Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any related merchandise, all is the property
of one J.K. Rowling. All I own is this fan-made story, and I'm not making any profit off of it.

Chapter Two

Harry tiptoed up the staircase, wincing every time a step creaked. He cast a glance at Mrs. Figg, snoring on the couch with a clear line of drool coming out of her mouth. The Dursleys had left him alone with her for Dudley's birthday, same as always, but this was the first time he could remember her not even making the effort to watch him. She had all but collapsed onto the couch the moment the Dursleys were out the door, her eyes closed before her head hit the cushion. She answered his hesitant question about whether she wanted a drink with a wave of a hand, her numerous bracelets jangling in the place of a response. He had taken this as a no and sat down in Uncle Vernon's overstuffed armchair, turning on the telly to the home shopping channel. They watched in silence for a while, Harry not really watching the screen so much as the dust swirled on it, until he had finally glanced over to see her sprawled out on her side, asleep. She hadn't bothered to taken her hairnet or her coat off and her fingers grasped at the upholstery like a starfish's suckers clinging to a rock. She looked rather like Dudley when she slept, Harry thought. They had the same way off tossing themselves all over their space to take up every possible inch.

Not knowing what else to do, he thought he'd head upstairs and take a turn on Dudley's computer for once. A part of him that hadn't felt well-rested in days had been tempted to follow her lead instead. But this was the first time in months that he was alone, really alone, without the Dursleys there to interrupt him whenever he found a quiet moment. He wasn't about to let that go to waste.

A sudden bout of dizziness hit as Harry was halfway up the steps, and he stopped, eyes closing involuntarily. He nearly tumbled back down but quickly grasped the rail for balance. He pressed a hand up to his eyes, his head throbbing. He didn't know whether it was because he was tired or he was coming down with something, but he hoped it was the first- it wouldn't matter if he was dying, the Dursleys wouldn't care if he got sick. In that case, they'd probably throw a party. It had begun to feel as though whole suns where exploding in his skull, and he sucked in a few breaths, trying to push away the pain.

After a few minutes- or maybe longer, he didn't know- the feeling fled as quickly as it had come. Harry sighed in relief and straightened. He tried to keep walking and nearly fell a second time, his legs shaking and barely able to support their own weight. With a sigh of frustration, he sat for a moment, waiting for his body to settle down. It probably was just tiredness, he told himself. The dreams hadn't let up at all; in fact, they seemed to be getting worse. He had never returned to the room with Tom and his parents after the second time, but his new dreams were more tangled and confusing than previous ones had been. There was no clear beginning or end, just images and fragments of thoughts. He would see a castle at night, turrets and towers outlined against the dark sky by starlight; a huge hall with four long tables stretching nearly from one wall to the other and lit by floating candles, not suspended by strings but actually floating in midair; and the very night before, he had found himself in a bathroom of all things, with stone walls and cracked mirrors and at least half an inch of water covering the floor. There had been a girl there too, he remembered, some mousy-looking girl with glasses and her hair pulled back. It was rare that he saw people in his dreams, and even then never up close. He had seen that girl more than once though, and sometimes a blond boy with a pinched face who was constantly smirking. There were a few other reoccurring figures, but he never saw them as clearly.

Nothing bad ever happened in the dreams, and Harry wouldn't have minded if they didn't keep ending the same way, with him jerking awake, sweating and trembling and feeling like someone was beating his skull from the inside with a hammer. It had gotten so bad he had even thought about going to his aunt and uncle about it, but he knew that would be pointless.

Harry sighed and stood gingerly. He had no choice; he'd just have to deal with it on his own like always. The problem was, he had no idea what to do besides wait for the dreams to go away, and what good was that? He reached the landing at last and, opening his eyes, found himself face to face with the snake from before, scales shinning wetly in the florescent light.

He blinked at it stupidly for a moment, his brain somehow not able to connect the phrases "snake" and "in the house". It watched him calmly from where it was coiled on the ground, seemingly content with its resting place.

"Um." Harry's mind switched back into gear and he wondered how on earth one was meant to deal with a large and possibly deadly snake. "Er. Shoo." He waved his hands at it awkwardly.

It gave him look that quite clearly translated to "As if," and stayed put, actually lowering its head to rest on the fraying carpet.

"No, no, come on, don't get comfortable." Harry dropped to one knee, holding his hands up to fend off any sort of attack, if snakes did that, he honestly had no idea, how did a snake get in the house? "You need to go right now. Come on." He was ignored once again. "Look, they get mad at me for spiders in the house. You need to go, now, before they come back and see you." He made the shooing motion again, reluctant to try and actually touch it.

The snake lifted its head again and raised itself up, arching its back like a cobra. Harry drew back instinctively, but the snake didn't strike, just slid forward, poking out a black tongue for an instant than pulling it back in. It stopped by Harry's foot, looking up at him expectantly. Harry realized that he was blocking the stairway. The snake was actually listening to him. "Oh- sorry." He scooted to the side. The snake just looked at him, its eyes cold and sharp. Harry wondered if this was how the mice it hunted would feel when they were caught. He swallowed and pointed. "Come on, then. Down you go."

There was a pause before it obeyed again, all but gliding down the stairs. Harry followed behind, careful not to step on its tail. It made its way to the front door- and then kept going towards the kitchen, dark rings rocking like waves along its back as its body moved.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Harry shouted, wincing when he remembered Mrs. Figg was still asleep in the next room. "Stop! You can't go in there!" he whispered. He kept pace with it but still couldn't bring himself to just pick it up out of mixed fear and disgust. He tried stepping in its way, but it just zig-zagged around him, bumping his ankle with a scaly side. He recoiled. Frustrated, he raised his voice just a little. "I said come back!"

As the words left his mouth, he felt something in the back of his mind crack, a sensation that was both odd and familiar, and the snake flew back towards him like a puppet on strings. He jerked out of the way, slamming his back into the wall, and watched it tumble head over tail until it stopped and righted itself. It whipped its head back in forth in confusion before giving Harry a look that was almost reproachful. What was that for?

Harry blinked. That hadn't been in his head- someone had spoken in a soft, slippery tone. "Hello?" There was no answer besides Mrs. Figg's steady, measured snores. "Is anyone there?" He looked back at the snake, bewildered. Its eyes gleamed and its tongue slid out and back in. It let out a whistling noise that was almost like a- yes, it was a laugh. Harry's heart jumped into his throat. "That…. Was that you?"

The snake's only reply was a hiss- but it wasn't a hiss, there were words, murmured under its breath. "Who elssse could it be?"

Harry gaped at it, unmoving. With another chuckle, the snake glided back across the floor towards him. Its head slid over his foot and Harry flinched, but did not pull away. Encouraged, it kept climbing, winding itself around his calf like a muscled grey rope and pressing its head against the back of his hand, not pushing, just resting there."I won't hurt you. I just wanted to talk."

Harry touched the scales on its neck curiously, sliding a finger along one thick stripe. Its skin was cold and smooth, but not slimy like he had expected. "Talk?"

"Yesssss," the sound dragged on longer than it sound have. "That surprises you?"

"Well, yeah, snakes don't usually talk."

"How do you know that? Have you ever asked one?"

"Well, no, but I-"

"I thought ssso," the snake hummed, winding itself leisurely around his wrist. "If you had you would have said something the first time we met…"

Harry blinked in surprise. "So that was you? Last time?"

It dipped its head in a nod. "I'm glad you didn't try to run away or scream. That's what most of you do… you panic and try to chase usssss off… and hit ussss with things. Or," its tone suddenly darkened, "You try to throw ussss around like toys." At this it gave Harry a meaningful look.

Harry frowned. "What, you mean… a second ago? But I didn't do that, I…"

"Didn't you?"

"I didn't even touch you!"

"You didn't have to." It drew back and met his gaze. Its pupils were huge, surrounded by a very thin ring of yellow like a solar eclipse. Looking into them gave Harry of the feeling of falling. "Don't you know?"

"Know what?"

"You don't? It'ssss not that hard to figure it out, you know..." It shook its head mockingly. "And I thought you were ssssmart…"

Harry ignored that. He had the feeling he was on the verge of discovering something very important. "Figure what out?"

"That you're… different. That you aren't like the rest of them." Its tone left no confusion as to who 'them' was. "You can do things they can't, see things they don't, whether you've realized it yet or not. It's a rare human who can speak to me, young master..." Harry frowned at the title but did not protest. "Can you truly not see it…? I knew from the moment I saw you…"

Harry shook his head slowly. "No, there… there must be some mistake. I mean, I'm just, you know, me." Even as he denied it, he could feel an ember of hope sparking at the words. 'Different', it had said…

"Haven't you ever made thingsss happen? Thingssss that can't have happened… shouldn't have happened… but did, because you willed them… you willed them and made them ssso... Think."

Harry didn't have to think very hard to remember the sensation of egg dripping down in his neck, or the sight of Dudley flying across the room. There was an unfamiliar emotion building in his stomach, no longer disbelief, but not quite hope either. "I don't understand. What are you saying? What am I?"

"You're special," the snake said simply.

Harry glared at it. "That's not an answer," he insisted.

It let out a hiss of annoyance. "You humansss would have a word for it… I don't concern myself with such things…I didn't realize you had so many questionssss. I thought you knew what you were… if I had known I may not have bothered…" With that it seemed to come to a decision. It pulled away from his fingers and dropped itself delicately back onto the floor with a light thump. It crawled back the way it came, toward the front door.

"Where are you going? You can't leave yet!" Harry called after it.

It did not stop. "I must. We will talk again... be sssure of it…"

"But- but you haven't even told me anything! We aren't finished!" Seeing that it was ignoring him, Harry raised his voice slightly. "I'll- I'll stop you again!"

It immediately twisted its head around backwards to look at him, nearly tying its neck in a knot in the process. Nothing changed in its expression that Harry could see, but he could still feel the anger radiating off of it. He matched it with his own. "There isssss nothing for me here… not yet." The snake said coldly. "We are finissshed for now… but we will talk again, when you are ready. Let me go."

"No," Harry snapped. "I want my questions answered first. What were you talking about when you said I was special? How do you know all the things you said?"

"I cannot answer the questionssss you ask…" The snake sighed. "And the answers I have are not ones you sssseek… Let me go, young master. We will talk. But not now."

Harry hesitated. It sounded sincere… "No," he said firmly. "We'll talk now, or not at all."

The snake's eyes narrowed into slits. "…Very well, young master…" and it shot towards the door, faster than Harry would have thought possible. But he instinctively held out his hand and reached, feeling something in the back of mind breaking in two; snapping like a rubber band. The snake flew back toward him again. It slid across the carpet and stopped at his feet, looking as bewildered as before. He smirked and stepped forward, reaching down to grip it behind the head. His fingers had just brushed the scales, warmed by the friction of the carpet, when the snake abruptly spun, wriggling its head away from his grip and sinking its teeth into the skin of his hand. Harry bit back a cry and waved his arm in an arc, knocking the snake loose and tearing a long gash across his knuckles. He held the hand to his chest, trying to stop the bleeding. The snake wasted no time and jumped at him again, and Harry did shout when the snake latched onto his leg through his trousers. He kicked, trying to throw it off again but it held fast. He looked down at it and saw the flashing whites of its teeth just barely visible outside of the bite and the spreading red spot on the fabric. It bit down harder for a moment, then, seeming to relent, let go. Still surprised and angry, he kicked it in the side, not taking any chances. It reared back, eyes rolling in its head like billiard balls.

"That isssss enough, young master!"It spat, its mouth stained red. Harry felt sick at the sight. "Let me go!"

"No!" he shot back, nearly hissing himself. His hand felt like it was on fire. He hoped, prayed, that the snake didn't turn out to be venomous.

"You are too ssstubborn for your own good…" It flew toward him once more, and Harry raised his hands defensively over his head. The attack never came.

Crack! Harry opened his eyes to see the snake sprawled on the floor, writhing in pain. He raised his eyes gradually to see Mrs. Figg, pale-faced and trembling, brandishing her cane like a sword. As he watched, she raised it a few inches and brought it down roughly on the snakes' head. It let out a shriek of pain that made Harry flinch and it tried to crawl away, but she struck it again.

"Stop, stop!" Harry grabbed her wrist, her fragile bones shuddering under his grip. "Don't hurt it!"

She stared at him, looking more disheveled than he had ever seen her, strands of wispy gray hair hanging loose and sticking to her cheeks and her clothes wrinkled. Her eyes were still wide and dark from sleep. "Don't… what? But it was-"

"I know, but you don't have to kill it." He looked at it, curled on the floor, eyes flicking from one to another. It glared at Harry, tongue flicking out of its mouth and back again, before shoving its body into the mail slot and out the door before either Harry or Mrs. Figg could make a move. They stared after it in shock. After a moment, she turned on Harry, lowering the cane back to the floor and putting her weight on it like she had just remembered she needed it.

"Now see what you've done? Now it will be running amok, attacking the neighbors-" her eyes fell on the hand Harry was cradling. "It bit you?" she asked in horror.

He glanced down. "Oh- yeah-"

He let Mrs. Figg fuss over him for a moment. He'd never had anyone do it before, and it was rather nice to have someone be concerned for him. Even if it did result in her half dragging him to the kitchen and watching him like a hawk as he slapped bandages on the bite wounds. There two small puncture marks on his calf, and two more on the place where his pointer finger and thumb connected. The latter holes were torn open into long bloody arches that crosses nearly his whole hand, and it took several bandages to cover them. Mrs. Figg wanted to call the Dursleys, but Harry talked her out of it. He knew that Dudley would not appreciate being pulled away from his birthday early just because Harry had gotten scratches. He also refused to go to the hospital, though she spent nearly half an hour trying to convince him.

"But what if it was- you know-poisonous? Or venomous or whatever it is?" Mrs. Figg asked, just as they heard Uncle Vernon's car pulling into the driveway- they were home earlier than expected.

Harry had thought of that too, but insisted, "If it was, I would have felt something."

She looked unconvinced, but did not protest, and when the Dursleys clambered into the kitchen, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wrung out like a pair of used towels and Dudley beaming, she didn't say a word about the snake, simply collecting her things and leaving. She cast a worried glance at Harry as she walked out, but the Dursleys didn't notice.

"Did you have a good time?" Dudley said to Harry with an ill-disguised smirk, undoubtedly ready to tell Harry all about the wonderful day he'd had.

Not in the mood for fight, Harry shook his head and watched as Dudley moved on to opening his birthday presents- twenty-seven of them this year- with his parents urging him on. None of them noticed the bandages on his hand, or that the lingering pain in his leg was giving him a slight limp.

It wasn't until that night in bed, watching a tiny black spider mountain climb across the ridged ceiling, that he allowed himself to wonder about what had happened. "You can do things they can't", it had said. "You're special." Harry couldn't deny that the idea appealed to him. All his life, the Dursleys had done nothing but tell Harry how worthless he was, what a waste, and how little they wanted him, over and over. The idea that maybe he was more important than they had ever dreamed- no, not just important, but better than Dudley and his aunt and uncle and everyone else he knew- made him incredibly, shamefully happy. He had thought, or rather wished before, that he had to be meant for more than living out his life with the Dursleys, spending every day as his aunt and uncle's slave and Dudley's punching bag. Was it really so wrong that being called special had made him excited, even if it came from a talking snake of all things?

And he was special, he reminded himself. He had moved the snake without touching it. And Dudley, a few days ago. And all the other times… "You willed them and made them so". He didn't know how they happened, but they had happened. These weren't things normal people he could do. The Dursley's certainly couldn't, and they were the most ordinary people he had ever known- in fact, they prided themselves on it. He wondered how Dudley would have reacted to a talking snake. He probably would have screamed and cried for Aunt Petunia to save him, Harry thought with a smirk.

But that didn't change the fact that he had no idea what any of it meant.

He sighed and rolled onto his side, easing the weight off of his injured leg. Yes, the snake had seemed to be telling the truth, but it had also refused to explain anything. And after being beaten by an old woman and trying to rip a few chunks out of Harry, he probably never would. Harry cursed himself for not just taking it at its word that it would come back. At least then there would have been a chance he would get some answers…

… And then he was standing in the strange bathroom once again, the floor covered with dirty water that soaked Harry's socks through. The walls were stone and dripping wet as well, little spouts of water pouring out of the cracks and slowly flooding the room. Harry looked around, blinking, and realized that there was no exit. The walls continued on all sides, unbroken and spotted grey like the sky on a rainy day. Harry walked over to one and tried to push on it, force it open, but it wouldn't budge. The snake poked its head out of his sleeve and nipped at his fingers. "Not that way," it whispered. "Asssk it nicely."

"How?" Harry asked.

The snake laughed, it high sharp whistling that rang in Harry's ears like great iron church bells. "You have the answers, young masssster, not I."

Harry opened his mouth to answer and was distracted by a sudden chocked sob. There was someone, a girl it sounded like, crying. He whirled around, but there was no one there. "Hello?"Another sob, louder this time. "Who's there?" There was a splash, and Harry looked down to see the snake drop into the water, already risen higher than his ankles. It looked up at him solemnly, and he saw that its eyes had changed. They now appeared to be kind, human eyes, with jade irises and small pupils. "You have the answers, young master, not I." It repeated, the hiss gone from its words. It whispered something else, but Harry couldn't hear it as the mysterious girl began to keen, growing longer and louder and echoing around the room. "What?" he shouted. The snake only shook its head and dove under the water, disappearing from view. He fell to his knees and tried to grab it, but when he reached into the puddle his palms collided with the floor. He rubbed them back and forth in confusion, looking for a latch, a trapdoor, anything…

"Don't bother," the boy said, hair glowing gold in the candlelight. "You'll never find him that way."

Harry turned to him and scowled. "And what would you suggest?"

He laughed, patting the seat next to him. "Relax a little! You're always so serious…" He picked a goblet off the table in front of him- now when had that gotten there, Harry wondered- and flipped his tie over his shoulder carelessly. "If you don't have a bit of fun once in a while, your hair will be falling out before you're of age." He raised his cup in the air. "Cheers, huh?" He took a drink, still grinning, not even seeming to mind when the drink poured out of his open mouth and all over his shirt, his eyes suddenly growing blank and empty and lifeless…

The walls dissolved, the water was swirling around Harry's knees now and the candles were hovering overhead, the girl's wails were loud enough to be heard on the moon but no one was listening, no one cared…

And the moon, the moon was shinning cool and bright in the sky like a newly minted coin, raindrops were splattered across the windows but none were falling, and the woman flung her arms out in desperation, like she could shield the whole world if she could just reach far enough…

"It is our choices that show what we really are, far more than our abilities…"

And Tom was sitting in his parents' drawing room and talking of 'trickery' as if he had a clue, rubbing the back of his neck and not meeting anyone's eyes because no matter what he said to appease himself he was guilty, guilty, guilty-

Harry awoke, as always, to his Aunt rapping on the door, the quick tapping of her fingernails nearly keeping pace with the thundering of his heart.

AN: And that's chapter two. As I'm sure most of you have already figured out, the line "It is our choices that show what we really are, far more than our abilities…" is a quote from The Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling. … i.e. not mine, don't own.