Chapter 2: Back to Hogwarts
Harry was in his bedroom, reading a textbook intently. While this wasn't quite as unusual a sight as it would have been with, for instance, Ron, it was unusual to see him focus quite so much on a textbook that wasn't to do with flying, Defence or Transfiguration. The book he was reading concerned the history of magic, a subject Harry had found rather tedious even before he started getting lessons in it from Professor Binns, who was – as the traditional, rather tired joke had it – literally dead boring.
However, the book did contain some information on Parseltongue and Parselmouths. As Harry had suspected, all the ones mentioned were paragons of Darkness, some of them engaging in activities that would have sickened Death Eaters. Naturally, several pages were devoted to Salazar Slytherin, famous Parselmouth, infamous dark wizard and no friend to Muggles. At least the book acknowledged that Slytherin had been dark and not Dark; not enough people admitted that there was a difference these days, which resulted in the universal distrust of Slytherin House.
That said, if the book was accurate (and that could never be certain when dealing with the lives of wizards dead nearly a thousand years ago) then Slytherin had never found a socially acceptable use for the language of snakes. There were apparently several very, very nasty curses that could be used, and as for the rituals which could be conducted in Parseltongue… Harry's eyes widened as he read the relevant passage, before he slammed the book shut in disgust.
Merlin. None of the books he'd consulted had offered anything positive about his situation, and it wasn't really something he could talk about. He thought it might have been bearable if snakes were actually worth talking to; his recent experiences in Diagon Alley suggested he might get less offensive conversation from Crabbe and Goyle, two Slytherin students renowned for an approach to life best described as 'punch first, second, third and then grunt impressively'.
That said, he was more worried about another factor.
Remus still hadn't been to see him.
That hurt most of all. Being a Parselmouth he could probably deal with; avoid ever speaking to snakes, and never try and learn the extremely Dark magic that seemed to accompany it, and it wouldn't be a problem. None of his friends knew, so it wouldn't be a problem with them. But Remus… He loved the Dursleys very much, and he was extremely fond of Sirius and Peter but… The Dursleys wouldn't have a clue if he went to them with a magical problem; Sirius was great fun, but hardly someone to go to with your deepest, most worrying problems; and Peter was a little intimidating. Harry wasn't certain what had happened to him to change him from the fun-loving boy he had been at Hogwarts to the sombre figure he cut now, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. But Remus was a guiding light in Harry's life; knowledgeable, kind and world-wise, and always friendly with his advice, even if he was advising Harry on correcting some monumental screw-up. Harry wasn't sure how he would face later life if he didn't have Remus to turn to in times of need.
Of course, he didn't particularly want to talk to Remus about being a Parselmouth, but the fact that his guardian was apparently too scared – or appalled – to even talk to him did nothing to calm his thoughts.
Harry rolled over in frustration, silently cursing his skill with the Floo. He would never have known he was a Parselmouth if he hadn't ended up in that shop – where else would he overhear a snake talking? He had seen plenty of snakes, and they had never spoken to him – apart from at the zoo, the previous summer. But he had been to the zoo plenty of times, and had seen snakes in magical shops; none had ever shown the slightest inclination to talk to him. Perhaps snakes just weren't naturally talkative.
He stood up to get ready for bed, silently vowing to himself that he would clear the air between himself and Remus; uncomfortable conversation or not, he wanted to know precisely where they stood.
As it happened, Remus turned up a few days later, showing up at the park where Harry was watching Dudley play football with some other local boys; Harry personally found the sport almost as incomprehensible as most people would find Parseltongue.
"Harry!"
Harry turned round, acknowledging his guardian with a tentative wave. Remus looked cheerful enough… Remus sat down next to him, looking over the pitch.
"How's the match going?"
Harry shrugged.
"Dudley's been cheering a lot; I assume that means his teams winning – he's having fun anyway."
"And how are you?"
"I'm fine, just a bit bored – I've never understood this game."
"Why do you come then?"
"He's my cousin; he supports me when I fence, and I'm fairly sure he doesn't understand that."
"Ah well, most wizards wouldn't understand the point of a swordfight where you aren't allowed to draw blood – rather removes the point of it in their view!"
Harry smiled. Remus looked at him, then sighed.
"I'm glad I found you here actually Harry."
"This is about the pet-shop right?"
"Yes… How long have you known?"
"Since about an hour before you found out." Seeing Remus' surprised look, Harry elaborated. "The shop I Flooed into, Borgin and Burke's; there was this dagger, it had an enchanted snake on it. It just sort of called out to me. I thought I'd try it on a real snake in the pet-shop, which is when you saw me. I'm really sorry Remus."
This drew a look of surprise.
"What for?"
"I'm a Parselmouth! That's about as Dark as you can get!"
"Oh don't be bloody ridiculous Harry! It's a language, not a spell! You wouldn't go round saying someone was evil because they spoke Greek would you?"
"Well… no, I guess not…"
"Precisely! All right, I grant you all the famous Parselmouths are Dark, but that's what, five people? Do you really think that there've only been six Parselmouths over the last thousand years? Slytherin isn't famous for being a Parselmouth Harry, he's famous for being generally one of the nastiest people ever to walk the earth. So don't you dare tell me you're Dark!"
Harry stared at Remus in astonishment. The Marauder was breathing heavily, so passionately had he declared his opinion. And he had to admit, defining a language as 'evil' was pretty stupid. Harry nodded slightly.
"I hadn't really thought of it like that… But in the shop, you looked, well…"
"Stunned? You thought I was going to just shrug and say 'Oh, what a surprise!'? You were hissing Harry; I don't care that you can do it, but it was quite a shock you know."
"I guess… So – so you're not angry?"
"Of course not! Harry, this is me; I have to lock myself up every month to avoid tearing people to shreds – how could I be worried about you having… unanticipated linguistic abilities?"
Harry stared at him for a second, before throwing his arms round him in a bear-hug. Remus froze, slightly surprised, but quickly returned the hug, patting Harry gently on the back.
"Thanks Remus."
"No problem. Now, I do have something for you Harry – a spell."
Harry looked up in interest; new magic always excited him.
"It's quite complex for second years, but I'm sure you'll be able to manage it. And it'll help you with your new found ability."
Remus reached into his tatty coat, pulling out a scrap of parchment. A single word was written on it: Serpensortia.
Harry mouthed it silently, before looking up at Remus blankly.
"If cast properly, you'll conjure a snake; quite what it was designed for I don't know, but you'll be able to practise Parseltongue – if you want to that is."
Harry sat very still for a second, before taking the parchment from Remus. He shrugged.
"A little extra knowledge never hurt anyone right?"
Remus chuckled.
"There's the Harry I know and love!
A loud shout came from the pitch; Harry and Remus turned round, watching in silent shock as Dudley ran round the pitch, his shirt raised over his head. In unison, they shook their heads at the sheer insanity Muggles showed in some situations.
Harry wandered down the train, lugging his trunk behind him. They had arrived late again, as Uncle Vernon's car had refused to start. The train had been almost ready to leave as they dashed onto the platform, and Harry had been forced to jump on at the nearest door – right at the other end of the train to where his friends would likely be sitting. Cursing softly to himself, he struggled to manoeuvre past the gossiping students, occasionally calling out in greeting to those he knew, and ignoring the stares of those who recognised him only as The-Boy-Who-Lived.
At one point, he passed a mostly empty carriage, with only two people inside; a blond-haired girl he didn't recognise, who had her wand behind her ear, and a boy Harry did recognise – Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff student in Harry's year. As Harry's gaze fell on him, Smith turned round to stare back at Harry. For a moment Smith just looked at him blankly, before raising his hand in greeting. Harry raised his own hand uncertainly; he didn't quite know what to make of the strange boy. He was, even by magical standards, a bit odd.
Harry continued down the corridor, eventually sliding open a door to sit down next to his friends, who greeted him enthusiastically. Ginny was chattering loudly about Hogwarts, and Hermione was throwing out 'interesting' little facts from Hogwarts; A History as if she would get a prize. Ron and Neville were sitting there looking bored. Harry stored his luggage, before flopping down next to Hermione. Neville leant over to him.
"Nice photo in the Prophet the other day Harry!"
Harry scowled.
"Shut up; he just grabbed me out of the audience! I can't believe we're going to be taught by that idiot this year."
"He's not an idiot, he's brilliant! Have you even read his books?" Hermione asked, a slightly offended look on her face. Harry stared at her.
"Yes. I have. And you're right, he isn't an idiot. He's an arrogant, preening idiot, with questionable literary ability."
Ginny and Ron snorted; Hermione flushed.
"Well, I'll admit that he isn't exactly Shakespeare… But look at what he's achieved! We'll never manage anywhere near as much as that in our lives!"
Ron and Ginny looked at each other, then at Hermione.
"Er… Might want to bear in mind that you're talking to Harry Potter – defeated You-Know-Who remember?"
"Well yes, but Lockhart seems to consider the day wasted if he hasn't done something heroic before lunchtime."
Harry nodded.
"Credit where it's due, he is very active; he's only in his thirties, he's done a hell of a lot since leaving Hogwarts."
"He was at Hogwarts?"
"Yeah, a few years older than Sirius, Remus and Peter. Sirius didn't like him all that much, and it sounds as if he hasn't changed much since then."
"Well, I like his books, and I'm sure we'll learn a lot from him!"
Neville looked at Hermione.
"Are you sure it's his books you like, or is it Lockhart you like?"
Hermione blushed, and buried her head in 'Wanderings With Werewolves'. Harry looked at it.
"And that book's just wrong in pretty much every detail."
The others looked at him, and Hermione voiced the question:
"How do you know?"
"Umm… Remus is quite a bookworm as well, he told me. There isn't any spell to 'save' a werewolf."
Harry hurriedly took his own book out, mentally scolding himself for nearly letting slip Remus' secret. The others looked at him strangely, before settling down into further discussion of Lockhart's various merits. It seemed Neville was quite a fan, as was Hermione, while the two Weasley's were slightly more sceptical.
The friendly argument was shortly interrupted by the carriage door opening.
"Good lord, he's back. I thought you'd have been snivelling at home after your little jaunt last term Potter."
It was Theodore Nott, a Slytherin second year who for some reason had a grudge against Harry. He was leaning against the door frame, flanked by another Slytherin, Blaise Zabini; the dark-skinned boy looked uncomfortable, as if there against his better judgment. Harry looked back at Nott.
"Why wouldn't I be back?"
Nott shrugged.
"I've heard you were pretty badly mangled; shouldn't you be at home hiding behind your guardians? Or did the prospect of more photos lure you out – you must have loved having Lockhart suck up to you."
Harry just rolled his eyes, looking back to his book, but Ginny started to glare at Nott, the famous Weasley red rising in her cheeks.
"Why can't you just leave him alone? He didn't want any of that!"
"Merlin Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend! Poor taste on both your parts I must say, although I suppose she might just be after your money…"
Harry leapt to his feet, wand drawn, just a shade ahead of Ron; Nott took a step back, and Zabini tried to pull him away. Nott shook him off, still looking at Harry and Ron warily.
"Apologise. Now." Harry ground out.
Nott sneered.
"I'm not apologising to you Potter, you don't deserve it. You think you're so great, but I know all about you…"
"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"
"As if you didn't know."
The two boys stood there, Nott's hand slowly drifting towards his pocket for his wand, everyone else frozen in anticipation; Hermione didn't even seem to be breathing. Harry was just opening his mouth to utter an incantation when Zabini pulled Nott back.
"Come on Theo, don't be an idiot! Let's go…"
Zabini scurried off; Nott looked as if he wanted to stay and really carry on with the looming duel, but being deprived of any back up clearly took the wind out of him. He slumped back, a nasty scowl on his face, and backed out of the carriage.
"See you around Potter…"
And he walked off after his friend. Harry sat back down, pocketing his wand. Ginny smiled at him in thanks as Hermione let her breath out. Neville looked curious however.
"What do you think he meant, 'I know all about you'?"
Harry shrugged.
"I don't know and frankly don't care. He's the one who's decided there's a problem between us; if he wants to tell me what that is then fine. If he doesn't then that's fine as well."
The friends settled back down, Hermione casting a quick locking charm to prevent any further interruptions. The rest of the journey passed in a blur of Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Botts Beans, and very soon they realised they would be at Hogsmeade very shortly. Bustling around putting their robes on, Ginny began to tense up nervously. Noticing this, Hermione took her out to the toilets 'for some privacy changing'.
Once securely locked away, Hermione put her arm round the younger girl's shoulder.
"What's wrong Ginny?"
"Oh… it's nothing really."
"I'm not blind Ginny!"
The redhead sighed.
"I'm just worried about the Sorting… I've never done any magic, and Fred and George keep going on about something horrible! And what if I don't get put in Gryffindor?"
Hermione pulled Ginny into a hug.
"Don't worry about it! The Sorting isn't dangerous in the slightest, it's just… Well, it would be a shame to break with tradition, but it isn't dangerous or hard. You don't really have to do anything. And as for not being in Gryffindor, well, it doesn't really matter does it? It's just a badge. And you can come and see us anytime you like if you are put somewhere else."
Ginny still looked unconvinced.
"Oh come on, it's not as if your family will just start shunning you because you're in a different house! That would be really stupid!"
Ginny gave a small smile.
"I guess…"
"Besides, you seem enough like your brothers to be almost certain of a red and yellow badge."
Ginny's smile widened, very slightly.
"Come on, we must be about there by now, we'd better get our stuff."
The two girls wandered back to the carriage, passing Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini as they did so; Nott sneered unpleasantly, but forebear to actually pass comment for some reason. Hermione rolled her eyes, and leant over to whisper in Ginny's ear.
"It isn't true that all Slytherins are evil you know Ginny; but some of them are incredibly unpleasant. You might have noticed that for yourself though."
Ginny started to giggle. She was still giggling as they walked into the carriage, drawing several confused looks from the boys. Hermione explained as they dragged trunks down from the racks, causing Ron to snort in disgust.
"Bloody Slytherin git… You'd better not get put there Gin, we'll never speak to you again!"
Ginny stared at him in distress; Hermione scowled, and Harry smacked him round the back of the head.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"For being a prat. There's nothing wrong with Slytherin, I nearly got put in there myself; the Hat only just decided I was a better fit for Gryffindor."
Ginny's eyes lit up at this, and she visibly relaxed. Clearly, the fact that Harry Potter – who might have more reason to dislike Slytherin House than anyone else of their generation – saw nothing wrong with going to live in the dungeons was a great comfort to her. Hermione smiled at this; Harry would probably hate the fact that he was held in such regard by anyone, but so long as Ginny was happier it wouldn't hurt him…
Leaving the train, they went their separate ways, Ginny to the boats that would take the First years over the lake to Hogwarts, accompanied by Hagrid (who called out to Harry and the others in greeting), and the older students to the coaches that would transport them to the castle. As they approached, Harry halted in astonishment.
"What the bloody hell are those?"
'Those' referred to the black, winged creatures that were pulling the coaches. They were extremely thin, looking like black skeletons that had had some material draped over them. They were also extremely ugly. Harry skirted round the one on the nearest carriage, opening the door with some distaste. Then he looked up. His friends were staring at him in incomprehension.
"Harry… There's nothing there." Hermione said carefully.
"Are you blind? Look, their right here, really ugly!"
The others looked again, and shook their heads.
"Are you feeling all right mate?"
"I'm fine Ron; look, give me your hand."
And before Ron had time to protest, Harry had pulled his hand towards the creature, patting it gently. Ron recoiled with a shriek.
"Bloody hell! What is it? Why can't we see it?"
"Because you have not seen death."
The group turned. The last remark had been made by the rather small, pale boy who had appeared behind them, apparently from nowhere: Zacharias Smith. Hermione stared at him in confusion.
"What do you mean 'because we haven't seen death'?" she asked.
"Thestrals can only be seen by those who have seen someone die. As you have Harry Potter."
Harry nodded slowly. Quirrell he thought to himself. This was his first trip on the coaches, the first years going back to Hogsmeade over the lake at the end of the year, a tradition dating back hundreds of years. He had caught the coaches at Christmas, he had been unconscious for Easter, and he hadn't seen anyone die before that. His former Professor had changed that – indeed, Harry had caused it, something that did occasionally cause him to wake at nights. He felt no guilt over the matter, but it had been a horrible experience.
The four friends climbed in, followed by Smith, who sat staring at Harry as the coach moved off. The group sat in silence, until Neville coughed nervously.
"My gran told me about Thestrals once… She said they were a bad omen, Dark creatures. What're they doing pulling school coaches?"
Smith turned his unblinking gaze on Neville.
"They are not Dark, but the association with death has led them to be feared. And people can make anything an omen; Thestral's have no importance as an omen of anything."
He turned back to Harry.
"Of course, a lot of things are different around the Boy-Who-Lived. Maybe we should worry about Dark events this year. Who can say?"
Smith still hadn't blinked. Harry nodded uncomfortably, before changing the subject swiftly.
"Who was that girl you were talking to on the train? I didn't recognise her."
"That was my cousin; she is starting this year. I believe you know her Ronald Weasley."
Ron jumped in shock.
"I do? I mean – do I?"
"Yes. She lives not far from you; Luna Lovegood."
"Oh yeah, I've met her a few times. She's… she's very – nice…"
Ron trailed off into silence. Smith continued to stare at Harry in silence. Nobody spoke for the rest of the journey. As they arrived, Smith wandered off to join his housemates. Ron stared after him.
"That boy is seriously strange… Come on, let's get inside."
They took their places at the Gryffindor table, calling out in greeting to other friends. As they settled down, they noticed that a lot of the girls in the hall were looking over at the top of the room rather frequently. Harry glanced over at the staff table; Lockhart was sat there, smiling brilliantly, occasionally waving at a more obvious fan. His good looks were even more in evidence on this occasion; he was sitting next to Snape, the Potions Master – a thin, gaunt man, with a hooked nose and greasy hair. Snape was all in black, Lockhart in brilliant green. They could not have been more different, similar in only one respect. Harry disliked them both. As Ron followed his gaze, he let out a loud sigh.
"Damn. Snape's still here. And I've been crossing my fingers all summer too…"
Hermione rolled her eyes, but didn't disagree; very few people outside Snape's own House, Slytherin, actually liked him. However, her gaze was noticeably slipping towards Lockhart. Harry nudged Ron and Neville, pointing this out. They sat there in silence, waiting for her to notice. Eventually she noticed no-one was saying anything anymore, and looked round, only to blush at their questioning stares, turning to talk to Lavender and Parvati (who seemed to be gossiping very intently about Lockhart). The three boys sniggered quietly.
Suddenly a door at the side of the Hall opened, and the new first years walked in, flanked by the House ghosts, who drifted off to join their respective tables. Harry saw Ginny at the back of the line, and gave her a discreet thumbs up, eliciting a grin. Professor McGonagall stood at the front, calling out names, and students ran up to be Sorted (Luna Lovegood going to Ravenclaw), and eventually it was Ginny's turn.
She ran up to the stool, almost jumping onto it, the old, tatty Hat on her head. It was only there for a few seconds before calling out 'Gryffindor! The Weasley's already at the Gryffindor table let out whoops of congratulations as their sister walked over, flushing and grinning in equal measure. They all welcomed her to the table as the Sorting drew to a close. The feast followed, everyone eating nearly their weight in delicious food, before the Headmaster stood up to deliver his traditional speech.
"Well, now that we are all sufficiently nourished, welcome, all of you, to another year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry! I hope those of you returning have emptied your heads enough to be refilled this year, and for those of you just joining us, may I wish you a most successful and enjoyable year."
Dumbledore paused to smile benevolently at the attentive students.
"There are, as always, a few notices that must be given out. First, I would like you to join me in welcoming our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Gilderoy Lockhart!"
There was a roar of applause, and Lockhart stood up, beaming brightly, his teeth gleaming in the candlelight. He bowed to each table, before sitting back down with a jaunty wave. Harry stared at Hermione in disgust as she giggled.
"Yes, welcome indeed Professor Lockhart; we can only hope that some of your… prodigious talent will rub off on your pupils!"
Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling brightly as he said this.
"Onto more mundane issues, I must once again remind you all that everything you might wish to know about the Forbidden Forest is in its name; anyone caught in there will suffer the consequences. Magic is forbidden in the corridors, as are a large variety of items; Mr Filch, our caretaker, has pinned a comprehensive list to the notice boards in each common room. And with that, goodnight! Rest well, so that you will be full of vigour for the working day!"
A/N: reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated. Regarding updates, I can promise an update every Monday for the next 4 weeks at least. After that, I hope to be able to keep to that schedule, but I have up to and including chapter 6 written at the moment, so those are the only ones I can guarantee.