A/N: Lockhart's speech is almost word-for-word from the book.

Chapter 1: A Serpent-tongued Conversationalist

"Happy Birthday Harry! Now get yourself downstairs you lazy pig!"

Dudley ran off, leaving Harry to crawl out of bed. He quickly got himself ready for the day, a nervous eye on the mirror on his desk. It had been three weeks since the nightmare, but the idea he would one day wake up with red eyes and a cold smile had haunted his waking hours ever since. He consciously shoved the memory to the back of his mind, forcing himself to think of happier things… his birthday for instance. He had a sneaking suspicion that he would only be getting one gift from his guardians this year, and he couldn't wait to open it.

Showered, dressed, and definitely green-eyed, Harry hurried downstairs to his family. He had been right; amongst the presents from his family was a long, thin box. He opened the other presents first – a Lord of the Rings collection from Dudley (amusing because of the thinly veiled magical history passed off as fantasy by the Squib author) and some new clothes from his Aunt and Uncle – expressing appropriate gratitude, before turning to the package. he carefully – reverently – tore the paper off, revealing a box, with a single word inscribed in gold: Nimbus.

A smile lighting his face, he opened the box, to find a long, beautifully carved, top-of-the-range Nimbus 2001 broomstick. He lifted it from the box, feeling the magic imbued in it ripple through his hands, flooding him with warmth. His smile turned to a fully-fledged grin, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. He uttered one word:

"Awesome!"

There was a note with the box. Harry picked it up, quickly scanning it.

Dear Harry,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

We'll see you later, but for now; you'd better put this to good use, or else!

Yours truly (with a vague sense of menace)

Messrs Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail.

"Your school list has arrived as well Harry."

His aunt passed over the Hogwarts envelope, and Harry tore it open. Apart from the usual stuff about the train times, there was the entire Gilderoy Lockhart collection as set texts for Defence against the Dark Arts. Harry raised an eyebrow; he'd never read them himself, objecting to the emphasis on glossy photos of – the admittedly handsome – Lockhart over a serious study of defence, and of course Sirius' rather vocal criticisms, and he seriously hoped they were better than they appeared. He really wanted a decent Defence lesson this year, the previous years having been a joke for one reason or another.

As Harry read the letter, Dudley started poring over the broom as well. While not as much of a fan of Quidditch as Harry, he was well aware of the quality of the broom. He looked up at his cousin.

"You have got to let me watch you on this Harry, I bet you'll go like a rocket!" Harry grinned, standing and grabbing the broom, dragging Dudley out to the back garden –

"Hang on boys! You can't fly it out there Harry, people would see. And that would not be a good idea would it?"

Harry's shoulders slumped in disappointment.

"I guess…"

"Oh don't look so miserable, you're going to the Weasley's in a few days, you can fly it there. Now go and get your shoes on, London awaits our presence!"

A week later, and Harry was being driven through the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, home of the Weasley family. Just on the outskirts of the village was a memorial plaque, warded against Muggle attention, fixed to a giant tree by the side of a river; the site of the brutal murder of Gideon and Fabian Prewitt, Molly Weasley's brothers, by five Death Eaters. Harry avoided it on his visits to his friends. Several years ago he had had an outburst of uncontrolled magic there; ever since, he had been able to smell, faintly, the foulness of the Killing Curses that had been cast. He had never told the Weasley's.

A few minutes out if the village, in the open countryside, lay the Burrow, the Weasley's home. It was a towering, ramshackle building, that like a lot of magical construction, seemed to defy the laws of physics and gravity to stay up. Uncle Vernon pulled up at the gate, before helping Harry to the front door with his bags. Harry knocked on the door, resulting in a loud crash somewhere in the house. Harry and his uncle exchanged a glance. Then the door opened, revealing Mrs Weasley, looking even more harassed than usual.

"Harry dear, come on in! Sorry about the racket, the twins have been badgering the ghoul, they've upset him terribly poor thing… Anyway, how are you? Would either of you like a drink? Piece of cake? RON!! He's just coming dear, sit down do…"

"I'm fine Mrs Weasley, thanks." Harry said, looking at his uncle out of the corner out of his eye. He knew that his uncle found Molly Weasley more of a force of nature than a person, and sure enough, there was a slightly stunned look in his eyes. He looked back at Mrs Weasley, who was bustling around the kitchen. "How's your summer going?"

"Oh fine, fine, although the children are suffering cabin fever a little bless them; Ginny can't wait to go to Hogwarts with the others, she's so looking forward to it. RON!! HARRY'S HERE!! What is that boy doing…?"

There was a loud thump, followed by a clatter of feet coming downstairs, and Ron and Ginny appeared in the kitchen door, huge grins on their faces. Ron stepped forward, clapping Harry on the back.

"Hey there mate, great to see you!"

They both started pulling Harry out of the room, and he waved vaguely at Uncle Vernon as they mounted the stairs. As they reached the second floor, a door opened, and Percy appeared, a heavy frown on his face, Prefect badge still pinned to his jumper to Harry's astonishment.

"Ron, will you tell those two to keep quiet, I'm busy! Hello Harry." And he disappeared back into his room. Ginny stuck her tongue out at the closing door, and they headed on up.

"Sorry about that Harry, he's been weird all summer – Merlin knows what he's up to in there, but he barely comes out. Still, he's boring, so no great loss eh? Ow!" Ginny poked her brother sharply in the side.

"Don't say that! Just because he won't play you at chess anymore!"

"Oh well, that's no surprise – there isn't anyone in Gryffindor who'll play him at chess now. Are we all boring Ron?"

"It's not that! Well, not totally anyway… But he's always locked up in his room, reading – there're hundreds of better things he could be doing!"

Harry looked at him.

"I'll tell Hermione you said that."

Ron went pale.

"Don't. Seriously, she's already annoyed with me 'cause I haven't been slaving over the holiday work, very angry letter she sent me."

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, grinning.

"Blackmail." They said, simultaneously. Ron just glared at them.

They quickly dumped Harry's things in Ron's room – still very untidy, hideously orange and plastered with posters of the Chudley Cannons, the worst team in the Quidditch league – and headed back downstairs with his new broom, pausing only to bang on the twins door, calling 'Quidditch'.

Not far away from the Burrow, a fair distance from the village, was a small paddock, in the middle of a copse. It was mainly used for flying practice, and it was here that Harry and the Weasleys' ran, broomsticks over their shoulders and a bag of golf balls in hand. When they arrived, Harry was pushed into the middle, and the others stood looking at him, arms folded.

"Right Harry," said George.

"It's time"

"For you"

"To show us"

"What this thing can do!" Harry grinned, before holding his hand over his broom.

"Up!" The broom shot up into his hand, and again, Harry felt the magic rippling through him. Ron, the twins and Ginny started slow-clapping, urging him to start flying. He swung a leg over…

And before he knew it, he was twenty feet up in the air, wind rushing through his hair, and an almost manic grin on his face. His friends were cheering below him. He hovered for a moment, before tilting the Nimbus downwards, descending at an incredible pace, pulling out of the dive at the last possible moment, just hearing Fred and George's whoop as he zipped past. As he went up again, he heard Ginny calling him; he looked down to see her throwing a golf ball over to his right. A twitch of the broom and he was whipping towards it, snatching it out of the air just as it began its descent. He floated back down uncharacteristically slowly, a broad grin on his face. Fred and George were practically jumping in excitement.

"That was"

"Bloody awesome!"

"The cup's ours for sure!" Harry grinned, before holding the broom out.

"So… Who else wants a go?"

A few days later, and Harry and the Weasley's were getting ready to go to Diagon Alley. Fred and George had poured scorn on the selection of Lockhart's books as textbooks (although notably not in their mother's presence), but there had been a false note in it; the books were expensive, and Ginny needed everything else on top of them. Harry felt a twinge of guilt about the small fortune he had inherited from his parents, but knew from experience that even the suggestion of charity would be greeted with, at best, a frosty silence.

They all gathered round the fireplace, getting ready to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron, where they were meeting the Marauders. Ginny was practically glowing, hugely excited about getting her first wand. Mrs Weasley brought round the pot of powder, everyone taking a pinch. Harry looked at his with distaste; he loathed travelling by Floo. It might be much, much quicker than any form of Muggle transport, but it was much, much less comfortable. And he could never get out of the fireplace without losing his balance quite spectacularly, much to his embarrassment.

One by one, they all disappeared into the fireplace, calling out 'Diagon Alley" loudly and carefully. It eventually came to Harry's turn. As he threw in his powder, the ghoul started clanking around, rattling the chimney. He stepped into the fire, calling out "Diagon –" when the rattling dislodged a lot of soot, landing on his head, choking him. The rest of the sentence came out very garbled, but he still disappeared in a flash of green fire. Mr and Mrs Weasley looked at each other.

"Did he say 'Diagon Alley' or 'diagonally'?"

"I'm not sure darling. Oh dear" Mr Weasley replied, looking pensively at the fireplace. Ginny started to snigger quietly into her hand.

Harry was surrounded by green flames, warm but not burning him. He began to feel the nausea Floo travel always inspired in him, not helped by the feeling that he was being whirled around an enormous plughole. He suddenly began to feel as if icy hands were hitting him, the sign that he was nearly there; he could just see a stone floor… and then he was thrown from the fire, hitting the floor hard, his glasses cracking as he did so.

He looked around him, letting out a sigh as he did so. There was no sign of Ron, Fred or George, and he had never been to wherever here was before. He'd always been bad at Flooing, but this was truly special. Actually, special was completely the wrong word he realised, looking at the items on the shelves. If this was a shop, then it was definitely not somewhere a respectable light wizard would be seen, and he suspected there were very few dark wizards who would be either. He walked through the shop, glancing at the merchandise with a sickened feeling. Shrunken heads, a withered hand – 'Hand of Glory, best friend of thieves and plunderers: 45 Galleons' – several Harlequin masks, warped from their usual cheery grin to a horrible leer, a dusty silver stake, still bloody from its last kill.

A noise on the other side of the aisle startled him; he jumped back, looking through the shelves at the figure on the other side. It was a lanky, hunched man, who reminded him of Professor Snape; they had the same greasy hair and piercing eyes. The man was muttering to himself, although Harry couldn't make out what he was saying. Suddenly the bell over the door rang. The man behind the shelf moved forward, speaking in an oily voice. Someone replied, sounding vaguely familiar, but Harry still could not make out what was being said. He moved further along the aisle, seeing a beautiful dagger from the corner of his eye, silver, with a snake carved in gold around the hilt. He stopped to admire it for a second, before carrying on, when he heard someone say something behind him. He whirled round, but there was no-one there. He drew his wand, already worried by the contents of the horrible shop, and feeling no better about strange voices, when he heard it again.

"Hello there Mighty One." Harry looked at the dagger again. The snake's lips were moving!

"It's been years since anyone's really looked at me you know. What's your name?"

"Harry. Harry Potter. Er… How can you talk?"

"My creator was fond of snakes, and a sufficiently powerful and talented wizard to work the magic allowing me speech. Of course, there are few who can speak to me in Parseltongue. You have a good command of the language for a young one."

A shiver went down Harry's spine. Parseltongue! The language of snakes, and one of the most feared – and rarest - abilities in the magical world. The most famous Parselmouth had been Salazar Slytherin, widely seen as one of the Darkest Wizards to walk the earth; a misconception, although it was true to say he wasn't a very nice person in the slightest. But while Harry was willing to see the good in pretty much anyone or anything, he couldn't see anything good about being a Parselmouth. There was no magic associated with it for anything but pain and death, and snakes had often been used in Dark rituals. He felt sick.

"Young one? You smell of fear. You should not be here should you?"

"No… And – and I didn't know I was a Parselmouth. It's… it's a bit of a shock."

The snake sighed, a strangely sinister sound when made by a mouth designed only for hissing.

"I can imagine. And presumably you feel dirty, as if it's a stain on your soul. Fool. It's a shame, you seem otherwise intelligent, and while I can have a very intellectual conversation by myself, it would be nice to gain another's perspective. Come back and see me when you've come to your senses Mighty One… And do it soon."

With that, the snake stilled, although its tongue still flickered out a couple of times. Harry stood, frozen in shock for several moments, until he heard footsteps. He quickly ducked inside a nearby cabinet, not stopping to think about what it might have been used for until he was inside. Through the slats, he could see the man he had seen through the shelves – the owner presumably – and another man, a man with long blond hair and cold grey eyes.

Lucius Malfoy.

Harry sighed in relief. While he wasn't especially fond of the Pureblood Lord, he was at least a recognisable, trustworthy figure in a strange and scary environment. The two men were haggling over the price of a dusty book; it looked as if it would give Harry nightmares from the cover. Harry heard the name Borgin mentioned, and he realised where he was. Borgin and Burkes was a shop in Knockturn Alley, one of the less salubrious areas of the dimensional extension housing Diagon Alley and the Ministry. At least he wasn't far from where he was supposed to be. Malfoy and Borgin settled on a price – the look on Borgin's face suggesting he wasn't too impressed with the bargain, but didn't dare complain – and moved back towards the front of the shop. Harry followed, and as Mr Borgin went into the back room, followed Malfoy out of the door.

"Mr Malfoy!" The elegant figure turned round, hand going to his wand, but the grey eyes widened in surprised recognition at the sight of Harry.

"Master Potter, what brings you to this corner of the world? I wouldn't have expected to see someone of your… reputation in Knockturn Alley." Harry blushed.

"I missed my grate in the Floo – I was supposed to be going to Diagon Alley." Malfoy smirked – Harry hated the way the Malfoy's smirked – and bowed to him.

"Then you must follow me Master Potter. It would be a shame if you were to get lost in here would it not?" Harry blushed again, and followed Malfoy as he set off. As they walked, he couldn't help but look around him in curiosity; he had never been in Knockturn Alley, and while some of the merchandise in Borgin and Burke's had repulsed him, there was an undeniable fascination about the area, with sinister looking tools, and dusty books displayed in shop windows that Harry was sure would be full of information not even the Restricted Section at Hogwarts would contain.

Of course, it wasn't just for sinister potions and books people came to Knockturn Alley. There were several wizards and witches wearing clothes that only had the vaguest relation to robes, and certainly didn't look that warm; one blew a mocking kiss at Harry, and he flushed, averting his eyes. Sniggers followed him for a short distance. Soon, Harry could see the pale dome of Gringotts rising over the rooftops, and he let out a sigh of relief. As they emerged into the sunlight, someone called his name, and he turned round just in time to see someone connected to a mass of brown bushy hair flying towards him, which could only be Hermione Granger.

"What have you been doing Harry, you're filthy – and what have you done to your glasses? Oh, it's so good to see you again!" Malfoy's lips twitched in the beginnings of a sneer. Hermione was clearly a Muggleborn; while the Weasley children might dress in jeans, they wore casual robes over them. Hermione was simply in jeans and a jumper, plainly not up to date with magical fashion. Harry hurriedly introduced them. Lucius sketched an ironic bow; as he stood up, a look of disgust spread across his face. Harry and Hermione turned round to see the Weasley's running towards them.

"Ah Harry, splendid, we hoped you'd only gone one grate too far – and you must be Hermione, delighted to meet you. Oh… Hello Lucius." Arthur and Lucius nodded at each other coldly. The Weasley children, Harry and Hermione looked at each other in embarrassment, and the twins motioned the others to move. They walked off, Harry pausing only to mutter his thanks to Lucius.

"A pleasure and a privilege Master Potter. See you soon."

And he turned, with a sweep of his long black velvet robes, striding off down the street. Arthur turned to look at Harry, taking out his wand and tapping Harry's glasses to repair them.

"Are you sure you're ok Harry?"

"I'm fine Mr Weasley; a little creeped out by Knockturn Alley though!"

"Oh Lord… Don't tell the twins you've been down there will you? There'd be no stopping them! Anyway, we're meeting in Flourish and Blotts in an hour; Molly wants to go to the Lockhart signing."

Mr Weasley rolled his eyes. Harry grinned, before jogging off after his friends. They spent a delightful twenty minutes at Florean Fortescue's, gulping down a couple of ice-creams each. Then Fred and George disappeared with a friend from Hogwarts, and Harry, Ron and Hermione carried on wandering round. Hermione was speculating about possibly getting an owl, so they stepped inside the Magical Menagerie. While Hermione looked at the selection, with advice from Ron, Harry wandered around the shop. At the back of the shop, there was a large glass tank, with several rocks and pieces of wood inside. Harry looked curiously at it, gasping as a large snake uncoiled itself. Harry looked around quickly; Ron and Hermione were now looking at other animals, and the shopkeeper was with them. No-one else was in the shop. He lowered his head to the tank.

"Hello?"

Nothing happened. The snake didn't even look at him. Harry frowned, and tried again.

"Hello"

Something seemed to have happened; the snake looked up as he finished speaking. He vaguely heard the bell ring, someone speaking, but he spoke again.

"Hello?"

"Hello friend. What can I do for you?"

"I… I spoke to a snake earlier, and I wanted to see if I could do it again."

"And that's reason enough to disturb me is it? Satisfied now young master? Anything else I can do for you? Perhaps I should do some acrobatics for your amusement!"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude…"

"Hm. Go away little boy; I'm sleepy, and you aren't very interesting."

Harry stared at the snake in astonishment, before turning around – to see Remus looking at him in shock. Harry froze, before darting round his guardian, walking over to Ron and Hermione. Hermione had just decided to leave without making a purchase, and they left before Remus could say anything to Harry.

The trio wandered around further – Harry silent, worrying about Remus – badgering Percy (reading an intensely dull-looking book in a junk shop) and laughing at the twins flagrant abuse of the Gambol and Japes 'try before you buy' scheme, before heading to Flourish and Blotts. There was already a lengthy queue coming out of the shop, and they spotted Mrs Weasley, Ginny, and the Marauders all standing together near the door. Remus was looking rather nervous. They hurried over to stand together, Harry avoiding Remus' eyes. Mrs Weasley was looking very excited.

The shop was filled with posters of Lockhart, all grinning toothily, with a cheeky glint in his eye. Whenever an attractive woman walked past – whenever any woman walked past, ugly or attractive – the pictures would bow politely. Most of the women in the shop were giggling girlishly; most of the men had rather dazed expressions, as if they didn't really want to be there. In the middle of the shop was a table, with a large stack of books on; Lockhart was sat behind them, his long blond hair curled back, and wearing beautifully cut blue robes, the same shade as his eyes.

Harry thought he looked ridiculous.

The queue meandered slowly onwards. Lockhart spent several minutes with each customer; he did at least know how to work with people, as each customer went away with fervent adoration glowing in their eyes. Eventually it was Mrs Weasley's turn, and she scurried up while the others stood around looking bored. A minute or so of inconsequential chatter, and Mrs Weasley moved, revealing Harry to Lockhart.

The blond wizard's eyes widened in something like glee, before standing up, calling Harry over to him in a loud voice. Harry just stood there, reluctant to move, but then Lockhart's publicist popped up behind him, pushing him forward. Lockhart laid an immaculately manicured hand on Harry's shoulder, turning to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!"

The crowd hushed expectantly; someone with a camera popped up, smoke billowing from the flash. Lockhart bent over slightly to Harry.

"Nice big smile Harry" he whispered. "Together you and I are worth the front page."

"Yes ladies and gentleman, when young Harry stepped in this fine establishment today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography – which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge – he had no idea that he would shortly be getting much more than my book. He and his school fellows will in fact be getting the real, magical me. Yes, I have great pleasure – not to say pride – in announcing that this September I shall be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

There was a deafening roar of applause, although Harry could just see his friends either sniggering or scowling – he himself had a deeply annoyed expression on his face. Lockhart thrust his entire literary collection into Harry's arms, before gently shoving him away. Harry dropped them into Ginny's cauldron, still scowling.

"You can have these, I'll get my own – smug little git… Hang on, where'd Sirius go?"

They turned round, spotting Sirius making his way towards Lockhart's table. Harry groaned. Sirius tapped Lockhart on the shoulder.

"Don't you think you should ask people's permission before you start taking advantage of their fame Lockhart?"

Lockhart looked up, an uncharacteristic sneer warping his face.

"It's Sirius Black isn't it? Well, I'll be laid to rest in a wooden box before I take advice from a wizard of such a Dark background as yours!"

A mask of rage flashed across Sirius' face, and he reached for his wand. Fortunately, Peter had reached him, and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him away. Lockhart looked on, a smug expression on his face. Harry looked at the twins.

"So, you'll be pranking him a lot this year then?"

"Oh yes indeed young Harry!" they said simultaneously, evil grins plastered on their faces.

They made their way out of the shop, following the Marauders. Sirius was ranting about Lockhart's comment.

"Slimy little toe-rag, I should have cursed him senseless! He always was a little snake…"

Harry flinched at this choice of word; Remus looked at him pointedly. Harry looked away, sighing. That was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

A/N: Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated!