Harry Potter: The Boy Loved by Beasts

Chapter 10: Yay! Food!

Vira: "So, how long are you gonna keep up with this nonsense? Start the next arc already, mate!"

Author: "Hmm, let's see... there are about seven or so chapters left—"

Vira: [interrupting] "You're kidding me. Seven? Nothing notable even happened while I was stuck in that house! Where are you even pulling content for these chapters? Don't tell me you're gonna describe how I slept and ate!"

Author: [grinning smugly] "Of course not! Relax, I'm just kidding. It starts in the next chapter."

Looking at the milk bottle sitting atop the dining table, Vira willed his tiny body to move toward it. But in his hunger and weakened state, he probably forgot just how fragile a child's body could be. He managed only four or five shaky steps before collapsing to the floor, unable to even reach the doorway of his room, let alone the kitchen table.

He cursed his weakness. I can't even walk five steps now... Of course, those "five steps" were based on his adult body's perception. For a child as young as him, the distance to the dining table was more like a marathon—a near-impossible hurdle. Most three-month-olds wouldn't even be expected to crawl that far. After all, children his age were meant to be cared for by their parents. Even orphans fared better, with caretakers tending to their every need.

But Vira wasn't completely helpless. He remembered his loyal friend, the serpent coiled nearby, slithering lazily across the floor. With a faint voice, he asked Viper to fetch the bottle for him. The snake agreed almost instantly, a flicker of determination in its movements as it slithered out of the room.

The journey wasn't easy, even for Viper. It slithered through the creaky blue wooden door and into the dark, muddy corridors that led to the kitchen. Upon entering, it was greeted by a stench so foul it even stunned a creature accustomed to the smell of rot. Hundreds of unwashed dishes piled near the faucet released a nauseating odor, and the open fridge door added an icy chill to the air, making the room feel both uninviting and grotesque.

Disgusted but undeterred, Viper pushed forward, driven by Vira's hunger and the helplessness radiating from him. The snake climbed the wooden table legs, carefully coiling its body around the milk bottle. With slow, deliberate movements, it gripped the bottle tightly and descended the table, ensuring it wouldn't drop it.

Finally, it slithered back the same way, bottle in tow, and returned to its beloved Vira. Gently, Viper placed the bottle before him, its small yet heroic mission complete.

By the time Viper returned with the milk bottle, Vira had somehow forced his tiny body into a sitting position. It wasn't much of an improvement—he looked almost the same as before, except now he was upright instead of sprawled across the ground. His posture was wobbly, as if he could tip over at any moment, but he managed to hold himself steady enough.

As soon as Viper placed the bottle before him, hunger and impatience overtook Vira. Without much thought, he grabbed the milk bottle and tried to open the lid himself. But the sharp metal edge of the tin cap proved too much for his baby-soft skin. As he struggled with it, the lid slipped and nicked his finger, causing a small bead of blood to form.

Irritated by the injury and already on edge from his gnawing hunger, Vira winced, sucking on his injured finger to ease the sting. His irritation was clear, but instead of letting his frustration take over, he forced himself to calm down. It's just a scratch... he thought, as he tried to reassure himself. The act of sucking his finger also served a practical purpose—his saliva might help close the wound and stop any further bleeding.

Once he felt steady again, he turned his attention back to Viper, who watched him closely. "Hey, Viper," he said, his voice laced with exhaustion, "do you think you can open this for me?"

The snake, as if understanding his words and sensing his urgency, slithered closer to the bottle, ready to assist once more.

Unfortunately, when Viper coiled its neck around the lid and tried to loosen it, nothing happened. The lid refused to budge. Undeterred, the serpent attempted another approach—it clamped its jaws over the entire lid and bit down, trying to yank it off. But instead of popping open, the metal cap only deformed slightly, tightening further against the bottle.

Vira, noticing the change in the lid, became hopeful. "It's working! Do it again!" he urged, his impatience growing as hunger gnawed at him.

Obedient as ever, Viper tried again. And again. Each attempt was more forceful than the last, the sharp edges of the lid digging into its mouth. Still, the snake refused to stop. Even when the inside of its mouth began to sting and bleed slightly, Viper pushed on, determined to help its friend and relieve his suffering.

But as time passed and the lid remained sealed, Vira's initial hope faded. Frustration bubbled to the surface, fueled by his empty stomach and the sight of his companion struggling in vain. "Just stop," he muttered weakly, his tone sharper than he intended.

The serpent, though reluctant, released its grip. Its tired, bleeding mouth hung open slightly as it slithered back, watching Vira anxiously.

The serpent, ever faithful, picked up the bottle, slithered back up the crib, and dropped it from the top with deliberate care.

Fortunately for Vira, the bottle was far less durable than its lid. It shattered upon impact with the floor, spilling milk in all directions. Even more fortunate was that the bottle had landed away from the pile of clothes cushioning the carpet—if it hadn't, Vira might have been forced to waste what little energy he had squeezing milk out of fabric, a task that felt impossible in his weakened state.

As his eyes locked onto the spilled milk pooling on the ground, a flicker of hope reignited in him. He hurriedly pushed his frail body forward, driven by desperation. But as he planted his palms on the floor, sharp pain from his earlier injury jolted through him, forcing him to slow down.

That pain served as a critical reminder: any reckless movement could have dire consequences. If he wasn't careful, shards of glass could pierce his fragile arms or legs, and the resulting blood loss might endanger him even more. Vira gritted his teeth and carefully inched his way toward the milk, impatient yet cautious.

Carefully avoiding the sharp, shattered glass, Vira leaned down and began licking the milk off the floor. The dirty taste of the floor mixed with the sweetness of the milk, but hunger overpowered any sense of disgust. He continued this for a while, lapping up as much as he could, until only a small puddle remained.

He paused then—not out of consideration for his serpent friend, but with a grim, desperate logic. If that drunken trash of a man didn't return, Vira would need every ounce of energy he could muster to survive. He hoped the remaining milk would give him the strength to crawl outside for help tomorrow.

Vira glanced at Viper, who rested nearby. From the rat's carcass earlier, he knew his companion could fend for itself, hunting and surviving on its own. But for him, this spilled milk—dirty and mixed with dust—was the only sustenance he had.

After drinking most of it, Vira dragged his weak body back to the base of the crib. He looked up at its towering height and immediately dismissed the idea of climbing back in. He knew better than to risk it.

Instead, he gathered the scattered clothes around him, piling them into a makeshift bed. Exhaustion and hunger weighed heavily on him, and as he lay on the floor, he allowed himself to drift into an uneasy sleep, hoping the next day would bring some sliver of hope.