Harry had always known he was different.
Not just because of the scar or the way people whispered his name. No, it was something deeper—something he couldn't quite explain.
And now, he was about to find out why.
It started with Potions.
Snape had assigned a ridiculously complex essay on rare magical ingredients, and while the rest of the class groaned and scrambled to find books, Harry finished his in less than an hour.
Theo, reading over his shoulder, let out a low whistle. "You analyzed the ingredient interactions."
Harry smirked. "Well, yeah. Isn't that the point?"
Draco, sitting across from them, scoffed. "No. The point is to copy from the textbook and make it sound impressive."
Blaise leaned in. "But you actually figured out why asphodel reacts so violently to phoenix tears."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't obvious?"
Draco stared at him. "Potter. No one else figured that out."
Theo watched Harry with something like fascination. "You don't just learn, do you?" His voice was quiet, intense. "You understand magic."
Harry shrugged. "I mean… yeah?"
Pansy shook her head. "Merlin, you're wasted on this school."
Theo just smirked.
No, he thought. He's wasted on everyone who doesn't know what he's truly worth.
Later that night, it happened.
They were in the Slytherin common room when a first-year ran in, breathless. "There's a snake in the corridor!"
Most of the house was indifferent. A snake wasn't exactly shocking for Slytherins.
But Harry?
The moment he stepped into the corridor and saw the serpent coiled near the wall, something in his blood hummed.
And then, without thinking, he spoke.
"Are you lost?"
The snake lifted its head, eyes gleaming. "Yesss… these halls are not my home."
A hush fell over the corridor.
Every student was staring.
Harry blinked, realization hitting him like a lightning bolt.
He could understand it.
He could speak to snakes.
Parselmouth.
He turned slowly, meeting Theo's gaze.
Theo's expression was unreadable, but his grip on Harry's wrist was tight. "How long have you been able to do that?"
Harry swallowed. "I… don't know."
Draco looked stunned. "That's Dark Magic."
Theo shot him a glare. "No, it's old magic." His mind was already racing. Potter. A Parselmouth. That means—
Theo's breath caught.
It wasn't just any old magic.
It was royal magic.
Ancient. Powerful.
He grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him away from the crowd. "We need to talk. Now."
Harry let himself be dragged, heart pounding.
Because for the first time, he wasn't just different.
He was something more.
Chapter Twelve: Secrets in the Blood
Harry had always known he was different.
Not just because of the scar or the way people whispered his name. No, it was something deeper—something he couldn't quite explain.
And now, he was about to find out why.
It started with Potions.
Snape had assigned a ridiculously complex essay on rare magical ingredients, and while the rest of the class groaned and scrambled to find books, Harry finished his in less than an hour.
Theo, reading over his shoulder, let out a low whistle. "You analyzed the ingredient interactions."
Harry smirked. "Well, yeah. Isn't that the point?"
Draco, sitting across from them, scoffed. "No. The point is to copy from the textbook and make it sound impressive."
Blaise leaned in. "But you actually figured out why asphodel reacts so violently to phoenix tears."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't obvious?"
Draco stared at him. "Potter. No one else figured that out."
Theo watched Harry with something like fascination. "You don't just learn, do you?" His voice was quiet, intense. "You understand magic."
Harry shrugged. "I mean… yeah?"
Pansy shook her head. "Merlin, you're wasted on this school."
Theo just smirked.
No, he thought. He's wasted on everyone who doesn't know what he's truly worth.
Later that night, it happened.
They were in the Slytherin common room when a first-year ran in, breathless. "There's a snake in the corridor!"
Most of the house was indifferent. A snake wasn't exactly shocking for Slytherins.
But Harry?
The moment he stepped into the corridor and saw the serpent coiled near the wall, something in his blood hummed.
And then, without thinking, he spoke.
"Are you lost?"
The snake lifted its head, eyes gleaming. "Yesss… these halls are not my home."
A hush fell over the corridor.
Every student was staring.
Harry blinked, realization hitting him like a lightning bolt.
He could understand it.
He could speak to snakes.
Parselmouth.
He turned slowly, meeting Theo's gaze.
Theo's expression was unreadable, but his grip on Harry's wrist was tight. "How long have you been able to do that?"
Harry swallowed. "I… don't know."
Draco looked stunned. "That's Dark Magic."
Theo shot him a glare. "No, it's old magic." His mind was already racing. Potter. A Parselmouth. That means—
Theo's breath caught.
It wasn't just any old magic.
It was royal magic.
Ancient. Powerful.
He grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him away from the crowd. "We need to talk. Now."
Harry let himself be dragged, heart pounding.
Because for the first time, he wasn't just different.
He was something more.
Chapter Thirteen: The Blood of Kings
Theo didn't stop pulling Harry until they reached the empty study room connected to the Slytherin dorms. He shut the door behind them, cast a silencing spell, and turned to face him.
Harry crossed his arms. "Alright, Theo, what the hell was that?"
Theo's jaw was clenched, his mind moving too fast, piecing things together at an alarming speed. Harry Potter. A Parselmouth.
There was only one family line that carried that ability naturally.
And if Harry had it…
Theo exhaled slowly. "You're not just any wizard, Harry." His voice was calmer now, but his grip on his wand was tight. "This changes everything."
Harry frowned. "You're going to have to be more specific."
Theo studied him for a long moment. Then he said, "The only wizards who have ever been born Parselmouths come from one bloodline."
Harry's stomach twisted. He knew where this was going.
Theo stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You're not just a Parselmouth. You have Slytherin's blood in you."
Harry stiffened. "That's not—"
"It is possible," Theo cut in, his tone sharp. "Think about it. Your mother was Muggle-born, yes. But what do you really know about your father's side?"
Harry hesitated. He didn't. He had never really thought about it. The Dursleys had never spoken about his parents, and he had assumed that James Potter came from just another old wizarding family.
But now that Theo mentioned it…
He didn't actually know where the Potters came from.
Theo smirked slightly, as if reading his thoughts. "Exactly. The Potter family is old. Very old. And if there was even one branch of the family that intermarried with Slytherin's descendants centuries ago…"
Harry swallowed. "Then I could be—"
"A direct heir."
Silence fell between them.
Harry took a breath, trying to process it. If what Theo was saying was true… if he really did have the blood of Slytherin himself…
Then Dumbledore's plans for him just got a lot more complicated.
Theo tilted his head. "You're quiet."
Harry exhaled slowly, then smirked. "Just thinking."
Theo chuckled. "That's dangerous."
Harry's smirk widened. "Oh, I know."
And if Dumbledore thought he could control him before?
Well.
He was about to learn just how wrong he was.
Harry didn't sleep that night.
He lay awake, staring at the canopy of his bed, Theo's words circling in his mind.
A direct heir.
The idea should have been ridiculous. Impossible. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.
His ability to speak Parseltongue wasn't normal. Magic felt different to him, more instinctual. And Dumbledore—
Dumbledore had known.
Harry was sure of it now.
The headmaster had expected him to be in Gryffindor. Had wanted him there, away from Slytherin, away from the history that was rightfully his.
Because if he was a true heir of Salazar Slytherin, then that meant something. Something big.
Something that could change everything.
The next morning, Theo was waiting.
He didn't ask if Harry had slept. He didn't need to.
Instead, he handed him a book.
Harry blinked at the cover. The Ancient and Noble Houses of Britain.
"Read it," Theo said simply.
Harry sat down, flipping through the pages. He skimmed over the most well-known families—Malfoy, Black, Nott, Zabini—until he found what he was looking for.
The Potter family.
Harry's breath caught as he read.
"The Potter family, while known for their connections to Gryffindor House, is an ancient line tracing back to the Peverells. Records suggest that a distant branch intermarried with the Gaunts, the last known direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin. Though not widely acknowledged, it is possible that certain members of the Potter line carry this dormant ancestry."
Theo leaned back, watching him. "It's not just possible, Harry." His voice was quiet but certain. "It's true."
Harry's fingers tightened on the page.
Dumbledore had to have known. He had been manipulating Harry from the start, nudging him toward a role that he wanted Harry to play.
But Harry wasn't a pawn.
He was something far more dangerous.
He closed the book and met Theo's gaze.
"Fine," he said, voice calm. "Then let's use it."
Theo smirked. "Now that is what I wanted to hear."
Chapter Fourteen: The Weight of a Name
Harry didn't sleep that night.
He lay awake, staring at the canopy of his bed, Theo's words circling in his mind.
A direct heir.
The idea should have been ridiculous. Impossible. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made.
His ability to speak Parseltongue wasn't normal. Magic felt different to him, more instinctual. And Dumbledore—
Dumbledore had known.
Harry was sure of it now.
The headmaster had expected him to be in Gryffindor. Had wanted him there, away from Slytherin, away from the history that was rightfully his.
Because if he was a true heir of Salazar Slytherin, then that meant something. Something big.
Something that could change everything.
The next morning, Theo was waiting.
He didn't ask if Harry had slept. He didn't need to.
Instead, he handed him a book.
Harry blinked at the cover. The Ancient and Noble Houses of Britain.
"Read it," Theo said simply.
Harry sat down, flipping through the pages. He skimmed over the most well-known families—Malfoy, Black, Nott, Zabini—until he found what he was looking for.
The Potter family.
Harry's breath caught as he read.
"The Potter family, while known for their connections to Gryffindor House, is an ancient line tracing back to the Peverells. Records suggest that a distant branch intermarried with the Gaunts, the last known direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin. Though not widely acknowledged, it is possible that certain members of the Potter line carry this dormant ancestry."
Theo leaned back, watching him. "It's not just possible, Harry." His voice was quiet but certain. "It's true."
Harry's fingers tightened on the page.
Dumbledore had to have known. He had been manipulating Harry from the start, nudging him toward a role that he wanted Harry to play.
But Harry wasn't a pawn.
He was something far more dangerous.
He closed the book and met Theo's gaze.
"Fine," he said, voice calm. "Then let's use it."
Theo smirked. "Now that is what I wanted to hear."