside the body and see the soul, they would find that within the child—who any man, or even a ten-year-old, could lift with one hand without struggle—lay a soul that simply didn't belong.

The soul appeared as an older man, perhaps 45 or even 50, though it was difficult to distinguish just by looking. The bright, shining light it emitted was overwhelming to those who could see it, while those who couldn't remained oblivious. To them, the child appeared weak, struggling even to open its eyelids.

No matter what, one thing was clear: the soul did not belong to the body. It was unmistakably out of place, and its presence seemed to be fading. Whether it was shrinking to fit into the vessel or simply dissipating into the wind, it was impossible to tell, but its light was undeniably dimming.

The child, lying on the clinic's white bed, still struggled to open his eyes. The soft white blanket covered him, but even under its warmth, his tiny body seemed weighed down by something far beyond his age, his eyelids fluttering with effort, as if the world around him was an immense challenge to process.

When he finally managed to open his eyes, he regretted it—or rather, the one in charge of the body did.

The yellowish light from the bulb was blinding, and to a child's heightened senses, it was like staring directly at the sun. It wasn't just the brightness, but the pain that came with it.

The bulb's light striking his eyes was agony—pain beyond what his young mind could comprehend. To describe it, it felt like hundreds of tiny needles, sharp and thin, pricking his sensitive cornea, each one irritating with excruciating force.

The pain was overwhelming, but even worse was the sensation in his body. His small frame felt weak, like he couldn't hold himself up. His right arm burned as if there was a hole in it, with thousands of ants crawling under his skin, biting and stinging from the inside.

When he finally managed to calm down, or perhaps started getting used to the pain, his first response—or rather, the question on his mind—wasn't the typical "Where am I?" or "Who am I?" Instead, it was a confusion that struck deeper: Why didn't I scream?

Normally, even the slightest pain would send him into a fit of cries. Whether it was his toe stubbing the edge of a table or burning his tongue on a hot drink, his instinct was always to scream.

But now, despite the agony coursing through his body, he remained silent. The lack of that usual release baffled him.

Why didn't he scream?

It would have helped, at least a little, to ease the pain.

But his confusion remained unanswered.

After which, He tried to turn his head to see the source of the strange sensation in his right arm, the feeling of having a hole in his arms and countless ants crawling beneath his skin. But no matter how much effort he put into it, his head refused to tilt. For some unknown reason, it simply wouldn't move.

However, as the light began to feel less painful and his mind calmed, he finally remembered the last time he experienced such a sensation. It was when he was twelve years old. Back then, his knees had suddenly stopped moving, completely stiffened. His parents, alarmed, took him to the hospital. The doctor gave him a needle, with a bag of liquid hanging on a stand, connected to it.

With that in mind, he started to question if he had been in an accident. He searched through his memories, trying to recall what had happened. Did he get hit by a car? Or perhaps some punk had smashed his head with a pipe?

The way his head refused to turn made him feel like his neck had been broken. And his body's weakness and unresponsiveness made him feel like he went in coma for years.

As time passed, his thoughts on the matter seemed to fade away, unlike how he normally reacted. He also started to reminisce about his past, something he hadn't done much—or even once—in his entire 46 years of life.

He recalled the time he was punished for not submitting his homework for the first time and had to stand outside the classroom. He remembered running away from school with a friend, feeling scared when his legs didn't seem to work, and how they suddenly got better when his dad jokingly said he would have to hang salt bags on his legs if he didn't improve in a few days.

These thoughts made him question whether the hunger was making him go insane. He felt more irritated by his lips, which refused to open for some reason.

Irritation continued to rise as he reminisced about the past, but most notably, his heightened senses—his sense of touch, sight, and, most annoyingly, hunger.