Here is the fifteenth chapter, folks! Enjoy!

* Review Response:
Thundramon, an imaginary one? And, yes, that's one of the great many things the yaoi fangirls would love to see.
Vivid Snare, Pirouette Prisoner, Dzerx, doctor of supreme awesomeness, The Richmaster, city bookworm, ObsessedWithHPFanFic, keyblademeister88, jamnaz79, kalerya, TheGreatBubbaJ, Necrogod, The Sinful, Guest, Digitize27, chc91776, mwinter1, Le Diablo Blanc2, Gigssy, Nyalest, anarion87, JPElles, Fox Boss, Noble Korhedron, monkiepawn, thank you for your reviews, folks!
llIMagic, it felt good enough to me. And, the portrait is going to play a role of some importance in the future, so...
Wyrtha, unlike Hermione, Ron has brothers, who attend Hogwarts. And twins are actually somewhat friendly with Harry. So, it's not that far-fetched to think that Ron would ask them (or Percy) about Harry the first chance he gets once he learns that they've met Harry.
magitech, no, this is not the last you hear of Hermione in this story. But, worry not, she is going to be just a recurring background character or something like that. As for how Crabbe and Goyle manage to get themselves sorted into Slytherin... That's one of the great mysteries of the Potterverse.
jrock919, I have no reason for Lucius come to Hogwarts at this time, but Harry is going to ask him that question regardless (via an owl). As for character bashing... I won't write bashing for the sake of bashing, but...
Auspicious Orangutan, there is a couple of decent stories that feature the Carrow twins, but, certainly, not enough.
birdwoman95, thanks. I too am not a great fan of super!character stories. That said, Harry really should've been much better than JKR made him be in the books.
Gabriel Herrol, no, but that doesn't stop him from thinking he has. It's Draco "wait till my father hears of this" Malfoy we're talking about here.
Harriverse, I actually haven't decided which house to put Hermione into. In the books, she got herself sorted into Gryffindor because she believed it to be the best house, and there aren't many reasons for her to change her opinion here. Regardless, her role here is that of a background character, so, does it even really matter?
VonPelt, thank you. And, I think, I've read a few Slytherin!Harry stories that we're full of overused cliches, but, yeah, such stories are like super-rare...
Xyoras, no, there will be no basilisk attacks this year.

* AN: Great thanks to my friend Remilia - The Scarlet Moon for his help in polishing this chapter.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own "Harry Potter" franchise. No profit is being made. Same goes for any books, video games, anime or manga I may or may not use for ideas.

"speaking"
"parseltongue"
'thinking'
written text

A Year Too Soon
Chapter XV: The Aftermath of Revelation

In what resembled the events of the previous year, Flora and Hestia were the ones to explain Harry what was going on. Of course, this time he wasn't as unlearned about the world he now was a part of - he knew about parseltongue, the magical language of serpents - it was just… It never occurred to him that during his short 'conversation' with Salazar Slytherin's portrait he spoke anything but plain English. But he did. And people in the common room heard it.

And their opinions on the matter were quite divided. The children from the dark families, the ones who honestly believed in absolute superiority of the pure-blood wizards, were less than happy with this development and now disdained Harry because they believed him to be unworthy of the ability Salazar Slytherin was renown for. Young heir Malfoy was a vocal supporter of this group. On the other hand, the half-bloods were now cautious or even fearful towards him, afraid that he might 'drop the charade' and join the merry band of pure-blood supremacists. Those groups, thankfully, weren't very numerous. The majority of Slytherin students was merely curious and wanted to know why a Potter - someone whose family had no known ties to the Slytherin bloodline - turned out to be a parselmouth.

Of course, news as exciting as this just couldn't stay secret for long. And having had some experience with the Hogwarts rumor mill the previous year, Harry knew that sooner or later everyone in the castle would know that he could speak parseltongue. He just didn't expect that it would happen before he even left the Slytherin common room the very next morning. Understandably, the young Potter wasn't at all happy about this.

Indeed, the moment he walked into the Great Hall to get some breakfast - as well as his timetable for the semester - he was greeted by not-at-all-subtle whispers and numerous curious looks and fearful or downright hateful glares from whichever students of the other three houses were already present in the Great Hall. And, unlike how things were in Slytherin, those simply curious about his parseltongue ability were a minority here…

This sudden shift in the student body's attitude towards him, however, didn't affect Harry all that much. He was bothered by the sudden distrust and suspicion from the people who used to be friendly towards him before, of course, but this all was just a more extreme version of what happened a year ago when he unexpectedly ended up under the green-and-silver banner of Slytherin. Paying no attention to those glares was not too hard for him.

Harry had finished his breakfast pretty early, so, once professor Snape handed him his timetable, he excused himself from the table and left for the Slytherin dungeons: he needed to pack his school bag for the day. And that's when trouble found him. Just as he was passing through the Great Hall's doors he practically ran into Ronald Weasley. The red-haired boy clearly had slept in and now was in a great hurry to get some food before the breakfast was over. It took him a moment or two to realize who was in front of him, but once he did…

"Get out of my way, slimy snake!" He said, his voice somewhere between a hiss and a growl, while trying to push Harry to the side. And since Harry wasn't expecting this, he ended up getting thrown into the doorjamb.

"Careful there, Weasley." A fourth-year Hufflepuff who was about to leave the Great Hall himself said. "You better not rile Potter, or he'll put a curse you or something. Haven't you heard, he's a parselmouth." Apparently, this was the first time Ron heard this. And now that he learned this, his dislike of anything associated with Slytherin went into overdrive:

"What?! Why you?!..." He shouted, unable to even come up with words to express what he was feeling at the moment. Grabbing Harry by the collar of his robes, the young Weasley overwhelmed whatever defenses the green-eyed wizard managed to muster and slammed him back into the door post. "I'm gonna make you regret ever being born, you filthy beast!" He roared as he raised his fist for a strike, his anger allowing him to continue overpower slightly-larger Slytherin boy.

"Mr. Weasley." Professor Snape said, suddenly appearing behind the enraged redhead. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for attacking a fellow student." There, the Potions Master made a small pause for dramatic effect, before adding: "And another ten for doing so with your fists. Now, release Mr. Potter and get to your table, before I make you polish the cauldrons for the next week." Grumbling under his breath about the unfairness of it all, Ron nevertheless did as told.

"This is not over, Potter." He said, spitting Harry's name out like it was a wad of the foulest bile. "I'll make you pay for turning on the Light." And with that, he removed himself towards the Gryffindor table.

"Now, Mr. Potter." Snape continued. "You'll be serving a detention with me tonight. Your failure to defend yourself against ruffians like Mr. Weasley presents Slytherin as weak. We can't have that." Harry didn't agree with this detention - being punished for being a victim was totally not fair - but he knew better than to argue with his head of the house, especially when he was agitated like this. "Why did you not defended yourself, Potter? Surely you aren't as pathetic as to not being able to deal with a single worthless brat like Weasley?" The Potions Master asked then.

"His attack caught me by surprise, Sir." Harry replied quietly.

"Do you want another detention, Potter?" Snape hissed, clearly restraining himself from raising his voice. "A Slytherin should always be prepared."

"Yes, S-Sir." Was all that the green-eyed youth could say in response.

"Good." The Slytherin head of the house said. "Now get out of my sight, Potter, and hope you don't find yourself in any more trouble, or so help me..." Nodding, Harry did his best to make himself scarce as he continued on his way back to the Slytherin dormitories. He still had classes today that he needed to get ready for...

The rest of the day, thankfully, went by rather uneventfully for Harry, as least as far as his parselmouth situation went. There were no further attacks against him, though the majority of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs as well as some Ravenclaws did their very best to turn him into ashes with their glares. They also said some less-than-pleasant things about him behind his back, but the young Potter knew better than to let those get a rise out of him.

His detention with Professor Snape wasn't all that eventful either. The man asked him why he was there and, once satisfied with his answer, told him to scrub three big and fairly dirty cauldrons clean. Without magic, of course. It was, without a question, a boring and monotonous task, but the young Potter didn't find it to be especially difficult. He did grow up under the Dursleys' roof, after all, so he wasn't a stranger to physical labor…

Once Professor Snape was satisfied with the results of his work, Harry was dismissed and immediately made his way back to the Slytherin dormitories. There, he joined Flora and Hestia in the far corner of the common room and spent the rest of his evening enjoying their company… The relative peace and quiet made him hope that tomorrow would be just as peaceful as this evening.

Of course, the life had other plans for him… As soon as the owl post began arriving the next morning, a huge number of owls headed for him. Harry barely got a chance to wonder what was going on before he found himself swarmed by the birds as they dive-bombed him with their burdens. A couple of feathered menaces then mucked him by impudently stealing pieces of bacon from his plate…

This chaos lasted for few minutes and, once it was finally over, the Potter scion had a haphazard pile of envelopes sitting on the table in front him. Most of those letters appeared to be normal at the first glance, but he could also spy at least half a dozen of angry-crimson envelopes that could only be Howlers - and thanks to the Weasley twins, he knew what those things were... Someone people, it seemed, really wanted him to hear how much they despised him just because he could talk to snakes.

Harry, of course, wasn't the only one to notice these Howlers...

"Potter." A grumpy seventh year student sitting a couple of seats down the table called. "I'm in no mood to listen to incessant yelling right now, do something about those things." He 'requested', nodding towards the crimson envelope that was currently sizzling on top of Harry's porridge.

"I wish I knew how to." The green-eyed wizard replied honestly. The upperclassman let out a tired sigh before drawing his wand and pointing it at the pile of letters. Whispering something under his breath, he made the Howlers - all seven of them - rise into air, where they burst into magical flames, burning into nothingness in a matter of seconds.

"There." The older boy said, returning his wand to its holster.

"Cool." Harry breathed out. There was a short pause, he asked: "Could you please teach me that?" Then, after a few moments, he added hopefully as he eyed one suspiciously-thick envelope: "And maybe some other useful spells to deal with unwanted mail?" The seventh-year let out a short, barking laugh,

"Knowledge has its price, don't you know it, Potter?" Harry gave him a nod.

"What do you want in return?"

As it turned out, not all of Harry's hate mail contained just words. Several (anonymous, of course) letters had some weak curses imbued into their parchment, and one envelope had an ounce or so of bubotuber pus in it. Opening any of those letters carelessly would've ended in a visit to Madam Pomfrey's.

This was quite a serious situation, so, as soon as the breakfast was was, the young Potter sought out his head of the house. Professor Snape, after personally examining the letters in question and confirming that they indeed were booby-trapped, told him that he'd inform the headmaster about this. The Potions Master also advised Harry to report this incident to the DMLE.

The green-eyed youth agreed that this was a wise thing to do. However, since he still had classes to attend, he had to postpone sending the Aurors a missive until afternoon. And, speaking of letters he needed to send… He still needed to ask Lord Malfoy what debt Draco had been talking about back on the train. He meant to do it as soon as he had a chance to stop by the owlry, but it kinda slipped off his mind thanks to the mess he found himself in due to his newly-discovered parselmouth ability.

~/ *** \~

It wasn't until Wednesday afternoon that the second year Slytherins had their first DADA lesson with Professor Quirrell. And while Harry couldn't say that he was a bad teacher - the man definitely knew his subject well - he didn't quite measure up to Professor Armstrong. And then there was his constant stuttering… It turned his otherwise pretty good lecture into a mess that was a chore to listen to. Harry was actually relieved when the bell finally rang.

"Mr. Potter, can I ask you t-to stay behind for a m-moment?" Professor Quirrell asked just as Harry was about to step out of the classroom. Letting out a small sigh under his breath, the green-eyed boy nodded to Flora and Hestia, silently telling them not to wait for him. Then, he turned around to face the turban-wearing wizard.

"What can I do for you, Professor?" He asked.

"You see, Mr. Potter, certain rumors circulation around the castle have sparked m-my curiosity…" There was a short pause, before he continued: "They say, you can speak p-parseltongue, the magical language of serpents." Harry gave him a careful nod. "This... development, shall we say, interests me g-greatly, Mr. Potter. I'm knowledgeable in many subjects, and p-pureblood lineages is among them. Parseltongue, at least in Europe, has never been recorded outside of the Slytherin family and their descendants. And t-there is no known connection b-between Potters and the Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin. Thus, I'm understandably curious about h-how you came to possess this rare gift, Mr. Potter."

"I… I don't know, sir." Harry replied honestly. There was a significant pause, before he continued: "This is a pure speculation on my part, but… It is possible that I actually got it from my mother." Professor Quirrell raised an eyebrow.

"How s-so, Mr. Potter? I was under impression that s-she was a muggleborn."

"Officially." The green-eyed youth confirmed. "But it not impossible that she came from a long line of squibs instead. And then, when the Dark Lord hit me with his curse, something happened and activated my parseltongue ability." He too was curious about how he came to possess a trait so strongly associated with the Slytherin bloodline and tried to dig up some information that could help him solve this mystery. Alas, so far he found nothing, leaving this to be his best guess about the origins of his 'gift'. Professor Quirrell thought about it for a few seconds, before nodding.

"Yes, this d-does sound plausible. Unfortunately, I don't think it is p-possible to confirm your theory." He said. "Thank you for s-satisfying my curiosity, Mr. Potter." He added then, dismissing the young wizard. Harry gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement, before hastily leaving the classroom.

Watching the young Potter disappear out of his host's sight, Lord Voldemort pondered what the boy had just said. On one hand, he didn't want to admit that Lily Potter might have actually been more than a simple mudblood. Especially, he really didn't want to believe that she might have been a distant descendant of Salazar Slytherin via some squib that had been exiled into the muggle world. On the other hand… He couldn't deny that the boy's theory actually made some sense.

And that was quite an unsettling thought for the currently-disembodied Dark Lord. After all, if there indeed existed wizards and witches who, despite being born of muggle filth, carried gifts of ancient Magical blood, then, a few of them might have been purged along with those unworthy of Magic during his rise to the power... No, Lord Voldemort resolved firmly. The boy had to be wrong! There was no way in Hell a spawn of filthy muggles could be a bearer of a distinguished wizarding bloodline!

This, of course, left the question of how the boy could speak the noble language of parseltongue, but the Dark Lord was sure there was a reasonable explanation to this that didn't require the brat to be a secret descendant of Salazar Slytherin.

~/ *** \~

The next afternoon saw Harry sitting in his favorite corner of the Slytherin common room, doing his best to finish his Transfiguration homework. His progress, however, was rather slow as his mind kept wandering off the subject of animate-to-inanimate transfiguration. And during one such time he was thinking about something other than his homework, a thought occurred to him: Salazar's portrait might be able to give him some insight into how he came to be a parselmouth. So, pushing his parchment with his half-finished essay away, he stood up, drawing the twins' attention.

"Harry?" Hestia asked, looking up from her own homework. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yeah." He said with a nod. "It just occurred to me that if I want some answers about my 'gift', then there is probably no better person to ask than Lord Salazar Slytherin himself." The girls exchanged a glance, for a moment wondering how he was going to pull that off. Then it dawned upon them.

"Oh, I see..." Flora said as she too stood up, her sister following her lead a moment later. "Let us be there with you when you talk to Lord Slytherin, Harry." The green-eyed wizard responded with a shrug as he approached Salazar Slytherin's portrait.

"Um… Excuse me, sir?" He addressed the man, while doing his best to ignore the attention the people in the common room were paying to him right now… The portrait glanced at him for a brief moment, before returning its attention to whatever it had been doing before. "Sir?" Harry repeated, this time getting absolutely no reaction from the painting. "Lord Slytherin?" Still nothing.

"Maybe he doesn't understand you?" Flora suggested in a whisper. Harry shook his head.

"No, he can definitely understand what people are saying." He said, remembering how Malfoy trying to use his father's name to weasel out of a detention Professor Snape gave prompted the portrait to break its silence. "But he doesn't really talk to us, the students, does he?"

"Well..." Hestia began thoughtfully. "As far as we know, this portrait of Salazar Slytherin can only speak in parseltongue. Perhaps, it won't answer unless you yourself talk the language?" She suggested. This time, the corners of the portrait's mouth twitched upwards in something akin to a smile, suggesting that Hestia's guess was spot on.

"I think, you're right." Harry said, having noticed the portrait's smile. Then he let out a sigh: he had no idea what he needed to do to actually speak parseltongue. The last - and only - time he did, it was an accident, something done without him even knowing about it when he heard Lord Slytherin's portrait speak the magical language.

A few long moments passed, and then an idea popped into Harry's head. If parseltongue was the language of snakes, then, perhaps, a snake might help him speak it? Hopefully, an imaginary one will do… Closing his eyes, he did his best to visualize a snake. It wasn't exactly an easy task for him since he had never seen a real snake up close before, but after a little while the green-eyed wizard was pretty sure he had a pretty good image of a serpent in his mental view. Thus, he made another attempt to communicate with the Salazar's portrait.

"Lord Slytherin?" He said. Next to him, Flora shook his head. He was still speaking English. Frowning, Harry did his best to concentrate on the image of a snake he had conjured in his mand, and tried again. "Sir?" Alas, the result was much the same. Apparently, there was more to the trick of speaking parseltongue than simply imagining a snake... Letting out a deep sigh, Harry decided that he needed to master his new-found talent a bit better before attempting to converse with Salazar Slytherin's portrait again. Bowing the painting a goodbye, he turned around and found a very smug Malfoy heir standing in his way.

"Not so special after all, eh, Potter?" Draco spoke with a very prominent sneer in his voice. "I'm not surprised, though. A mere half-blood like you is not worthy of having the gift of the Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin."

"Oh, c'mon, Malfoy, everyone knows, you're just jealous." Flora retorted as she pulled Harry as her sister past the blonde boy..

That's all, folks!
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