He was flying above endless plains, his powerful wings sending him soaring through the air with each powerful motion. His eyes danced over the grass and occasional trees, searching for… something. Spotting a glimmer of light in the distance, he tipped his feathers just so, allowing him to wheel himself towards what soon revealed itself to be a lake. When he got close enough, he closed his wings and began to dive, accompanied by a crash of what sounded like thunder. Just when he was about to crash into the water, he—
Harry shot up in bed with a shout, his heart racing and breath heavy. His eyes cast about the room not recognizing where he was. Just as he began to throw off his bedsheets to stand up, a woman walked quickly out of a door at the end of the room.
"Pray tell, where do you think you're going, young man?" She asked, pushing him back into the bed. "Mr. Potter, you were brought in with a rather severe case of magical exhaustion, and you will not be leaving before Sunday morning, at the absolute earliest. Yes, that means you will be spending all of tomorrow here."
"You mean it's Friday night?" Harry asked in shock. "B-but my class was on Tuesday!"
"Yes, Mr. Potter, you've been unconscious for over three days. I'm not sure what happened in your class, but rest assured, you will be casting no more magic until I am sure that you are alright," she said firmly.
"Yes, ma'am," Harry grumbled.
"My name is Poppy Pomfrey, Mr. Potter, you may call me Poppy if you'd like, or Madam Pomfrey. Now please, get some rest. I'll talk to you in the morning to discuss what happened," she said. After ensuring Harry was settling back into his bed, she moved back towards what Harry assumed were her quarters. Beginning to feel tired again, Harry settled his head back into the impossibly soft pillows and closed his eyes.
He was awakened what felt like seconds later by the sound of clinking glass. Glancing around, he noticed Madam Pomfrey at a nearby cabinet, in the process of removing several vials filled with different colored solutions.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, finally awake I see. Here we go, bottoms up young man," she said, placing three of the vials on the table next to Harry.
"Er, what are these?" Harry asked, picking up a vial filled with a pale green fluid.
"That one is a nutrient potion, which is to help you recover from being unable to eat for the last three days. The bluish one is helping to return your core to full strength after your near exhaustion, and the clear one will help to heal the damage done to your mind during whatever ordeal you were experiencing," Pomfrey explained. "Come on, drink up."
Harry tipped the first one up, draining it in one go. He grimaced. "Eurgh, that one tastes like mud," he complained.
"Well, the others don't taste much better. Best to take all three, then you can have some water to rinse the taste out," Pomfrey said with a small smile. "Now, I'm sure your friends will be here soon, they would barely leave for meals and sleep, but first, I need to discuss some things with you."
About an hour later, Madam Pomfrey was finally coming to understand what the child and her scans were telling her. It was a situation that she had never heard of before and had no idea how to deal with.
"Um, Madam Pomfrey, do you have to keep quiet my medical information, like doctors?" Harry asked, nervousness clear in his voice. "It's just… It's kind of a personal problem, I'd rather other people didn't know about it."
"Yes, Mr. Potter, I'm bound as a Healer to keep your medical information to myself without your express permission otherwise. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me," she smiled at him. "If you don't mind my asking, who else does know about your… condition?"
"Just Mr. Ollivander and Daphne Greengrass, so far," Harry replied.
"Very well," Pomfrey replied. "On that note, I think it's high time you had some visitors."
"Harry!" three voices shouted as the doors to the infirmary were pushed open. Daphne, Tracey, and Hermione all ran in at the same time, followed soon after by Neville and Blaise at a slower pace. The three girls crowded around the bed where Harry was sitting, while the two boys took stools and sat towards his feet.
Hermione immediately began peppering him with questions. "What happened to you? Why were you knocked out for so long? How are you—"
"Hermione, slow down," Tracey interjected. "Give him a chance to answer before you pass out."
"Um, could you guys tell me what happened? The last thing I remember is casting Fulgus—" Harry blinked for a moment, believing he heard thunder rumbling in the distance, "and then I woke up here last night."
"When you cast that spell, it sounded like a cannon had gone off. You remember how when I cast it, there was just a tiny bit of lightning connecting my wand and the target?" Harry nodded, and Daphne continued. "Well, yours did a lot more than that. It looked like some sort of animal made of lightning, and it just smashed into the wall. There wasn't even a target once the light cleared," she said. "When I looked back at you, your eyes had this weird glow to them, then you just collapsed." Tracey and Blaise nodded in confirmation of Daphne's words.
"Not to mention your wand," Tracey interjected.
"What about my wand?" Harry asked, worried.
"Oh, don't worry, it's quite safe," Blaise said. "After Quirrell took you to the hospital wing, Nott ran over and tried to pick it up, as a trophy or something. Gave him a nasty shock, I've never heard anything so high pitched before," he said with a smirk. "Anyways, it didn't seem to want to be moved, 'cause when we went back on Thursday morning, it looked like one of the professors put a ward over it. There's just a glowing dome over the floor where it was laying."
Harry frowned. He didn't like the idea of his wand just sitting on the floor in a classroom that anybody could walk into. There was a crack accompanied by a brief flash of light, and suddenly, Harry's wand was sitting innocently on his lap as if it had always been there. They all blinked.
"Well. That was certainly… interesting," said Neville. Hermione looked as if Christmas had come early. Sensing an onslaught of questions, Harry quickly intervened with something he knew would distract her.
"So, can anyone catch me up on what I've missed in class?"
On Sunday morning, Harry was finally released from his prison, and rejoined his classmates for breakfast. He slid into his seat and began piling food onto his plate, relishing the feeling of being immersed in civilization again.
Until, that is, a voice spoke up from further down the table. "Finally recovered from casting a basic spell, eh, Potter?" Nott called out. "Guess now we know where you stand on the power scale."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, at least I didn't lose a fight to a wand, Nott. I heard that you're a pretty good soprano, though. Is that a family ability?"
Nott sputtered for a few moments, finally coming up with a response. "Yeah, well, at least I've got a family." His posse snickered as Nott's smirk grew, thinking he'd won.
Just then, a screech sounded from behind Nott, who quickly turned to face the sound. He immediately received a face full of white feathers, and he once again demonstrated his singing ability. Harry and his friends laughed as Hedwig detached from Nott and came to a stop on Harry's shoulder.
"Hey, girl, how—" he was cut off as Hedwig nipped his ear and cuffed the back of his head. "Okay, yeah, I probably deserved that one," he groused. "Got something for me, girl?" With a last squawk of displeasure, Hedwig stuck her leg out, where a thick scroll was tied. Harry removed it, and rewarded Hedwig with a piece of bacon stolen from Blaise's plate. Glancing at the spidery writing, he recognized Ollivander's handwriting, and decided to read it later.
"So, what do you guys want to do today?"
The fall storms had subsided for a time, and so the four Slytherins departed the castle and wandered the grounds near the lake. Eventually they came to a rocky shore, where Blaise decided to teach the girls how to skip rocks. Sitting on the shore nearby, Harry took out the scroll and began to read.
Dear Harry,
I hope your classes are continuing to go well. Not much new to report on my side, though I did receive a reply from my friend. I've attached a note he requested to pass on to you. Please, continue to keep me updated on your Hogwarts adventures.
Sincerely,
Garrick Ollivander
Tucking Ollivander's note into his pocket, Harry then unrolled the other note he received.
To Garrick's Parselmouth friend,
The first thing I want to assure you of is that Parseltongue is not an evil or dark sort of magic. It is simply a language, though a rare and unteachable one (trust me, I have tried). You will find, over time, that snakes are not bound to obey a Parselmouth, though they do tend to defer to them, and they will almost never attack a known Parselmouth. Like any language, Parseltongue has its own variety of spells and other types of magic, and is uniquely well suited towards warding. You see, spells from different languages are moderately more difficult to dispel or counter in another language, and as differences between the languages grow, so does the difficulty. Parseltongue is unique, though, in that it is not even a human language, so is essentially as different from other languages as possible. While this is useful in nearly all types of magic, the dependence of warding on a written, runic language makes it even more powerful. I suggest that you begin learning the basics of warding as soon as you can.
Now, on another note, all Parselmouths are born with a unique form, that is inevitably some sort of snake. This is separate from any other possible Animagus form you may have, and indeed, it is technically not an Animagus form. It is actually a manifestation of the Parselmagic, and so does not interfere with the Animagus magic.
Finally, I expect that at some point you will form a familiar bond with a snake. Every Parselmouth I have known has bonded with a snake before the age of thirteen. I assure you, this snake will become your best friend, as mine has been for the past fifty or so years.
I wish you the best of luck, my young friend. I hope that someday I may meet you. If you come up with any other questions, feel free to pass another letter through Garrick.
Farewell.
Harry rolled the letter up, thoughts racing through his brain as Daphne approached him.
"Another letter from Ollivander? That was a long one," she commented as she smoothed her skirt and seated herself next to him.
"Actually, it was from another Parselmouth," Harry explained quietly. "Mr. Ollivander got in touch with him, and finally heard back."
"Well, what'd he have to say? I can tell something's going through your head," she said with a smile, nudging him with her shoulder. Harry smiled in spite of himself.
"Apparently there's a lot more to Parselmagic than anyone knew. A lot more," he said.
"If you ever want to talk about it, just let me know. I won't tell," Daphne said softly.
"Thanks, Daph."
Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, I know my update schedule makes no sense at all. On a side note, some of the ideas I'm using about Parselmagic are inspired by Miranda Flairgold's "A Second Chance at Life." It's an absolutely fantastic series (not to mention incredibly long), and I highly suggest it to everyone. Anyways, thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing!