Yo! Thank you to all readers so far!
Days went by, and Harry made no change in how he conducted himself around others. He continued to speak in Parseltongue, even in lessons, but none of the adults ever called him out on it.
The only time he would answer them in English was if they asked politely, or if Harry himself decided that the professor was worth speaking in English to-like Moody. But that wasn't something he did often.
After Moody, Flitwick and Hagrid were the only other ones who got English from him more often than Parseltongue. The other professors had to suffer through Parseltongue just like the students, and Harry didn't particularly care for their opinion on the matter. And while the adults were certainly annoyed, they didn't have it nearly as bad as the students did.
Harry remained fairly polite with all the visiting students, mostly because they hadn't done anything wrong, but the Hogwarts ones? Oh, hell nah! They were fair game. After all, the majority of them had never treated him right. Not until he risked his life to, ultimately, save them, in a sense.
No, Harry didn't give a shit if any of them understood him or not. Frankly, they didn't deserve his kindness. Or his attention. Or his time. ...He wasn't going to let Snape know that though. He'd probably just compare him to his dad again.
"You're annoying."
"Are you sure you weren't dropped down a flight of stairs as a baby?"
"You seriously think your parents aren't disappointed in you?"
"Holy shit! You call that thing a face!?"
"Ah ha, Malfoy! See your father recently? Tell him I had another dream about him, will you? I had him tied and blindfolded in bed. He kept talking though. ...Maybe I should've gagged him too?"
Different people got different reactions from Harry, and most of those reactions weren't all that friendly. Not that any of the students knew that or anything. It wasn't like he was translating his insults after he said them.
When Harry wasn't going around offending people by speaking a language only snakes and Voldemort knew, he was busy trying to figure out what the first task was going to be, and what he needed to learn to get through it.
He was fully aware that it would be dangerous and was pretty sure it was something that could easily kill him, but as that had already happened at this school multiple times over the past three years, well, Harry wasn't having an easy time narrowing things down.
Fighting a mountain troll? A deadly Quidditch match? Smuggling a dragon? Getting through a deadly forest? Sneaking past a giant three-headed dog? Defeating a Dark Lord? Dodging a moving tree that liked to kill things? Trying not to end up dead of a professor's incompetence? Escaping a nest of giant spiders? Killing a sixty-foot basilisk? Defeating a Dark Lord again? Trying not to get run over by a crazy bus? A second deadly Quidditch match? Escaping a werewolf? Battling a hundred dementors at once?
"Oh no, wait, all of that already happened."
"All of what already happened, Harry?"
Harry turned slowly and looked up. "I wasn't talking to you, Diggory," he said, automatically slipping into Parseltongue. "Why did you think I was? Didn't think the smart, pretty boy had time for a fourteen-year-old like me. You certainly don't seem to care that all your housemates are constantly insulting me. Even if you don't agree with what they're saying, you sure as fuck aren't telling them to stop now, are you?
"Nice of you to want to risk your life for a bit of gold and fame that'll only last a year. Don't believe me? Go on, name at least one previous Triwizard Tournament winner. ...Nothing? I'm not surprised. At least you've still got parents."
Done with his tirade and not in the mood to wait for a reaction, Harry turned and walked away, leaving a surprised and confused Cedric staring after him, since he hadn't understood a single word Harry had just said.
Harry meanwhile, didn't realize that a certain professor was standing in the shadows of a nearby alcove and had heard every word. Even though he hadn't understood any of it, he knew someone else who would…
When Harry walked into the Great Hall one morning in mid-November, he was greeted by the sight of many pairs of eyes, everyone falling silent before suddenly beginning to giggle when they saw him. Harry paused in place, sighed, and rolled his eyes before he resumed walking.
"For fuck's sake, now what?" He settled down beside Hermione, who without a word, handed him that morning's edition of the Daily Prophet. Harry scanned through the article in question and sighed inwardly. "Skeeter. Figures it'd be that bitch."
Lowering the newspaper, Harry gasped dramatically, looking shocked, and turned to his friend. "Hermione! Why didn't you tell me we were dating!?" While his muttering had been in Parseltongue, this time he spoke in English.
Hermione met his eyes, looking equally shocked. "Harry! Why didn't you tell me we were dating!?"
They both looked at one another accusingly and then, after a moment of silence, burst out laughing.
"So-so you two aren't together?"
Harry looked at a hopeful Ron, whose face fell the moment he spoke-in Parseltongue, of course. "I don't remember saying anything to you. No, me and Hermione aren't dating. She doesn't have the right body parts, if you catch my drift. A few of your older brothers on the other hand, now they're just perfect. Charlie and those muscles of his... I bet Fred and George even share partners, huh...? And, oh, Bill and his everything!"
Ron just blinked at Harry's dreamy look, completely unaware that he was now fantasizing about four of his brothers. ...That was probably a good thing though. Hermione, however, had a feeling she did know what Harry was thinking, and she nudged the Weasley twins, who exchanged a knowing look and an amused grin.
That's it for now. Looking forward to reviews! Laterz!