Chapter Text
Professor Snape, his new Head of House, slapped down the schedule of classes down in front of Harry instead of handing it to him the way he had with every other Slytherin, and then turned and stalked away. Harry blinked after him.
“He smelled angry,” Salash said helpfully.
“Oh. Well, I don’t know why.”
“Do you have to do that at the table?”
Harry glanced at the girl who had spoken. She had introduced herself as Millicent Bulstrode, as if that should mean something to him, and had sulked a little when Harry had just nodded and introduced himself. She looked strong enough to beat him up like Dudley.
But Harry reminded himself that he had Parseltongue and magic and lots of other things, and just said mildly, “Yes. It’s the only language that Salash can speak, and if she talks to me, it would be rude not to talk back.”
“Well, it’s putting me off my food.”
“Sorry,” Harry said, and pointedly turned his head so that he could talk to Salash without facing Bulstrode or “putting her off” anymore. Bulstrode sniffed loudly but didn’t say anything else. “I don’t understand some of these people.”
“I don’t understand many of them. They do not have the courtesy to speak our language.”
Harry half-smiled, his hand resting on her eyeridge for a moment. “That’s not really what I meant. Just that they seem to complain and get upset about minor things.”
“That was also the humans you lived with before this. Humans are like that. Not you,” Salash added a moment later, apparently thinking about it. “But most.”
Harry laughed.
“What is she talking about?”
Harry smiled at Blaise Zabini, who had chosen to sit next to Harry, at least partially because it meant he could slip pieces of his sausage to Salash. “She’s just talking about how people are the same everywhere. Short-tempered and rude, mostly.”
“That’s wrong,” Bulstrode said, because she apparently had decided to listen despite wanting to eat. “We’re different from Muggles. Purebloods are inherently more graceful and well-mannered.”
Harry blinked at her, waiting for the moment when she laughed, but Bulstrode seemed to honestly believe it. She stared back at Harry with some hostility. Harry blinked again and then said, “Well, Salash disagrees.”
“And you would take the word of a snake over mine?”
“Why not? I know her, and I don’t know you.”
That made Blaise laugh quietly, joined by Theo Nott. Harry glanced sideways at Theo as he gave one more piece of his own sausage to Salash. Theo was a lot quieter than Blaise or Draco, and Harry had the feeling that he could be more dangerous if he wanted to use Harry, too.
But for right now, Theo just smiled and said, “I think what Bulstrode means is that she’s not used to the words of someone who’s not human being considered over a human’s words.”
“Well, why not? There are lots of people who aren’t human in the magical world, right? I saw the goblins at Gringotts when I went to Diagon Alley, and I read in some of my books about giants and centaurs. It would depend on who you know, right?”
His corner of the Slytherin table went oddly quiet. A girl Harry had barely met the night before, but whose name he remembered was Pansy Parkinson, just shook her head. “Those aren’t people, Potter. They’re beasts.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s their classification by the Ministry.” Parkinson folded her napkin in her lap with neat movements Aunt Petunia would probably have approved of, which made Harry more disposed to dislike her. “You don’t have to know all the intricacies of the laws to know that they don’t matter as much as humans.”
“That’s not true, Pansy. Some of them are beings.”
Parkinson turned to gape at Draco, although Harry didn’t know why. Harry himself just nodded. “They’re beings, and I’ll talk to them if I want. And consider their words and whether they matter or not depending on the context and how well I know them.”
“That’s wise of you, Potter.”
Harry turned to the one girl he hadn’t been introduced to last night beyond her name. This was Daphne Greengrass, leaning her head on her hand as she looked at him. She had blonde hair twisted so tightly up on her head that Harry thought it must be painful for her, and bright blue eyes.
“Thanks, Greengrass. Do you have beings or beasts or other non-human people you trust or listen to?”
Greengrass smiled oddly. “I certainly do. The gargoyle who guards my family treasury at home is wiser in the ways of honor and of thieves than any human I know.”
Harry nodded, although he experienced a little wave of wistfulness that he didn’t have a family home with gargoyles or something.
Well. Maybe he could look for it. Why not? He hadn’t known about the magical world or his family vault or that he could speak Parseltongue before he went to Diagon Alley, either. Maybe there were more things around that had to do with his family that he just needed to discover.
“You seem calm,” Theo said abruptly.
Harry turned to look at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve now faced hostility from two of your Housemates and your Head of House.” Theo nodded to the professors’ table. Harry looked. Professor Snape had sat down and was scowling at Harry again. “But you aren’t upset by it. I would have thought that perhaps you would be.” His eyes, as green as Harry’s, glittered oddly.
“Oh.” Harry picked up and ate a scone while he thought about it. He couldn’t ignore the fact that Blaise and Theo and Draco were all leaning forwards to hear his answer. Maybe Greengrass, too, although she was so still it was hard to tell.
“I’ve faced hostility before,” Harry finally decided to say. “I mean, from Voldemort if nothing else—”
“Must you say his name?”
“I thought you weren’t listening, Bulstrode. And anyway, yeah, I didn’t grow up with the fear of it because I grew up in the Muggle world. If it really bothers you, I’ll try not to say it, but ask like an adult instead of a sulky child.”
Bulstrode stared at him with her mouth a little open. So did Parkinson. Theo had an odd expression on his face.
“Why would you grow up in the Muggle world?” Parkinson asked, sounding as if she were picking the words up with tongs.
“That’s where my relatives are.” Harry shrugged as he saw some of the older students starting to stand and file out of the Great Hall. “Don’t we have to get ready for class? It seems like they are.”
“Firsties, this way!”
At least some of the Slytherin perfects seemed ready to escort them. Harry snatched his schedule and his bag, made sure that Salash was still wrapped firmly around his wrist, and started following the rest of his House.
“Will you let me feed her things at lunch, too?” Blaise asked, trotting beside Harry.
Harry laughed. “If she’s hungry then. Will you be hungry at lunch, Salash?”
“It depends on the quality of the food.”
It was nice to tell Blaise about that, too, and see him smiling with his whole face. Harry got the impression that Blaise didn’t have a lot of chances to smile.
*
Theo trailed Harry Potter, his eyes flickering back and forth between the snake and Potter’s face. Potter laughed at something Blaise had said, and Quick Strike hissed, “You are much happier here than you were at home.”
Theo managed, he thought, to arrange his face suitably. It wouldn’t do to let anyone suspect he could understand Parseltongue. His family had hidden their lamia heritage for generations, and Potter would of course want to do the same. He hadn’t had any choice about revealing his Parseltongue, but everyone would think his green eyes were just a result of his mother’s eyes.
Theo suffered a moment of doubt, then. Had Lily Potter been part lamia, too? It seemed impossible, but Theo knew well that his Ancestors had chosen who they mingled their blood with. Magical humans were either chosen or had no say.
“This way!”
One of the prefects was pointing up a set of stairs that apparently led to the Transfiguration classroom. Theo shook his head and rearranged his thoughts, hurrying along. He was to draw no attention to himself, Father had emphasized—not that Theo was ever supposed to. But this time, it was important because someone who paid attention to Theo for being late or not getting good marks might pay attention for other reasons.
Theo was not going to give them the chance to end his Ancestors’’ bloodline.
*
Minerva had to admit that Harry Potter was perfectly charming. Even if he talked and sometimes seemed to argue with the snake curled around his arm, he also answered questions promptly and did his best to work on the notes that she had put up for them to copy down.
And he showed no fear of Draco Malfoy or Theodore Nott, the sons of Death Eaters both, or Blaise Zabini, the notorious Black Widow’s son.
Minerva sighed a little as she glided around the classroom, stopping to assist both Hufflepuffs and Slytherins with minor questions. Yes, she should be glad for that. Harry might not be in her House, but he had a Gryffindor’s open temperament and kind heart.
She had thought it ridiculous when the Hat had Sorted him, and had seriously wondered whether the old thing was past its usefulness or sanity after so many generations of children. But if she looked at Harry and noticed other things about him than the snake on his arm, she had to admit that it wasn’t such a bad choice. It might even be a House Harry could thrive in.
And if it is not, then I will do my best to lobby Albus for his re-Sorting to Gryffindor. Hat or no Hat.
*
“Well? What do you have to report?”
Marcus Flint lowered his head in front of Severus and stood there silently for a moment. Severus controlled the temptation to lash out. Flint was one of the more valuable spies he had in Slytherin, simply because no one would think him smart enough to be a spy, but the various mental disciplines that he used to appear stupid required some time to relax.
After the moment had passed, Flint lifted his head and smiled at Severus. “I think he’s an innocent other than his ability to talk to snakes, Professor Snape. He hasn’t even hinted that he’s aware of most people’s political allegiances. He hasn’t attempted to manipulate anyone. He answers questions openly and doesn’t seek to hide the fact that he was raised in the Muggle world.” Flint sneered. “He would be eaten alive if not for his fame and his Parseltongue.”
Severus nodded slowly and leaned back on his desk. They were in his office, and the soft bubbling of potions in cauldrons that could be left alone to brew for some time calmed him. “Very well. Return to the common room and continue your spying. Come to me when you have something to report.”
“Yes, sir.” Flint turned away. Even as he moved, Severus could tell that he was reinstalling his modified Occlumency walls that kept certain memories and parts of his mind at bay while allowing him to use his senses. By the time he walked out of the office, he was already slouching again.
Severus closed his eyes tightly, wondering what this portended.
Well, the Dark Lord is subtle. It would be like him to get others on his side, to think of Potter as nothing more than an innocent schoolboy, until he encounters some circumstances where revealing who he is will earn him more.
Severus gave a low, irritated hiss of breath. Until that set of circumstances happened, he had no evidence to take to Albus.
Then again, did he need evidence to take to Albus? The minute he was sure enough, he could write a letter to the man that he could leave on his desk sealed in a crystal which would only open to Albus’s touch. He would have no more need of his office or books, because he would kill the stain on Lily’s memory and the Unbreakable Vow he had sworn would kill him.
Severus might have been able to get around it by telling himself that he had sworn that vow to protect Harry Potter and there was no Harry Potter, only the Dark Lord’s human puppet. But he was less and less interested in doing so.
He was interested in avenging Lily. Little had given his life meaning. She still did.
She will thank me for avenging her son, as well, when I see her again.
*
“It’s too bad that we can’t take Care of Magical Creatures until our third year.”
Blaise gave Harry a tempered smile. He had just expressed the same opinion himself a few days ago, and now Harry was saying it, staring wistfully down at the book in front of him which had a color, moving picture of a thestral. Maybe it was Harry’s real opinion.
Maybe he was just expressing himself that way to endear himself to Blaise.
It wasn’t something Blaise really wanted to think, but his mother had taught him to beware people who wanted something from him. And while on the train Blaise had thought Harry was more or less a complete innocent who just wanted to make friends, now he had to wonder.
Harry had effortlessly put Bulstrode and Parkinson in their places. He rolled his eyes at the blood purity nonsense from the upper-years and always managed to redirect the conversation. He had outright laughed when someone had called his mother a Mudblood and said he preferred not to sully his mouth with such language, because Salash would scold him.
Salash.
Blaise’s eyes went to the snake, currently raising her head from Harry’s wrist to hiss something at him. Harry looked back down and hissed back with eyes as bright as hers were.
Merlin, Blaise wished she were his. He wished he could understand Parseltongue.
“Did you want to hold her?”
Blaise started and lifted his eyes to Harry’s face. Harry was smiling at him, and Salash was wriggling to the end of his arm as if prepared to make her way across the library table to Blaise right then.
“I—what?”
Harry laughed a little. “Why do you look so startled? You’ve held her before.”
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
Salash had actually left Harry’s arm and slithered across the table to him. Blaise picked her up, smiling helplessly. It was still possible that Harry had noted his fondness for the snake and was using that to manipulate Blaise, Blaise told himself sternly. No one could be as innocent as Harry was projecting himself to be and also Sorted into Slytherin, not really.
But Merlin, he loved animals.
“But nothing,” Blaise said, and let Salash curl around his wrist and use her tongue to scent what were apparently different smells flowing above his side of the table. She tried to explain it to Harry, who tried to explain it to Blaise, but the explanation got rather lost in the intricacies of the language.
Here, with Harry laughing and his eyes bright and wide open as he smiled at Blaise, it was hard to believe that this was all a plot to use Blaise or get at his mother through him. Still, Blaise couldn’t completely discard the possibility.
But he could let it slumber as Harry embarked on another explanation, this time of how Salash’s eyesight was different from a human’s.
If I’m really able to trust him and let him get close…
It would be wonderful.
*
“Hey, Hagrid!”
Rubeus slowly poked his head out of his hut. He knew the voice, of course he knew that voice and would never forget it, but he had been so sure that the little tyke would never come visit his hut after the Sorting.
But no, there were Harry and Salash, standing in front of Rubeus’s hut and waving as though they came to visit him every day.
Put the kettle on! I have to put the kettle on!
Rubeus waved back, shouted, “Jus’ a minute, Harry!” and shut the door as Fang exploded into barking. Hastily, he reached out, snagged the kettle, carefully removed the young bat who had been using it as a shelter and put him into a glass, filled the kettle with water from the indoor pump, hung the kettle over the fire, found another glass for the bat because he wanted to use the one he’d put the little thing in for tea, and plumped a glass and a cup down on the table.
Were they clean enough? Probably good enough, Rubeus thought. He would drink from the glass the little bat had been in himself. He knew people got funny about odd things like that, being close to creatures.
“Come in, come in, Harry and Salash!” Rubeus called, flinging his door back open. He half-thought Harry would be gone, but Harry smiled and walked right in. Rubeus had to fight not to stare at the sight of a guest in his little place. He hadn’t ever had one other than Dumbledore (great man, Dumbledore) and sometimes Magorian. “Sit down, sit down!”
Harry sat on a stool in front of the fire and held out his arm so Salash could get warm. “How are you, Hagrid?”
“Been jus’ fine,” Hagrid said automatically, and then reached for the kettle as it whistled. The water boiled fast above the fire, thanks to a little enchantment Professor Dumbledore had put on the hearth. “Tea, coming right up!”
He thought he made the tea right. The leaves were in the cup with the water, at least. Harry took the cup and held it in his hands and let it warm. He even took a rock cake when Hagrid offered it and slipped it into his pocket “for later.”
The snake hissed. Hagrid flinched before he could stop himself.
Harry looked up at him with the kind of big eyes that his dad used to use when he was trying to get himself out of trouble, but on Harry, it just looked sad. “You still don’t like Parseltongue, do you, Hagrid?” he asked.
Hagrid took a long breath. On the one hand, this was Harry, cute little Harry, who Hagrid had held in his arms when he was a baby and played with at an Order meeting just a few days before the Potters went into hiding. And the toddler he had dropped off at the Dursleys’ house.
On the other hand, Parseltongue had been You-Know-Who’s first language. Professor Dumbledore had shared that little fact with him one evening when they were drinking by the fire, and Hagrid had been proud that such a great man trusted him so much.
On the other hand, there was the little snake, as cute as could be, also looking up at him.
Hagrid finally sighed and sat down, picking up his glass and sipping his tea. You could barely taste the bat. “I don’t like it much,” he admitted. “But I don’t have to speak it. And who could hate such a cute little snake?” He smiled at Salash, who wriggled her tail with excitement.
Well, Hagrid thought it was excitement. He didn’t know as much about snakes as he did about other little creatures. But he could learn.
“I don’t hate you, Harry,” he said. “Or Salash. I could never hate you.” And that was true, even if Parseltongue was Harry’s first language, too. Hagrid would just work with him so that he could learn English.
Harry smiled. Now his eyes sparkled the way his dad’s used to when he was playing a prank. Or his mum’s when she was telling Hagrid about some great mark she got on an exam. “Thanks, Hagrid!”
Hagrid beamed back, and he and Harry talked about snakes and dogs (since Fang was there) and thestrals (since Harry had seen a book with a picture of them and was curious) for two hours until Harry had to leave to go back for curfew. Hagrid smiled at the ceiling and went to change the dressing on the little bat’s wing.
You-Know-Who might have Parseltongue, but so did Harry Potter, and he was a great kid.