A/N: Word of advice: Never go to law school. Unless, of course, you're okay with your hair starting to turn gray in your 20s... Ugh.

Anyways, on a much happier note, here is the next chapter for you all! In response to a guest review, I really have no idea how many more chapters this story will be. I originally guessed that the whole tale would max out at about 50K words, and as you can see, I was a little bit off in that estimation. I plan to take things through to the end of Harry's second year, and I have a rough outline for getting there. But whether that turns into 10 more chapters or 50, I really couldn't say, though as soon as I get a better idea of when the end is near, I will certainly let you all know.

Enjoy!

Harry didn't know what to think as he stood there, staring at the still-terrified Pansy Parkinson several feet away. All he knew was that his body suddenly felt numb, and he found that he was unable to move or to even speak as all eyes in the room seemed to be focused squarely on him.

And then the whispers started to break out around the hall, getting louder and louder until Harry finally broke out of his trance as some of the murmurings finally reached his ears.

"I can't believe it!"

"Did he just—"

"But if she really hurt his owl—"

"But he was aiming for Finch-Fletchley, first. I saw him!"

"Do you think it's him? The Heir of—"

"Silence!" The potions master suddenly growled, effectively putting an abrupt end to the quiet chattering.

Harry's heart was suddenly beating hard against his chest, as he turned a questioning gaze towards Snape. He didn't understand what was happening. Why was everyone staring at him? And why did some of them look so afraid?

The man's dark eyes met his for one long moment, but Harry was unable to discern any emotions within them. The professor's stoic mask was firmly in place.

"This meeting is over," the man stated clearly then, in his usual authoritative tone. "Everyone will return to your dormitories immediately."

For a split second, no one moved, the student body still stunned by what had just taken place.

But the menacing glare on the potions master's face was enough to spur everyone into action a moment later, and there was soon a hasty rush for the entrance hall.

Harry quickly noted with sudden dread that at least half of the crowd seemed to be glancing at him on their way to the exit with something like terror in their eyes.

"Miss Parkinson, follow me," the man stated then, glaring down at the young Slytherin girl.

"Sir?" the girl practically squeaked, only now seeming to realize what exactly it was she had just admitted to.

"You heard me," Snape answered. "Do not make me repeat myself."

Harry frowned in confusion as he attempted to meet the professor's eye. Didn't the man want to talk to him, too? Wasn't he going to get a chance to tell his side of the story?

"Come on, Harry," Hermione was saying a moment later, gently pulling on Harry's arm as she began guiding him towards the large double doors, Ron trailing closely behind.

Once again, Harry met the potions master's gaze as he passed him, but the man's expression was still impossible to decipher. He had the sudden urge to just ask the professor what he was thinking, but he resisted, choosing instead to just follow Hermione out of the room.

"What's a parselmouth?" Harry asked in confusion, when the trio were finally alone in a corner of the common room.

"Apparently you are!" Ron answered, his mouth still slightly open in shock.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It means you can talk to snakes, Harry," she quickly clarified.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know there was a special name for it. Can't a lot of people talk to snakes?"

"No," Hermione answered, as Ron shook his head in the negative. "It's not a very common gift. There are very few known parselmouths throughout history."

"Like who?" Harry asked, though he feared he may already know the answer to that question.

"You-Know-Who," Ron answered automatically.

"And Salazar Slytherin," Hermione replied, as Harry felt his heart drop.

"Now everyone's going to think you're the Heir of Slyther—"

"Ron!" Hermione scolded, seeing the color completely drain from Harry's face.

"He's right, Hermione," Harry said quietly then. "You can see how people have already been looking at me."

At this, both Ron and Hermione glanced over their shoulders to glare at a group of students huddled near the fireplace and openly staring in their direction. When they realized they had been caught, the group quickly turned away, pretending to be engaged in a round of Exploding Snap.

"What exactly did you say to that snake, anyway?" Ron asked, as he turned back to face his friend. "It really did sound like you were egging it on or something."

Harry frowned. "I just told it to leave them alone. You mean you couldn't understand me at all?"

Ron and Hermione both shook their heads.

"How is that even possible?" Harry asked, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "How can you speak another language without even knowing you're doing it?"

But neither one of his friends was able to provide an answer, and so chose to remain silent instead.

"What do you think is going to happen to Pansy?" Harry asked a moment later, his thoughts once again wandering to Hedwig. At the moment, he really didn't have it in him to feel angry or upset at the Slytherin for what she had done to his owl. He suspected that those emotions might come later. But for now, he felt tired and drained, with far too much to think about. It was enough to know that Hedwig was safe in the owlery, completely out of danger.

"I don't know," Hermione answered. "But Snape didn't look happy."

"Snape never looks happy," Ron pointed out. "I bet he lets her off easy."

Hermione looked doubtful. "I guess we'll find out soon enough."

It didn't take long for the entire school to be made aware of the fact that Pansy Parkinson had been escorted to the headmaster's office directly after the Dueling Club, and that following that meeting, she had been suspended from Hogwarts for a full two weeks.

There were mixed reactions among the students about the severity of this punishment.

"That's it?" Harry overheard a Hufflepuff third year say in the back corner of the library the following day. "I thought she'd be in more trouble than that."

Another student scoffed at this statement, and Harry recognized the voice to be that of Ernie Macmillan. "I don't know that I believe she even poisoned his owl in the first place," he stated. "Potter easily could have cursed her to make her say that. Then no one would be focused on the fact that he tried to set that snake on Justin."

"I don't know. Do you really think Harry would be capable of something like that?" Hannah Abbott asked. "He's always been so friendly, and—"

"It wouldn't surprise me at all to find out that he's the Heir of Slytherin," Ernie quickly interrupted. "He was there the night Filch's cat got petrified. And the Creevey kid was always following him around."

There was a general murmur of agreement among the group of Hufflepuffs, and Harry finally decided that he had had enough. He turned on his heel and marched out of the library, hoping that he'd be able to find Ron and Hermione where he expected them to be.

"We really can't wait much longer," Hermione said, giving the Polyjuice Potion a quick stir. "If we're going to do this, we'll have to get the ingredients during the next potions lesson. Otherwise, it'll be too late."

"Do you think Harry will go for it?" Ron asked, making a face as he peered in at the contents of the cauldron. He really was not looking forward to consuming any of it.

Just then, the bathroom door swung open, and both Ron and Hermione whipped around in alarm before realizing that it was only Harry.

"We need to figure out who the real Heir of Slytherin is," the boy stated without preamble. Then, after a quick pause, he nodded towards the cauldron. "Let's do it."

Ron slid the long, thin firework he had stolen from the twins out of his bag, and placed it on the workstation he shared with Harry, quickly concealing it beneath some spare parchment.

When the time was just right, the redhead would toss it into one of the Slytherin cauldrons, and in the chaos that was sure to follow, Hermione would slip into the potions storeroom and gather the ingredients they would need to complete the Polyjuice.

Harry was just glad that he wouldn't actually have to take part in the plan. He felt guilty enough as it was about the whole thing. But he just couldn't imagine getting caught by Snape.

Harry once again found himself gripping at the corner of his mother's picture in his pocket as he caught a sideways glance of the professor, who was currently looking over some notes at his desk before the class was set to start. He hadn't had a chance to speak to the man since the Dueling Club incident, and Harry had to admit that he was nervous. What if the professor didn't want anything to do with him now that he knew Harry was a parselmouth? Harry's stomach dropped at the thought. He really didn't want to think about that.

Just then, Snape stood from his desk and cleared his throat, causing the already quiet room to fall completely silent.

"As you will all most certainly be aware from the assigned reading," Snape began, raising an eyebrow as though to dare anyone to admit to not having read for class, "we will be brewing Swelling Solutions today. Open your books to page 133."

The entire class hastened to obey, quickly flipping through their textbooks until they found the correct page.

"Weasley!" Snape suddenly snapped, causing the redhead to nearly fall off of his stool.

"What?" Ron asked, alarmed. But at the glare he received from the potions master, he quickly added, "Sir?"

"You will be working with Miss Greengrass, today," the man stated, pointing to the Slytherin side of the room, where Daphne Greengrass sat alone at her workstation, the stool that was normally occupied by Pansy now vacant.

Ron didn't move.

"Are you deaf, Mr. Weasley?" Snape asked, in his usual silky voice.

"But… what about Harry?" Ron asked.

"Mr. Potter is more than capable of working alone for one day," Snape answered. "Now move."

Ron didn't dare stall any further. He quickly stood from his stool and gathered up his textbook and schoolbag before making his way to the other side of the classroom. Harry noted that Daphne looked just about as thrilled at this idea as Ron himself did, and he felt a sudden pang of sympathy for his friend.

But a moment later, his stomach dropped again. Because turning back to his station, he caught sight of the spare piece of parchment next to him. And underneath the paper, he knew, was the firework.

Harry closed his eyes for a brief moment as the realization hit him. It was up to him, now. He was going to have to throw the firework.

Glancing over at Ron, the redhead seemed to have come to the same realization, for he was now staring at Harry with wide eyes from the other side of the room. Harry sighed and gave him a quick nod in acknowledgment, before turning back to his station to begin setting up his cauldron. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Snape eying him closely, but he refused to look at the man. Because he was sure that he would never be able to go through with it if he did. The guilt for what he knew he was about to do was already weighing heavily on him, after all.

"You have the entire class period," Snape stated clearly, then. "Begin."

Harry had been unable to concentrate throughout most of the class, and therefore, his Swelling Solution was far runnier than it should have been, and slightly off-color. The boy felt his face burn in embarrassment as the Potions Master passed by with raised eyebrows. There was really no excuse for brewing such a poor potion, he knew. He had helped Snape make this particular solution twice before, after all.

Remarkably, however, the professor failed to comment on the failed potion, and continued on his way over to Neville's station, where the man was more than likely about to start harassing the terrified boy.

It was then that Hermione caught Harry's eye and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Harry took a breath and nodded, a gesture which the girl quickly returned. And then, before he could change his mind, Harry seized the firework from underneath the parchment, used his wand to light it, and then lobbed it with perfect accuracy and precision right into Goyle's cauldron.

And the blast that followed was deafening.

"If I ever find out who threw this," Snape hissed in the aftermath of the explosion, after the mess had been cleared away and those who had been splashed with Swelling Solution had been properly deflated, "I will personally ensure that that person is expelled."

Harry's heart sank as the man brandished the blackened, twisted remains of the firework in front of the class before tossing it unceremoniously onto his desk.

"Class dismissed," the man growled then, just barely keeping his fury contained.

Harry was shaking as he stumbled off his stool and quickly reached for his schoolbag. He couldn't believe what he had just done. He wanted nothing more than to take it back. It was a stupid idea. Snape would absolutely hate him if he ever found out. And he'd be expelled.

"Potter, stay behind," Snape suddenly called out.

And just like that, all the color completely drained from Harry's face. Both Ron and Hermione also looked rather alarmed at this request, and remained frozen in place, even as the rest of the class quickly filed out.

"Was there something you needed, Miss Granger? Mr. Weasley?" Snape snapped impatiently.

"No, sir. We just—" Hermione began.

"Then I suggest you run along," Snape interrupted, though the tone of his voice indicated that his statement was far more than a mere suggestion.

"Right," Ron said slowly, as he and Hermione both turned fearful gazes on their friend. "We'll… see you in a bit, Harry. Okay?"

Harry simply nodded, not trusting his voice enough to speak as his friends slowly made their way to the exit without him, staring worriedly over their shoulders all the way.

When the door finally closed behind them, Harry closed his eyes, his heart racing in fear. He reached into his pocket and gripped his mother's picture tighter than he ever had before. And when he finally opened his eyes again, he met the blank expression of the potions master, staring intently at him from behind his desk.

"Come here, Mr. Potter," Snape finally stated, and Harry didn't dare disobey. He quickly made his way to the front of the room, his heart pounding in his ears and a lump forming in his throat. He stopped directly in front of the professor's desk, his eyes glued to the floor.

Snape raised an eyebrow then, before speaking once more. "If you are ill, Mr. Potter you should not be in class."

Harry's eyes shot up to meet Snape's, the confusion clear on his face.

"Unless, of course, you are completely healthy," the man continued. "In which case I can think of no other explanation for why you would brew such a poor potion today."

Harry's face heated in embarrassment as he once again looked away.

"I am waiting for an explanation, Mr. Potter," Snape prompted impatiently. "You successfully brewed this potion not two weeks ago in our nightly brewing sessions. I expected a perfect solution from you."

Harry opened his mouth, but it took a minute to force the words out around the lump that was settled there.

"I…couldn't concentrate." Harry answered truthfully, using all of his willpower to keep his eyes from wandering over to the used firework sitting at the end of the desk.

"I see," Snape stated, and from those simple words, it was impossible to tell what the man could possibly be thinking.

"A clear mind would almost certainly resolve such an issue," the professor stated then. "Have you been practicing your Occlumency?"

Harry was startled by the random question, but soon recovered and started to nod, before quickly thinking better of it at the harsh look from the professor. "It's really hard to clear my mind, sir," he finally admitted. "There just always seems to be something new to think about."

"Nevertheless," Snape answered sternly, "you must work harder to master this skill, Mr. Potter. This is absolutely imperative."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered quietly, suppressing a sigh. "It's just…"

"It's just what, Mr. Potter?" Snape snapped impatiently.

"Well, everyone… I mean, they all keep saying…"

"Who is saying what, Mr. Potter?" the man practically growled. "Speak clearly."

Harry stared down at the professor's desk as he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. "A lot of the other kids think that I'm the Heir of Slytherin," the boy finally managed to say. "And that I purposely tried to set that snake on Justin and Pansy. How am I supposed to just not think about that?"

The room remained silent for one long moment, and once again, Harry felt his stomach twisting into knots.

"Potter, look at me," the man eventually commanded, waiting for the child to comply before continuing to speak.

Harry stared warily up at his professor, fearing what the man was about to say.

"After all of the time I have spent at this school, Mr. Potter," the dour potions master spoke slowly, "I have come to the conclusion that children are vile, cruel, and beastly creatures who often speak without first thinking things through. I would therefore strongly advise against giving even a second of thought to such asinine comments. I, for one, have never, in all my life, heard anything quite so ridiculous."

Harry blinked in shock at the man's words. "So you don't think I set that snake on—?"

"If I believed for even a moment that you actually urged that snake to bite anyone, Potter, you can rest assured that I would have dragged you straight to the headmaster's office by your ear."

Harry sighed in relief, suddenly feeling lighter.

"And as for this Heir of Slytherin nonsense," the professor continued in a drawl, "I am afraid you are full of far too much Gryffindor foolishness and idiocy to ever be up to the task of following in the footsteps of Salazar Slytherin."

Harry couldn't help it. He actually smiled a little bit at that last statement. "You really think so, sir?" he asked, though he still couldn't stop his mind from wandering to the fact that the Sorting Hat had wanted to place him into Slytherin.

Snape rolled his eyes. "You have an unusual gift, Mr. Potter," the man stated. "It is true that very few people possess the ability to talk to snakes. But it is what you choose to do with your abilities that will define you."

Harry tilted his head to the side as he absorbed that last comment.

"You should be on your way, now," Snape spoke abruptly, then, clearing his throat and reaching for a stack of papers on the edge of his desk.

Harry couldn't believe his luck. That was it? What about the firework? Did Snape really not know that he had thrown it?

Slightly confused, the boy slowly began making his way to the exit. "Thank you, professor," he managed to say when he finally reached the doorway.

"Practice your Occlumency," the man growled sternly in response.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered automatically.

"Oh, and Potter? I will expect you back here directly after dinner tonight."

Harry frowned. "Isn't that a little early for brewing potions, sir?"

"Perhaps for a regular session," Snape responded. "But you will be serving a detention this evening."

"What?" Harry exclaimed.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "There is absolutely no excuse for that abysmal concoction you produced today," the man reminded him. "You will therefore redo the assignment after dinner, and you'll be grateful for the opportunity to make up the points."

Harry sighed. "Yes, sir."

"Now, go," Snape said then. And a moment later, the boy had scurried from the room.

Once alone, Severus sighed and ran a tired hand down his face. That boy was going to be the death of him. He just knew it. Because nothing could ever just be simple where the Boy-Who-Lived was concerned. Of course the brat could speak parseltongue. It was yet another piece of evidence for the connection he and Albus suspected the child shared with the Dark Lord; a power likely transferred to him that night in Godric's Hollow.

I'll teach that brat Occlumency if it's the last thing I do, Severus thought with a growl, finally lowering himself into the seat behind his desk.

And then his eyes caught sight of the firework.

And the man let out another sigh as his gaze momentarily wandered to the doorway where the brat had been standing just moments ago.

"I don't know, Ronald! I may be able to preserve it for a little while, but—"

"What's going on?" Harry asked, dropping into one of the comfortable armchairs in the Gryffindor common room.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "You're alive!"

Both Harry and Hermione raised their eyebrows at the redhead.

"What?" Ron asked. "I thought for sure you were going to get in trouble for that firework!"

Harry shook his head. "Nope. I got lucky. I got detention for failing to brew the Swelling Solution properly, but that was it."

"Doesn't he usually just fail you and move on?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "He really isn't all bad, you know."

"So you keep saying," Ron grumbled, unconvinced.

"Anyway, what were you two talking about? What needs to be preserved?"

Hermione sighed. "The Polyjuice Potion. I don't know if we're going to be able to go through with our plan after all."

"Why not?" Harry asked, secretly hopeful. He honestly just wanted to forget the whole thing after what had happened in Potions class. When he had seen the look on Snape's face at the sight of that firework. It just wasn't worth it.

Hermione pointed over to the notice board then. "We were supposed to go through with the plan over the Christmas break."

"So?" Harry asked, wondering what the notice board had to do with anything.

"They're closing the school for Christmas this year," Ron answered. "Everyone has to go home."

And for the second time that day, Harry's heart sank.

And he felt positively ill.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! As always, I will begin work on the next chapter just as soon as life will allow it. But until then, I must turn back to academic writing, which is absolutely no fun at all :(

Thanks again!

-Ailee17

October 26, 2017