The first thing that registered in Harry's brain when he regained consciousness was how cozy he was. Never had he felt more content to simply be. For a few minutes he simply lay there, basking in the all encompassing heat and softness of this place and wondering if he was dead. After several minutes had passed Harry realised that his eyes were closed so he opened them, only to blink in irritation when they were filled with a powdery substance that clouded his vision and scratched his cornea when he blinked. He tried to raise an arm to wipe his eyes clear and was alarmed when the limb didn't respond as it should have. In fact, he couldn't feel it at all.

Panicking, Harry tried desperately to wiggle his fingers, or to regain some semblance of feeling in his arm. He writhed, moving a body he did not recognize as his own- its end felt too far away- until his head erupted into clear air.

Harry took a few deep breaths and after several rapid blinks his eyes began to clear, taking in his surroundings warily as they came into focus.

He appeared to be in a large room, in its fireplace to be exact, he noticed dully. Fire crackled merrily on several torches lining the walls on either side of him, and red banners embossed with what looked to be a flame insignia were draped from the golden braziers that held them. The furniture too was a deep red, and elegant in its construct. Most notably, a four poster bed with red and gold drapes took up the majority of the floor space, reminding him sharply of the Gryffindor tower. Had he somehow flooed to Hogwarts? Was this the prefect's room? That would explain why he'd never seen it before, and why he was currently sitting in a fireplace. But something was still off.

Why is everything so large? Harry frowned, his brow pulling together with less ease than it should've. Come to think of it, he still couldn't feel his arm- perhaps he'd splinched himself somehow? He'd never heard of that happening when flooing, but with his luck anything was possible. "Maybe that serpent ate it," he thought, recalling the beast of flame that he had thought would be his end.

Harry looked down to try to locate the missing limb and stared dumbly at the silvery expanse of scales that ran from not only where his arm should have been, but had replaced his whole body.

"I'm a snake?" He wondered aloud, but no human sound left his lips. In fact, he realized that he must not even have proper lips. As if to accentuate this point, a forked tongue flicked out of his mouth to taste the air, causing Harry to gag as much as a snake could when the overwhelming taste and smell of ashes bombarded his senses at the act.

Harry was drawn from his thoughts when, mirroring the sun outside of the window adjacent to the bed where he lay, a boy awoke and rolled from beneath his covers to land on the floor. Harry recoiled sharply, thinking for sure that he'd been spotted. He held still, resigning himself to inevitably be accosted. Shit, he'd see the snake in his fireplace and think it was a Slytherin spy! The color of his scales alone would be enough to indicate to the suspicious mind that he was affiliated with their rival house. Would he be killed?

But when no attack came after nearly a minute, Harry slowly sank down until only his eyes and the tip of his nose peeked from the cover of the still warm ashes he lay coiled in. It occurred to him then that last he'd checked, it had still been mid summer. So either he had been transported through time, or… somehow, he wasn't in Hogwarts at all.

The boy was moving about the room, setting up candles, and now that Harry's persecution no longer seemed imminent he took the time to observe him. His eyesight was astonishingly good, even in the low light of the bedroom, and amidst the erratic flickering of the candles light he was able to make out the boy's features.

His skin was pale, a sharp contrast to the dark head of hair that hung like a curtain around his face and in some places stuck to his sweaty forehead. He looked to be about 13, although Harry could not be certain, for he had only a little baby fat remaining on his cheeks to soften his otherwise sharp features. Most strikingly, his eyes burned a fearsome gold.

As Harry watched, the boy finished setting up an array of candles and dropped into a seated position among them. Closing his eyes, he began breathing and gradually, the small flames began to rise and fall in time with his breathes. Even the candles in the braziers on the wall participated in this behavior. Harry was intrigued, associating the lotus position the boy had taken with something he had read in The History of Magic. He wished he had payed closer attention to what exactly had been in the chapter on eastern spiritual practices; something about chakras was all he could recall. Hermione would certainly know more, and it was with a sharp pang that he realized he would likely be unable to communicate with his friends again, stuck as he was in the body of a snake in a potentially foreign land.

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The next few days were spent similarly, with the boy rising at dawn to meditate with his candles. Harry remained in the ashes of his fireplace, watching him until he left at which point he would usually curl up under the charred log that had remained so far untouched at the back of the hearth and go to sleep. It was hard to stay awake for long when he was alone, for the emptiness of the room only served to remind Harry of how much he missed his friends. When the boy was there, and especially when he was asleep, Harry could pretend that he was back in the Gryffindor dorms.

Harry supposed that he could explore the room while the boy was away, but so far he had felt reluctant to leave the fireplace. At first, he'd attributed his lack of a sense of adventure to his common sense finally winning out over his bull headed tendencies, but later, after much introspection, he realized that in fact his snake instincts were the primary culprit for the unadventurous turn his personality had taken. Inspired by the boy, he had taken to meditating which as a snake meant he curled up into a ball, closed his eyes, and drew his attention inwards. It was much harder said than done. Harry's new senses were incredibly sharp, especially his sense of smell. It was a bit disorienting at first to try to draw his attention inwards when although his eyes were closed, he was still able to 'see' the room through his tongue, which was in the habit of escaping from his mouth of its own volition. If a mouse so much as poked its head out of a hole down the hall his entire focus would be thrown off, as had happened on one notable occasion.

Gradually, his attempts at meditation had paid off and by visiting his central focus he was granted a good deal of insight into his new predicament, enough so that he had hopes that one day he might regain his human body. His transformation could be linked to that of an animagus, he supposed. Perhaps if he communed enough with his human side, he could regain that form. It was nothing short of a longshot, but it would be worth it if he were to succeed.

As it was, Harry had learned a good deal about his snake self. He had deduced early on that he was an ashwinder, which explained his reluctance to leave the hearth he had been 'born' from. For now, he was content to do as his instincts urged. At about a foot in length, he was hardly a formidable presence, and knowing as little as he did about his new environment he was less inclined to subject himself to unnecessary danger than he had been at Hogwarts. So far his luck had prevented anything from meddling with his hiding place, but he didn't trust it to hold out.

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On the fourth day of Harry's stay inside the fireplace, a maid bustled into the room with the intent to tidy.

Harry watched the woman cautiously as she bustled about the room, tucking in the corners of the silk sheets that covered the boy's bed and throwing the clothes that he had strewn about the floor into a basket which she carried over her shoulder. Harry was impressed at the fervor she displayed, and more so when she held her ground against the boy himself when he returned to the room.

He had learned that the boy, although generally quiet, could be quite moody, especially when one of his sister's barbs had sunk under his skin. Harry coiled his body unhappily at the memory of the girl on the one occasion where she had visited her brother's rooms. The boy had been practicing a series of steps and kicks that somehow, to Harry's awe, resulted in short bursts of flame erupting from his feet and at times, his closed fists. It was clear that she disdained her brother, for she had taunted him shamelessly about his form for several minutes before turning on her heel and leaving the boy to take out his hurt on his possessions.

"What are you doing in here?" The boy demanded, throwing his door open wide. The maid flinched, and dropped into a low bow.

"Prince Zuko, your room needs cleaning." She explained patiently after rising. Harry was hardly surprised to learn the boy was a prince; his room was certainly furnished richly enough. His name, however, was nice to finally know.

"I can clean it myself. Get out!" The boy, Zuko, snapped.

Harry watched the exchange intently. Although he had seldom seen the boy interact with people in the short time he had spent in his fireplace, he had thought that outside of his sister, the boy would treat others with more kindness. He was moody, sure, but he hadn't struck Harry as a mean guy. Perhaps it was a class thing? Harry certainly remembered the way Draco and some other purebloods looked down on those they viewed as being below them. Would Zuko have similar views? Harry narrowed his eyes. Perhaps he would have to rethink his evaluation of the prince.

"Your father would not be happy." The woman warned.

Zuko flinched. Clearly she had struck a nerve, and for the first time harry wondered what the prince's' relationship with his father maid finished cleaning and hefted the basket of clothes off down the hall. Once she was gone, Zuko sagged onto his bed and Harry noticed how haggard he look. He flicked his tongue out and recoiled at the acrid stench of distress Zuko was putting out, concerned. What could have happened to upset him so much?

With a strangled shout Zuko heaved off of the bed and punched the wall directly next to the fireplace. The pain of the impact seemed to send him over the edge for he sagged bonelessly against the stone and slid limply to the floor, silent sobs racking his shoulders when he buried his face into his knees. Only feet away, Harry hissed softly in alarm. He had never been good at comforting people, and as a snake that Zuko didn't even know existed there was even less he could do. So he resigned, unhappily, to watching the prince suffer alone.

It was a relief then when the door opened a few minutes later to admit an older man with an impressive beard and an even more impressive belly who seemed to bear the intent to dispel Zuko's anxiety. He settled himself down across from the boy and simply observed his shaking shoulders for a while, before offering a few words of consolation.

"The brave leader is not one who speaks when he is permitted, but he who speaks when no one else will. My brother held his tongue and while you will be punished for insubordination, I see no bravery in his actions."

Zuko's golden eyes were tinged red when they snapped up to meet the old man's amber gaze, searchingly.

"Uncle? What are you doing here?" He gasped, then blinked. "Your words are dangerously close to treason."

"Perhaps they should be heard differently, then."

Harry was oddly reminded of Dumbledore in the way the older man's eyes brightened, although they did not twinkle. He flicked his tongue out to taste Zuko's uncle's scent, instantly regretting the movement when the older man, who tasted of tea and fire, turned his amber eyes upon the hearth. Harry froze, pinned beneath his gaze. Zuko his uncle's sight to where Harry was coiled and his eyes widened in astonishment.

"It seems you have a visitor, Zuko."

Slowly, so as not to seem threatening Harry pulled his head down towards the ashes, knowing that should either male choose to grab for him he would not be able to escape. Zuko reached out a hesitant hand, his eyes wide and full of wonder.

"I won't hurt you." He promised, and Harry tasted the truth in his words when his traitorous tongue flicked out again. His dormant Gryffindor impulsiveness resurfacing, he did not shy from the hand that lifted from his nest of ashes, and once airborne he wrapped his coils tightly around Zuko's wrist. The heat radiating from the prince was more than enough to replace the small amount still harbored by the ashes even after all these days. Harry held himself still as golden and amber eyes swept over him.

"I've never seen a snake like this before," Zuko marveled, bringing his arm closer to his face. Harry wondered if he had ever handled a snake before, as it didn't seem wise to bring one so close to an area of his body that practically screamed, "bite me!" Although, to be fair, Harry hadn't bitten the hand that had reached out to grab him so perhaps the prince assumed that he was safe. "Do you know what kind of snake it is?" The prince asked.

Zuko's uncle considered Harry. "I have my suspicions, although I have never seen one before. Ancient legend tells of a winged serpent, a cousin of the dragons that is born from the ashes of eternal flame. That one would end up in your fireplace is… astonishing." Then, cheerfully he added, "But your snake has no wings, so surely it can't be that!" Zuko, who's face had taken on an awed expression, looked crestfallen. His uncle chortled. "But perhaps it's just a baby? Either way, prince Zuko, it's in your care now."

With that, the older man stood and walked slowly from the room, leaving Zuko and Harry alone. "What should I name you?" the prince wondered.

Harry sighed and coiled tighter around the prince's arm, reluctant to leave its heat. "What are the chances that you'll choose Harry?" He hissed. Oh, the irony.

You may have guessed it- Zuko's about to be banished. And guess who's going along for the ride? Harry may seem overly trusting of Zuko, but keep in mind that he's had four days to observe his behavior and get a taste of his character. By resigning to stay with him, Harry is showing a little more of his traditional Gryffindor impulse decision making. I hope this was believable! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited this story! I hope I haven't scared you away with this chapter.

Cheers!