Disclaimer: I am not JKR, or any of her minions, or whoever else has rights to Harry Potter
Note: It would be a shocker if I wrote more on this story, it's actually the first fan fic I ever wrote, even if I wasn't posting till just now.
Year One, or Green as Grass
Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday, Carnival, the preparation for death, life's last colorful bash before the gathering darkness. A day of debauchery, for using things up, dedicated to extravagant costumes, masks to hide the men and women staggering through ordinary life. Mardi Gras, when we celebrate before the beginning of spring, knowing that a warmth greater than the colors of our blazing costumes will soon come. Mardi Gras, the day of foreign languages, lurid colors—purple, and yellow, and lastly green.
On the first warm day that spring, the grass parted to reveal a brief flash of scales as a small snake slipped out of the narrow cave mouth. Within was a large knotted mass of its brethren, just beginning to stir as the sun hit the stone. Their lithe bodies twined around each other, glided across pale skin, and wove through messy black hair. Brilliant green eyes slowly opened, perfectly matching the sleek bodies covering Harry Potter.
"Good Spring, my little brothers," he hissed, "it was wonderful to sleep among you."
"Do we who are brothers not always nest together?" came a sibilant chorus of the little creatures, "but the time has come for us to go and hunt on our own."
Harry sighed, "if only I had always slept with you." He began to slowly sit up, gradually stretching past the kinks, as the snakes slipped off his pale body.
"That is why we will always be happy to help you, nestling," the one that had remained wrapped around the boy's neck whispered into his ear.
"What do you mean, little one?" he whispered back.
"I shall stay with you, like this, and any of us will come if you call," the snake said smoothly.
"But you must hunt," he stated. "Isn't it enough if I find you outside?"
"Surely I can find food in those man-lairs. Besides, we shall take turns to be with you."
"Thank you all, more than I can possibly repay," Harry addressed the entire mass, "happy hunting."
After the cavern had emptied, Harry gathered up his discarded clothing, which was still too large, and headed straight to school. The teacher looked positively shocked to see him, and when the class headed to gym after math, she pulled him aside.
"Harry," she said softly, "we were told after Christmas hols by your aunt that you had been transferred. If you could tell her to bring us the paperwork confirming your return to this district, that would be fantastic."
"I can't," he said, looking at the floor. "They don't know I'm back, any more than they knew where I was."
The young teacher looked at the woefully thin child speculatively. "It's been since then that the cops have had you on the milk cartons, Harry, and we just got back from spring recess. The school the forms mentioned doesn't exist, you see," she added.
"But I'll still have to go back to the Dursleys, won't I," he whispered.
"Since what we learned last year about how hard it is to prove that anybody besides your cousin has hurt you won't change," she said reluctantly, "yes."
"I suppose I'd better go face my beating, I mean phys ed," Harry said dully.
"Would two hours of remedial work after school go over well with them?" she asked hopefully.
He smiled, a little. "Remind them that I'll miss the bus and have to walk all the way back if they don't deign to drive me," he said breezily.
"Good luck, Harry Potter," she murmured to his retreating back, "you'll need it.
Those brief hours were probably the only thing keeping him alive, as his workload at "home" had reached unprecedented levels, even for the Dursleys. More often than not, he had to keep his snake guardians out of the house, to prevent angering his relatives with his hisses warning them not to bite the offensive people. Once summer started, and regular school meals were no longer an option, the raw mice his little friends offered him became increasingly enticing.
The morning of his eleventh birthday, Harry was rudely awakened by the sensation of a small snake attempting to hide in his pants while simultaneously shouting something about an owl. Once he'd gotten the panicked creature to at least be still in its "hiding space," he put on his glasses and was surprised to find that he'd slept in. Upon entering the kitchen, he was treated to the sight of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon desperately trying to beat off the massive flock of owls that had blanketed the neighborhood. When he opened the window to ask them what was happening, one flew right at him!
Once he realized that it wasn't attacking him, he got off the floor, warily peering at the large bird. It actually had a letter tied to its foot, which was addressed to him. Fortunately, untying the letter and taking it caused the whole flock to leave. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to get back into the cupboard in time to hide from his irate uncle. That evening, when Hagrid arrived to help him go shopping, all of them were relieved to see the limping boy out of the house, at least till the next summer.
Harry was only concerned about how this would affect his deal with the snakes. "Er, Mr. Hagrid, before we go, can I say goodbye to the um, play park?" he asked desperately.
"A'right, if that's what you want," he said. The big man looked on sadly while the poor lad whispered intently at a bush. "Lily'd be so sad," he muttered, "what did those muggles do to her boy?"
"I don't have long," Harry hissed, "but I'm being taken to a school somewhere far away, for the whole winter."
"What if five of us came with you," one replied, "we could eat mice in the school, at least till it gets cold."
"And if I can't bring you back, or can't hibernate with the nest?" he asked worriedly.
"We want to get a chance at a new range, too," another assured him, "besides, you might meet a new nest there for the winter."
"Well, if you are all okay with it," Harry said, and got up. "Thanks Hagrid, where are we going first?"
When they got to the pet store, the big man's favorite place, and Harry asked the owner whether he could talk to any of the animals, especially snakes, he was surprised to learn that being what was called a parsletongue was a dark trait. He also had a hard time convincing Hagrid not to buy him an owl. Mentioning that he had no friends to send letters to caused him to cry. At last, they settled on a magically enhanced pair of glasses to replace his taped pair.
"Are you sure you don't want to be in Slytherin?" the hat asked, "their mascot is a snake, you know."
"Oh, really?" Harry replied, "what makes you think that'll change my mind after meeting that Malfoy boy?"
"More mice in the dungeons for the little pretty coiled in your hair," it suggested craftily, "alright, better be SLYTHERIN!"
Snape nearly choked on his sneer. Potter had somehow subverted the hat in his terrible pranks. Dumbledore lost his twinkle, and it was with effort that he managed to say blubber, rather than a more choice word. The poor boy would be eaten alive in that house.
"You'd better reconsidering turning down that offer, Potter," Draco snarled once he'd sat down.
Harry stared at the pale boy like he was a mouse. "So the burning ambition that put you in this house is to be the friend of the Boy-who-lived, Malfoy?"
"What, no, I'm going to be, um, like my father," Draco spluttered.
"Which would be…" Harry prompted.
"My father is a very important man in the Ministry of Magic," Draco replied with a sneer, "which is far more than your worthless father ever could have hoped for.
"Oh, yay, your dad isn't dead, not much of an achievement," Harry said bitterly, "just leave me alone, okay?"
Their common room looked like something out of the few seconds of a gangster movie Dudley had gotten yelled at for watching a few years ago. It was dark, and the dim and gilded green lamps made everybody look like a corpse. At least the snakes could protect him at night, though he thought briefly that sharing a room with Malfoy and his smelly goons would inspire nostalgia for the cupboard.
He thought it was really weird, in the first few weeks, when the head of his own house tried to take points off Gryffendor when he didn't know the answers in potions. Still, he was new, and so it didn't stop him from approaching Snape about the strange headaches caused by the DADA professor.
"What do you expect me to do about your weakness, you arrogant little twat," the man shouted.
"But what if that smelly turban is affecting other students? Malfoy is always saying you know about defense, surely there is something…"
"If there were, do you think I'd look so upset about having to sit next to the fool?" snapped the professor.
"Oh," said Harry, losing his cajoling voice, "how silly of me."
After that, his small friends insisted on investigating the den of the offensive Quirrell. Unfortunately, it was warded with a stinging hex. Harry's main consideration became determining whether Ron or Draco was bothering him more for not being the friend material they had expected when first meeting him. Halloween was the last day his friends had declared safe for them to stay out of hibernation in this colder climate. Therefore, Harry left the feast early to find a secluded spot to bid them farewell.
There was one nearly abandoned girl's bathroom that provided an excellent retreat from his tormentors. Granted, it was creepy that the resident ghost thought his talking to snakes was cute, reminding her of the last boy she had liked in life, but what could he do? It actually took him a few moments to notice the crying Gryffendor student, considering how Myrtle carried on. At least he hadn't pulled out a snake yet.
"Are you alright, not hurt?" Harry asked anxiously.
"Why would you care about a useless know-it-all," she sobbed, "you, you Slytherin!"
"Oh, but Harry's very nice, even if he won't be my boyfriend," interjected the ghost, "he even…"
"Myrtle! No secrets, remember?" Harry said anxiously, "now really, what happened?"
"Oh, its silly, Harry, I just overreacted to Ron Weasley calling me a bookworm, I'll be fine, I've heard it before, you know," she babbled, "um, my name is Hermione."
"That's how you pronounce it?" Harry confirmed, "and really, I know what you mean about Ron. Sometimes hearing stuff like that from him is worse than from Draco, or even getting hit."
"What would you know about that?" she asked, "didn't you defeat You-Know-Who when you were a baby?"
"I know who?" Harry was cut off by the Troll bursting into the bathroom. It was actually a good way to practice the spells he'd looked up in case Malfoy ever really attacked him. McGonogal actually gave him points for saving Hermione.
The next day, when they met up in the library to finish their conversation, they had a good laugh over how similar Draco and Ron's impersonations of Harry's actions were, right down to snide remarks about how the boy-who-lived was an attention-seeking prat. He also asked Hermione to have a word with McGonogal about his headaches, on considering how nice she had been.
"I could probably also research it myself; maybe you just have an allergy to garlic," she suggested, "but, I have to ask, what were you doing in the bathroom, and I know it wasn't your first time."
Harry sighed, "Really the same reason as you. Remember that I have to room with Malfoy. Sometimes I just need a break, see? Myrtle even acts as a lookout, nothing creepy, I promise."
"Oh, sorry Harry, I didn't mean it that way," she replied.
He was glad when the winter holidays arrived, as it meant an end to Quitdditch games for a while. It was getting rather agonizing to watch, as he always saw the snitch first, and seeing how badly his own house cheated guaranteed he wouldn't be trying out anytime soon. He retreated to the library in disgrace immediately after breakfast on Chrsitmas day, with Draco's laughter at his pathetic present from the Dursleys and Hagrid's well-meant rock cakes echoing in his ears. Harry had so hoped that the wizarding world would be better than the one he had just left behind.
After a big lunch, he walked out onto the grounds, past the snowball fight, and into the forest. When he reached the cave they'd shown him, Harry carefully crawled in, pulling the snow back over the entrance. Faint sleepy hisses greeted him as he nestled gratefully in with his true brethren. It was not until classes started up again that teachers were sure he was gone, and by then two snowfalls had make searching utterly hopeless.
Professor Dumbledore faced the anxious members of the Order of the Pheonix, searching for what to say to the group. He had not planned on having to call them back up so soon, but it had been weeks, and everyone assured him that the boy must be dead by now. "I'm afraid I have some terrible news for you, my friends. Harry Potter has vanished, and it is very likely he has died, though we have no proof, so some hope remains."
"I don't mean to sound heartless, Dumbledore," said Diggle, "but why do we all need to be here for this, isn't reading about it in the Prophet enough? I mean, it isn't as though the dark lord will be coming back, right?"
"Dedalus! The poor child may be a typical Slytherin, as Ron tells me," Mrs. Weasley scolded, "but it is still reasonable for the Headmaster to want to broaden the search."
"Thank you, Molly," said Dumbledore, "very nicely put, now, if you would…"
With that the meeting continued as though they had never been apart, with lots of gossip about people's children, and what had happened since, well, since last time. The only member who wasn't reacting as though it were a cheerful reunion was a certain werewolf in the corner. Remus stayed very quiet, as he was processing both the astonishing revelation of Harry being both a member of Slytherin house and gone, seemingly from the face of the earth, with nobody really concerned.
After the old headmaster had dismissed them from the meeting, he sat back in his now empty office and sighed. Questions swirled through his brain: Where had he gone wrong? What had happened to the boy? How could their son end up in such a house? These thoughts would not stop as he gazed sadly at the boy's trunk which had been brought up to his office for safe keeping. Harry hadn't even taken the invisibility cloak, which was still in the wrapping Dumbeldore had sent, in fact. Remus had been so heartbroken he couldn't think of assigning him anywhere.
Hermione, for her own part, was devastated by the disappearance of her first real foray into friendship at this school. She and Harry had taken to studying in the library together, as he was not only her savior, but the only other person she knew who shared her interest in studying ahead. Beyond that, she understood more than anybody else what the boy was going through. Her thoughts drifted back to their little chat in the library about his status. She had been so surprised by his continuing to come and sit at the study table she had basically claimed in the library, as well as consumed by curiosity.
Finally it had all burst out. "Look, Harry," she'd said, "Its not that I'm not grateful that you are stooping to spend time with me, I mean you're my hero and all, after last month, but really I don't understand why anybody wouldn't want to spend time with you, considering that you saved the whole wizarding world, you know. Gryffendor can't be angry about you not being sorted to them forever, I mean Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw have never been bothered by it. I think most of the Slytherins are proud to have you, even if Draco is a jerk and you saved somebody from their rival house."
Hermione had paused mid-ramble, for a breath, only to see that Harry looked totally lost. "What do you mean, I'm a hero? I haven't done anything, really, except for what I did for you, Hermione."
She blinked. "But surely somebody told you, it is in all the history books? You killed you-know-who when you were, well I guess you were only one, so you don't remember. That's why you're an orphan, of course, he killed them first…" and Hermione had stopped talking at the look on the boy's face: shock, horror, confusion, and anger.
"I don't know who, Hermione, seeing as it's so bloody obvious to, to everybody, even if they didn't grow up with magic either." The last thing she had said to him was an automatic "language" and Harry'd been avoiding her since. Now he was gone, and she wondered if he had had any other friends, either.
Hermione was in fact quietly falling apart, a state which even Snape had noticed, for all that she still managed to complete her schoolwork. She had been so subdued and silent in her classes for weeks, that the awful teacher had rewarded her with a few points for "finally having the sense to keep her mouth shut around her betters" which had been accompanied by a pitying version of his sneer. The poor girl hadn't even responded, lost in her miserable thought that she knew exactly why Harry had fled, and how he felt, knowing as she did how horrible it was to have no friends. At least her roommates Lavender and Parvati had never actually taunted her openly.
Winter had dragged on and on, and with it, the Order's half-hearted attempts at finding the boy who had been the end of their war only a decade before. They had really only made a complete search of the Forbidden Forest, Little Whinging, Hogsmeade, and Diagon Alley. Even London had been deemed too big for more than a cursory survey of potential places one could find a lost child, and Harry had been unofficially written off as dead. On the plus side, Hagrid's involvement in these searches kept him from acquiring a certain egg.
At long last, the weather broke, the snow melted, and deep in the forbidden forest, a few snakes tested the air at the opening of their cave. The next day, the whole mass was moving, supple bodies slipping past each other and slowly untwining themselves from the giant ball they had formed. The sibilant sounds were interrupted by the incongruous noise of a very human yawn. Harry's head popped out of the center of the small cave, his body still buried in emerald scales. "I don't want to leave this time either," he hissed in a whisper, "no matter how much I want to learn magic."
The snake still coiled in his hair slipped down to taste the boy's tears with its tongue and hissed, "my brother, it is time for hunting, now, not nesting with family." Harry nodded, dislodging the little one with a chuckle, and retrieving his crumpled robes from a slight ledge inside the cave. It was indeed time to go hunting. Harry walked back up towards the castle with a confident stride.
When a thin but very well rested Harry Potter strolled into the entrance hall that warm morning, with his winter cloak over his arm, Hermione was the first to greet him, completely bowling him over with her hug. By the time he could get coherent phrases out of her, a large crowd had gathered around them. It was she who plowed through the gawking students to drag him to the hospital wing. This was actually his first trip there, for all that it was brief, as Madame Pomphrey declared him healthy, but only released him on a solemn promise to eat more at every meal.
"Hey scarface, the papers are calling you 'Boy-who-lives-again.' I bet you're proud of that," Draco jeered, "as you aren't much good for anything but just barely surviving, you pathetic excuse for a wizard."
"Really? Thanks for telling me, as I seem to have missed the morning rag by being in the Hospital wing all morning," he replied calmly, "can't say they're very original. But you're telling me because you're just dying to know what I've been up to, right?"
"NO, I mean of course not!" came the very predictable response.
Hermioine, on the other hand, would not be so easy to put off, he thought. To avoid her questioning, he desperately scheduled meetings with all the professors, asking for help in make-up work. Unfortunately, they all directed him back to her excellent study schedules and notes. Once she stopped castigating for all of the work he'd have to make up, she started in on his absence.
"Look, Hermione, I'm really glad you are willing to help me catch up, but worrying about where I was is just wasting our time," he said in a placating tone, before exclaiming, "do you know I saw a dead unicorn in the forest on my way back? I'm honestly scared to be near whatever bit out its throat!"
"What! Harry, that's horrible, do you have any idea how evil something would have to be to do that, oh tell me you've already told Dumbledore, were there any clues what would have done that, could we look, right, sorry, should we research what would do that?" she finished lamely upon seeing him wince.
"Hagrid was dealing with it when I came past, he must have told the Headmaster, you know how he is," Harry said calmly, "now we should deal with my homework before doing any kind of independent research like that, you know."
"Obviously, that goes without saying, Harry," Hermioine retorted, "but do you think it had anything to do with the troll?"
"No that was ages ago, but you could look into it, even though I'm pretty sure they are just dumb, not evil," he shrugged, then continued, "wait, do you think whatever's after the unicorns had bitten Snape's leg?"
"What! When did that happen?" she demanded.
"Probably during all the chaos on Halloween," Harry said, "that's what made me remember, he was limping for a week afterwards. He actually called our whole house together and told us it was a bite that he'd gotten in the forest, though the older students were sure he was lying to scare us off the forest."
"Which is of course why you chose it as your shortcut back here," she replied archly.
Later that week, Blaize demanded that Harry share the invisibility cloak he had spotted when Harry was checking his trunk to make sure none of his stuff had gotten ruined or stolen while he was gone. Apparently, the other boy wanted to make a trip to the kitchens, of all the things possible around the school. While Harry had a feeling the Headmaster wasn't going to expel him for having the cloak as Blaze was insinuating, based on the handwriting on the note that had come with it, he did think it would be nice to know where he could get food, apart from meal times at the great hall, so he went along with the other boy's demands, provided they went together.
On their way back, he spotted Hermione slinking down the halls alone. Tugging on Blaize, he crept up behind her and poked her back. It was kind of funny to see her jump while holding back a scream. "Do you want to go back to your commons unseen?" he whispered.
"Harry, is that you?" she squeaked, glancing around and through him at the apparently empty hall.
"Yeah, but I'm here too, " hissed Blaize, uncovering his head, "and that's a terrible idea, just ignore Potter,"
"Oh shut it, Zabini, you dragged me out here, don't you want to know where the lions have their common room?" said Harry, "anyways the real question is why she is out past curfew at all."
"Probably camped out in the library and lost track of time doing all of that thrilling homework," Blaize said, and smirked at her chagrined nod.
"Just get under here Hermione, and let's get going, quietly," Harry retorted, rearranging the cloak so she would fit.
They were on their way up to the Gryffendor level of the school when a figure in a dark cloak darted past them and into the forbidden corridor. The unlikely trio halted, almost as one, in surprise.
"Is that Snape? We should tell Dumbledore about this," gasped Hermione.
"If it is, he already knows," replied Blaize, "but other people can wear black, you know. The gait is all wrong, for one thing. Even you should know Snape glides, rather than walking along haltingly."
"I think I saw a turban," Harry added darkly, "and I want to know what that headache inducing git is up to in there."
He had wanted to have Blaze take back the cloak for him while he went in alone, but the curiosity of his companions was overwhelming, and lucky, considering that the boy had a very nice placating singing voice, even under the pressure of performing for a three headed dog. Harry then proceeded to surprise Blaize by beating him to the flying key, and was in turn shocked at the recalcitrant boy's sacrifice in the chess game, as was Hermione, who proceeded to insist on going back to help him, in spite of Harry's calm assertion that the hit hadn't been as hard as she thought.
"I swear, Hermione, I've had worse and kept running from my cousin, he's just lying low so the chess pieces will leave him be," was his actual declaration.
Since he had neither knowledge of the stone, nor prior experience with the mirror of Erised, Harry was unable to retrieve it, but instead stood transfixed by images of his family. Naturally, this prompted Voldemort's attack. Later, in the hospital wing, when Dumbledore explained what had burned his attacker, Harry was disappointed to discover that he couldn't burn people with his hands, at will. It would have been so nice to have that ability, around his "family."
A few days later, Blaize cornered Harry in their dorm. "You owe me for that sacrifice in the chess game," he declared, "I need you to tutor me in seeking."
"Doesn't Hermione owe you too, by that same logic?" Harry queried, "and why that, as well."
"She came back to help me, so now we're even," Blaize said dismissively, "and really, you sought that key very well—you should be on our team. But I've heard what you say about their cheating, so I won't tell them. I could care less, myself. I just want to beat Draco out for once."
"In that case, we shouldn't start while we're still at school then," Harry said, "you'll have to get Dumbledore to let me visit your house for a few weeks, and we will definitely have a deal."
"Well, of course you'd come to my house—what does he have to do with your summer plans?" Blaize replied loftily, "I do know how to communicate with muggles, after all, even though I'm pure."
"Oh, goody for you," Harry scoffed, "the old man just told me that I'm trapped with them for some kind of worthless mystical protection he set up ages ago. It probably already wore off, if it ever worked."
Dumbledore actually agreed to letting Harry go for the last three weeks of summer, but only because it would make it easier for him to shop for school supplies and get to the train. Harry really did not expect any letters, even from Hermione, and when Dobby showed up, the snakes scared him off before Harry could so much as say a word. The Dursleys, for their part, carried on business as usual, but in the end were very impressed by the limo sent by the Zabinis to pick up Harry, though they would never admit it.
