My OC Stash #76 - Serpentine by darkfire1220 (HarryPotter)

-Definitely one of the better "Harry has a snek" stories~

Synopsis: The voices Harry heard, those no one else could, were the only ones that spoke kindly to him growing up. They had spread their whispers across the world to rescue him and at last, found a way- by creating a queen of serpents. The birth of the amber-eyed empress triggers a permanent change in Harry's life, as he enters a world of magic that seeks to either protect or destroy him.

Rated: T

Words: 77K

Posted on: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12459242/1/Serpentine (darkfire1220)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics/originals mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1-3 (exceptional)

Snakes had a habit of showing up wherever Harry Potter went. He'd wondered on it for as long as he could remember, but accepted their presence without much thought. They were never aggressive towards him. Quite the contrary—they had a tendency to gather around him almost protectively.

Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. It wasn't like any of the snakes had attacked anybody who tried to hurt him, but then again they were all very small. Privet Drive and the neighborhoods around it weren't known for their large serpents; most of them were just little grass or ground snakes. If any of them tried to protect Harry from one of his Uncle Vernon's drunken rages, they would get killed.

He didn't want that. Whenever he saw Vernon start drinking, Harry hid in his cupboard under the stairs and whispered to any of the snakes who visited him to hide. He didn't know how they understood him, nor why they seemed almost reluctant to do so, but it kept them safe. Harry would survive whatever violence Vernon dealt him and when he returned to his cupboard, bruised and battered and a little more broken, they would come out of hiding to curl around him, providing what comfort they could. He had trouble understanding the words they spoke beyond simple meaning.

Now, as a ten year-old, Harry could understand more of their whispers. It was a hissing, complicated language, and yet for some reason he understood it as easily as if it were english. They didn't want to watch him suffer anymore. They wanted him to do something about it.

How could he, Harry asked them. He was a child, not even a teenager, who was stunted from never eating enough, staying in that terribly cramped space under the stairs, and being beaten on a regular basis. His body barely had the energy to heal itself, forget grow. If he tried to fight back against Vernon, he'd just get beaten even worse. He was pretty sure that his left arm was cracked from the beating he took last night.

"There is a way," said one of the snakes. It was a grass snake, one of the first that had come to Harry as a child.

"How?" Harry whispered in their language, wincing at the way his bruised ribs flared in pain from even that simple vocalization.

"We have been…searching," said the snake. "For years, we have watched you suffer under these…brutes. Powerless to help. Too weak to intervene. But we could not allow it. Something had to be done. So we whispered to others of our race, asking, pleading, searching for an answer. And we think we have found one."

"What do I have to do?" Harry asked. He would do anything. He couldn't stand being here anymore, a slave to his relatives in every sense of the word, subject to beatings from his uncle and cousin whenever they needed to take their frustration out on something. He was going to die if this kept up.

No other person would take his pleas for help at face value. He'd gone to a teacher at the school he attended, but Vernon and Petunia had vehemently denied their involvement in his injuries and claimed he was mentally unstable. After that attempt, Vernon had beaten him especially badly, threatening worse if he ever tried it again.

A new snake, one of the ground snakes who traveled through small tunnels, flicked its tongue as it addressed Harry. "There are members of our race who are larger and more powerful than we. By bringing one of them to your side, they can protect you."

He frowned. "Where could I possibly find a snake like that? Even if I find one at the Zoo this week, I wouldn't be able to take it home…"

"Nay, that wouldn't work," agreed the ground snake. "You must hatch this snake."

Well, that was even more impossible than sneaking one home from the Zoo. "I can't get any eggs like that."

"You can!" Insisted the snake, almost excitedly. "We have found a way!"

"How?"

"There are eggs of fowl in the house, yes?"

"What, chicken eggs? Well, yeah, but they're always cold. Nothing can hatch from that…"

"Something can," the ground snake hissed. "You must trust us, child. When the brutes retreat to their dens, sneak to the kitchen and take one of the eggs. Bring it to us—we will teach you what to do."

It sounded crazy, but they obviously had something in mind. Harry waited in his cupboard under the stairs as the time passed and, at last, the clock struck nine and the Dursleys went to bed. With a smack on the door to the cupboard and a muttered threat from Vernon to not cause any trouble, Harry's atrocious relatives turned off the lights and the house went silent.

Harry waited a good hour after that to make sure they were really asleep before he slowly, carefully, unlatched the cupboard door from the inside and slipped out. He hurried to the kitchen and silently opened the fridge to retrieve a chicken egg. Harry thanked his lucky stars that Petunia had left the eggs on the side door within his reach. After snatching one of the eggs from the carton, he closed the fridge and hurriedly retreated back to the cupboard.

Once he locked the door again, Harry showed the egg to the snakes, who hissed excitedly.

"Yes! This is what we need!" The ground snake hissed. "We have also acquired the other piece."

Harry blinked as one of the larger snakes came in through a hole in the side of the cupboard, dragging with it a small toad. He was completely lost now.

"Why do we need a chicken egg and a toad?"

"They are necessary to hatch one of the mightiest of our race. The ritual requires their presence."

"What, like magic? But magic isn't real!"

"Then how can you speak with us?"

Harry opened his mouth and closed it a second later. Point. It sounded daft, but according to his relatives and everyone he knew, he was daft already. Bollocks to it.

"What do I have to do?"

The ground snake's tongue flicked out again. "The toad must be placed on the egg. Then we must speak in our language an incantation. It goes as thus—"

The snake hissed a phrase in several parts, the like of which Harry could not really interpret back to english, for it contained words that seemed exclusive to the mysterious language of serpents. But he memorized the phrase quickly and then proceeded to the next step.

"How long will it take?"

"Most of the night. We shall sing when you need rest, but you must keep the toad in place."

Harry carefully took the squirming toad and placed it on the now-warming chicken egg. He held it there between his fingers, then began to chant the serpent's phrase under his breath. He kept that up for several hours until his throat was dry, then left the rest of the chanting to the near-dozen snakes surrounding the chicken egg.

He was near ready to pass out at four in the morning when the egg shivered beneath the toad. Harry blinked, suddenly feeling wide awake, as the snakes around him chanted more frantically than before.

"Sing!" Whispered the ground snake urgently. "Sing now! It must know your voice, lest it may turn on you!"

That obviously wouldn't have been a good thing, so Harry began to whisper-sing the phrase in earnest. The previously dead chicken egg, impossibly, began to shiver again and twitched beneath the toad and his fingers.

They kept up the song for five more minutes when the egg cracked from the inside. The snakes went silent and Harry watched, barely daring to breath, as a small, emerald snout jabbed out of the egg. It was followed by a long, lithe body, covered in brilliant green scales. Deep amber eyes surveyed the dark cupboard, almost luminous in their intensity.

Harry moved to take the toad off of the broken egg and the amber eyes snapped towards him. He felt a shiver run down his spine as the eyes met his own—as if his body was warning him that it was unsafe. The infant snake hissed, too young to speak its language, but Harry interpreted the hiss as displeasure.

"The toad," said the grass snake. "It must eat the toad. That is its first meal."

He felt a little bad for the toad, but Harry offered the amphibian to the newly-hatched serpent. The snake eyed it greedily, then lashed out. It didn't bite Harry, but he was surprised by the ferocity such a small and young creature possessed.

Devouring the toad took just a few minutes, and then the snake flicked its tongue out and assessed its surroundings once again. Harry hissed to it in the serpent's language that they would not harm it, that they were friends, but again the snake seemed too young to truly understand. But it did interpret his meaning and relaxed, curling up under the sheets in the corner.

Harry sighed, a little relieved that the snake had chosen to trust him. The ground snake who had brought the knowledge of how to hatch the creature watched the place where it slept, unblinking as always.

"We will bring it more meals so it may grow. It will be hungry for the first few days—you must be patient. Only after then will its powers come forth and provide you the protection you need."

"Powers?"

"Yes," said the grass snake gravely. "It is a magical serpent. It may steal the life of all living things that meet its gaze. The venom in its maw would dispatch most creatures in minutes. And it will grow large, large beyond any of us, for we are mere worms compared to the might it will claim."

Harry frowned. "So if I look into its eyes when it gets older, I could die?"

"Not you. You are its hatcher and a speaker of snake-tongue. As such, you carry our blessings and are protected from its powers. But if you were to meet another that you did not hatch, it may be able to kill you, for you would be alien to it."

He nodded slowly, letting that sink in. He didn't plan on hatching another anytime soon—from the sound of things, just this one hatchling would probably be enough to do…whatever it was the snakes had in mind. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to kill the Dursleys, but he definitely wanted them to stop abusing him.

It was a waiting game, now.

Five days passed with rising tensions in the Dursely household. Vernon was, for some reason, growing more and more agitated with Harry's presence as they neared his eleventh birthday. It wasn't like they ever celebrated it in the first place, but things were getting worse than normal.

The mysterious serpent Harry had hatched with the help of the other snakes remained hidden during this time, but it was ravenous. The other snakes brought it food almost constantly and it grew at an astounding rate. Within those five days, it became the biggest snake in the cupboard—not that that was saying much since it was barely three feet long, but Harry was stunned by how quickly it grew. In addition, it seemed to be getting smarter at an equally rapid pace. The serpent's eyes had taken on an intelligent gleam and it listened to Harry very closely whenever he was talking to it.

On Dudley's birthday, the day the family went to the Zoo, it all came to a head.

They were in the Reptile House, checking out the various species of lizards and snakes, as well as the various amphibians kept in the building. Harry was trailing behind Dudley and his Aunt, (Vernon had gone to grab something to eat) looking at the snakes behind the glass. He didn't speak to them here—if any of the Dursleys caught him speaking to snakes, Vernon would almost certainly break some of his bones.

But still, he couldn't help but wince at the way Dudley beat against the glass, demanding that one of the larger snakes—a rock python—move from its lazy coils. When the boy sneered at the snake and stalked off to antagonize another poor reptile, Harry walked over to the glass and looked at the python. It certainly looked rather irritated, but it was hard to tell sometimes.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered lowly. "He's not a nice person. None of my relatives are."

The python's eyes, although unblinking, sparkled in recognition of its language and slowly raised its head to look at Harry more closely. "You speak my tongue?"

"Just enough to get by," Harry cracked a slight smile.

"You're a rare human," the python's tongue flicked out curiously. "Even amongst the strange ones who come sometimes with magic at their call, I have never met one who can speak with me."

"I don't know about them," Harry admitted, although he was desperately curious to know if there were really other people who could use magic—if that was, indeed, what he could do. "Everyone I know just thinks I'm a freak. Well, everyone except snakes like you."

"Mum, look!"

Harry was suddenly thrown to the floor as Dudley smacked into him, eyeing the rock python with barely restrained excitement. "The stupid slug moved! That's right, keep moving you great ugly—hey!"

Annoyed by the interruption, the python lowered its head and ceased mobility once more. Dudley glared at the reptile, then snapped his eyes towards Harry. "You!"

He grabbed Harry before the stunned boy could react and yanked him to his feet, then pinned him against the glass. "Make it move again! It moved when you were here!"

"It's not like I can talk to it!" Harry snapped.

Dudley growled. "I don't care, make it move!"

As Dudley pulled Harry forward and then attempted to shove him back against the glass again, both boys found a surprise—there was no glass to hit.

They went tumbling into the pool of water within the enclosure and came up sputtering, eyes wide in surprise. Dudley locked onto Harry with terrified rage.

"YOU DID THIS, FREAK!"

Harry couldn't even get a word out when Dudley's hands locked around his throat and shoved him back under the water. Although he scrabbled to get loose from the bigger boy's hands, Harry was too weak to overpower Dudley. Panicked that he was on the verge of drowning, he let out a scream underwater—and involuntarily, it came out as snake speech.

Dudley's weight suddenly vanished from him and Harry pushed himself up out of the pool with a gasp. His eyes locked onto a terrifying scene- the python he'd spoken to had its fangs in Dudley's leg and was trying to coil around him. Dudley was shrieking, beating at the snake with his fists while a horrified Petunia tried to yank it off.

"Stop!" Harry cried in snake speech, though it came out choked from water and didn't sound like any sort of language to his cousin or aunt. The python paused and regarded him with one eye, but didn't relinquish its grasp on Dudley. "They'll hurt you!"

Reluctantly, the rock python released Dudley and hissed at Harry's cousin and aunt before retreating to the back of its enclosure. It was only then, as he dragged himself out of the cage, that Harry realized the other snakes in the Reptile House were attacking the glass or looking for a way out. They'd all responded to his cry for help. Once they realized he was alright, they settled down, but the visitors in the Reptile House were understandably startled by their sudden, simultaneous aggression.

Harry leaned against the glass- which had somehow reappeared once he'd climbed out of the cage—while Petunia frantically comforted her son. He made to slide down to the floor only to yelp when a hand roughly grasped his hair and yanked him back into a standing position.

Vernon Dursley's face was almost purple with rage. "You little miscreant!"

"It wasn't me!" Harry cried. "It just happened! It was like magic!"

"There's no such thing as magic!"

The second they got home, Petunia took Dudley upstairs while Vernon threw Harry into the living room, stripping the boy's shirt off with the same motion, and took his belt off. The crack of leather made Harry flinch.

"You've ruined my son's birthday, you freakish boy!" Vernon roared. "No food for three days, starting now! You don't leave that cupboard once I'm finished with you even to use the loo! You can shit and piss and starve in there until I say otherwise!"

Harry covered his head as Vernon brought the belt up to hit him. "It wasn't my fault!"

"It's always your fault!"

The belt's stinging blow on his bare back made Harry cry out in pain. No sooner had Vernon whipped him five times than the door to the cupboard began to rattle.

Vernon stopped and squinted at the small door. "What's that?"

Harry didn't try to rise off the floor, so Vernon grabbed his hair and yanked him up. "What is in there!? Answer me!"

"Nothing!"

"It's obviously not nothing, you idiot!"

Vernon threw Harry aside and marched over to the cupboard, belt at the ready. "If you're keeping some little pet in here, it's as good as dead!"

"No!"

Harry's cry was ignored as Vernon threw the cupboard door open. The fat man brought his belt up, ready to hit whatever was waiting for him, only for his eyes to meet a pair of luminous, amber orbs.

Vernon froze, stock-still where he stood. Harry watched him, terrified that he'd strike the snake who was still too small to properly defend itself. But Vernon did not move. He remained still, as if a statue.

The snake flicked its tongue, glaring at the man, before slithering over to Harry. It utterly ignored Vernon, who continued to stay frozen in place. The other snakes that stayed in Harry's cupboard slithered over to him hurriedly.

"Time to go," whispered the grass snake. "You cannot stay here. The big one will not stay frozen for more than a few minutes."

"What happened?"

"He met my eyes."

Harry blinked at the emerald serpent and its amber eyes. This was the first time it had spoken, and with a voice that was unmistakably feminine. The snake's tongue flicked out. "My eyes are not old enough to kill, but I may petrify those who stare into them for a short time. We must leave now."

"Where can I go?" Harry whispered. "I have nowhere to run."

"Across the street lives an old witch," said the amber-eyed snake. "Run to her. She may have a way for you to escape this place."

The grass and ground snake, as well as the others he'd befriended over the years, looked at him a little sadly. "We cannot go with you. We are too small and weak to protect you. This must be where we part, Harry Potter."

"I will come with you," the amber-eyed snake told a crestfallen Harry. "I am not old, but I can protect you if need be. But we must hurry—the big one will be able to move before long. Take what you must from your small den and let us leave."

Harry did as he was told, although his back was still stinging with agony from the whipping. He rushed to the cupboard, frantically glancing at Vernon in case the big man regained his ability to move again, and grabbed what few possessions he needed to run away—which was basically just his backpack and clothes.

He jumped as the amber-eyed snake slithered into the pack, keeping her head visible just in case she needed to use her eyes again. "We need to go."

"Okay," Harry replied, slipping a fresh shirt on with a wince—his back was stinging horribly. Without glancing at Vernon's frozen form or responding to the calls of Petunia for her husband, Harry ran to the door, opened it up, and fled outside.

He made straight for the house that the golden-eyed snake had told him about. Only one old lady lived down their street- Mrs. Figg.

Praying that she was at home, Harry knocked on her door. It took a few moments, but she eventually answered.

The old lady stared at the tearstained face of the young boy, startled. "Harry? Is something wrong?"

"I…" He wasn't sure what to say. "I need to hide. Something happened at the Zoo and Uncle Vernon is really angry. He—I'm scared he might really hurt me this time."

Figg glanced at the house he'd run from across the street and beckoned him inside. "Right, in you come. I'll warm up some tea for you. Then I'll call someone to come help you, dearie."

Harry hurried inside of the house, relieved that he'd found an escape—for now.

Figg sat him down on the couch and made him some tea. While Harry drank, tired and hurting, the old woman walked to the kitchen and wrote a quick letter. She stuck it in an envelope and walked to the window nearest the back door, where an owl was sitting.

She gave the bird the letter and murmured quietly. "Take that straight to the Aurors on standby."

The bird let out a hoot and took off, carrying its cargo into the sky.

Harry wasn't sure how long he'd been in Mrs. Figg's house when someone knocked loudly on the door. He stiffened—if Vernon found him now, he was dead.

Figg walked to the door and looked out the peephole for a moment. Then she opened the door to meet a pair of people standing in the fading light of evening—a tall, African man and an older woman with a pointed hat. Both of them donned robes that would have been strange in public if they were normal people.

"Your letter sounded urgent," the man said.

"He's inside," Figg replied. "He told me there was an incident when the family visited the Zoo today—his magic flared up and something went wrong. His uncle took him home and started beating him, but I haven't seen him or any of the others since."

The man's eyes narrowed. "How badly hurt is he?"

"Badly enough that you should probably take him to a healer," she murmured sadly. "It's hard for me to tell, but I get the feeling that this isn't the first time he's been abused, either. They always keep him in there when he's not at school or out with them, so it could be they've been hiding it."

The other woman scowled. "With the wards on that house, we've no way of monitoring his health."

"We'll discuss his…protection after we've assured he's alright," the man said. "For now, our priority is his health and well-being."

"There's something you should know," Figg said, her voice hushed. "He's told me he's been speaking with snakes. They were the ones who convinced him to run here."

All three of them went quiet for a moment. The man eventually broke the silence. "Let's worry about that later. Let's see him first."

Figg nodded and opened the door to let them in.

As soon as they came into the living room, Harry stiffened and shrank into the couch. He clutched the backpack close, giving the serpent inside just enough room to watch the newcomers closely.

"Hello, Harry," the older woman greeted him with a small smile. "We're here to help you."

"Can you get me away from them?" He asked a little fearfully.

"We will," the man approached a little more slowly and knelt to make himself look smaller, and thus appear less threatening. "My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry. This is a friend of mine, Professor McGonagall."

Kingsley held out his hand. "Let me see your hand, Harry."

Hesitantly, Harry did as he asked. Kingsley's grasp was firm, but gentle as he turned Harry's wrist and checked his pulse. He looked into Harry's eyes and then placed his hand on the boy's forehead, noting how clammy he was and the somewhat glazed look in his eyes. More worrying was the rather erratic flow of magic in his body.

"Mrs. Figg, I think a calming draught would do him some good," Kingsley said quietly, which the woman heard easily and immediately set off to do as she was tasked. He smiled at Harry. "It's going to be alright, Harry. We'll get you to a safe house and make sure you're taken care of there."

Harry blinked slowly. "Why is this happening to me?"

"It's just your magic," Kingsley told him. His deep voice was calming. "There's a lot we'll need to tell you, but for now all you need to know is you'll be safe with us. I promise you that."

Harry nodded after a few seconds. "Can you promise not to hurt the snake I brought with me? She helped me get away."

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. "Can we see her?"

The boy hesitated. "Well…I guess. Just-just don't look into her eyes, or you'll freeze."

He opened the backpack and whispered something in a language Kingsley assumed was Parseltongue if the hissing sounds were any indication. After a moment, a small, emerald snake slithered out and wrapped itself around Harry's arm. The serpent didn't look at the Auror's face to lessen the chances of petrifying him, but she kept herself coiled up- ready to strike if necessary.

Kingsley's hand instinctively shifted to grasp the wand hidden in his sleeve while McGonagall turned deathly pale. He knew for a fact that those snakes were illegal to breed- not to mention deadly. How had Harry managed to get his hands on one, and indeed, one that seemed to obey him?

"Please?" Harry sniffed. "She just wants to protect me."

There was literally no precedent for this, so Kingsley thought about it for several seconds before he made a call. "It should be fine for now."

"Kingsley…"

He shook his head at McGonagall. "He's already in shock—we can't afford stressing him further. The snake stays. We'll just have to watch where our eyes go, right?"

She pursed her lips, but nodded.

"Harry?" He made sure he had the boy's attention before he said anything else. "Your friend can stay with you, alright? Just make sure she understands that we won't hurt her as long as she doesn't hurt us."

"I don't think she can hurt you," Harry frowned. "She said that she can only petrify people right now—whatever that is. I guess how she makes people freeze. She's not old enough to hurt anybody."

"That's alright," Kingsley assured him. "You just concentrate on relaxing for now, Harry. You're safe with us."

The boy hissed something softly to the snake and she slithered back into the bag. A moment later, Mrs. Figg brought more tea over to Harry, mixed with a calming draught. "Here you are, dearie. Drink up and get some rest."

Harry did as she asked and his eyes began to droop as soon as he emptied the cup. McGonagall took his glasses off for him and set them on the table, then helped Harry to lay down on the couch. He whimpered from the stinging in his back, but was just too tired to care. Within a few minutes, he was sound asleep, one hand still clutching his backpack.

McGonagall retreated to the kitchen to speak with Kingsley while Mrs. Figg stayed to keep an eye on Harry. The witch waited patiently as her Auror companion cast a Patronus Charm and sent it off to the Ministry with a message.

"We'll need to interrogate his Aunt and Uncle," Kingsley said after a few moments. "If they've been abusing him, we need to know the extent. His magic feels too unstable for my liking. It's not been suppressed enough to develop an Obscurus, but it's bad enough for me to assume he's undergone severe physical and possibly psychological abuse."

McGonagall frowned deeply. "I knew it was a bad idea, leaving him with those muggles."

"We'll discuss that with Dumbledore," Kingsley sighed. "What I want to know is who taught him to create a Basilisk egg."

"No wizard could have done that," she replied. "The Bond of Blood charm on that house would keep even Dumbledore out unless Harry actively gave him permission to enter. How he's done this doesn't matter right now, does it? The only thing we need to concern ourselves with for the time being is his wellbeing."

"Agreed," murmured the Auror.

When Harry woke up, he was lying in the softest mattress he'd ever felt in his life. His body felt sore, but the pain from his beatings had faded for the most part. He sat up and realized that his glasses were missing, so he couldn't see very well. Fortunately, he spotted them on a small table at the bedside. As he looked around, he noticed that the room he was staying in was mostly dark, but in a comfortable way.

"You've woken, then?"

He blinked, realizing that his backpack was also on the table and the amber-eyed snake was watching him. She slithered out of the small gap in pack and lifted her head to meet his hand, which he raised to let her come over. Harry smiled as her tongue flicked out, ghosting over his fingertips. "Yes. How are you?"

"I'm hungry," she admitted. "So if you can ask them to find me something to eat, that would be greatly appreciated. How do you feel?"

"I'm…" Harry trailed off, trying to assess himself and figure that out. "Tired, I guess. My body feels sore everywhere, but it doesn't hurt so bad now."

"The wizards who treated you did many things that I do not know of," said the snake. "They healed your wounds on your back, amongst other things. But it seems they'll still scar over."

"That's okay," Harry murmured. "As long as I don't ever have to go back to that place, I'm okay with that."

She slid over his hand, coiling up his arm and shoulders until she was comfortably situated around his neck. Her scales were smooth and a little cool, which concerned him. "Are you cold?"

"A little. I did not dare come out while the wizard healers were helping you. I just want some body warmth."

"You can have as much as you want," he smiled, lifting a hand to gently stroke the scales beneath her chin. "Thank you for helping me escape that place."

"You are both my parent and my master," she replied in a soft hiss. "I will always protect you, Harry."

"Thank you."

They were distracted by a startled gasp which caused Harry's eyes to snap up. A middle-aged woman with light brown hair was standing in the now-open door, staring at the boy and snake with large eyes. Before Harry could say a word, she was reaching for something at her hip—a stick?

Whatever she was doing, she was stopped by the same African man—Kingsley, wasn't it?—that had met Harry at Mrs. Figg's home. He gently gripped her wrist and pulled her hand away from the stick.

"It's alright, Andromeda," he reassured her. "The snake is no threat to Harry- quite the contrary, really."

He looked up at Harry and smiled pleasantly. "How are you feeling, young man?"

"Better, sir," he replied. "Um…but if it's not too much trouble, my friend needs something to eat."

"I'll have Kreacher bring a few mice for him," Andromeda said quietly.

The snake hissed at that and Harry smiled a little. "She's a girl."

"Her, then," Andromeda corrected. "Do you need anything else?"

Harry frowned. "Where am I? How long have I been here?"

"This is Grimmauld Place," she answered. "You've only been here a day, but you've slept all that time."

He looked down, not sure if he should be embarrassed by that or not. "I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright, Harry," Kingsley told him, walking over to his bedside. "You needed the rest."

His stomach suddenly growled and Harry felt heat rush into his cheeks. Kingsley smiled, amused. "I take it you're feeling hungry?"

He nodded shyly. Andromeda let a smile of her own slip onto her face. "I'll have something made for you, Harry. Kingsley, can you take it from here? I still need to inform the others."

"Yes. Thank you for your hospitality, Andromeda," Kingsley said, pulling up a chair to sit beside Harry. As the woman left, the dark-skinned man made himself comfortable- this was going to take a while. "Right- we have a lot to talk about Harry. First of all, I need to tell you something that you may or may not have realized about yourself already. You're like me, young man. You're a wizard…"

Chapter 2

One week after Harry's escape from the Dursely's house, he was introduced to a giant. Well, not a true giant, (although he seemed plenty gigantic to Harry) but a half-giant. Since Harry had never seen an apparent "true" giant, it was all the same to him.

The half-giant, dubbed Hagrid, was a rather cheery fellow when Harry first met him at Grimmauld Place- even if he was stooping slightly to keep his head from banging against the dining room ceiling. "Hullo, Harry! Haven't seen you since you was a baby! You was barely big enough ta fit in the palm o' me hand!"

Given the ridiculously large size of his hands, Harry was more than willing to believe that. However, despite the gigantism of the man, he had latched onto a more interesting bit of information.

"You knew me when I was little? Does that mean you knew my parents?"

Hagrid's cheery look drooped just slightly. "Aye, I knew 'em. I knew Lily an' James. Good people, yer folks. Miss 'em terribly."

Harry bit his lip nervously. "Could you tell me about them?"

Andromeda, who had taken charge of Harry since Kingsley had to return to the Ministry of Magic (whatever that was) stepped in. "We can tell you about them once we're done shopping for today, Harry. There's a lot that needs to be done to get you ready for Hogwarts."

"Aye," Hagrid agreed. "Tha's why I'm 'ere. Professor Dumbledore gave me orders to help ye get yer school supplies. Means we need ta take a trip to Diagon Alley."

"Diagon Alley?" Harry echoed. He'd never heard of it. "Is that in London?"

"It is," Andromeda answered. "But it's not somewhere muggles can find on their own. Harry, you won't need your bag, but you're welcome to bring it if your…friend wishes to join us. Just make sure she understands that she can't come out."

"What sorta friend?" Hagrid asked. He'd apparently picked up on the fact that Harry's "friend" wasn't necessarily human.

The woman's eyes lit up slightly. "That's right, you're the Magical Creatures Caretaker at Hogwarts, aren't you, Hagrid? Harry somehow managed to get a rather…unusual reptile when he was staying with his muggle relatives. Perhaps you can help him find a book about them in Diagon Alley?"

Hagrid stroked his dark beard with interest. "I don' see why not. It'd help if I knew wha' sorta creature we was talking 'bout."

"I'll inform you. Harry, why don't you go get your friend?"

He had a feeling she was going to tell Hagrid about the snake he'd brought the moment he was gone, but that was okay. Harry would be lying if he said he wasn't interested in learning more about her, and just how on earth he'd managed to bring her to life from a previously frozen chicken egg with the help of a rather unfortunate toad.

Andromeda waited for Harry's footsteps to reach the top of the stairs before she lowered her voice and spoke to Hagrid urgently. "Don't ask me how because I'm not sure myself. Kingsley believes Harry somehow managed to create a Basilisk."

Hagrid's large face grew very pale. Andromeda went on. "He hasn't done anything about it because it looks like the Basilisk listens to Harry—he can speak Parseltongue. It's loyal to him and only him. The only reason Kingsley didn't confiscate it was due to those factors and the fact that Harry created it in an attempt to defend himself. The muggles he stayed with were abusing him."

The half-giant's face went from white to red faster than what should have been possible. His voice became a dangerous, deep growl. "They were what?"

"Kingsley left to detain and interrogate them," Andromeda explained. "Harry will be safe here in Grimmauld Place. But he doesn't know anything about magical creatures, Hagrid. I know you're experienced as well, but do you know anything about Basilisks? I…as loathe as I am to admit it, she's very protective of him and I think he'd become greatly distressed if we forcibly took her from him. We can't afford that since he's a unstable right now. We'll need to find a way to take care of her if Kingsley gets permission for Harry from the Ministry."

Hagrid crossed his bulky arms contemplatively. "Hmm…I dunno much 'bout 'em. The Acromantula's I've cared for were terrified of 'em. I think it's 'cause they've got so many eyes- a Basilisk could look at 'em from almost any direction an' kill 'em."

"What about your old mentor?" She asked. "Mr. Scamander?"

"I could send a message to 'im and see if he could meet Harry at Hogwarts. I'd have ta ask Professor Dumbledore first, but I'm sure he'll agree."

"Thank you," Andromeda said graciously.

Their conversation ended as Harry came back down the stairs with his bag slung over one shoulder and the small Basilisk coiled around his free arm and neck. Hagrid couldn't stop himself from observing the reptile with an interested eye—the color of her scales was a dark, yet vibrant green the same hue as emeralds. She was little more than three feet long, yet there was a surety in the way she held herself, a natural grace despite being so small and young. It was as though royalty flowed through her blood.

He also noticed with some interest that while the snake took to observing him with an equal amount of curiosity, (probably because she'd never seen something so large in her rather short life) she made an effort to avoid looking directly into his eyes. Her gaze was always fixed on something else to prevent a direct line of sight to the amber orbs, which were like drops of liquid gold. Even when she studied his face, Hagrid realized she was looking at his ears or beard instead of his eyes.

Harry apparently noticed that and smiled, gently stroking the scales beneath her chin. "We're trying to make sure she doesn't accidentally petrify anyone. It only works for a little while right now. Kreacher was only stunned for a few seconds."

That hadn't been a fun accident two days ago. Kreacher, the house elf who kept Grimmauld Place in order, had accidentally tried to move Harry's bag to dust the desk beneath it, not knowing that the Basilisk was inside. It only took an unfortunate shift to bring the surprised elf and Basilisk eye-to-eye. Kreacher had fallen over, stiff as a board to the floor, for a grand total of six seconds before he disappeared with a loud crack. Harry had thought he'd died until Andromeda reassured him that the elf was just annoyed and decided to clean up elsewhere.

Sure enough, Kreacher had been in the dining room later that day, grumbling to himself. He gave Harry and his bag a magnificent stink-eye, finished cleaning, and disappeared with another loud crack.

Kreacher would not be doing Harry any favors for a while, no sir.

Hagrid was rather impressed by Harry's handling of the magical creature and her obvious intelligence. If they'd been dealing with an aggressive, instinctual creature, then maybe things would have been more complicated. But the Basilisk was quietly and easily sharing the space with others, at ease so long as she was with Harry. She was even taking care to avoid stunning people with her eyes.

Yes, he could see them working with her without problems. At least, that's what his intuition told him.

"Ye named her yet?" Hagrid asked.

She made a hissing sound, tail flicking in what might have been irritation. Harry only smiled a bit and hissed something back in Parseltongue. It was slightly disconcerting, hearing such a sound coming from the mouth of a ten-year old, but Hagrid had a feeling there was nothing aggressive about it.

Harry glanced back at the half-giant a moment later, looking amused. "She wants to pick her own name."

"Ah, I see. Well then, excuse me," Hagrid apologized, well aware now that the Basilisk could at least understand english. It was important to be respectful towards intelligent creatures, he knew from experience—especially if it was a creature he didn't know well.

Her tail flicked again, this time more slowly and with less annoyance. Harry hissed to her again and the Basilisk took that as a cue to slither over his shoulders and into the bag he was carrying. The boy zipped it up just enough so that she could poke her head out if she needed to and then looked up to Andromeda. "I'm ready."

Andromeda nodded. "Right, everyone come here. Give me your hands."

The woman received a hand from two of them and gave Harry a reassuring look. "This is going to feel odd, but you'll be fine. Just stay still, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good. And three, two, one—"

In a split second, it felt like Harry was being squeezed through an incredibly small space, like a rubber pipe. It made his stomach churn and crushed him from every angle possible, but before the second had passed, it was over.

Harry stumbled and let go of Andromeda's hand with a gasp as they touched solid ground again. His head was swimming and he thought he'd be sick for a few moments, but he crouched and rubbed the sides of his head, groaning to relieve the strain.

"Sorry about that," Andromeda apologized, seemingly unaffected by the shift. Hagrid looked a little green, but he wasn't as messed up as Harry. "I would have taken the Floo Network to get here, but Hagrid wouldn't have fit in the fireplace. Apparition was the only way we were going to get here in good time."

Harry made some sound between a groan and a moan, but he stood up slowly and felt the nausea leave his body. He blinked and his eyes went wide on reflex.

They were no longer standing in the dining room at Grimmauld Place—instead, they were in the middle of a large street, surrounded by shops and in open daylight, with crowds of people bustling all over the place. Harry stared around, doing a full turn to take it all in. The people were wearing odd clothing—cloaks and robes and the like that would have been very noticeable (and not in a good way) anywhere else in London. Yet here, it all seemed to fit. The atmosphere had an older feel to it, like they were in an earlier age or something hundreds of years ago.

Most noticeable were the variety of magical objects being bought and sold. Harry caught sight of a floating broom in the window of one shop, apparently on display. A customer walked out of the same shop with a small, golden sphere hovering around them on rapidly beating wings not unlike a hummingbird.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley, Harry," Hagrid said cheerfully, no longer feeling the ill-effects of Apparition.

Andromeda did a quick turn and nodded to their left, towards a part of the huge street that was divided by a large, imposing building. "Right, Gringotts first. We won't be able to get any of his school supplies without money."

Harry frowned and looked at her. "But I don't have any money."

Andromeda smiled at him and set a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about that, Harry. We'll get it all taken care of. But before we get in there, I need to tell you a few things—Gringotts is run by goblins, Harry. They're quite foul things, really, but they're loyal to their customers and protect their gold jealously. Don't try to cross them or make it sound like you owe them anything. Don't even thank them. They'll jump on any chance to get a debt out of you. Be polite, but curt about it—like you would if you had to meet with someone you didn't like."

"Also, when a goblin dismisses you, it's going to say a phrase that sounds violent, but don't be alarmed. It'll be something like this- may your enemies suffer and die for all eternity. Well, it'll probably be more eloquent and descriptive than that, but you get the idea. All you'll have to do is respond with a similar phrase."

Well, that sounded easy enough. Harry mentally began to come up with phrases as gruesome and frankly downright violent as Andromeda led him and Hagrid into the wizarding bank.

Harry glanced at the goblins that lined the entrance hall of Gringotts, sitting at high tables as they performed various tasks- whether it was speaking with witches or wizards, transferring currency for clients, or writing financial records. They were all shorter than Harry by about a head, with long, pointed noses, sharpened teeth, and beards. Their faces seemed to be contorted in perpetual scowls, but there was an intelligent gleam in their eyes that bespoke a cleverness one should not wish to test.

They met with the goblin at the very end of the entrance hall, a grisly, elderly creature with white hair and thick glasses. The goblin looked up at them—glared, really—and set down a feather quill he'd been writing with moments earlier. "Yes?"

Hagrid cleared his throat. "Mr. Harry Potter would like to make a withdrawal."

The goblin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and leaned over the desk to study Harry with a rather predatory gaze. "And does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?"

"Ah—ah, yes!" Hagrid patted a few of the pockets in his thick jacket frantically for a few moments before pulling out a gold key that was tiny in his enormous fingers. "There's the li'l devil!"

The goblin grunted upon seeing the key and looked back at Harry. "You may proceed. May your enemies bleed out their ears and lose all the change in their pockets."

Yep, customary goblin talk, just as Andromeda had said. Harry hoped his response would be good enough. "And may yours bleed and suffer alone in silence forever."

The goblin's snarl upturned into a feral grin. "An amateur response, but one with promise for your first try, Mr. Potter. Next time mention the enemies of goblins losing all of their money as well."

"I'll remember that," he said, recalling that he wasn't to thank the goblins.

Hagrid got the goblin's attention one more time. "Mrs. Tonks will have to go with Harry to his vault. I got a letter for ya from Professor Dumbledore."

He handed the letter over to the goblin, who read it over carefully before frowning. Hagrid muttered lowly. "It's about the you-know-what in vault you-know which."

The goblin nodded sharply. "Very well. I'll assign one of our chiefs to you. Mr. Potter, if you and Mrs. Tonks will proceed, a goblin named Griphook is waiting to escort you."

Harry looked at Hagrid curiously, but the half-giant just smiled. "Is' alright. I'll meet ye both outside once I'm done 'ere."

Andromeda nodded and took the key to Harry's vault from Hagrid, although she looked just as confused by the unexpected deviation. She led Harry past the goblin and to the back, where another, younger looking gobbling with an exceptionally long and pointed nose was waiting for them next to a gaping hole in the wall—and a mine cart.

"Griphook?" Harry asked.

The goblin nodded. "So, you're Harry Potter? Well, come on. Let's get on with this. Into the mine cart, and don't let any part of your body leave it while we're moving."

The reason for that quickly became apparent- the mine cart traveled at a ridiculous speed to the point that Harry almost threw up. They raced past points of jagged rock and stone that would have severed their limbs if they'd let their arms hang out of the cart. He wondered if this was what a roller coaster felt like. On and on they went, for several minutes until Griphook yanked on a lever to slow the cart to a halt.

When they left the cart, Harry's legs felt like jelly and Andromeda looked slightly green. Griphook only smirked nastily. "You're doing better than most first-timers, Mr. Potter. You haven't vomited yet."

"Not so bad, then," Harry managed. Griphook chuckled and took the key when it was offered by Andromeda. They were deep inside an underground cave system, lit only by fiery torches on the walls. The cave was dark and cool, with parts of the wall chiseled to construct the vaults within them. The vault they reached had a thick, black iron door the same texture as the surrounding rock. Harry briefly wondered why the vault was so far down.

Griphook, aware that this was the first time Harry had visited Gringotts, filled him in before he could ask. "Newer or smaller vaults are usually kept in the upper levels. The lower you go, the more carefully guarded the vaults are. If you ever get to the bottom, well, you'd best make your peace first."

Harry frowned. "So why is my vault here? I've never been here in my entire life."

Griphook frowned. "Surely you didn't think your family would have left you with nothing, did you?"

Andromeda intervened then. "Harry's living circumstances have been rather…isolated until recently. He has much to learn about the wizarding world."

The goblin blinked in understanding, but he still looked disbelieving. "Well, it's none of my business. But regardless, House Potter has not left you with nothing, boy. Far from it."

Griphook inserted the gold key into a keyhole that Harry couldn't even see; it was so well camouflaged that it blended in with the vault door. The goblin stepped back, holding his arm out to keep Harry and Andromeda from getting too close until the massive vault door swung open.

Harry felt his mouth fall open as his eyes were treated to the color gold in copious amounts within the maw of a cave the same size as a large living room. It was literally ridiculous how much gold was in there- good grief, he could probably build his own castle with it all. He was glad the Durselys hadn't known about this. Knowing them, they would've taken all of this as "compensation" for keeping him in the first place. Vernon certainly would have.

Griphook eyed the mass of gold and silver with a measuring eye. "Behold the treasure hoard of House Potter. For a noble house some seven hundred years old, they lived rather modestly and did a good job saving their gold. Used to be some of our most loyal and respectable customers, the Potters. Been storing gold in our vaults since the early days of Gringotts. They never bothered to spend more on security than was necessary- they trusted us to keep some of our most loyal clients safe and we have done so. That's why this hoard is not in the deepest levels, where security is more expensive. And they didn't bother spending loads of gold on trivial things like certain other pureblood houses do even today. Smart witches and wizards. Knew how to manage their currency wisely."

Harry managed to close his mouth and swallowed a lump past his throat. So his parents really hadn't been the useless, drinking scum his uncle told him about. They'd been good, smart people who had been humble about how they lived despite the great sum of money they had at their disposal. Even Griphook, a goblin, seemed to respect and perhaps even admire their saving habits.

He decided that he would do his best to meet the same standards as his family had.

He pulled out the list of school supplies from his bag he was going to need and glanced from Andromeda to Griphook. "How much do I need for these things? I don't want to take out more than I need, but I don't know much about wizard money."

Griphook smiled almost gleefully. "You might just be a Potter yet, young man. You won't need to take out too much comparatively if it's just standard school supplies for Hogwarts. I imagine you might need some spending money while you're there as well in case of emergencies. Let's sort you out and I'll show you how to calculate wizarding currency…"

The goblin gave a brief explanation of how wizarding money worked- how a Galleon was worth seventeen silver Sickles, which were worth twenty-nine bronze Knuts. A single Galleon was equivalent to about five British pounds and about seven and a half US dollars. Not that Harry planned on going overseas anytime soon, but it was nice to have a few comparisons from the muggle world that he was more familiar with.

When they finished calculating how much Harry would need for school supplies and taken the necessary money, he was stricken by how utterly unaffected the massive hoard of gold and silver appeared to be. He would be just fine financially for a very long time. He just wished he knew a way to start adding onto the hoard his family had so painstakingly saved up.

Before they left the vault, Harry paused for a moment. Griphook had helped him out without question or complaint. Andromeda had warned him not to do anything to become indebted to the goblins, and although Griphook seemed nice enough for one of his race, Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to test that impression given that he barely knew him, so he snatched an extra gold coin from the huge piles.

They rode the mine cart back up to the top and when they were back on stable ground, Harry tossed the Galleon to the goblin once he had Griphook's attention. He snatched the coin out of the air with practiced ease and looked at Harry curiously. The boy nodded to him just as Andromeda had told him- polite, but curt. "For your trouble."

The goblin grinned with a rather fiendish delight. "No trouble at all, Mr. Potter. On the contrary, I'm pleased you've already learned to play our little games. We at Gringotts are happy to have the House of Potter back in our care. May your enemies burn in agony and find that all their vaults have been emptied."

"And may your enemies be bitten by venomous creatures and have all their money stolen," Harry replied, hoping that was better than his last attempt.

Griphook simply nodded and walked away to attend to his duties. Andromeda nudged Harry's arm and he was relieved to find that she had an approving smile on her face.

"Well done. You picked up on clearing that small debt quickly."

He let out a breath once they were out of earshot from the goblins. "I didn't think it'd be a good idea to take the lesson he gave me for free. You did say that they'd try to find a way to make me owe them something."

"And they did," Andromeda said as she led him out of the bank. "The important thing is that you clear up those debts before they can grow. If a goblin tells you anything that is valuable to you, make sure you pay them back in an equal or greater amount for that knowledge. It clears up your debts and, more importantly, means they'll be far more willing to work with you in the future. Some goblins have even been known to provide greater security for their best clients, and you've given them an excellent first impression, Harry."

He was glad that the visit to the bank ended on a good note. For some reason, Harry had a feeling that goblins were not creatures he wanted to antagonize. Call it instinct.

They found that Hagrid was waiting outside for them. The half-giant smiled upon seeing them leaving the bank. "Everythin' went alright then?"

"Yes," Andromeda confirmed. "Harry should have more than enough money to pay for his school supplies. Would you mind taking over from here, Hagrid? I need to do a little school shopping for my daughter."

"Sure!" Hagrid said. "Where should we meet once we're done? We can't get back inta Grimmauld Place without ya."

Harry tilted his head in confusion. "Why not?"

Andromeda was quiet for a second and he thought perhaps she even looked uneasy. "My cousin technically owns Grimmauld Place, but he allowed me to come and go as I please. Trouble is, I'm the only one who can grant anyone else access while he's…away. So unless I'm with you, we can't return there."

He wasn't sure how that worked, but Harry assumed it had something to do with magic. Maybe there was a special lock on the house or something? He shrugged mentally. He'd look into later.

"Let's meet at the Leaky Cauldron in three hours," Andromeda decided. "That should be long enough to get all the supplies we'll need."

"Agreed," Hagrid replied, after which the woman strode off to conduct what business she had. The half-giant turned away from Gringotts and glanced down at Harry. "Right then, lad! Let's get movin'!"

The next couple of hours were spent wandering up and down the cobblestone path of Diagon Alley, getting school supplies like books, robes, quills, and ink. Some of the more unusual items, used for a class Hagrid called Potions, were things Harry was sure would be considered biohazards in the muggle world.

Hagrid had gone out of his way to buy a couple of books that, he explained, might have information on the magic snake still hiding in Harry's bag. The half-giant insisted they were an early birthday present when Harry protested that he could afford them.

He wanted to read them right then and there, but there was still lots of shopping to do. So Harry abstained, albeit reluctantly. The sooner they finished shopping, the sooner he could read them and hopefully find some answers.

Speaking of the snake…

Hagrid had given him a brief explanation on what a "familiar" was—an animal that would act as a messenger for him whenever he needed it. Harry had (discreetly, mind you) told the serpent within his bag what that meant when they stopped shopping for a quick lunch break. He figured that she would be his familiar, so that he wouldn't have to buy an animal from one of the stores.

Apparently not. She insisted that she would not be doing something so mundane as mail deliveries. No, she would be staying with Harry and not traveling great distances, thank you very much. So far, Harry's sort-of-first familiar was too lazy to do anything but sleep, eat, and save his sorry, pre-teen butt with angry magical glares. Joy.

He would need to get a familiar that would actually do those tasks, so a trip to the animal store was in order.

They ended up going to an Owl Emporium, where Harry found himself surrounded by a variety of owl breeds, some of which he'd never even heard of. In all honesty, he had no idea which one to pick, but Hagrid gave him some pointers.

"Look at 'em in the eyes for a few seconds," the half-giant explained. "If they look away, screech, or ye just feel like they aren't right, try a different one. Keep goin' until ye find one that clicks with ya."

Harry did as was suggested. He went through over a dozen of the birds, varying from a small Barn Owl to a massive Great Grey, but none of them really felt right. He eventually found himself looking into the amber eyes of a beautiful snowy owl. Maybe it was because the color was so similar to the serpent in his bag, or the serene disposition of the gorgeous bird, but Harry felt an instant connection with her.

He approached the cage she was held in and carefully opened it up before offering his hand to her. The bird inspected the proffered limb with her sharp gaze for several moments, then maneuvered her feet to grasp his wrist and work her way out of the cage. She climbed up to his shoulder, careful not to pierce his skin with her sharp claws, and let out a quiet hoot.

Harry grinned. She was definitely the one.

"I still need…" Harry scanned the school supply list that they'd been checking off as they purchased the items required. It was almost complete, save for one thing. "A wand."

Hagrid, who was carrying nearly everything they'd bought, nodded towards a small, yet elegant shop as they worked their way closer to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry had no idea how he managed to carry all of that stuff, but the half-giant didn't even seem to notice the extra weight. "Olivander's is the place you'll be wantin'. Best wand shop in Europe, it is."

They stopped outside the store and Hagrid gestured for Harry to go inside. "Ye should probably do this on yer own, Harry. Pickin' a wand is a personal experience."

Harry only nodded, since he had no idea what he was in for. He carefully set down the cage holding his new Snowy Owl. The bird in question was wide awake and alert—it was gonna take some getting used to, having a diurnal species. He'd lived most of his life thinking owls were nocturnal, but then he'd also had no idea magic was a thing.

The more you knew.

He kept his bag, though, and thus the magical serpent within it. Although he believed Hagrid when he said that wand selection was an experience best done by yourself, he didn't want to be alone.

The serpent's presence, however silent, was still reassuring to him as Harry walked inside the store.

It was quiet and dimly lit, with a not insignificant amount of dust covering the furniture and various objects within. If he didn't know any better, he would have assumed that no one was running the place. Harry cleared his throat and tried to get the attention of the shopkeeper…wherever he was. "Hello?"

He jumped at the sound of wood sliding and his eyes flew to the right, where an elderly man with wild white hair had suddenly appeared on a ladder that reached the high ceiling. Harry met his gaze and managed not to shift uneasily as the shopkeeper studied him with meticulous detail.

After a second, the man—who he presumed was Olivander—smiled. His voice was old and somewhat gruff, but kind. "I'd been wondering when I would see you, Mr. Potter."

That gave Harry pause. He'd been expected?

Olivander climbed down the ladder and immediately began to sift through various boxes the general size and shape of narrowed shoe boxes. "It seems like it was just yesterday that your mother and father were in here to buy their first wands…ah."

He extracted one of the boxes and carried it over to Harry. Olivander opened the box, revealing a long, light-brown wand with a twiggy appearance. "Try this."

Harry carefully took the wand out and held it up, not really sure what to do about it. He glanced at Olivander, confused.

The elder raised an eyebrow. "Well, give it a wave."

Oh, so that was it. Harry looked around and flicked it at the nearby lamp. It exploded in a burst of glass, causing Harry to jump in shock. Olivander muttered something under his breath before extracting his own wand from his sleeve and flicking it at the destroyed lamp. To Harry's fascination, the broken furniture repaired itself in a matter of seconds.

"Not this one, then," Olivander decided. He carefully took the wand away from Harry and placed it back in the box, returning it to its place on the shelves. The elder then walked down the hall for a moment before trying a different box on a higher shelf near the ceiling.

When Harry wielded it, the second wand caused a dozen wand boxes to fly out of the shelves, creating a slightly smaller mess than the first one. But after cleaning that with yet another flick of his own wand, Olivander looked pleased. "Getting warmer, then…"

"Warmer?" Harry echoed, confused.

The wandmaker grinned in amusement. "With particular customers like yourself, Mr. Potter, the less destruction a wand causes, the better—it means I'm getting closer to your ideal wand. You'll know it when it's in your hand, for power is nothing without control. The wand chooses the wizard."

They tried out four more wands in turn, varying in destruction. One punched a large hole in Olivander's desk, but another ignited an inferno that singed the elder's hair before he got it under control. Harry was confused by how gleeful the wandmaker seemed to be until Olivander started to walk to the very back of the hall. "It's been far too long since I met a wizard who gave me such a challenge, Mr. Potter. You're proving to be as extraordinary as I've come to expect."

He had no idea what that meant, but Harry held his tongue when he saw Olivander pull out another wand box—the seventh—and stared at it in silence for nearly a minute. At the edge of his hearing, he swore he heard the man murmur softly. "I wonder…"

Olivander carried the wand back to Harry and carefully opened the box. Within was a wand of jet-black Holly wood nearly a foot long, lithe and thin, yet strong. Harry pulled it out and wondered at how naturally it fit in his hand. He concentrated on it and froze as the air around him seemed to grow thicker, building a presence that he found…empowering, rather than threatening or destructive.

Upon that realization, the air around him flared with energy and the wooden floor beneath his feet cracked in all directions for nearly a foot. Yet the wand did not generate destruction as the others had. It could contain the magic it wielded.

Olivander stared at the cracks in his floor with wide eyes. "Curious…how very, very, curious. Tell me, Mr. Potter, how long have you been suppressing your magic?"

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"This is indeed the wand you were meant to have," Olivander explained. "And that in itself is fascinating, but I find myself wondering at the amount of magic that has overflowed from you upon finding an outlet. How long have you been suppressing your power, Harry? And why?"

"I…" He wasn't sure what to say. He'd heard Kingsley quietly mention something called an Obscurus to Andromeda when the man thought he wasn't paying attention, something to do with his magic being suppressed. Maybe that had something to do with it? "I don't know if I've been suppressing it or not, sir. But the muggles I grew up with didn't like magic. Is that a bad thing? That I've been keeping it down?"

Olivander's eyes cleared in understanding and he eyed the boy with an appraising look. "Let me explain to you Harry something that the wizarding world has long tried to keep quiet. Magic is a dangerous force if it's forcibly contained in certain ways. A wand is an outlet- a channel for a wizard or witch to release their powers from. When one has no outlet such as a wand, magic has a tendency to release itself in other ways—some barely noticeable, others more…destructive."

"Have you ever tried to stop it? Force it down?"

Harry pursed his lips nervously. He had. He slipped up sometimes, (like with Dudley at the Zoo) but more often than not he could feel it. Harry hadn't known what to make of it and since Vernon tended to beat him more so than normal whenever he had an "incident" he did his best to stop them from happening at all. He'd force the feeling of energy building up inside of him, even if it hurt, to prevent an outburst.

His silence said it all for Olivander. The wandmaker continued. "Do not ever do it again until you can control your powers, Mr. Potter. It's very dangerous."

"What happens?" He asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

Olivander's eyes suddenly looked very tired, as though he were even older than he looked. The elder walked over to a stool and sat down with a sigh, gesturing for Harry to come to him. When the boy approached, Olivander took Harry's hand which held the want and squeezed it in a firm, comforting way. "Before wizards and witches went underground, when our kind were being hunted by muggles…Young witches and wizards sometimes tried to suppress their magic to avoid being killed. By doing so, without providing an outlet for their powers or learning to control them, they developed what was known as an Obscurus."

So it was the same thing that Kingsley had mentioned. Olivander's face took on a haunted look. "It's a parasitic, dark magical force that bursts free from its host and destroys anything nearby. And then…it vanishes with the host. Obscurials do not survive long, you see- the unstable magic force ruptures and destroys their bodies. Most die before they reach ten years old. By the time the signs appear, it's often too late to save them. There was an Obscurial in America seventy years ago who somehow managed to survive into his teenage years because he was more powerful than most others, but he too died."

Olivander looked into Harry's eyes, peering into the boy's very soul. "You are powerful, Mr. Potter. Very, very powerful. I'm not an expert, but I don't feel your power is yet so unstable that you've developed an Obscurus. But if you continue to suppress your power, you will only serve to hurt yourself. Whatever your reason was for restraining yourself, let it go."

Harry nodded, feeling a little sick. How much longer would he have lasted in that house with the Durselys if he continued to suppress his power? How much more abuse would it have taken to trigger an explosion he wouldn't be able to hold back?

He shook his head, dispersing those frightening thoughts. He was far away from them now and he would never go back there again. There was no need to forcibly bottle up his power anymore. Instead, he focused on something else Olivander had mentioned. "Sir, what did you mean when you said that my having this wand was fascinating?"

The gleam returned to Olivander's eyes, but the old man did not smile. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. It just so happens that the Phoenix who's feather resides in the core of your wand gave another feather. Just one other. It is curious that you should be the one who receives this wand when it's twin was the one who gave you that scar."

And just like that, the anxiety in Harry returned tenfold. His eyes grew wide and his body felt far too shaky for his liking. He'd always wondered about the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. Vernon had always told him he'd slipped and smacked his head, (probably to explain his apparent stupidity to the Dursleys) but every now and then it would burn in a way that hurt much differently from other wounds. He'd never considered that it might have been caused by magic.

Olivander saw the bewilderment in his eyes and continued. "That is no ordinary mark on your skin, Harry. A scar like that is created by a curse—and a dark one at that. Why else do you think you're called the Boy Who Lived?"

"The…the what?" He repeated, confused.

"Goodness gracious, what hole have those muggles been keeping you in?" Olivander grumbled. "Have you not yet learned your importance in our world?"

Harry shook his head and the wandmaker sighed. "Mr. Potter, you are known far and wide throughout our world for surviving the wrath of one of the most evil wizards history has ever known. A wizard so foul and dark, people fear to so much as speak his name—the same wizard who put that scar on your forehead. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did terrible things, no matter how great they may have been had he used his powers for good. And you were the only one who survived his curse. That's why you are the Boy Who Lived."

"What happened to him?" Harry asked, feeling cold and clammy.

"That's the question, isn't it?" Olivander murmured. "No one knows for certain. All that we know is that somehow, you stopped him that night he tried to kill you. Something you did, Harry, destroyed him. I've no idea why you were hidden with muggles of all people after that, but you're a celebrity in our world. People will try to sway you to their side to gain favor in the wizarding community—do not let yourself fall prey to those seeking to use you for their own desires. You are new in our world, Harry, but you are known to all."

He fell silent, perhaps allowing Harry time to grasp that latest bombshell. Olivander studied him for several more minutes before standing up and pulling away, walking towards the back of his shop. "I think your friend is growing anxious waiting for you outside, Mr. Potter. Do not forget what I have said, but do not let it trouble you for too long, either. The darkness that has plagued you throughout your youngest years has passed- be calm now, and look forward to your future."

The elder turned around a corner and disappeared then, leaving Harry standing by the still-cracked floor with the Holly-and-Phoenix wand in his hand to contemplate all that he'd learned.

Chapter 3

Harry knew Andromeda and Hagrid were watching him worriedly when they met up at the Leaky Cauldron. He was disturbed by what Olivander had told him—from his warning about Obscurus, to Harry's apparently great powers, and the story of the evil wizard who had tried to kill him. It was so much to take in; he'd barely been aware of magic for a week and now he was a celebrity with a literal hoard of gold in the bank, not to mention his newfound powers had the potential to destroy him if he couldn't control them.

But his mind was focused most on the dark wizard, especially. Harry had a sickening feeling that there was more to that story than Olivander had let on.

They quickly Apparated back to Grimmauld Place, where Hagrid volunteered to take Harry's school supplies up to his room. Andromeda meanwhile sat Harry down at the dining room table and looked at him with a slight frown.

"Harry, is something wrong?"

He wasn't sure where to begin, but Harry's hand came up to brush his scar on reflex. The words tumbled out of his mouth in an effort to relieve some of the stress. "The one who gave me this—the dark wizard—was he—did he kill my parents?"

Andromeda sucked in a sharp breath. "You weren't supposed to find out about that yet. Who told you?"

"Mr. Olivander told me about how he tried to kill me," Harry mumbled. "I kind of put my parents dying when I was a baby together with that."

"You're even smarter than I thought," she sighed. "And far more attentive to details than most children your age. Dumbledore asked that we keep what happened a secret until he felt you were ready to know the truth, but it seems you've discovered it by yourself. There's no point in hiding it from you now."

"Why not tell me in the first place?" Harry asked a little heatedly. "I grew up thinking my parents died in a car crash, but instead they were murdered by an evil wizard."

"We thought you were too young to be told," she murmured gently, unfazed by his outburst. "That and after what happened with your muggle guardians…we thought it might be better if we told you everything that happened slowly. You were already too distressed for your own good and we wanted to be sure you were stable before we said anything."

"You mean my magic, right?"

Andromeda pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse directed towards Olivander. "What did he tell you?"

"He said my magic had been suppressed for a long time, so he warned me about Obscurials," Harry swallowed tightly. "Am I—"

"No!" She said immediately, taking his hand and squeezing it firmly. "No, Harry. Kingsley had a healer check on you when you first got here. Your magic is unstable, but you haven't developed an Obscurus. You don't have to worry about that anymore."

It felt like a weight was lifted from his shoulders. Andromeda didn't take the chance to move to safer subjects though, which he appreciated. She was being honest with him about the questions he had.

"The wizard who was involved in your parents' murder and the marking of the scar on you forehead was a dangerous man, Harry. When he first rose to power…well, have you ever heard of the Nazis?"

Harry nodded. Andromeda continued. "That's who he and his followers were to the wizarding world, Harry. They were our Nazis and he was their Hitler. He set out to kill anyone he deemed unworthy of magic and enslave all but those who bowed to his every whim. He was so powerful—wizards as strong as him only come along once in a century. Even Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of our time, was wary of him. No one could stop him because he was so powerful. He killed everyone in his path."

"Your mother and father were amongst those who resisted him. He came to their house Halloween night all those years ago to eradicate your family. He intended to leave you all dead that night."

Harry nodded slowly. "But something happened. Something went wrong."

"For him? Yes," she agreed. "I don't know if it was a mistake on his part or a magic outburst from you, but whatever it was destroyed him, Harry. Even though he'd killed your parents, he couldn't kill you."

"After that, Dumbledore took you to your Aunt and Uncle's house. I..I think he hoped that they would take care of you as their own. But I suppose he hadn't expected them to be so hateful of wizards—none of us did. You were to be kept there, safe under the charms he cast on the house to hide you from You-Know-Who's followers seeking revenge."

That…made sense, although Harry was loathe to admit it. The Dursleys were horrid people. Surely a simple chat with them would have told Dumbledore that—whoever he was. Harry understood them hiding a baby to protect him from vengeance-seeking lunatics, though. Even if it meant cutting him off from the magical world, at least he'd be safe from dark wizards.

Harry just felt tired. It was so much to absorb…his whole childhood had been a violent lie to keep him safe from a different horror—and barely worked.

Andromeda seemed to sense that he was feeling overwhelmed and squeezed his hand again. "Go get some rest, Harry. I'll get started on supper, alright? My husband and daughter will be joining us tonight. She goes to Hogwarts too—you can ask her about it, if you like."

Sleep sounded wonderful right now. With a bob of his head, Harry stood up and went upstairs to his bedroom- that was still an odd thought—passing by Hagrid on his way there. The half-giant gently clapped him on the shoulder, though the force was almost enough to make him trip. Harry closed the bedroom door behind him and made straight for the bed, setting his bag down on the desk next to it before flopping onto the mattress with a low groan.

"You are troubled."

He turned to see the amber-eyed snake, who was slithering out of his bag and watching him. "You heard it all, didn't you? It's…it's just so much…"

"It would seem there's a lot being hidden from you," she agreed. "I trust the witch and the giant. Their intentions are honest—they do not lie to do you harm. Even you must know that this knowledge could not have come to you at a worse time. You have not yet recovered from what you endured at the hands of the brutes."

Harry nodded. Andromeda and Hagrid were good people. Kingsley, Olivander, and McGonagall too, even if he didn't know them as well. All of them were practically strangers, and yet they had his best interests in mind.

The serpent slithered over to him and coiled up on his belly, studying his face closely for several seconds. "You can't keep worrying about what might have happened if you stayed, Harry. Try to think towards the future now."

He couldn't stop the slight upwards twitch of his lips. "Aren't you a little young to be saying things like that?"

"Aren't you too young to be bearing such scars?" She hissed in response. "My body and mind are young, but my instincts…they give me a different kind of insight. What do your instincts tell you, Harry Potter?"

He closed his eyes, absently lifting one hand to stroke the emerald scales comfortably seated on his belly. "I'm not really sure, but…maybe if I'm going to move on, I need to stop thinking so much?"

She made a sort of purring hiss—laughter, he realized from her tone. "Perhaps not that. If you stopped thinking so much, you wouldn't learn as quickly as you do. But do not focus on those things that hurt you."

"Maybe I should just name you Conscience," Harry joked. "You're turning into my voice of reason."

"Oh, hush," she flicked his wrist with her tail tip good-naturedly. "I will pick my own name when I'm good and ready, thank you very much. Besides, the male mind is incapable of comprehending the deadly beauty of a female's. We wouldn't want you to go mad, would we?"

That drew a snort from him. "No, we would not."

He felt her slither to the pillow his head lay on to hiss in his ear. "Sleep now, Harry. I shall wake you when it is time to feed. I shall protect you while you rest."

And he did. Harry fell asleep a few minutes later, feeling the tension slip from his body as he willingly gave into the comfortable darkness of slumber.

When he awoke a few hours later, Harry could smell something mouthwateringly delicious coming from downstairs. He was eager to see what Andromeda had made for dinner this time—he'd come to find over the last week that her cooking was phenomenal—and rushed out of bed, much to the amber-eyed snake's chagrin. Harry let her slither onto his arm and secure herself on his shoulders before he made for the door, but not without grabbing one of the books Hagrid had bought for him—a thick, impressive piece titled, "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them—1989 Edition", by Newton Scamander.

He was starving for dinner, but also for knowledge; the secret of his magical, slithery companion had been plaguing his mind ever since her birth—or creation? He wasn't sure which, but Harry knew that he had played a huge role in her being born. He just hoped that one of the two books Hagrid had gotten him would have some answers.

"I know you're eager to eat, but please don't forget about me," said serpent hissed in his ear.

Harry grinned. "You're hungry too?"

"Oh, please! I'm always hungry and you know it!"

He only laughed a bit and whistled sharply. "Kreacher!"

There was a momentary pause before a loud crack sounded, and then the grouchy House Elf was standing in front of Harry with the perpetual scowl on his face. "Yes?"

"Could you go find another rat?" Harry asked. "She's hungry again."

Kreacher nodded. "Kreacher will find the worm's dinner."

"Worm?!" She hissed furiously as the elf vanished with another crack. "Why that crotchety old bag of bones! I ought to—"

"Easy," Harry soothed her, stroking her scales. "I'm sure he's just annoyed by how you petrified him the other day."

"Well maybe he needs to be petrified again," she glowered at the spot where Kreacher had been a moment earlier.

He only smirked and shook his head as he walked downstairs, book in one hand, snake on his shoulders, and his mouth nearly hyper-salivating for dinner. He was a little nervous about meeting Andromeda's family, but he expected that they were probably a lot like her.

He did not expect the pink ponytail bouncing around the kitchen.

Harry stopped at the entrance to the dining room, staring at the energetic girl who couldn't have been much older than himself. Her hair was a stark contrast to Andromeda's light brown, as was her rather informal attire; a black t-shirt with the words "Tuff Puff" on the front and dark blue jeans. She was lean and barely any taller than Harry was, but with a childish energy the like of which he'd never seen before.

Even his slithery companion was watching this new individual with a rather dumbfounded expression, with her head tilted to the side like an owl. Meeting Hagrid hadn't fazed her this much.

Eventually, the bouncy pink ponytail stopped moving long enough to catch sight of Harry and stared at him. She had big brown eyes and a rather adorable button nose, but that was as much as he could take in before the ponytail squealed and bounced over to him excitedly.

"Hey, you're the Potter kid mum told me about!"

Harry took a step back on reflex, feeling more than a little alarmed at the bouncy pink suddenly in his face. She snatched his free hand faster than he would have thought possible and shook it with an eager grin. "Nice to meetcha! Name's Nym—or Dora, just don't call me by my full name! I hate it! Oh, and when you join Hogwarts, try to bribe the Sorting Hat or something so that you end up in Hufflepuff! We'd be super hyped to have you around!"

"Hu'wha?" Harry managed. He was a split second from running back to his room. This girl was way too much for him to handle. The serpent's head was reared back—not in a striking position, but just out of sheer bewilderment.

"Nymphadora Tonks, what did I say about jumping him like that?" Andromeda appeared behind the girl with a stern look on her face.

As if Harry couldn't get any more surprised, the girl's hair suddenly changed from pink to dark red. "Mum! Don't say my full name in front of him!"

"I told you to behave yourself!"

"It's Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake!"

The pair began to argue, leaving him to watch them warily. He was about to retreat to his room—maybe he'd come down when things were quieter. But Harry jumped when a finger tapped his shoulder and he spun around to find a tall man standing behind him with a slight smirk on his face. "Best leave them to it, lad. No stopping them once they get started."

The man ushered Harry past the arguing mother-daughter scene and led him to the kitchen table, where Andromeda's cooking was already waiting to be devoured.

Despite still being able to hear the two arguing witches around the corner, the man grinned. "Harry, isn't it?"

When he nodded, the man held out one hand. "Ted Tonks. I'm Andromeda's husband and Dora's father."

"Nice to meet you," Harry replied. "Does that happen a lot?"

"If you're talking about the arguing, then yes," Ted admitted, looking rather amused. "If you're talking about Dora's boundless energy, also yes. And if you're talking about her hair's penchant for changing colors unexpectedly, that is also a yes."

Harry glanced back in the girl's direction, noticing that her hair was slowly bleeding back from red to pink. "How is she doing that? Is it a spell?"

"Of a sort," Ted chuckled. "Dora's a Metamorphmagus."

"I'm not even going to try and pronounce that," Harry muttered.

The man laughed. "It's a mouthful, I'll admit. She has the ability to change her appearance at will without a wand or a potion, though most of the time it's a reaction based on her emotions."

"Are all of you Meta…y'know?"

"No. It's a rare ability," Ted explained. "Usually only pops up every few generations. I'd even go so far to say it's as rare as your own ability, Harry."

"My…? Oh, you mean how I can speak to snakes?"

"Indeed. That is known in the wizarding world as Parseltongue—you would be called a Parselmouth for being able to speak that language naturally."

A Parselmouth. Well, at least now Harry had a name for that talent of his. He smiled at the amber-eyed snake still comfortably settled on his shoulder, who was noticeably calmer now that Dora wasn't rambling in their faces.

Ted's eyes trailed to the snake, though he took care to avoid her eyes. "How did you get her?"

"I made her," Harry admitted. "I guess. The snakes in the garden at my Aunt and Uncle's house told me how."

"Fascinating," Ted murmured. "Have you read about her species yet?"

"No, but I was going to," he hefted the large book in his hands, which Ted quickly took note of. The man chuckled.

"'Fantastic Beasts', eh? A good read. Yes, I imagine you'd find something about her in that book."

A sudden crack next to them had Harry jumping, but he relaxed when he saw that it was only Kreacher. The House Elf had a squirming, fat rat in his grubby hands.

Ted raised an eyebrow, but Harry grinned. "Thanks, Kreacher. Just set it down."

"Hurry, or I'll eat you too!" The snake hissed, practically throwing herself off of Harry's shoulders to the floor just as Kreacher dropped the rat. She darted after the fleeing animal with surprising speed, snapping her fangs into its back leg. The rat squealed, but before it could retaliate, she threw her body around it in coils to constrict her prey while her venom did its work.

Kreacher muttered something under his breath and disappeared again. Ted watched the emerald snake as she quickly killed and devoured her dinner. "Hmm. Dinner and a show."

Harry grinned, but his attention was gained by the entrance of Andromeda and her daughter, who's hair had, by now, changed back to its original vibrant pink.

She smiled at him, unabashed despite her argument with her mother. "Sorry about jumping you, Harry. I was just super stoked to meet you. You're all mum talks about whenever she drops by the house this last week."

"It's alright," Harry said. "You just caught me by surprise."

"That's a talent of mine," she giggled. "Anyways, let me try this again. Name's Nym. Or Dora. Just don't call me by my full name. It's too much of a mouthful and I hate it."

"Harry," he responded in kind.

"Oh yeah, who's your friend?" Dora asked, tilting her head to look past Harry and at the emerald snake who was now devouring a rather fat rat.

He shrugged, following her gaze. "She's my familiar…kind of. She wants to pick her own name, though, so I don't really know what to call her right now."

Dora grinned. "My kind of girl! Strong and independent, eh?"

Harry snorted. "With a mouth to match."

The snake turned to face Harry, her mouth still half-full with rat, and leered at him- sending a message that said plenty despite her current inability to fire a retort in his direction. Harry just smiled at her sheepishly. She probably knew he was only joking. Probably.

"Right, well it looks like your friend has beat us to dinner," Andromeda said. "Let's start eating, shall we?"

They sat down at the table and did just that. Harry had just finished filling up his plate when the emerald snake slithered up the chair leg and lay herself in his lap. He snorted at the prominent bulge in her belly and rather content expression on her face.

Dora, who was sitting next to him, grinned at the serpent. "She looks happy."

"She's always happy when she's full," he said, letting a small smirk reach his face. "And so am I."

With that, he began to eat in earnest and the family around him did the same. For several minutes, the only sounds in the dining room were those of the silverware. It was quiet, but nice, Harry thought.

The fact that he didn't have to worry about Dudley or Vernon stealing his food had a lot to do with it. Plus he could get seconds and thirds if he wanted to.

Once they'd eaten their fill and had begun to nibble at what was left, Harry began to ask Dora some questions about Hogwarts. He was dying to know more about the place.

"There are four houses," she explained. "New students get sorted into one each—the other members are like your family while you're at Hogwarts since you dorm with them and such, but don't be afraid to make friends in other houses as well! It gets boring if you only know the people you dorm with."

"The four houses are Hufflepuff," Dora patted the words on her shirt with a proud smirk. "Best of the best. Then you've got Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. The Gryffs are pretty cool—bit thick at times, but they're okay more often than not. The Claws tend to keep to themselves most of the time. You'll want to get to know a few of them though—makes studying for exams so much easier."

She sighed and tilted her head back. "Then there are the Snakes…"

Harry raised an eyebrow as the only snake in the room gauged Dora with a daring eye. Daring her to say anything negative about snakes, he bet.

"They're…well, there are two types of Slytherins—the ones who are tolerable and the ones who are prats. The tolerable ones are alright; they mostly keep to themselves, like the Claws. I'm not going to go into details about the prats because mum would ground me for saying bad words."

Andromeda raised an eyebrow. "You know, I was a Slytherin."

"Yeah, but you're one of the good ones," Dora said easily. "If you ever meet Marcus Flint or one of his bunch, then you'll see what I mean. He's a prat in every meaning of the word."

"If you're quite finished worrying my house," Andromeda grumbled, turning her eyes to Harry. "Anyways, all of the houses have their own good and bad qualities, but don't worry about which one you're sorted into, Harry. You'll still be welcome here, regardless."

"But definitely try to make it into Hufflepuff," Dora grinned, unabashed by her mother's annoyed look.

Ted only chuckled at the back-and-forth between his wife and daughter. "I think that's enough house scouting for tonight, don't you think?"

"Oh yeah!" Dora exclaimed suddenly, catching Harry off-guard again. "Pull out that book so we can look up your friend! I wanna know what she is!"

Andromeda pursed her lips and glanced at Ted, who merely shrugged. "How about you two go to the living room so Andromeda and I can clean up here?"

Dora didn't hesitate to snatch Harry's wrist and practically drag him—he barely managed to pick up his serpent friend as he was yanked from his chair—to the living room. He had totally forgotten the book on the table, but he was surprised to find that Dora had apparently snagged it along with his wrist.

She sat him down at the couch and plopped herself right next to him with the thick book in her lap. Harry cringed when he realized how close they were—he was not used to people getting this close to him unless they were trying to beat him senseless. His body tensed up on that conditioned reflex.

Dora apparently picked up on that because she had only opened the book up halfway when she paused and glanced at him, frowning slightly. "Is something the matter?"

Harry was subconsciously leaning away from her and barely managed to stutter. "I-I um…"

"What?" She tilted her head in confusion. Harry froze when Dora leaned her face closer to him, perhaps to hear him better.

"…Too close…" The words escaped his mouth in a shaky breath.

"Oh!" Dora's eyes widened and she quickly scooted away to the far side of the couch—giving Harry lots of room to feel more comfortable. "Sorry! Didn't know you were claustrophobic!"

That wasn't nearly enough to describe how he felt about people getting so close in Harry's opinion, but it would do for now so long as she realized he needed the distance. There was no way he was going to tell her exactly why he didn't like being close to people—no chance in hell, no sir—so he would let her assume that he just didn't want people getting that close to him.

He relaxed just slightly as the amber-eyed serpent, who had coiled herself around his arm, slithered over his neck and let her tongue gently flick his cheek. She hadn't retaliated against Dora since the girl realized her mistake so quickly. Harry didn't mind animals getting this close—animals never hurt him. They had always been the ones to help him. Brief touches from people were…okay. He was slowly getting better about those.

But being pressed up against someone? Absolutely not. It was too early for that.

Dora chewed her lip thoughtfully for a moment before she lit up. "Ah, how about this?"

She placed Scamander's book between them and opened it up, so they could both read it; a good solution given the situation. Dora scanned the glossary while Harry made himself comfortable and the amber-eyed snake settled in his lap where she could look at the book.

"Let's see…aha! Magical Reptiles and Amphibians start on page 237…"

She skipped to the page and then moved on to the chapter that was solely about snakes and serpents. Each animal had a detailed biography with an image of the creature in question, the latter of which moved around the page. Harry regarded each of the creatures eagerly—even if most of them looked nothing like his snake.

There was one snake that was jet-black and had large, silver horns at the base of its skull. Another was literally made of fire and yet another had feathery wings that shimmered with a myriad of colors.

"Horned Serpent…no, there's no mention of them petrifying their prey," he muttered. "Runespoor…also no, she doesn't have three heads…"

"Thank you for stating the obvious," the serpent replied dryly.

He smirked at her while he and Dora continued to scan the book. There were over twenty magical snake species that he knew nothing about—with most of them, he had to read in detail to determine whether or not they were related to the snake in his lap.

They flipped another page and two more pictures of snakes were revealed. One was a bright emerald with a red crest of feathers and ominous yellow eyes, and the other was a cobra with a crossbones pattern on the bottom of its hood. Before either Harry or Dora could begin to read, the amber-eyed snake in his lap hissed at the first image.

Harry stared at her in surprise. "What is it?"

"That's a male," she hissed. The tip of her tail was vibrating aggressively.

He blinked at the picture of the emerald snake with the red crest. "Is that what you are, then?"

Harry wasn't so sure about that. The moving image of the animal looked nothing like his friend aside from the color. The red crest might have been something specific to males, but there was something about those yellow eyes that were just…well, evil. They were a burning, pale gold that looked hungry and cruel—nothing like the soft amber of his friend.

Dora flicked her eyes down to the biography and began to read. "It's called a Basilisk. 'Perhaps the most curious and dangerous of all magical snakes, the Basilisk is a snake born from a ritual consisting of placing a chicken egg beneath a toad. It is known as the King of the Serpents and can reach lengths of up to fifty feet long, in addition to possessing one of the most lethal venoms in the wizarding world. What makes the Basilisk unique among snakes is its ability to kill anyone who looks directly into its eyes, although it is said that looking indirectly will petrify a person.'"

Harry and Dora stared at the snake, who flicked her tongue at them. "Well, don't look so surprised. My eyes aren't that strong, yet."

"She probably can't kill anyone with her eyes yet because of her age," Harry murmured. Dora eyed the serpent warily, but nodded. She began to read again.

"'The Basilisk's scales are tough like dragon hide and repel most offensive magic. The male is said to have a red crest upon its head, although this is merely speculation since no live Basilisk has been seen in well over a hundred years.'"

"That's what you think," Harry joked.

Dora grinned. "'Given its dangerous abilities and tendency to be used by dark wizards, the Basilisk is classified as a XXXXX Magical Creature the highest and most lethal rank amongst all magical beasts. It's said that the Basilisk answers to now one but Parselmouths, or those few wizards who are born with the ability to speak with snakes.' Well, that explains why she listens to you. 'Because of its aggressive temperament and killing capabilities, the breeding of Basilisks has been banned since medieval times. The only man known to have successfully controlled a Basilisk was a founder of Hogwarts, Salazar Slytherin.'"

She leaned back and stared at the snake in his lap. "A XXXXX Class Magical Beast? That's crazy. That's up there on the danger scale with some kinds of dragons."

"Well, what did you expect?" The serpent huffed as she tilted her chin up arrogantly. "Some common worm?"

Harry was focused on a different detail. If the information in this book was true- and he had no reason to believe otherwise—then it was illegal to create a Basilisk. And although Harry really didn't care if he got into trouble for creating her, he was anxious about what would happen to her.

The wizarding world did not want her to even exist. What would they do now that she did?

He stiffened as he realized why Kingsley and McGonagall had been so uptight about his friend despite tolerating her. Would they try to take her away from him once he got to Hogwarts? What if he had to leave her behind when he went to school and someone tried to get rid of her?

No. He wouldn't let them touch her. She was his friend. She had saved his life. He didn't care if she was illegal—they could shove it if they tried to hurt so much as a scale on her head.

"Harry?"

His head jerked up when Dora snapped her fingers to get his attention. She was watching him with a confused look. "You good?"

"Um, yeah," he replied. "Cheery."

If she realized he was just saying that to cover his troubled state, Dora didn't say anything. Instead, she closed the book and grinned at Harry, mischief twinkling in her eyes. "Say, why don't I tell you about two of my best friends at Hogwarts? I think you'll love them—greatest pranksters there are. I'll even introduce you when we get to school."

He was grateful for the distraction and Harry couldn't help but let the worries leave his mind as he eagerly listened to Dora about their soon-to-be shared school. Yes, he had a feeling he wouldn't mind getting to know the two great pranksters she called Fred and George. Gryffindor's twin-tacular masters of mischief, she dubbed them.

Oh yes, Hogwarts was sounding more appealing by the second.