Thank you for the reviews yesterday!

In other news, the story has acquired at least one new chapter, because of the twist at the end of this chapter. Damn.

Chapter Seven: Who Speaks to the Many?

"I promise you, Harry, I had nothing to do with this."

Harry squinted at Albus, who hid his sigh and stifled his instinctive temptation to read the boy's mind. They had been in his office for the past ten minutes, and it seemed that no matter how much he denied having anything to do with Fudge's new edicts, Harry would not believe him. He kept trying new and subtler ways of questioning, as though he believed those would pull the truth from Albus at last.

While Albus waited for the next one, he studied what the summer had made of the boy. Harry had grown a bit taller. That was the most obvious and banal of the changes, however. His eyes were steadier, more direct, and he carried himself as though he might have some purpose in life outside of staying in the shadows. Albus had already concluded that his first plan to handle the boy would not work. He would have to try others.

At least Severus had agreed to let them meet alone. There was that. Harry had a fragile trust in Albus, while Severus had none at all, anymore.

And whose fault is that?

Albus winced. He'd grown used to living with that voice during the summer, but he did not like it. It asked him useless questions whose answers he already knew, and prompted him to think of regrets that he had long ago put aside. He had no time to think of them. Merlin knew his days were already full of the here-and-now consequences of his actions.

Harry seemed to have decided the direct approach was best after all. "But you're the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot," he said. "Fudge couldn't have passed this edict against Dark wizards without your help."

Albus sighed. "He could and he did, Harry," he said, and picked up the book that had been resting on a corner of his desk, with one of Fawkes's shed feathers serving as a bookmark. He handed it to Harry and waited in silence as the boy read, while staring at the old perch on the other side of the room. He missed Fawkes. He wished the phoenix would visit him at least some of the time, but that seemed against whatever decision as to allegiance that Fawkes had made.

Harry looked back up, his face ashen. "He thinks we're at war?" he croaked.

Albus nodded. "Yes. 'The Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot may be displaced or set aside in times of war, when the Minister must make a decision with the help of his loyal supporters,' and that's quoting from memory, Harry. I must admit, there are times when it's a sensible precaution. The law came into being during the War with Grindelwald, when the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot turned out to have been one of the Dark Lord's Lightning Guard." Albus grimaced. The trial of Beowulf Guile was not one that he liked to remember. "But this time, Fudge has been receiving reports of Dark activity that I think are exaggerated and multiplied beyond all count. He has not claimed that Voldemort has returned, not yet. That would require an official recognition of a Dark Lord, and thus an enemy, by the Ministry. But he may think another Dark Lord is on the rise, and that means that he can convince a good portion of the Wizengamot to obey him." Albus sighed. "He did not even attempt to show me the proof of this. He simply bypassed me. I think he knows he could not convince me."

Harry nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed. "That means that he could pass other laws," he said. "Doesn't it?"

"Yes," said Albus, and waited. The boy obviously had other questions to ask him.

Harry closed his eyes and sat very still for a moment. Albus felt the shimmer of magic climbing around him, intoxicating and pulling—or at least it would have been if he wasn't defended by his own, old, settled power. Harry's magic had not strengthened, but it seemed to have deepened, as though he were learning better control. Albus sincerely hoped so, for both the boy's sake and the sake of the wizarding world.

"They could hurt my allies," Harry whispered.

Albus's eyebrows rose. "Of course, the anti-werewolf edicts have already hurt Remus—" he began.

Harry opened his eyes and shook his head. "Not just those allies, sir. The allies that you promised you wouldn't interfere with, former Death Eaters and Dark wizards." He flexed one hand as though already anticipating it would hurt from the letters he had to write. "I have to warn them."

Albus checked his desire to say something. Harry was due for some bad experiences with the former Death Eaters and the Dark wizards, he suspected. He wished he could say something to ease Harry into the experience, but the boy would not believe him anyway. He had a tremendous capacity to forgive and forget.

Too tremendous, Albus thought. We trained him too well, Lily and I.

He started in the next instant, and banished the thoughts again. He simply had no time for regrets.

Harry nodded to him and stood. "Thank you, sir, for letting me know that magical Britain is essentially under martial law at the moment," he murmured, and then turned and strode from the room.

Albus sighed and turned to another of his tasks, not letting his mind linger for long on Harry. The boy was perhaps the most essential wizard in the world at the moment, outranking even his brother, whose training was, by all accounts, going well. But there were problems Albus had to settle that had nothing to do with him, and one that could, as yet, have nothing to do with him.

He picked up three letters, one from France, one from Bulgaria, and one from Godric's Hollow, and sat back to consider how best to respond to them.

Harry whispered the password to Snape's door—he'd had to ask his mentor to change it several times before they found one that did not refer to one of Harry's family members in an unflattering way—and opened it, just in time to find Snape receiving a Howler. The Potions Master sat behind his desk, marking essays and looking thoroughly unimpressed, while the red envelope hovered above his desk and screamed at him.

"—AND I THOUGHT IT WAS MY MOTHER'S DECREE AT FIRST, AND NOW I FIND OUT THAT IT'S YOURS! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I WANTED TO SEE HARRY AGAIN, BEFORE SCHOOL STARTED? AND HOW MUCH HE WANTED TO SEE ME? WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO TELL HIM THAT HE CAN'T HAVE VISITORS? HE SAVED EVERYBODY FROM A DEATH EATER! ISN'T THAT ENOUGH TO WIN YOUR APROVAL?"

Harry covered his face with one hand. He supposed he'd been foolish to think that a week of calm letters from Draco meant that there would be no more explosive response sooner or later.

The Howler fell to Snape's desk. Snape finished writing the line he'd started, then drew out his wand, murmured, "Incendio," and burned the envelope to a crisp before he looked up.

"Harry," he said evenly. "I trust that your meeting with Albus went well."

Harry rolled his eyes. He'd insisted on going alone to speak to Dumbledore, and it still had taken him almost a week to get that agreement out of Snape. Now he had to stand there while Snape used gentle Legilimency on him to find out if the Headmaster had left another web in his mind. His mentor sat back at last, with a nod, and said, "Your mind is clear. Now. I must ask again if you are sure about this expedition."

Harry folded his arms. "Unless you want me to not have the books and cauldrons and robes I need for the new term, then yes."

"I could firecall an associate of mine who often shops in Diagon Alley, and have her retrieve your new belongings for you," said Snape, an offer he'd made before.

Harry shook his head. His summer at Lux Aeterna had at least addicted him to one thing, he thought: the feel of open space in front of him and the sky above his head. It hadn't been bad during the first few weeks of August, since he could go outside as long as he didn't go too far from the castle, but for the last week, Snape had kept him behind the wards. Students arrived tomorrow, and he wouldn't have much excuse to leave again unless he went flying or to Hogsmeade, and Harry wasn't sure that Snape would allow that, either. "I want to go to Diagon Alley myself."

Snape sighed. "Very well." He stood, cast a Summoning Charm on his cloak, and gave Harry a critical glance. "We will get there soon enough," he said. "It is not yet noon. You need not be so impatient."

Harry blinked. He had his arms folded, but he wasn't tapping a foot or sighing or looking at the clock. He hadn't thought that he looked so impatient. "What?"

Snape narrowed his eyes as though surprised by something, and gestured. "Precede me to the Floo, please, Mr. Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes. His last name usually meant he'd done something wrong, but in this case, he had no idea what that could be. He paused to grab his own cloak from his bedroom. With any luck, if anyone recognized him from Skeeter's newspaper articles, he could use the hood to shield his face.

Harry threw his head back and breathed out comfortably. They had arrived via Floo at the Leaky Cauldron, and from there, Snape had guided him back into Diagon Alley. The sight around him was exactly what Harry had wanted. Fresh air, blue sky—he supposed the day Snape had taken him to London hadn't been the last sunny day of August, after all—people moving around him who weren't cheering hysterically or running in fear. He could feel an agitation he'd barely been aware was there dying in his stomach.

"Come, Harry. James said he had set up a separate account for you at Gringotts, I take it?"

Harry nodded. Snape would say nothing about the rest of the contents of that letter if he would say nothing, he supposed. The rest of the letter from James had warned Snape against trying to touch the money in Harry's account. Harry winced at the very memory. Sometimes his father reminded him of nothing so much as a more immature Draco making comments on how little money the Weasleys had.

"This way," said Snape, and guided Harry down the Alley.

They received a few stares as they walked, but not many. Harry relaxed by degrees. Probably people were staring absently, in the fashion of someone who knew they were supposed to recognize someone else, but couldn't quite do it. Of course, Skeeter's last article about him had been four days ago, and he had his magic even more tightly shielded than normal.

They're staring anyway, Regulus said, his voice abruptly appearing in Harry's head. They must sense something about you, but I think most of them can't tell what it is. That doesn't mean you won't trouble their dreams, later.

How comforting. Harry snorted. Where have you been?

Teaching you a lesson, said Regulus. You seem to have settled back down, thank Merlin. Are you sorry for what you did?

Harry sighed as they passed Flourish and Blotts. The unnecessary part, yes. But I can't be sorry for dissipating the curse, or facing Rosier and keeping him occupied when he could have hurt someone else.

Regulus snorted back at him. Have you given thought to how you might help me get my body back?

Harry threw up his hands, causing Snape to glance at him. Harry resolved to keep his gestures under control from now on. I've tried! But when all you can tell me is "small space" and "darkness," that doesn't help much. I told you what I think the best chance would be.

And I told you why it wouldn't work. Regulus sounded sulky. I don't have perfect control of the wards, not when I can't see them. I was able to shut Bellatrix out of the Black estates she'd been hiding in, but I can't open the wards for one person and not another. I just don't have that fine a control. If I opened them to Narcissa so that she could come in and search about, Bellatrix could get in, too.

Harry shook his head. You'll have to take a risk, sooner or later, if you want to be back in your body. He thought Regulus was probably imprisoned somewhere in one of the Black estates. It would explain why none of the Death Eaters had ever found the body, and why the wards had slammed shut immediately when Sirius died and the heirship transferred to Regulus; they were protecting their new master. Harry also thought it was the sort of thing that would appeal to Voldemort, since the locket that had contained a part of his soul had also reposed somewhere among the Black treasures.

Although…come to think of it, he can't have known about that, or he would have taken his locket back.

Listen, Regulus interrupted his musings. I don't want to be found by Bellatrix. That would be horrible.

I agree, it would be, Harry said. But if you are in a Black house, and you don't let the wards relax for someone who's friendly to you, then you'll never be found at all.

Regulus sighed at him. I would find it reassuring if you were on hand when the wards fell, so that you could come in immediately and search.

Harry raised his eyebrows. You saw what happened the last time you tried to convince Snape that I should be able to leave Hogwarts and search for you. Snape had driven Regulus from his mind with a judicious combination of Occlumency and a defense spell that he still hadn't taught Harry, but which had left Regulus whimpering in pain for hours afterward.

Regulus sighed again. I know.

Harry shook his head once more, and then they were at Gringotts. Harry had been there, but not for over a year, and he had forgotten how imposing it was. The white marble glittered and flashed in the sun, sometimes too bright to look at. The bronze doors weren't much better, and the uniform of the goblin who stood in front of those outer doors seemed to have been made by a former Gryffindor who wanted to outdo the garish combination of red and gold in the House's common room.

Harry met the goblin's eyes as they walked up the steps and towards the doors. This was a southern goblin, and so different from the northern ones. For one thing, his skin was darker, his eyes, as they fixed on Harry, were dark and slanted, and he appeared to have no claws and only five fingers on each hand when Harry was close.

It wasn't until they reached the actual front doors that Harry realized the goblin was studying him back, his eyes gone into even smaller slits as they narrowed. He didn't say anything, however, and so Harry simply nodded to him and passed into the antechamber beyond, where he and Snape would have to go through a pair of silver doors engraved with the goblins' curse on thieves.

Harry's skin began to tingle the moment he stepped into the antechamber. He blinked and looked behind the world again, wondering if he would see a web here. He was somewhat puzzled when he did not.

Then he glanced from side to side, and saw glittering white strands running on either side of him. He couldn't see the web because he stood in the middle of it. He sighed. Of course this one would be especially strict, since after all these goblins are guarding the money of the wizarding world.

"Come, Harry," said Snape again, and steered him forward. Harry kept his eyes open and his sight focused on the web, though, which made for a mixed sight of afterimages, goblins, and wizards in the room beyond. Now and then he stumbled, but Snape's firm hand on his shoulder held him steady.

They approached a bored-looking goblin behind the counter, who sat up slightly on seeing them. "Welcome to Gringotts," he said, with such practiced polish that Harry wondered how anyone ever heard sincerity in it. "My name is Flashkack. Your name and business?"

"Harry Potter," said Harry as calmly as he could. The web was growing brighter around him, or at least the strand of white light immediately in front of him was. He didn't understand why, and had to strive to hold his voice under control. "I've come about an account that my father, James Potter, established for me from his vault."

Flashkack didn't say anything for a long moment, simply and steadily staring at him. Harry blinked, his eyes watering with tears from the web. He'd never seen any other behave like this, and wondered what was going on.

Of course, I still have a lot to learn about being vates, he reminded himself.

"Of course," the goblin murmured at last, and abruptly the brilliant strand of the web calmed down to what it had been. "Here is your key, sir." He passed the key to the vault over with one hand. Harry took it, and felt a faint stir of magic where their fingers touched. Flashkack once more stared intently at him, then said, "I will take you to your vault myself, sir."

Harry nodded. "Thank you. We would be grateful." He heard Snape's slight snarl behind him, and suspected the man was not thrilled at the thought of riding one of the carts down to the vault. Harry ignored him. Flashkack's eyes wouldn't have let him go at the moment, either.

"May I invite you," Flashkack said suddenly, his voice rough and low, "to attend a certain meeting in one of the back rooms when you are done with the vault?"

Harry felt his heart pound once, as though in answer to the unusual voice. "I accept," he said, without thinking about the consequences.

"Harry," said Snape, his voice a pace or two away from a growl.

Harry cast him an impatient glance. "My guardian can come with me, I take it?" he asked Flashkack.

"As long as he promises not to behave like a wizard, of course," said Flashkack.

Harry winced slightly. From the context, "like a wizard" obviously meant "rudely and arrogantly." "I'll stand surety for him myself if he does, in the name of blood and stone," he said. He was lost when it came to northern goblin courtesies, but he knew the southern ones fairly well.

Flashkack cocked his head, and something like a smile touched his solemn face. "I accept, in the name of silver and bronze." He gestured towards one of the guarded doors on the far side of the room. "This way, sir. Your vault awaits."

Harry glanced once around the room, taking in the large number of goblins standing around the walls, and then fixed his gaze solely on the table in front of him. It had two chairs. Harry and Snape would sit there, while the goblins remained on their feet around them.

Harry calmed his breathing, his desire to lash out, and his instinctive certainty that they were being made to sit like this so that their heads were lower than the goblins'. It didn't matter. He wasn't coming to this meeting as some kind of conqueror, anyway, but as a potential vates interested in hearing what the goblins had to say.

He heard Snape drawing in breath for some kind of vitriolic comment, and reached up, squeezing his mentor's arm. He made sure it was the left arm, and that his hand covered the Dark Mark. Snape let out his breath without speaking. Harry nodded to Flashkack, who had served as their escort, and took his seat.

He realized abruptly that the white web, though still present and shining around them when he looked, was dimmer here than elsewhere. Before he could think better of it, he murmured aloud, "It isn't as bright."

One of the goblins near the wall gave a harsh sound that might have been a laugh, and took a step forward. Harry saw how the heads all around the room swung to him, orienting on him—no, Harry decided as the goblin came a step or two forward, her. There was something about the shape of her face and the way she carried herself that was different from Flashkack, whom Harry was certain was male.

"No," she said. "And do you know why, vates?"

Harry shook his head. He was afraid for Snape beside him, strung tight as a crossbow. He once again tried to reach out and soothe him through touch, but this time he didn't know if he succeeded. "Please, tell me why."

"Because no money is exchanged here," said the goblin, standing with one foot set in front of the other as she stared at him. "No keys to vaults are given." She smiled, her grin a nightmare of jagged teeth. "The web is tied to the business of the bank itself, and reinforced each time wizards take or add to the wealth they have stolen from us."

Harry shuddered. The words again spilled from his lips before he could stop them. "Who did that?"

"Ah," said the goblin, a bare breath. Her eyes hadn't blinked, Harry realized suddenly, and she had never looked away from him, either. It was like being caught on a stone drill. "Most of the magical creatures have no answer for that. But in our case, we do. We did work as equal partners with wizards until we refused to give a certain one a certain treasure he wanted. He took it anyway, and spun the web to make it so that each exchange thereafter would strengthen the bonds upon us. His name was Salazar Slytherin."

Harry felt Snape jerk. "He never did anything of the kind," the Head of Slytherin snapped. "He was a Dark wizard, there is no denying that, but he had no need to steal treasure from goblins or weave webs. You are lying."

The reaction was instantaneous. Several goblins around the walls lifted their hands, and Harry saw that they held bows like the northern goblins had, save that their arrows did not shine white, but silver. Harry felt the hum coming from those arrows. He didn't recognize the magic, but he doubted it would be good for Snape if the bolts hit him anywhere on his body.

The female goblin turned her head, by slow degrees, to look at Snape. She seemed amused more than anything, Harry thought, at least if he was reading the wrinkles that ran around her dark eyes correctly. "You would call the hanarz of the goblins of Gringotts a liar, to her face?" she asked.

Harry winced. Remembering how much the northern goblins had valued honesty, he had some guess as to the depth of the insult Snape had just given the hanarz. "Please, forgive him," he said, making sure not to start to his feet or get in between Snape and the arrows, though he wanted to. "He is completely unfamiliar with all this, and he is the Head of the House that Salazar Slytherin established at Hogwarts. He thinks he is speaking the truth."

"Speaking the truth does not always involve calling others liars, Harry Potter," the hanarz murmured. "Would you not agree?"

Harry nodded unwillingly.

"And you have some idea of how much honesty means to us?"

Harry had to nod again.

"Then tell me," said the hanarz, tone distant and detached, as though confronting an intellectual problem, "why should he not die?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. Well, they value honesty. "If you kill him," he said, "then I will not help you, and will more than likely kill many of you in turn, in my explosion of rage. I love him, and even though he's an idiot sometimes, I won't suffer you to touch him."

The hanarz considered him in silence. Then she nodded once, and the bows along the walls lowered. Harry sat back, and became aware of Snape's harsh breathing next to him. He didn't turn and ask his mentor how he was. It was obvious how he was—angry and terrified almost witless. Harry hoped the meeting wouldn't last long pat this moment. Snape always started saying unfortunate things when he was this upset.

"Well spoken," said the hanarz. "Now, tell me what you plan to do about our web, little vates."

Harry considered her. "I would have to close the bank to dissipate the web, wouldn't I?"

"Stop the exchange of money, more than likely," the goblin said, not sounding at all bothered.

Harry nodded. "And that, of course, would destroy one of the pillars of wizarding society," he said.

The hanarz said nothing, simply watched him expectantly. Harry stared into her eyes and found he could ignore the eyes of the watching goblins. They followed and obeyed her so deeply that hers was the only stare that mattered.

He took a deep breath. "I can't destroy it right now, any more than I can destroy the linchpins that hold your northern cousins captive," he began.

"But?" the hanarz prompted, instead of getting angry as Harry had expected, a faint smile touching her lips. Harry revised his opinion of her cleverness upwards. Perhaps she had never intended to kill Snape, after all, or had at least been smart enough to know what would happen if she did.

"I can promise to try," said Harry softly.

The hanarz nodded once. "You swear it by blood and stone, by silver and bronze?"

"More," said Harry. This is where my education comes in handy. "I swear it by gold."

The murmur of voices around him began again, and the hanarz stepped back to rest against the wall. Flashkack came forward to escort them out of the room. Harry stood up gratefully, stretching tense muscles and praying that Snape would keep quiet until they were safely out. Luckily, he did.

Of course, his first words once they were navigating their tunnel back towards the cart that had brought them here were, "I suppose that promise was worth so little that they immediately had to let us go, without even a farewell?"

"Wrong, wizard," said Flashkack, turning around to meet Snape's eyes. "That promise is worth so much that we need ask nothing else of Mr. Potter. He will keep his oath."

Harry kept his eyes fixed on the tunnel ahead, and tried not to hear Snape's mumbling or feel the goblin's speculative glance. He was winding himself up in more and more complications, but he'd always suspected that would happen. Life wasn't simple, nor easy.

Harry glanced around uneasily. It wasn't that he didn't know about Dark magic, he told himself. He'd practiced it, for Merlin's sake.

But there was something about Knockturn Alley that made him nervous anyway. Perhaps it was the air of sordid, petty transactions that took place here, Harry thought, shying away from a witch who stepped out of a shop so heavily curtained that Harry could make out nothing of what it sold. He knew some Dark magic, yes, and the deep, wild darkness that had come and danced with him on Walpurgis Night. He knew little of the darkness that poverty and desperation could drive one to.

The witch shuffled past him, gave a dry, rattling cough, and fumbled open the handkerchief she held, scooping up a handful of gray powder to rub on her face. A look of ecstasy overcame her features. Harry had to look away.

"This way."

Snape swept out of the apothecary shop, to Harry's relief, and led him towards the entrance to Knockturn Alley. He'd insisted on Harry staying within his sight, his cloak pulled up, but hadn't let him enter the shop. Now, from the way he strode, he was obviously determined to leave.

Harry hadn't gone far, though, when the force that evidently delighted in making his life hard decided to do it again.

Two men had been carrying a crate from one shop to another, their hands obviously trembling under its weight. They were passing directly in front of Harry and Snape when they dropped the crate, and it cracked open, wood splinters flying in several directions. Harry ducked them.

Almost at once, there was a horrible hissing.

The men screamed. Harry lowered his hand from his face to see snakes swarming over them, small, lithe green-and-gold bodies moving with astonishing quickness, concentrating in one place and biting again and gain. One of the wizards convulsed and went down. The other managed to keep his feet, but from the glazed look in his eyes, it wouldn't be long before he succumbed to the venom.

Acting on instinct, Harry took a step forward. "Stop!" he called out, and from the jerk Snape gave beside him, knew it had been in Parseltongue.

And the snakes all stopped, as one, their bodies reacting like the body of the artificial snake from the Black treasuries who had attacked Draco last year. Then their heads swung to face him, also all as one, and a hissing eddied among them, forming into words that seemed to emerge at last from one serpent in the center of the pile.

"Who speaks to the Quiver? Who speaks to the Many?"

Harry swallowed. He was aware that he had a small crowd, people leaning out of shops to watch, but he couldn't concentrate on that in the face of the information he'd just received. The Many were hive cobras, a type of magical snake from South Africa. They were extremely difficult to kill, since they were essentially one mind in many bodies, and killing one small body would just result in the mind passing to another host. They could bite and inject venom into a victim that would kill as it was reinforced again and again from multiple mouths, or spit their poison into their victim's eyes. One book Harry had read even suggested they could possess wizards, if they really tried. Out of control, they would be more than a menace.

He had an opportunity to stop that from happening, and it was more than enough. "I do," he said, taking a step forward just so that he wouldn't accidentally see any wizards from the corner of his eye and speak in English. "I am a Parselmouth, and I ask that you please stop attacking those wizards."

"One is dead, Parselmouth," said the eddying hiss. "And they seized us from our warm den and brought us here, cutting the Many in half. They intended to cut us and mash us and use our eggs. Why should we spare them?"

Harry swallowed. "I suppose you don't have any reason to," he said. "But I ask you to."

"And the other people, too?" There was a mocking tone to the voices now. "Shall the Many refrain from attacking other people, because you ask us to?"

"Eventually, you have to know that they'll kill you," said Harry. "You can't make your way back home from here; it's too far away. Hunters will come, and they'll kill you. I can spare the Many's life."

There was a long silence, and then all the snakes left the dead wizards and made for him as one. They moved incredibly fast, and smoothly dodged the hex that Snape fired at them.

Harry forced himself to stand still as the snakes swarmed up his body, wrapping around his arms and his chest and his legs. One draped around his neck, and held its body in front of his face, swaying. Harry could see the hood expanding around its neck, and the marking on it, turned to delicate green and gold by the light behind it—the infinity symbol, eternity or death. The cobra's eyes were gold. It could spit into his eyes, and he would be permanently blinded. There was no cure for that kind of blindness that anyone knew of, magical or Muggle, though the Many's ordinary bites could be cured.

Harry held the cobra's eyes and waited.

The hiss once more built into a single voice. "What would you give the Quiver, Parselmouth?"

"There is a sanctuary," said Harry carefully. "A forest in the place where I live, where many magical creatures live and run free of interference from wizards. I will take you there, and set you free. It is not the Many's natural home, but it may begin a new one."

There was a long silence, unless one counted the sound of scales scraping on and over him. Harry breathed shallowly. He was sure that Snape was staring at him in horror, but he couldn't look up and see if that was true. He could see only the cobra right in front of his face, swaying back and forth, back and forth.

It occurred to him that it might be the last thing he ever saw.

"And if hunters come after the Many even there?" they hissed then. "They may. They came after us in our warm den very far from wizards. Will you defend us?"

Harry set himself. He was a Parselmouth, the only kind of wizard who could speak to these creatures, and he had a duty that no other kind of wizard in this situation could have. "I will."

The Many slithered back and forth over him. Harry realized then that they were actually moving in a pattern, the snakes at the upper right side of his chest sliding slowly down to the left and then twining around his legs, while other snakes crawled over his back and shoulders and upwards. Only the one in front of his face did not alter its position.

"We accept."

Harry let out a short breath, then turned his head, carefully, to look at Snape. His mentor's face was furious again, but that was no surprise.

"I'm going to Apparate now," said Harry quietly. "I don't think it would be a good idea to go by Portkey or Floo. I swear that I'm only going to Hogsmeade, and nowhere else."

Snape snapped his head down. "I will be behind you," he said.

Harry nodded, gathered his strength around him, and Apparated.

Harry watched as the Many flowed away from him into the Forbidden Forest, a tide of green and gold, and sighed. He straightened, shaking his hands, and then turned to face Snape, who had followed him every step of the way from Hogsmeade.

"I couldn't think of anything else to do," he said.

Snape simply watched him, face blank. Harry had no way of telling what he was thinking. He opened his mouth to defend himself again, and was interrupted by a deep, confident voice that skimmed out from behind him.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned swiftly. Two tall wizards in gray cloaks were walking towards him from the direction of Hogsmeade. One of them held a scroll in front of him, from which he read as they halted a few feet from Harry.

"Mr. Harry Potter, you have today committed two crimes," he said. "One is use of your Parseltongue skills, a forbidden Dark talent under Ministry Edict 6.8.0. The other is failure to complete your registration as a Parselmouth, and therefore desire to hide your Dark magic from others." He lowered the scroll, and he and the other wizard both drew their wands. Harry couldn't see their faces under their low cloak hoods, but he knew from the wizard's voice that he was smiling. "You will come with us now. We will escort you to Minister Fudge."

Harry stiffened his shoulders. "And you are?" he asked.

"Oh, we have an official title," said the wizard who hadn't spoken so far yet, "but I can never remember it. Call us the Hounds. We sniff after Dark magic."

Harry sighed. One glance at Snape showed him an inch from exploding. Harry shook his head. "My guardian can come with me?" he asked, as he started divesting himself of the shrunken packages he'd got in Diagon Alley. There was no reason to take them with him.

"Ah," said the wizard who'd read the scroll. "Of course." He stepped forward and gripped Harry's shoulder. "I'm afraid not."

And then he went into Side Along Apparition, dragging Harry with him, cutting off Snape's angry roar as they went.