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By dinner, everyone in the castle had heard of Harry's one-way confrontation with Snape. Harry wasn't surprised. Rumours spread fast at Hogwarts.

No, what he did find surprising was that Dumbledore hadn't cornered him yet and questioned what he was doing or why he was doing it. It was certainly very strange, he thought. Maybe he was too busy playing host.

Tch, yeah right…

When breakfast came to an end the next morning, the fourth-year Gryffindors, most of them anyway, didn't want to admit that they were very eager for Defence Against the Dark Arts later that day.

Harry was still speaking to everyone in Parseltongue, professors included-even Snape! They couldn't wait to find out how Moody would react, or if Harry even dared to talk in that dark tongue around someone like him.

As it happened, Harry did dare. He was a Gryffindor, and unlike the other idiots in his House, he proved it often, not just to everyone else, but to himself as well.

They settled in their seats in the Defence classroom and chatted until they heard the clunking of Moody's wooden leg coming from down the corridor, which had them all falling silent. The door opened, Moody walked in, and the door fell shut behind him as he walked up to the front of the room where his desk was.

He didn't waste any time and promptly began the lesson. When he asked questions, he only called upon those who raised their hands, leaving those who hadn't volunteered an answer, like Harry, alone.

The Gryffindors save for Hermione, Neville, and Harry himself were the only ones bothered by this. Moody either didn't notice, which seemed unlikely, or chose to ignore it, which was probably way more likely.

"Now, tell me why the only listed dark spells are the Unforgivables."

There were many glances exchanged, but not a single hand was raised. It seemed no one in the class was willing to answer this particular question, although, there were probably a few different reasons why.

Moody's fake eye whizzed around, looking at them all. "No answers? Fine. Potter, you tell me."

Every single pair of eyes in the room landed on Harry, and he raised an unimpressed brow. Moody wasn't as intimidating as people thought he was. It was all too obvious that they'd never met Vernon Dursley before. ...Although, Harry supposed his uncle was only intimidating to him because of the way he'd been treated under his supposed care.

But Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts, refocused, and answered Moody's posed question. "Because the government's filled with ignoramuses?"

The instant everyone realized Harry was speaking in Parseltongue, they turned their eager gazes to their professor, waiting for the explosion. But it never came. Not the sort of explosion they'd been waiting for anyway.

Moody stared, surprise and something else unidentifiable, oddly enough, flashed through his real eye. And then, despite obviously not having understood a single word Harry had said, he began to laugh, the sound rather unsettling. "Interesting skill there, lad. Wonder why no one told me about it before?"

Dumbledore hadn't told him? Well, that was weird. One would think that would be the first thing he'd tell the ex-kind-of-crazy Auror. Even a simple, 'Oh, by the way, the Boy-Who-Lived is a Parselmouth so, you know, don't kill him if you hear him speaking in Parseltongue. He's one of the good guys,' or something like that would've made sense.

Moody sobered and fixed Harry with both of his eyes, real and fake. "Care to repeat that in English?"

Since he wasn't being a rude prick, and hadn't ever been a rude prick-at least not to him, Harry decided to oblige and repeated what he'd said a moment ago, but in English this time.

There were gasps of shock, everyone surprised that he'd spoken to someone other than Hermione or the Weasley twins in a language that wasn't Parseltongue.

"H-Harry?" It was Neville who spoke hesitantly.

Harry turned to look at him. "Yeah, Nev?"

"Are-are you okay?"

"I'm positively furious, thanks! What about you?"

Neville blinked. "Er, I-I'm fine."

"Harry!"

The smile on Harry's face vanished, and slowly, he glanced at Ron. "Have anything interesting to say?" he asked, slipping into Parseltongue yet again. "No? Didn't think so. Please continue, professor," he finished in English.

Moody chortled, despite not having understood what he'd said to Ron, then did so. Harry didn't know it, but the man was beyond intrigued, and his quick mind was already formulating plan after plan, creating, tuning, and rejecting them one after another.

Though Harry wasn't aware of his professor's plans, he could tell that something about him had changed the moment he'd spoken in Parseltongue. It was certainly odd, and definitely not something he could explain, but he told himself that this was probably worth keeping an eye on…

That's it for now. Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!