Harry Potter, The True Heir of Slytherin

A/N:

See chapter 1 for the disclaimer and summary.

Chapter #4: Parsel magic

A few days after the big, 'Weasley family discussion', Harry was practicing his magic in Ron's old room. He had already expanded and warded it, so as to confine any magical damage that was likely to occur. He was just meditating upon the day the rest of the family learned of the actions of their youngest siblings. To say that the family was shocked, was an understatement. Bill had flown into a rage and it took the efforts of Harry and Hermione to physically keep him from going to Hogwarts and ripping the children limb from limb. Charley had just shaken his head, and commented that it would have been a good idea to attempt to learn of the children's doings well before things got to this point. Percy, who had recently been forgiven his sins and welcomed back into the fold, agreed partly with Charley, and partly with bill. However, all the Weasley boys were in full agreement with their parents regarding their actions towards their youngest. The twins,well, they had a similar reaction to Bill, but, decided that revenge was a dish best served cold. All of them however, had thrown their support behind Harry and Hermione, and basically all but adopted them as brother and sister, which made the two young vampires cry tears of joy, especially Harry, who now had a family all his own, vampire clan not withstanding.

It was today however, that things got interesting. First, Dumbledore had sent a letter to Harry, demanding he come to Hogwarts to be, 'reeducated', or as Harry understood it, 'brought under Dumbledore's ', control. This, he declined without a second thought, knowing what the old meddlesome wizard had in mind. He did however, suggest that Dumbledore might need the use of a sepository, and hinted none too gently that the offending missive, along with Dumbledore's plans to further manipulate he and Hermione, would be appropriate for the task. Needless to say, Dumbledore summarily dismissed Harry's suggestion out of hand, that is until the enchanted missive he had sent along to Harry earlier, took the suggestion under advisement and promptly dealt with the matter in accordance with the delicately worded instructions. The second thing that happened, was Minister Fudge sent along an apology, for all the hurt he had caused Harry last year and offered to compensate him for any damages. Harry dismissed the idea of compensation, but accepted the apology, and decided to use Fudge to further his own ends. Musing over this happening, he decided to approach the minister and find out what his place was in all the current mayhem. After establishing that Fudge strangely had no ulteria motive, he went off to practice his magic, as he usually did.

Harry was just about to start on his wandless spell casting when an idea hit him. He postulated, that parseltongue was a language, all be it a magical one, so far as he saw it anyway, when he wondered if he couldn't cast spells using it. Giving the matter some thought, he decided to try it. Before doing so however, he decided to attempt to re-establish the wards he'd placed using parseltongue, so as to prevent any mishaps. To his pleasant surprise, things went better than he could ever have dreamed! Examining the magic under his mage sight, he was surprised to discover that although he'd used very little magic in the casting, the end results were worth the attempt. He cast several powerful spells first with his wand, then without, then using parseltongue, both with his wand, and again without, only to find, he'd barely scratched the surface of the wards.

Harry all but bounced down the stairs to show his new family what he'd accomplished when an unwelcome sight greeted his eyes.

"Ah. Harry. It's good to see you again." It was the Headmaster, looking a little too smug for Harry's liking.

"And what business, pray tell, does the ilustrius, omnipotent, all knowing and all powerful Dumbledore have with an abomination such as I? Could it be that you came to your senses, and decided that blood adopting two disowned Weasley children, was in fact, a fool's erond? Could it be that you wish to manipulate your weapon and his blood sister some more to further your own ends?"

"But but but, how," Dumbledore stammered, like a school boy caught in a lie.

"Oh please; Headmaster, spare me the histrionics. I am of the Lamia after all. You however, are a meer mortal and thus insignificant to the likes of us. You, my dear misguided meddler, forget your place. And, it would appear, your history as well. I, as Lord Slytherin once was, am a blood mage. Simply put Headmaster, I know you've blood adopted the youngest Weasleys, without I might add, the consent of the birth parents. Such a contract demands a price as you should have remembered. And, unless you've managed to hoodwink Magic herself, the price is your magic, transferred to the birth parents, upon the fifteenth birthday of the youngest child." Dumbledore paled at this, he knew full well that what Harry had spoken of was true. He had read it in one of his rare ancient tomes. With a hiss, and a twitch of a finger, the elderly wizard, now looking every bit his century and a half, was transported back to his office, and the young vampire, after his display of wandless parseltongue spell casting, went off in search of his family to tell them of his achievements.

On an island in the North sea, stands the fortress of Azkaban. It's ebsidien spires, stretch some three hundred feet into the sky. The monstrous connstruct, lays claim to two thirds of the island itself, while the other third is forests, rockey outcrops, gravel beach, and a steep winding trail that leads to the main entrance of the newly commandeered home of the Dark Lord. Deep within the fortress, in what once was a great hall, many black robed, white masked figures stand, in several well organized lines, as if awaiting their leader. The walls of this gathering place are bedecked with elegantly framed portraits, depicting sceens of torture and horror that would make any man in his right mind violently ill.

The Dark Lord swept into the room, his familiar, slithering along behind him.

"My loyal followersss, it hasss come to my attention that there isss a new lord Ssslytherin. Doesss anybody know of thisss? Isss there any information I could ussse, in order to gain the help of the Lamia, and dessstroy that annoying whelp Potter?" The Dark Lord hissed menacingly, his red eyes flashing with power, knowing his question wouldn't go unanswered.

"My Lord, as I am of the Lamia, I know of this happening of which you speak. I do know who the new leader is and intend to serve him as I did my last one." Snapes oily yet confident voice rang out from the shadows.

"Ah. Yesss Ssseverusss. Thisss matter needsss a great deal of Ssslytherin cunning. And, asss I trussst no other with thisss tasssk, I'd like you to see where exactly the lamia stand in reference to the up coming conflict."

"It shall be as my Lord commands." Snape sighed, knowing that one day this could all go to hell very quickly.

"Sssee that you do Ssseverusss. I do not want any missstakesss thisss time. I alssso want to know what hasss happened to Harry Potter. I have not been able to accccesss the link between usss thessse lassst few daysss." Voldemort hissed.

"It shall be as you command my Lord." Snape intoned reverently, and with a casual wave of Voldemort's hand, Snape left the fortress to find his new lord and report on the current happenings.

Albus Dumbledore was not a happy man. He, the greatest Wizard of the modern age, had been summarily dismissed as an insignificant insect, by no less than the source of his current bad mood, Harry James Potter Black Slytherin. He, if he had to admit it to himself, was scared. He knew, as Lord Slytherin did, that if he was to lose the tenuous hold he had on the magical community currently, he'd be in it up to his neck. He could not have this, he needed Potter destroyed and there was only one way, and that was to have him discredited and killed. Dumbledore summoned parchment and a quill, and wrote to the Minister for Magic, as well as Rita Skeeter. After sending his letters off with Fawkes, Dumbledore sat back in his highbacked chair, and remarked, not knowing that finius Nigellus, was listening intently from his other portrait.

"Soon, Potter, your pitiful rebellion will be crushed. I've long sort the day Clan Slytherin was brought to naught, and no little upstart, with more power than sense enough to know how to weald it, will stand in my way! Godric Gryffindor's noble work will be completed! I will have the power that is rightfully mine! And you! You insignificant little piss-ant, will not! Stop! Me! I will have what is mine by birthright!" And with that, Dumbledore sat back in his chair, never thinking for a moment that victory would never be his, that it never was, his.

A/N:

Well, another chapter down. I've decided writing is quite a difficult thing to do. However, I will not stop, because you all want more, and admittedly, I'm enjoying myself.

Please, do R&R

Blind-phoenix