Chapter 4: Serpensortia

It was early on Saturday morning. Harry was leaning against the wall in one of the classrooms on the seventh floor, on his own. It hadn't been the best week he'd ever had at Hogwarts.

The pixie incident had been an unmitigated disaster; Lockhart had released them before leaving the students to deal with it. Had Hermione not known a few useful spells the chaos would have spread from the classroom; as it was, no-one had been injured any more severely than a few cuts and bruises. After his first year, this seemed fairly tame to Harry, but it still didn't excuse the fact that Lockhart had just let it happen. Hermione had been going on about 'letting us get some valuable experience', but Harry was pretty sure that the spell Lockhart had demonstrated wasn't even a real one. He had pointed this out to her. She hadn't spoken to him until the next day.

Then of course, there was the Gryffindor Common Room. Fred and George had indeed made copies of the photo he had given Colin. They had also enlarged them to life size and stuck them on every available surface in the room. Worse, they had also seen fit to enchant them; they now constantly shouted out to people – in a way they were almost worse than Lockhart's pictures of himself. The only saving grace was that it was obvious he hadn't wanted the picture; his portrait-self kept running out of the frame, often staying away for hours at a time. Still, it was very embarrassing, made even worse by the fact he couldn't remove the sticking charm the twins had used.

Potions had been even worse than normal. Snape had arrived in the dungeons while Lavender and Parvati had been talking about Lockhart, very loudly. His normal unpleasant expression had momentarily changed to one of absolute hatred – one that Harry suspected had been seen by the Marauders more than once – and he had immediately put them in detention. Then he had taken the register. Instead of his customary growl at Harry's name, he had merely smirked; once he had finished, he had returned to Harry.

"Ah, Mr Potter. Quite the celebrity this week aren't you? Perhaps Professor Lockhart has been rubbing off on you? Why, I hear you are even handing out signed photos of yourself! I must confess myself surprised; I didn't dare to think you could be more arrogant than you were last year, but I suppose we must all be proved wrong sometimes mustn't we? I hope they fetch a good price Potter, because if you don't show a significant improvement you certainly won't be able to make a career as a Potions Master."

Harry knew that he shouldn't reply, knew that sarcastic Snape was better than coldly furious Snape, but he'd had a trying few days, and he hadn't slept well, and Snape could be so bloody smug when he wanted to be.

"Well, that's obviously a great disappointment to me sir, but I'll try not to lose a great deal of sleep over it."

The other Gryffindors winced. Snape's eyes narrowed, and his next words were almost a hiss.

"Detention Potter. Do not think that just because some idiotic first year thinks you Merlin reborn that the opinion is shared with others. And if you ever speak to me like that again, you will spend the rest of the term in detention. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Splendid. Get to work!"

So. Detention (with Filch just too really make things bad), he'd lost 20 points for Gryffindor, and he was a figure of fun around the castle because he'd shown a first year some sympathy. Great.

Still, he hadn't come up here to brood, he could do that perfectly comfortably in bed. Sitting up straight, he pulled the piece of parchment Remus had given him out of his robe.

Serpensortia

He had found more information on it from another spell book in the library, explaining the wand movement that accompanied the incantation. He raised his wand, moving it roughly in a triangle shape before bringing it down in a sharp slashing movement, while mouthing the spell. Nodding to himself, satisfied, he did the movement again, speaking the spell aloud. A large, black snake shot from the end of the wand, but had faded away by the time it hit the floor. Harry cursed under his breath. At least he knew the spell worked, now he just had to practice.

Twenty minutes later, and the snake was now landing successfully. However, it always faded away before Harry had a proper chance to start up a conversation. Harry was beginning to get annoyed. He knew that this was more complex magic than most people his age would be attempting, but he'd never taken this long to master a spell before. Making the triangle shape again, he slashed his wand down again, angrily shouting 'Serpensortia!' Another black snake flew from the end of his wand, and landed on the floor. This one was shimmering slightly for some reason. Harry waited for a moment, but the snake merely stared at him; all his previous attempts had vanished by this point. Clearly, he was getting better.

"Hello?"

"Greetings. What is your name Speaker?"

"Harry. Harry Potter. What's yours?"

"I don't have one Harry Harry Potter."

"Why not? And it's only one Harry."

"I have never been able to have one before Harry."

Harry stared in confusion for a moment before the answer hit him. Of course, he'd conjured the snake, not summoned it; it was a creation of his own, and he hadn't given it a name. He debated naming it now, but since it was only a conjuration, it wouldn't be around that long; naming it seemed fairly pointless.

As he thought about it, the snake began to fade again. Harry quickly raised his wand, but before he could renew the spell the snake had vanished completely. He sighed to himself, before looking at his watch. He nodded, satisfied. There was plenty of time to practice before he had to be at his first Quidditch practice. He raised his arm again, once again casting 'Serpensortia!' with a loud cry. Once again, a snake shimmered into being, flying from the tip of his wand. This time, Harry vaguely recognised it as an adder, and he took a step back, in case it had a bad temper. He didn't fancy explaining a snake bite to Madame Pomfrey.

Over the next hour, Harry struck up conversation with snake after snake, each one gradually fading away; five minutes at first, then ten, fifteen, eventually twenty. Speaking Parseltongue was surprisingly easy; he just had to focus on the snake in front of him, and he slipped into Parseltongue without even realising it. Indeed, the only indication he was speaking a different language was the fact the snake understood him and replied. Another thing he had noticed was that all the snakes he had conjured were, once they were able to progress in conversation far enough, very arrogant. Considering the Slytherins he knew best, that didn't really surprise him.

As the last snake he had conjured – a harmless grass snake he thought – faded away, Harry sat back down. Since he seemed to be able to conjure a variety of snakes, he thought it might be a good idea to learn more about them. He could recognise some of the magical varieties, such as the Runespoor, but Muggle varieties were a mystery to him. And that could present a problem. As far as he was aware, the most dangerous snake he had conjured had been the adder, which by magical standards was totally harmless. But what if he conjured something worse? There were some kinds of snake, Muggle and Magical, which could kill with a single tiny bite. He could study Magical snakes easily enough, although he would have to do it discreetly, but there would be nothing on Muggle snakes in the Library. Maybe Remus could help…

Surfacing from his thoughts, he looked at his watch again, and leapt to his feet. He had only a short time to grab some breakfast before he had to go to practice. He hurried from the classroom, running down towards the Great Hall, mentally composing the letter he wanted to send.

"Come on Harry, you've got practice in a few minutes!"

"I know Ron, I just need to finish this…"

Eating distractedly as he did so, Harry finished scribbling his letter to Remus. It was only short, but Harry felt it important.

Dear Remus,

How are you? Term hasn't been too bad so far, although Lockhart is the biggest idiot I've ever had the misfortune to meet, let alone be taught by. He really doesn't know the first thing about his subject; I'd be fascinated to learn what his books are based on. I've never heard such a narrow view of the difference between light and dark magic! I'm afraid I lost my temper and corrected him. He wasn't happy at all. There's also some first year who's obsessed with me; he's actually been taking photos of me whenever we see each other, which is really embarrassing. And Snape's been as pleasant as ever; I really wish you guys hadn't been as stupid as you were when you were at school – please pass that onto Sirius for me!

Anyway, I've got a favour to ask you. I've tried out the spell you gave me – successfully, which I was very pleased by – and I think it's going to be a great help to me. But I don't really know anything about snakes, and it isn't really something I can find out safely here; we don't need to know about them, and the only books in the library are on magical snakes, so they probably won't be that useful. Could you get me a book on them please? And try and send it discreetly, so that nobody gets suspicious?

I hope you're ok; how was the full moon? See you soon, and give my love to everyone,

Harry.

"Is it really that important? Come on, you're going to be late! You don't want to be kicked off the team because you're writing a letter do you?"

"Ok, ok, I'm finished, I'm finished. Right, are we off?"

Ron jumped up, eager to see Harry fly again. Hermione and Neville joined them as well, although with considerably less enthusiasm. Neither of them were huge fans of the sport, although Neville could at least follow a conversation about it and understood the rules. Harry suspected Hermione's dislike of it was due to her inability to fly a broom; she hated being bad at anything, and he thought it more than likely that if she ever mastered the art, she would enjoy Quidditch much more.

As they walked down to the pitch, they bumped into Fred and George, also in Quidditch robes, and looking very disgruntled.

"Morning you lot!"

"Don't know what Wood's playing at,"

"Getting us training this early in the year."

"He must really want to win!"

George yawned deeply, before putting his arm round Harry's shoulder – an uncomfortable feeling, given the way his wilder magic made his arm twitch constantly.

"You see young Harry, Wood's a fanatic. Quidditch is his life, his food, his drink. And when he sees you fly, especially on that broom, he may well get down on his knees and beg to have your children, because he'll know that we are pretty much guaranteed to win the cup this year."

"Not that we're trying to scare you or anything!" Fred said with a wink.

Harry just rolled his eyes.

The banter continued all the way down to the pitch, Fred and George being very vocal about having to be up before ten on a Saturday, which was apparently "unnatural!" As they arrived, Harry noticed a familiar blond head lounging by the stands. He shook his head in exasperation, walking over.

"What are you doing here Draco?"

The blond Pureblood affected a hurt expression, pouting at Harry.

"Can't I even come and watch my friends enjoy themselves now? I'd have thought you'd be happy to see me, especially after my father assisted you over the summer!"

"Draco, of course you can watch me fly, but we do know that you're the Slytherin Seeker this year; we aren't going to show you our moves. We're not stupid you know."

"Are you sure? I could give you some tips; the 2001's a tricky broom to fly, and since I have space to fly at home, I'm probably a little better than you are…"

"Well, I look forward to finding out. How about this afternoon? When we've finished our practice?"

Draco shrugged, a slight smile on his face.

"If you're sure, but I think the team would benefit from my expertise. I mean, after last year's shambolic effort they need all the help they can get just to be worthwhile opposition, let alone successful..."

"Goodbye Draco. And don't let the twins hear you talking like that. You know what happened last time they got annoyed with you…"

Draco's smirk flickered, replaced by anxiety, but only for a moment, immediately returning to his confident mask of superiority. He stood up, ready to leave, before stopping, as if he'd just remembered something.

"Theo's not very happy with you Harry. He wouldn't say why though; perhaps you'd care to enlighten me?"

Harry grinned.

"He was annoying me, so I cast the Amorphophallus Hex on him."

Draco stared for a moment, before letting out a snort of amusement.

"Well, that would certainly explain that! That's just cruel Harry. Thanks for telling me though, the others will be delighted!"

"Oh, no problem; anything for a friend. Now clear off so we can practice in peace."

"All right, I'm going, I'm going…"

Draco strolled off, pausing only to give a mocking smile to Ron, who scowled at him. Harry hurried to get changed, before joining the rest of the team out on the pitch. The captain, Oliver Wood, waved at him.

"Ah Harry, good lad. Fred and George said you'd got yourself a broom; good quality?"

Harry just held his broom out. A hush fell over the squad.

"A Nimbus 2001! You don't even need to be a good flyer to do well on that!"

"Yeah well, don't worry yourself on that score Angelina!"

"Yeah, Harry's great. Go on, show them what you can do Harry!"

Harry looked at Wood enquiringly, and grinned at the eager expression the captain had. He mounted his broom, soaring up into the air with a twitch. A few loops and dives later, and the rest of the team joined him, grinning to a man.

The practice went extremely well. Despite Draco's claims, the team were good anyway, and having a Seeker of Harry's calibre only improved matters. Knowing they had good team members backing them up encouraged the others to take more risks, which usually paid off. As the practice went on, a clicking sound became audible; looking round for the source, Harry spotted Colin Creevey frantically taking photos of him. Sighing, he flew up higher, his team-mates openly laughing at him as they realised where Fred and George had got the photos that were still up on the Common Room walls.

An hour or so later, the team finished for lunch, abandoning the pitch for the Slytherin team, who were just arriving. Harry cast his eye over them; Draco was an exception, small and lithe. The rest of the team could easily have been mistaken for trolls in a low light, especially the captain, Marcus Flint. As Harry walked past Flint scowled and cracked his knuckles; behind him, Draco rolled his eyes and pulled a face, imitating Flint's ugly expression. Harry laughed, and carried on back to the castle, the Slytherin team's glares fixed on his back.

After swiftly grabbing some lunch, Harry wandered up to the Owlery to send his letter to Remus. Looking out of the window, he could just see the Slytherin team down on the pitch. It was tricky to tell from such a distance, but it seemed that they hadn't changed their playing style much from the previous year; bulldoze opposing players and try and leave them badly injured. Harry couldn't wait to show them how Quidditch should be played.

When Hedwig finally agreed to take the letter, after much fussing on Harry's part, he made his way back down to the pitch, broomstick in hand and a broad grin on his face. Draco was almost as good a flyer as he claimed to be, and had a competitive streak a mile wide. Harry always enjoyed reminding him that he wasn't as good as Harry, and now, since they had exactly the same broom, there could be no argument. It would come down purely to skill.

Draco was leaning on his broom when Harry arrived, a bored expression on his face. He stood up as Harry walked over, hoisting his broom over his shoulder.

"At last! I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up; I mean, you've never been scared before, but I suppose if the defeat was going to be more public you might chicken out…"

"Oh it wasn't that, I just thought you'd need time to recover; I know too much activity wears out lazy, childish Purebloods."

Draco raised an eyebrow, before smirking slightly, acknowledging the hit.

"Wow. You've been practicing sarcasm. Isn't that fascinating? We'll make a Slytherin of you yet Harry."

"You can only be Sorted once; are we arguing or flying?"

"Thought you'd never ask. Up!"

Draco's broom shot into his hand and he soared off into the air, turning to look down at Harry, challenging him silently to catch him. Harry just held his hand out, his broom automatically coming to his hand without a command. He was rewarded with a quick scowl, before Draco's mask slid back into place. Following Draco's lead, he rose quickly into the air, drawing level with him.

"So, what are the rules?"

"Three laps round the pitch, any tactics you like?"

"Works for me – hey!"

Draco had shot off as soon as Harry nodded his agreement. Taking a moment to level out, cursing the blond as he did so, Harry shot off after him. Neither of them had any speed advantage, but Harry was just a tiny bit better than Draco – and crucially, more willing to take risks. So when Draco went all the way round the goalposts at either end of the pitch, Harry just cut straight through them, narrowly avoiding crashing his broom. This move drew angry cries of cheat from behind him, but Harry ignored him, too wrapped up in the sheer joy of being able to fly without restraint. Before he knew it, Draco was calling a halt, the three laps finished; Harry had won fairly easily given his starting handicap. Draco hovered with a mildly annoyed expression.

"Damn. I hate losing to you."

"You'd have thought you'd be used to it by now… How long have we had an audience?"

There were several people sitting in the stands. Harry thought he could make out a camera flash, leading him to deduce Colin was watching him again. He really needed to have a word with the boy. They flew slowly over; Colin was indeed there, with Ron and Ginny watching as well. Ginny waved at Harry as they approached. Harry waved back, but his eye was caught by someone sitting a few rows behind them; Zacharias Smith. Dismounting his broom, Harry turned away from him, listening to Ron and Draco bicker about flying. Ginny moved away from them, shaking her head in amusement.

"That was brilliant flying Harry. I wish I could fly like that."

"Come on, you're a brilliant flyer, you just need more opportunity to practice that's all! Take a school broom out sometimes, I'll be happy to show you a move or two."

Ginny gave him an oddly smug smile.

"Well, thank you very much! That would be ever so kind of you… Not worried about me stealing your place on the team then?"

"Not this year; you aren't allowed to participate. And I didn't say I'd show you everything… Besides, I know you prefer chasing."

Ginny smiled and shrugged.

"True. Who's the boy behind us? He just sort of showed up without us noticing. It's a bit creepy actually…"

"He has a habit of doing stuff like that. Hang on a minute…"

He stood up, walking up to the enigmatic Hufflepuff. Smith looked up at him by way of greeting.

"Hi Smith. We didn't really have a chance for a proper conversation the other day. Good summer?"

"It was fairly enjoyable yes Harry. And yours?"

"Peaceful. Which is a good thing of course. I didn't know you liked flying – do you play?"

"No, I just have a message for you: There is a secret unfolding."

Harry stared at him blankly.

"What?" he said intelligently.

"There is a secret unfolding. Strange things are begining to stir Harry, and I am fairly sure that you will be at the centre of the secret sooner or later. I am glad you had a peaceful summer Harry; your term time is going to be anything but I fear."

"You're really weird you know that Smith?"

"I have often been told that Harry. I find it generally means that people just do not understand what I am saying to them. Relax while you can."

With that, Smith just stood up and walked away. Harry stared after him in absolute incomprehension, before firmly shoving the encounter to the back of his mind and returning to his friends, just in time to stop Draco and Ron throwing each other off the stands to the pitch below.

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