That idiot Lockhart has asked me to be his assistant while we show the students how to duel properly. As if he could ever duel properly, I think. That imbecile knows nothing, about dueling or anything else for that matter. Honestly, who in their right mind releases Cornish pixies in their classroom to a group of inexperienced students? He obviously is beyond all levels of sanity.

I draw in another deep breath as I stand off to the side. I glance around the large gathering of students. My dark eyes quickly find the horrid black messy hair. I quietly growl under my breath before glancing at the other students.

Why did I ever agree to protect that horrid brat? He only shares L—his mother’s eyes. The rest of him, though, is his bastard father. Seconds later, I sigh again. Perhaps I am being too harsh. The boy is at least trying to learn defense. My dark eyes then narrow into slits as I concentrate on the boy. However, it is most likely due to him wishing to duel Malfoy. Yes, taking after your father, are we, Potter? Well, I will make damn sure that you do not. I refuse to protect a conceited child that believes he is above all consequences, especially you, Potter. Try it, and you will suffer. Oh, how I will see to that. I assure you of that, Potter. My mouth waters in anticipation for the lecture I have for the boy.

Ah, wonderful, that idiot Lockhart is introducing me to the rest of the crowd. As if the morons cannot already guess that I am your assistant, Lockhart, I sneer in my mind. Oh, but do tell them again, though. It does take some of these buffoons awhile to catch on. My dark eyes then feel the familiar green eyes on me. I quickly glance towards the small Gryffindor boy whom I have sworn to protect. Serves you right, Potter, I think amusedly when I notice the boy’s disappointment.

A few minutes later, WHAT, I think angrily. I never said that, you imbecile! I have quite the level of experience in dueling. Perhaps I should show you just how much, Lockhart. I clench my teeth tightly as I hold back a spell and wait patiently for the signal to begin. I don’t have to wait long.

Ha! I think as I watch Lockhart fly backwards before slamming against the far wall. Yes, Lockhart, you surely could tell what I was going to do. Imbecile, I growl. Potter could do better than that, and that is saying something.

A few minutes pass by after Lockhart allows the students to pair up and duel. I watch in complete silence as spells fly in numerous directions. I look on in pure amusement. Complete and utter failure yet again, Lockhart, I think. I must commend you. In all her years of teaching here, not even Aurora Sinistra has caused this much destruction before. I then sigh softly as I watch him try to regain control. It doesn’t take long, unfortunately.

Ah, wonderful, the idiot agrees with my decision of Malfoy and Potter dueling. The two are of equal caliber in skill and speed. I draw in another deep breath as I look on. The two morons are not following directions, yet again. However, that is not a surprise. It is Potter and Malfoy, after all.

I then look on in utter annoyance when Draco conjures a serpent out of his wand. I taught it to you once, and now you wish to use it. Imbeciles, the whole lot, I think before walking towards it to take care of the conjured snake. However, of course, one must take into account that I work with a complete moron who goes by the name of Gilderoy Lockhart. He tries to banish it, but only manages to aggravate it even more. My mouth then drops as I hear the hisses in front of me. The sounds are not from the snake, but the Gryffindor boy.Potter…? But…I…how…what? I listen further in pure fascination and slight horror. The emotions behind my Occlumency barriers are starting to crack. No…you can’t…you can’t be the heir! I refuse to believe that you, the son of Lily Evans, can be the heir of Slytherin. No! You are the son of Lily Evans, a woman full of love and kindness…and goodness. You…you are not…you are not the heir of Slytherin. I refuse to believe it.

However, Harry Potter, the young second-year Gryffindor, continues hissing at the snake in perfect Parseltongue. I cannot deny it any longer now. Somehow, Slytherin blood flows through his veins. He belongs in my house. He belongs to Slytherin. I draw in a deep breath. He belongs with me.

This shall be interesting, I muse quietly. I then destroy the conjured snake and stare at the confused boy. Perhaps there is hope yet for us, Potter…no…no…Harry. You are Harry, not Potter. My dark eyes then narrow on his confusion. You do not realize your gift, do you? How fascinating, but it matters not. You belong with me, Harry. You are a serpent in lion’s clothing.

I stalk towards the horrid statue that guards Dumbledore’s office. I sneer the password to it and roll my eyes at the stupidity of the password. Acid pops, honestly, who would ever make his password ‘acid pops’? I then walk up the staircase, but stop at the top when I hear quiet talking in the office. Unfortunately, my hearing being like a bat picks up every word. Dumbledore is talking to someone about Harry’s living environment.

He wants me to do WHAT? There is no way I…Harry needs guidance and discipline. I surely cannot give him that. For one, my temper will hinder anything that I do. For two, whenever I look at him, I feel my need of revenge against his father and guilt for his mother. Either way, you look at it. A definite deadly combination is sadly going to follow.

Then again, there is that main blasted reason I would be the worst choice to be his mentor. I have a black stain on my soul, one that is both literal and figurative. Honestly, he already thinks of me as being in league with the Dark Lord. If he ever learns the truth, I will never be able to protect him properly. Though, I nearly failed last year and he doesn’t know. The boy needs a bloody collar. I then sigh again.

The door opens then and I step out of the way. The man glances at me, but walks past me without saying a word. I walk into the office and nod towards Dumbledore. He is wearing the same pensive expression as earlier. Then again, if I have been scheming as much as he has only to learn of this…interesting development, I too would be looking like that.

Slytherins are schemers by definition, which is odd that Dumbledore, a known Gryffindor, would be such a schemer. However, the man is a master manipulator. After all, he easily manipulated me into protecting the son of my childhood bully. Of course, I had been suffering from massive guilt since it was I who relayed that prophecy and he used that to his advantage just like a perfect Slytherin.

Perhaps the Sorting Hat was mistaken to sort him in Gryffindor. Then again, the old coot keeps thinking that I should be in Gryffindor. While the idea is horrifying, it would have made certain things easier in the past. No…I cannot go down that path. I sigh heavily. However, it is going down that path that made me like this in the first place.

Slytherin is a noble house. We receive a bad reputation, however, by the other houses because of one bad apple. Granted, I played right into the stereotype with my being a former Death Eater, but not all Slytherins chose the darkness. I sigh again as a name floods my mind. Yes, you immediately chose the Order, didn’t you, Sinistra? Darkness always drew you in, but you always pushed it away as if you knew. My eyes then roll at my next thought. The stars perhaps told you, didn’t they? And the students call me a bat. Perhaps they should look at the two witches in their towers.

Dumbledore calmly interrupts my thoughts with a soft speech of how I am not to be so lax in my duties anymore. It is not as if I have wanted Harry to speak perfect Parseltongue to me in front of the entire student body. I have been quite content with him being the good little Gryffindor he has been. Granted, sometimes I wish the horrid child stops breaking every rule in the book, but he gets that from his father. I cannot blame him for that. Just as I cannot blame a Weasley for being a Weasley, no matter how bad I wish I could.

I do not reply to Dumbledore as he continues his lecture. After all, what is there left for me to say? I then glance towards the fireplace. It is my favorite diversionary tactic because I know how much annoys him. Granted, we both know that I am listening from years of experience, but I give him half the attention he deserves. Perhaps it is disrespectful. However, years with my father have taught me this tactic, and it always works.

Dumbledore then finishes his soliloquy. Finally, I am able to say the one thing that has been on my mind ever since the first hiss from Harry’s lips. I draw in a deep breath before I speak. As I speak, he peers over his half-moon spectacles at me. The twinkling blue eyes make another appearance.

You mock me? I hiss in my mind. I respond to you, and you mock me? You just said the boy needs someone there for him. I cannot give that, but I can teach him the ways of defense. I am rather skilled in that regards. I also, unfortunately, have intimate knowledge of the Dark Lord. Harry needs that information. We both know this, Dumbledore. I will not be his mentor in the regards that I listen to the utter drivel of his horrid teenage life, but I will show him how to protect himself. After all, I have tied myself to his life. It is in my best interest to do so.

The only words I speak, though, are that I cannot do as he asks. I cannot be Harry’s friend or person he counts on emotionally. I barely do it on my own. The twinkling blue eyes quickly disappear and the cold ice eyes stare at me. I immediately feel as if I am a second-year again. Unfortunately, I have spent a lot of time in this office. So with that look from him now I am back there. Some of it has been for official Order business, while most have been due to my frequent run-ins with the Marauders back in my schooldays. Only twice have I ever felt afraid in this place. Both times have been in Dumbledore’s foreboding presence. Now again I feel this way. However, unlike my school years I know how to react responsibly now, though. Case in point, I turn around and walk out of the office. My parting words before the door shuts are “You may have won with him being sorted into Gryffindor, but I know. I know that Harry’s true house is Slytherin.” My eyes then level on him. “My house,” I say as the door shuts.

There is only one other person in this castle who argues with me more than Sinistra. Unfortunately, that would be a head of a rival house. I then sigh softly as I say Minerva McGonagall. There isn’t scorn in my voice. We don’t necessarily really dislike each other. However, just as I have my role to play with Harry, I play one with Minerva for the good of Hogwarts. It breeds competition for the both of us. If they knew, if anyone knew the truth, it would be dangerous for all of us at Hogwarts. After all, the Dark Lord had managed to breach the castle’s defenses last year somehow. Who is to say that he won’t try something again this year?

The truth is that since I started to work here, Minerva and I have had a close relationship. While it is sometimes very frustrating for her to treat me as if I am her son, I will admit there is a part of me that craves that attention. She is still strict with me, of course. In fact, there is numerous times where we argue over my treatment of her little Lions. She believes that I am being too harsh on them. If she believes that, then she should see how I treat the Hufflepuffs. However, we always walk away with the argument settled. Unfortunately, she wins most of the time, but only because I feel a tad bit uncomfortable arguing with a woman who has nursed me back to health so many times. In addition, the woman acts as if she is my mother outside of school. Arguing with your mother or maternal-like witch is not in anyone’s favor. Trust me. I know. I have the curse marks on my shoulder blade to prove it.

I sigh heavily as I walk up to the portrait of Godric Gryffindor who guards Minerva’s quarters. The Founder glances at me, but says nothing. I announce my reason for being there, and the door opens a few seconds later. I quietly walk in and sigh. Nothing like walking into the lioness’s den, I think.

I spot Minerva sitting in her crimson and gold colored recliner. Her eyes are watching me as if trying to figure out my mood. Yes, do try to figure out my mood, Minerva. You will lose. I hold back my anxiousness and slight annoyance. She softly bows her head towards me in acknowledgment.

Minerva asks me why I am there. I simply state back to her Harry’s name. Her green eyes instantly widen in surprise. I then further explain what I have learned over the past few days. For example, how Harry spoke perfect Parseltongue in the Great Hall. She has already heard this once, but I tell her again. She needs to understand. I then notice her green eyes quickly dart away. I know that look in her eyes. She has worn it around me for the past twelve years. She is ashamed of him displaying that rare talent of his in front of the entire student body and scared for him having it. Yes, most witches and wizards automatically conclude that if a wizard speaks Parseltongue, then he is evil. It is not always the case, though. Salazar Slytherin was not evil, and he had the same rare ability that he passed on.

However, there are those in the Wizarding World who would argue with me on the point of whether Slytherin was evil or not. Granted, choosing which students are worthy to be in Slytherin based on their blood purity may be evil, but it is for good reason. Half bloods such as me are not nearly strong enough magically speaking as purebloods. We have a certain frailty in us from our horrid Muggle side. If I had known how it was possible, I would complete the ancient ritual to purify my blood and finally rid myself of my bastard father’s blood that flows through my veins at once.

Minerva calmly tells me that she is aware of the situation. You are aware. Hmm…I should be oh so grateful that you are aware, Minerva, I sneer in my mind. Perhaps I should conjure you an award for that statement. I then inhale and slowly shake my head. She replies quietly to me that I should not act as if I was a child, but act like the man I am. The man I am, I reply in my thoughts. And just what man do you believe me to be, Minerva? I am not any different than I was this morning.

I calmly state to Minerva that Harry belongs in my house. She does not listen, though, which I have expected. He is her bright shining star in the sea of black holes. However, I lay out my argument logically to her. Logic has never failed me before when I have been in similar situations. Granted, in those cases, I need not to have argued with the maternal figure in my life before, but I know that I am ready for nearly every single anticipated rebuttal from her. That is why when she calmly replies with a simple ‘of course, he is yours,’ the air quickly flees my lungs. I stare at her for what seems to be hours, but is truthfully merely seconds. She then softly tells me that she is going to complete the necessary paperwork and speak with Albus so that Harry is resorted into my house. I, in a drunken-like state, turn around and stumble back out of Minerva’s quarters. The serpent is returning to his rightful house. For a split second, my lips curl upwards without my knowing of it. Welcome home, Harry, I think.

Perhaps this is not my wisest idea I’ve ever had. Apprehension flows through every vein as I pace back and forth in front of my fireplace waiting. Minerva has informed me earlier that she has completed the necessary paperwork. Unfortunately, she and Albus both have decided that for my punishment of ruining their plans, I have to be the one to tell the boy, which is why I am here now pacing manically in my figurative cage.

It takes awhile for me to recognize the soft tapping at my door. He’s here. I draw in a breath before I answer the knock with a low growl to the boy to enter. The door slowly opens before Harry walks in. Judging by the look on his face, I can see that he’s not going to be as happy about this situation as I am. It is understandable, though. I have been rather harsh and unfair towards him. However, that has changed now. He is in my house now as it should have been from the very beginning if a certain headmaster had remained neutral.

I motion towards Harry that he may sit down. He only glares at me before finally taking a seat . I sense the anger and slight fear in his stance. His posture practically screams at me that he hates the idea of being in the same room with me. Yes, well, I have never had things come to me easily. Why should I expect this to be any different?

I calmly and bluntly state that he’s been resorted into my house. I am unprepared for the backlash of that simple statement. Harry stares at me for a moment before laughing hysterically. I watch him for a few minutes as the laughter slowly subsides. Yes, he is so like Lily. I softly then inform him that I am not jesting. The boy’s laughter ceases instantly and the familiar green eyes turn into daggers. I do not allow him to get a word in edgewise. I immediately enlighten him that the Headmaster and his former Head of House both have agreed to my request. Within seconds, I feel the built up energy surrounding the boy. I quickly cast a non-verbal shield around Harry and myself. After all, I am not stupid. I know precisely what will occur if I bring Harry into the Hospital Wing with cuts and bruises. Poppy Pomfrey will be the least of my troubles after Minerva and Albus get through with me. However, seconds later, Harry stand up and storms out of my office. Well, that could have gone better, I think.