Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
I've written Chapter 17 in advance but I am going to be unable to write for the next two weeks so there's a high chance I won't post the week after next - just a warning in case anyone cares.
I also nearly forgot to post this based on the fact that I have like no clue what day of the week it is.
Also yay! Over 50k now!
Potential Trigger Warning: Abuse, Panic Attack
Snape's hand was still on Harry's robe collar from when he'd dragged him out of the hall. It wasn't as though he was doing it that aggressively, or even that forcibly, it was almost a guiding hand but Harry couldn't stop himself from thinking about all the times Vernon had done the same thing.
Vernon had been far more violent, to the point where he'd often leave marks around Harry's neck, half-strangling him in his attempts to (literally) throw Harry into his cupboard.
"Boy you burn the bacon one more time and you'll be in here for a week instead of just two days!"
"Get off!" Harry yelled unable to take it anymore, clawing at Snape's hands so that he would remove them from Harry's collar. He'd managed to not freak out for a while after they left the hall, far enough away that now they wouldn't be heard by anyone.
It wasn't that Harry wasn't panicked then (in the hall with everyone's eyes on him), it was that Harry was too panicked, engrossed in his memories of Vernon, all simultaneously resurfacing at the same, extremely inconvenient time. "Get off! Get off!" Harry repeated over and over and Snape released him, a rare concerned look on his face.
"Shit." Harry hissed under his breath as he tried to get control of his breathing, though with each attempt it just seemed to get harder and harder, as though the air he was inhaling had no oxygen in it, and wasn't going to his lungs. In four. Hold seven. Out eight. In four. Hold seven. Out eight.
It was a breathing technique Harry had been taught by one of his therapists, a nice, young man with a carefree yet comforting smile, Dr Jackson was his name. He had been Harry's third therapist, the other two he'd never quite been able to connect with.
The first therapist had been a nice woman but she'd reminded him - in appearances only, her character was nothing alike - to Petunia. The second therapist had been an older man, and there was nothing strictly wrong with him but he just wasn't the right fit.
Dr Jackson on the other hand... There was something about him that just let Harry trust him, he was dark-haired, with deep sea-green eyes and a tan. He had a funny New York accent that was anything but threatening and had somewhat of a 'surfer-dude' vibe.
Apparently he too had been abused when he was younger by his step-father which he'd told Harry in some sort of trust exercise. He was only in his twenties but had moved to England when his fiancée got a job here, and though initially adverse to all the rain and dark English weather, apparently he'd now got to the point where he loved it, the rain including.
That was why Harry liked him, there was something about him which made Harry feel like less of a patient, or an inconvenience, and more of a friend. A sort of older-brother type vibe to how he treated Harry.
"Harry." Snape started in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. "Are yo-" He paused, seeming to be contemplating his next words carefully. "How can I help?" He asked, making sure to keep a clear distance between himself and Harry, who was now pressed firmly against the corridor wall, his hands on his knees in an almost foetal position as he tried to calm his breathing. In four. Hold seven. Out eight.
Harry just shook his head. In four. Hold seven. Out eight. To be honest it was amazing this hadn't happened before. When Harry had first come out of the coma every new person seemed to trigger a panic attack, even Luke when they first met. But under the guidance of Dr Jackson, and the loving, caring parenting of Luke, Harry had gotten better. He knew how to control his emotions, his feelings. It was rare that they got out of control like this.
He'd only had one other panic attack whilst inside the Hogwarts Walls. It was on his fourth day here, a Saturday. The first three days had been alright, the comfort of a schedule helping him get used to the new routine of a boarding school far away from home.
He'd woken up early, and the others had all been asleep - and they'd only known each other for three days by that point, it wasn't like they were all best friends. Harry wasn't even sure what spurred it on.
Just one second he was okay and the next he wasn't. Luckily he'd been alone in the showers, and had calmed his breath down enough to turn the shower on whilst he stood under it.
The shock of the cold water on his body had torn him out of his panicking, Harry almost laughing as his clothes got soaked. Since then he'd been okay.
He'd gotten closer with Terry and Anthony, Neville and Michael too, and he no longer felt as homesick, Hogwarts in a way became as much as a home as the Reynolds' household - despite the trolls and evil DADA teachers.
Eventually Harry managed to even out his breathing, already blushing as he stretched out his legs, purposefully avoiding the gaze of Snape.
"Sorry." Harry muttered in a small voice.
"You don't need to apologise Reynolds- Harry. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that, I just thought it was necessary for you to get out of the Great Hall then and there and take you to see Dumbledore." Snape explained calmly.
"Dumbledore?" Harry asked, "Why should I see Dumbledore?"
"I need to talk to him myself, about what happened at duelling club - I sincerely doubt they'll be another after the train wreck that was today." Snape told him, before muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "That fool Lockhart". "And I didn't think it would be great for you to remain in the Great Hall, considering..." Snape trailed off pointedly as though he was sharing information with Harry that Harry already knew.
"Considering..?" Harry prompted, unaware of whatever Snape was alluding to.
Snape's expressions sharpened as he realised that Harry didn't know what he was talking about. "It's probably better Dumbledore talks to you about it."
"I don't want to talk to Dumbledore about it." Harry retorted in a manner that any other day would've definitely gotten him in trouble, Snape just raised an eyebrow. "Sorry." Harry conceded. "I just- Why can't you just tell me now?"
Snape nodded slowly, though Harry wasn't quite sure whether that was in acceptance of his apology or whether he was about to tell him whatever it was that he knew that Harry didn't. "Parseltongue," Snape began, unknowingly answering Harry's unspoken question."
"Terry said that earlier. What is it?" Harry interrupted, too confused and still slightly too on edge from his panic attack to properly care that he was being rude.
"Parseltongue is the ability to talk to snakes." Snape replied. "An extremely rare ability, one which is in most cases hereditary." He told Harry before pausing, he seemed to be deliberating over whether to elaborate further before he finally did: "The ability of parseltongue is most commonly linked to Salazar Slytherin."
"Oh." Harry muttered in response, putting together all the pieces of the puzzle. If he had parseltongue, and this was some hereditary ability which people associated with Slytherin, then people might start to link him with the Heir of Slytherin.
"I'm not suggesting for a second that you are the Heir." Snape told him, responding to his thoughts almost as though he'd been reading his mind. "You are a muggleborn after all, and clearly not some blood purist who wishes to rid the school of the 'impure' - not that I believe they are impure of course, that is just what was said to be Slytherin's aim." Snape quickly corrected himself and Harry nodded.
"Right." He replied shortly. Muggleborn, of course. This fake identity had become his armour once more, saving him from Snape thinking he wasn't the Heir - and hopefully making sure that the others didn't believe that either.
"Do I still have to go to see Dumbledore?" Harry asked - he really didn't want to have his first meeting with the man who'd completely screwed up his life.
"I wouldn't say you have to, but I'd recommend it. In the Great Hall, though I could see that whatever you were saying clearly halted the snake enough to allow me to remove the bubble and stop it, well, to be frank, it almost sounded like you were encouraging it to attack Mr Warrington." Snape told him.
"What?" Harry replied incensed. "Encouraging it? I was stopping it."
"Yes, Mr Reynolds." Snape drawled, "As I said, I believe you were helping." He told him, sounding as though his impatience with Harry was dwindling.
"Right. Thanks I guess." Harry was marginally placated by Snape's words. "I want to go back to my dormitory if that's ok?"
"Alright Mr Reynolds. I can't exactly force you to see the headmaster. Stay safe." Snape told him, the last sentence seemed to be added as somewhat of an after thought.
"Thanks professor." Harry said, before getting to his feet and starting to walk towards the Ravenclaw tower.
Indeed. Duelling club was eventful after all.
"I can't believe you're a parselmouth." Michael accused as Harry burst through the door.
"Why didn't you tell us you speak parseltongue?" Terry added immediately, his tone more gentle than Michael's. The two seemed to have been waiting for him, Michael on his bed having just showered his eyes fixated on the door, whereas Terry was sitting on the floor, some Potions or Charms essay sitting untouched in front of him. Anthony on the other hand was just lying on his bed looking half-asleep as he reluctantly propped his head on his hand to face Harry.
"Guys, chill!" Harry replied, his walk up to the Ravenclaw tower hadn't been too pleasant, at any sound that someone might have been coming he hid (proof he wasn't a Gryffindor) trying to avoid any sort of confrontation, and not really in the mood for discussion. "I didn't know."
"You didn't know you could speak to snakes?" Michael replied sceptically. "Not very Ravenclaw of you..."
"Right. Have you ever tried to talking to snakes Mike?" Michael at least had the decency to look sheepish as Harry shut him down harshly - still on edge after the embarrassing incident with Snape.
"It's a good thing everyone thinks you're a muggleborn Harry, otherwise..." Terry trailed off pointedly.
"We won't tell anyone." Anthony told him, piping up from his bed where he was lying. "That you're a half-blood that is. It's not like you're the Heir anyway."
"Yeah." Terry replied as Michael nodded in agreement.
"Thanks guys, but I don't need you to lie about my blood status." Harry told them as he shrugged off his robe, gently folding it and putting it away.
"Harry, we believe you. We do. Because we know you, we know you aren't discriminative due to blood," Terry paused, "but... other people jump to conclusions - espeically the Gryffindors. I wouldn't be surprised if they tried to pin it on you."
"You don't have an alibi." Michael noted, discarding the towel he'd been using to dry off his hair to the floor, and everyone looked up at him. "What?" He retorted defensively. "I'm just saying the truth. Everyone saw you leave the feast early on Halloween."
"I had a headache."
"Harry, we know, but other people who you've never met aren't just going to believe you like that."
"Plus," Terry began hesitantly, "After your display of nonverbal magic last year people will see it as being possible that you are the heir."
"No they won't." Michael intervened "They won't think he's the Heir because they think he's a muggleborn. They might think he's the next dark wizard though." Michael said with a laugh - as he unknowingly jinxed Harry.
"Harry? The next dark wizard? Right." Terry replied with a dismissive eyebrow.
"I'm not saying he is, I'm just saying the Gryffindors are stupid." Michael retorted.
"Okay, fair enough." Terry conceded, laughing - if there was one thing that the Ravenclaws would always agree on, it was that the Gryffindors were stupid. Not stupid in that they'd fail their exams - Hermione Granger was proof of that - but stupid in their rash mindset, always jumping head first into trouble with no preparation or planning. It was no wonder they always ended up last in the House Cup.
"Imagine if Hermione heard you say that." Anthony added from his bed after a small delay, clearly not focussing too hard on the conversation.
"Merlin. No thanks." Michael replied. "That girl is a," he paused, clearly searching for the right word, "a handful shall we say?"
"Agreed." Terry replied as Harry nodded his head. "She's just so superior, as if she's smarter than the rest of us - and jealous as well. Remember how she acted when Harry did the nonverbal spell and got all that attention?"
"Spent the next couple of weeks holed up in the library according to Nev." Anthony replied.
"Can't cope with being second-best." Terry said as he picked up his quill. "Due tomorrow." He moaned with a raised eyebrow in Harry's direction. "I was so good last year as well, always did my homework as soon as I got it, but now..." he trailed off and Harry couldn't help but agree. When they were in first year all they could focus on was doing the homework as soon as they got it, being prepared and not procrastinating in the slightest, but now?
Now procrastinating was their lifestyle, Harry busy with Quidditch and art club, and Terry doing who knows what - probably in the library with some of his other friends talking about non-curriculum things.
It wasn't that Terry wasn't thirsty for knowledge, it's just that knowledge and studying isn't just restricted to Transfiguration and Charms and all the other subjects.
Ravenclaw wasn't necessarily about acing every class by getting 100% in your tests, intelligence isn't just restricted to academics. Something the second-years were quickly learning. (Not that by the time summer rolled around Terry wouldn't be exam-crazed and spending every possible second revising).
The conversation slowly dissolved into the scratches of Terry's quills and the light snoring coming from Anthony's bed and Harry couldn't help but follow Anthony's example and get an early night. It had been an exhausting day after all.
The exhausting day turned into an exhausting week. It wasn't completely awful, but it definitely wasn't great - or even good. Exhausting.
The school seemed divided on whether or not to hate Harry or not - it wasn't that they believed he was the Heir (his muggleborn mask helped him out there) - but they still seemed to believe that Harry was dark. According to the majority of the school (most second-years excluded) Harry was the next dark wizard.
Their evidence? Not much. His nonverbal spell in first year was apparently a sign that he could grow up to be the next Grindelwald or Voldemort - ironic if they knew he was the reason Voldemort wasn't a problem anymore. What had, merely one year prior, made him special, and celebrated, now made him 'dangerous'.
He'd gone from being compared to Dumbledore (which was apparently supposed to be a good thing) to being told he was destined for Azkaban (though Fred Weasley - or George, Harry could never tell them apart, though to be fair he wasn't sure Ron could either - was probably joking).
Either way, whether they thought he was the next dark wizard or not that didn't stop the entire Hogwarts population staring at him in the corridors and in the Great Hall and dinner (including a couple of wayward stares from Albus Dumbledore).
They weren't exactly death threats - Harry knew they weren't being overly serious - but the way everyone treated him changed nonetheless. Well... nearly everyone.
Terry was still his best-friend, arguing with him over their seasonal points contest (Terry was winning, unfortunately), and Anthony was still as chill as Anthony always was. Michael was a bit more of a pain in the ass, but that just meant he kept bringing it up, joking about Harry being the next dark wizard.
Neville was of course, still Neville, and Dean still preferred to discuss football (and lamenting how it was now called the 'Coca Cola League') - Dean definitely cared more about West Ham's promotion battle than Harry being a parselmouth.
Surprisingly enough most of the Slytherins didn't treat Harry differently, most deciding to ignore him. The Slytherins were the first to dismiss that Harry was the Heir (some Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, being characteristically stupid, failed to remember that Harry wasn't a blood purist) - though they did this mainly because they thought it was an affront to their house that Harry was even being considered to be the Heir.
So no, the next week wasn't great, but it would only get worse from then on.
AN/ Sorry this was a bit of a filler chapter but I hope it was better than nothing, and it was lowkey necessary to enable me to progress the story onwards.
also disclaimer that I don't really own 'Dr Jackson' as he's based off of Percy Jackson - aka the best male protagonist ever - so all credits go to Rick Riordan there.