A Darker Form of Magic, book two: Parseltongue

Chapter eight

Harry walked close to the other Slytherins in the hall after the double attack on Finch - Fletchley and the ghost, always close to one or another of the snakes, even some of the older years on days with Quidditch practice. The house had enough common sense to know that the boy wasn't the Heir of Slytherin, though none of the others seemed to. There was hate in the eyes of the rest of the school, enough that the snakes all knew that should Harry go anywhere alone, he would end up on the wrong side of a wand if left alone and it would somehow be Slytherin's fault.

Snakes protect their own after all.

Even the twins, knowing that the boy wasn't some raging blood supremacist and unknowing of a certain ability of his, didn't find the whole thing as terribly amusing as they might have had this happened if Harry were in any other house. The pair of Weasley brothers had taken to glaring at the rest of the school as the other students hissed and pointed as he passed. No one bothered to explain to professor Sprout why a group of her Hufflepuffs came to potions one day with green hair a day after doing just that to the boy, or why the twins were smiling like the Cheshire Cat when the charm took a week to wear off as both Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape had 'no potion to remedy it' and 'no time to brew one for such insolent children' (respectively).

Harry knew that a Finite Incantatem would have done the job just fine. He knew that both the mediwitch and potions master knew this as well.

Still, Harry never expected for the tactics to work for long.

And they hadn't.

The second year Slytherins were in the library the day before the Hogwarts Express was due to come pick up the students. With everyone scrambling to pack away all of their things for the winter holidays, the snakes had the entire place to themselves. They thought that it would be safe to let Harry wander among the stacks on his own, looking for more books on ancient runes and how to combine them, while the others read about mythical and magical creatures, looking for snakes among the books on beast. Anything to keep the smallest Slytherin entertained during the long break with only Blaise, the Weasleys, and books on demonic snakes for company. Things tended to blow up when he wasn't.

Anything to keep him from retreating back into himself.

Harry didn't know their name, he had never spoken to the Hufflepuff before and didn't particularly pay attention to the seventh year NEWTs students as a whole unless they were Slyherins as well and willing to teach him a proper curse or two.

The Slytherin had been in the runes section when he had beard a false low hiss from behind him, something that he knew would never pass as anything more than an insult to a servant should they hear it. Harry was content to ignore it, to continue looking through the stacks for a book that might help him with his self - imposed holiday project, but then the hiss came once more, louder this time. Closer.

Sometimes life was about knowing when to remain stubbornly seen, other times about when to fade. Most days it was about paying the price for either of those choices; for existing.

A hand turned Harry fast, bashing the boy's back into the stacks behind him before the snake had time to get his bearings. The teen before him had a cruel face, brown hair tangled and teeth bared like a wild animal. There was no wand in the Hufflepuff's hand, but Harry knew that they started learning nonverbal spells in sixth year and the seventh year would only need a moment to cast one once the other did draw his wand.

Magic swelled in the air, dark as Harry glared at the taller boy, all but begging him to do something . (Snakes protect their own, and giving an entire house two weeks to scheme would not end well for the badger.)

"Harry Potter, the Heir of Slytherin," the boy sneered as he looked down at Harry, agreed clear in his eyes. "I was five when you defeated He - Who - Must - Not - Be - Named. I remember the whole wizarding world rejoicing that night," the badger said pointedly as rne snake looked up at him with a gaze only tinted by anger. A gaze that grew more dull and bored by the moment. The hand on Harry's shoulder tightened. "I didn't though, my parents were dead because you were too late. And now what? You want to go and pick up where the last guy left off? Not bloody likely."