Intro: "Harry Potter and the Parseltongue Trophy" is one of those copyrighted titles that JKR will never actually used, but they copyrighted it anyway just because. It's true, look it up if you don't believe me. I laughed when I saw it. Then I started thinking, "What would a parseltongue trophy even be? Do they give it to you for being a parseltongue? Or maybe..."
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my copies of the books and all the other stuff in my house. Credit to my friend phoenixelfgirl for some ideas. All spelling and puntuation mistakes are the site's fault. Review if you like it!
Caution: General randomness and OOCness! This was written late at night, when I had too much sugar, with breaks of several months in between most chapters. Contrary to common sense, though, I DO know how the story will turn out. I just don't know what will happen before that.
Chapter One: The Mysterious Voice
Harry sat in his room at the Dursley's, staring out his window and waiting for his O.W.L. scores to come, so he could finally disprove all those people that think he might not have gotten an O in DADA, or might have passed astronomy, or whatever. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he heard a voice. It sounded like a hiss, but at the same time, he could understand what it was saying. It said, "Mwahaha! I am evil! Hum, I mean :cough: never mind!"
Harry stared. Or, he would have, if he had known who or what to stare at. Was it one of those voices in his head? No, that definitely didn't sound like Voldemort. Who, then, could it be? Maybe he should ask it. "Who are you?" he hissed, imagining a giant snake like the basilisk he had fought in his second year. He waited, then realized he wasn't quite sure it was a "who". "What are you?" he tried again.
"Hm, well, oh, I don't think I can tell you that." came the response. Harry glanced around the room to try to place the source of the voice. "But I CAN tell you what I'm NOT. A trophy, that's what. Nope. No talking trophies here." Harry, being the bright sixth-year Hogwarts student he was, was immediately suspicious at the voice's statement. There WAS a trophy in this room. One of Dudley's, because in fact this room had once been Dudley's in the distant past, say, about 5 books ago. However, for reasons that will remain unexplained in this fanfic, it was a boxing trophy-- a recent one. Very recent in fact. This trophy, Harry suddenly realized, had not been here the day before. (Harry, you see, was very observant in these matters-- unfortunately not so much so in matters of two-way mirrors that might solve all his problems instantly...but that is another story.)
The second he realized this, he snatched the trophy off its shelf. "Hey! Put me down!" protested the snakelike voice, then its tone changed to, "Oh... I mean, yep, that's a trophy alright, a normal, not-suspicious, non-parseltongue-speaking trophy. But that's definitely not me." Harry knew better than to believe the voice, though, as it was quite clearly coming from the shiny gold object in his hand. (It was very shiny indeed-- Harry noticed this and thought immediately of a normal, muggle girl who fell through platform 9 3/4... but that is another fanfic.)
"Erm..." said Harry. He could not think of why there would possibly be a talking trophy in his bedroom-- and speaking parseltongue, no less! "Hang on!" he said, suddenly remembering, "Dumbledore told me that Voldemort was the only one besides me who can speak parseltongue! Why can one of Dudley's stupid trophies speak it? That makes no sense!" "No, it is certainly very unusual," the voice agreed, before coughing once more and adding "What I meant was, It's not strange at all, actually it's nothing for you to take notice of. Now, if you'd just put me back on the shelf..." "Oh no," said Harry, thinking sensibly for once, "I've got to write to professor Dumbledore."