The next morning Harry's arm was back to normal, even if a bit stiff, and Madame Pomfrey released him after nearly forcing an unwanted bowl of porridge down his throat. Harry dutifully swallowed the thick, bland goop as quickly as he could, his stomach roiling all the while and his eyes darting consistently towards the bed he knew Colin was lying on, stiff as a statue and dead to the world... maybe. Probably. Petrified people couldn't hear, could they? Certainly couldn't see, right? Honestly, how could anyone think about eating after seeing that? It had been bad enough when the victim was Mrs. Norris, but a person...

Nearly running to the common room, he was greatly disappointed when neither Ron nor Hermione were there. He'd thought they'd be interested to know whether or not his bones had grown back properly, but apparently something was more important. Now he had to wait to tell them about Colin and Dobby.

Turning to leave (why bother staying when the people he wanted weren't there), Harry took a moment to pause and think, wondering if he should even mention seeing Dobby at all. He wanted to let them know it was the little elf who had fixed the Bludger, yes, but at the same time, he didn't want them to know what the crazy thing had said about Professor Jenkins. It seemed terribly wrong to sully the man's good name when Dobby had obviously been confused or just plain insane. Anyone with a brain could tell the professor was a genuinely kind, good man.

Much like previous times before, Harry was standing in front of said man's office door almost before he realized his feet had taken him somewhere. Not hesitating this time, the boy reached up to knock, hearing the cheerful, "Come in," only seconds later. Another minute and he was comfortably slouched in his personalized red and gold armchair, prattling on endlessly to the smiling man about everything and yet nothing important. Finally, he tentatively admitted to having spotted Colin in the Hospital Wing last night. Jenkins concerned frown didn't surprise him, and after hashing it all out with the older man he felt much better about it all. It was horrible, yes, but Colin wasn't dead. Being Petrified meant he could be revived with time, and with Professor Sprout working on the Mandrakes, there was no doubt Colin would be right as rain soon enough.

Sighing softly and truly feeling like an odd weight had lifted off his chest, Harry said, "Thanks, professor. Guess I needed to talk with someone more than I thought."

Jenkins waved him off benignly. "Once again, Harry, it's never any trouble talking with you."

The boy understood the words, of course, but he had trouble truly coming to terms with them in his mind. He'd spent his whole childhood being told he was a burden, so to have someone now show such interest in his mundane worries and problems was almost too much to comprehend. No one just did something for him and expected nothing in return; especially adults. "I just wish there was something I could do for you, professor. After everything you've been doing for me."

The man's eyes lit up, his smile morphed to something a bit more... triumphant, and he swallowed thickly, Harry watching the bobbing of his throat with interest and a bit of apprehension. "Now, Harry, you know that really isn't necessary. You hardly owe me for doing my duty as a professor... However, you're such a good boy, extending such an offer. I'll keep it in mind, all right?"

Grinning stupidly after the praise and congratulating himself for doing something right, Harry nodded vigorously in agreement. "All right. Anything you want, sir, really, and I'll do it for you. Just ask."

Jenkins laughed lightly, though it sounded different than usual. Huskier, deeper. "Oh, don't worry, Harry. I will."

-Perverted-

The brat was positively incorrigible! He was a menace, a blight on society, an absolute scoundrel of a child. How dare he throw anything, let alone an explosive into a cauldron in Snape's classroom; and after he'd already been caught with that snail's shell earlier in the year. He doubted even James Potter would have the gall to pull such a stunt as a second year.

Still seething, Severus sunk down into his office chair, truly unsure of what he should do. He couldn't prove it had been the horrid little brat, so he therefore couldn't get the boy in any real trouble like he deserved. He could, of course, give him detention again, but loathe as he was to admit it, that no longer seemed to be working. Really he suspected the boy just needed a few good hidings, and he'd gladly be the one to administer them if Albus wouldn't kill him for it. Not because he'd struck the golden boy, of course, but because the manipulative old man liked Potter just the way he was and would be quite upset with anything threatening to change him. As far as he could see, the child was turning into the perfect tool to defeat the Dark Lord; brave, reckless, and malleable enough to be open to the Headmaster's every 'suggestion'. Severus was personally rather disinclined to agree (it would take knowledge and cunning to defeat such an evil wizard, not just noble intentions and blind obedience), but it's not as if his opinion really mattered for anything; and that was really the biggest obstacle, wasn't it? How much could he alone truly make Potter change when every other adult around him was intent on keeping him as he already was? He knew he had more influence over the brat than the child would ever like to admit, but he was not that powerful. If things remained the way they were, Potter would forever remain his father's clone... no matter what efforts he made towards the opposite.

The very thought grated harshly on the man's nerves. Loathe as he was to admit it, Potter actually had some potential. With a bit of effort, he could easily turn out to be a decent human being; but instead he was a troublemaker, a perpetual thorn in Severus' side. It was unfortunately beginning to look as though that was the way things would always be. He had set out at the beginning of the year to change Potter into something at least mildly better, more tolerable, and here it was not even Christmas and he'd failed. He didn't know why this was so important to him, but it was, maybe because a small part of him both knew and acknowledged that the child was Lily's as well James'. Maybe in a way it was almost like failing her all over again. Maybe it would be easier to simply go back to blindly hating the brat instead.

That was why a week later, at that ridiculous excuse of a Dueling Club, putting up with Lockhart's egotistical posturing and Jenkins kindly smiling at children trying to hex the shite out of each other, he had absolutely no qualms over telling Draco to set that snake on the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Disappoint. He'd only intended to scare the brat, a little payback for all his efforts the past few months going to waste. Had he known about Potter's unusual talent, he may very well have done things a bit differently.

In fact, when Jenkins stepped forward to hurry the boy from the Hall, the dark whispers and glares following as he went, Severus was surprised to find himself actually feeling a bit guilty over it all.

Just a bit, of course.

-Contorted-

"Professor." Harry panted a bit as he attempted to keep up with Jenkins' long strides, the man's hand still clamped firmly onto the back of his robes. "Professor, what—"

"Don't worry, Harry, everything will be just fine," the man assured him, not even looking down as he spoke but still moving rapidly upwards in the castle. "We'll get this all sorted out in no time, just relax."

That was the problem, Harry didn't know what it was that needed sorted. He didn't understand what all the fuss was about; and he certainly didn't understand why Justin had run from him again. Malfoy had been the one to conjure that snake up, not him. All he'd done was help him, didn't they see that?

Harry didn't need to be fully aware of his surroundings to know he was being taken once again up to the Astronomy professor's office high in one of the castle towers. For a brief moment he actually felt relieved when he was ushered inside and pushed to sit down on his armchair. The feeling only lasted a moment, however, before, rather than rounding his desk as usual, Jenkins sat on the edge of his desk, leaning forward so he could grip Harry's shoulders tightly with both hands. The boy was startled to see how downright worried the man looked.

"Harry," he started out in a low voice, "why did you do that in front of everyone like that? Was it an accident?"

Frustration and confusion welling up in him like a geyser about to explode, he all but yelled, "Do what? What did I do that was so wrong? Malfoy made the stupid snake, not me, I just told it to leave off Justin so—"

"Yes yes, Harry, I know," the man placated quickly, giving the thin shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "I'm not saying you did anything wrong, lad, but you really did give everyone quite a shock. Why did you let them all know you were a Parselmouth? Were you that concerned about your friend?"

Harry blinked, still not quite understanding, but at least they were getting somewhere now. "Sorry, a Parsel-what?"

"Parselmouth," Jenkins repeated slowly, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline. "Oh dear, you don't have the faintest idea what I'm talking about. Poor boy, no wonder you're so confused... Harry," he leaned closer to peer directly into the boy's eyes, "you can talk to snakes."

Oh, Harry thought, that. "Well yeah, I know. I accidentally let one loose on my cousin and his friend at the zoo once— Once," he added hastily, seeing the man's obvious distress. "He didn't hurt them or anything, they were just being a pair of gits and the Boa was talking about how it wanted to see Brazil, then the glass on its tank just sort of—"

"Harry," the man interrupted hastily, smile in place even if it was a bit shaky. Like he found Harry's rambling positively endearing, not childish and stupid. "I'm hardly worried over a bit of accidental magic."

Harry let out a small sigh of relief, wishing the Dursleys had been so understanding back when it had actually happened.

"The point of all this is that you, my boy, have the rare ability to talk to snakes."

Nodding absently, the pre-teen casually went on, "Yeah, they're actually not so bad to talk to. I mean, I only had one real conversation with one once though, this past summer actually when I was weeding the garden. I thought I heard a voice, but no one was around, then I saw this little... green..." Two and two finally decided to make four in the young boy's mind. "That's why everyone was upset in the Hall, wasn't it? Because I'm a Parsel-thing."

"Parselmouth. Yes, Harry, that's why everyone got so upset."

The boy nodded dismally, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole. He'd never really paid much attention to his snake-speaking abilities, once he found out he had magic he'd just assumed it was... well, part of his magic. He didn't realize it was rare, that most people couldn't do it the way he could. Just something else to make him a freak, no matter which world he was in. "Sir... why does it bother everyone so much? I mean, it's not like it hurts anything so..."

"Ah." Jenkins had finally leaned back a bit and now fiddled distractedly with the pocket of his robes, obviously buying for time. "Well you see, Harry, people often have prejudices against certain things, and quite often they're completely unfounded really. You shouldn't worry over..." The man trailed off, gave Harry a long, searching look, then seemed to deflate, all false enthusiasm leaving his figure at once. "Harry, do you know why the symbol of Slytherin house is a snake?"

The boy made a face at that, brows drawn low over green eyes. He'd never given much thought over why any of the houses had their particular animals. That seemed more like something Hermione would one day get curious about and ponder over. "Well, it sort of makes sense, doesn't it, sir? Especially with people like Snape and Malfoy there... Though," now that he thought back a year, "when I first heard the traits for Slytherin, I sort of thought it sounded like a fox. You know, cunning, resourceful... even ambitious really. I guess snakes are like that too but..." He shrugged. Okay, so maybe he had given it a bit of unconscious thought after all.

"Indeed, I'd have to agree with you on that one," Jenkins said cheerfully, nodding all the while. "A fox is quite descriptive of most of the true Slytherins I've met. However... there is a specific reason their animal is a snake, Harry."

How did he know this wasn't going to be good.

"You see, Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth. He also had the ability to speak to snakes. Ran in his family from what I recall."

Harry let his eyes fall shut in pure horror. Of course. Salazar Slytherin, as in the founder of Slytherin House, as in the person who supposedly built the Chamber of Secrets, as in... "Everyone's going to think I'm his descendant now, aren't they?"

The man laughed, though it sounded a bit strained. "Harry, he lived over a thousand years ago. I could be his descendant for all I know... but yes. That is most likely the rumor that will start to circulate."

With an angry snort, Harry let himself fall bonelessly back into his chair, lips a thin, white line. "It's already been circulating. Now it'll just get worse."

A comforting hand fell on his head to card softly through his hair. "They're all just rumors, Harry. You shouldn't pay them any attention."

Frowning and lowering his eyes as he picked idly at the skin around his thumbnail, Harry tried to simply accept the professor's words and ignore this whole mess until it blew over. There was no reason to worry about it... only... *"Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that—"* He still remembered those words whispered in his ear as though it were only yesterday. They had actually bothered him ever since he first heard them, and now that awful, nagging feeling only got worse. What if... "Professor... do you think all Slytherins are bad?"

Jenkins paused, the hand in the boy's hair tightening just a little to tilt the dark head back, allowing him to look directly into worried green eyes. "Bad, dear?"

Completely missing the term of endearment, Harry rushed on breathlessly, "Yeah, bad. Y'know, dark. Like—" Like Voldemort.

Still looking a bit perplexed, the older man took a long moment to study Harry carefully, eyes sharper than the boy had ever seen them. Like he was internally debating over something before they softened as he came to a conclusion. "Well, Harry, that certainly is the stereotype, isn't it? And stereotypes do typically come into existence with a grain of truth." His eyes looked the boy up and down once more. "The problem with stereotypes is that they have this nasty habit of lumping an entire group of people together and acting as if they're all of one mind; which I hope you've learned by now, is absolutely impossible. Not everyone adheres to the typical behaviors of their peers, and not any two people are exactly the same. Why, I'm sure even your friends the Weasley twins have their slight differences."

Harry smiled a bit at the thought of Fred and George, how they were identical in nearly every way until you got to know them. Then you realized Fred's voice was just ever so slightly higher than his brother's and George had a habit of biting his nails that his twin had never indulged in, that Fred's favorite color was actually blue while George's was green... things like that. "So you're saying..."

Jenkins smiled softly. "Let me put it this way, Harry; I'm well aware of the stereotypes surrounding all the houses, so I'm quite well-versed in the fact that Hufflepuffs are seen as weak, dim-witted poofs. Correct?"

The boy blushed pink, having heard those same things himself more than once. A lot more. "I never thought that, sir. Really."

"Ah, perhaps not, but I'm sure plenty of your Gryffindor friends have. Mr. Weasley, perhaps?"

Pink quickly became deep red. Oh yeah, Ron had said that plenty of times after a Puff had done something that seemed particularly daft or overly sensitive. As much as the red-head tended to act with animosity toward Slytherin, he tended to look down his nose at the badgers. It was a trait Harry neither shared nor encouraged. "S'pose so."

"Now now, child, don't fret, it's nothing I didn't already know. I myself was in Hufflepuff, so I'm well-aware of why this particular stereotype came about. It can quite often be at least partially true."

Harry choked trying to hold back a snort.

"However," the man continued, eyes alight with laughter, "there are always exceptions to the rules. For instance, throughout all seven years of my schooling here, I had the great privilege of claiming the top marks of my year, every time, beating out every other house including Ravenclaw. I assure you, it caused quite the stir, me being from the 'slow' house and all. Much like how I'm sure most people first reacted to your friend Miss Granger's breaking the 'more brawn than brains' stereotype typically associated with Gryffindor."

Inner-Harry let out a long, slow whistle. Impressive. He'd had no idea Professor Jenkins was so smart. "Except being Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor, you were much more modest about it, of course," the boy answered cheekily, earning himself a fond smile.

"Of course; and I'll furthermore have you know, that just because someone prefers to avoid a fight rather than engage in it, doesn't mean they can't give their fair share of blows when the time comes. Today's Auror program is filled with graduates of Hufflepuff house, second only to you brave Gryffindors, obviously, and the current head of the Aurors was a Hufflepuff herself."

Harry nodded, truly not needing anymore examples to know where the man was going with all of this, though from the look on the professor's face, he had an entire list. "Saying all Slytherins are dark is really stupid, isn't it, Professor? Saying all anyone is anything is stupid." Meaning that just because he could have been a snake didn't make him in any way a bad person. It really had been a rather daft thing to think. Just because people like Snape and Malfoy were gits didn't mean everyone in silver and green was. That Daphne Greengrass girl seemed downright pleasant most of the time. And Theo Nott was all right, so long as none of the other Slytherin boys were around. He'd even seen that mini-troll Marcus Flint protecting some of the little Slytherin first years in his status as a prefect, so if nothing else, they seemed to at least often take care of each other. With the looks some of the Gryffindors had been giving him lately, he'd really appreciate a little house loyalty like that. "Thank you, sir."

The hand still resting comfortably atop the pile of messy hair gave it one last pat before falling to the man's side. "Not a problem, my boy. These house rivalries seem harmless enough, but I often wonder if its truly healthy to foster so much unrest between the students. Especially when it follows them on into adulthood."

Harry got a sudden flash of Goyle attempting to share office space with Ron twenty years in the future where his red-headed friend throws a fit because the walls are painted green, accusing a very confused Goyle of being biased. The whole picture sent him into a rather hysterical fit of giggles. "Y-yes, sir. I see what you mean." And on a more serious note, he did. He remembered the way Mr. Weasley and Lucius Malfoy had acted towards each other— though that likely had to do with quite a bit more than mere 'house rivalries'.

"As for Slytherin, I can see why you would be wary of them, and I do understand. Besides your known... animosity with several of its current members, it is true that it produces more dark witches and wizards than any other house. Any guesses as to why that might be?"

Harry stared stupidly. There was a reason? Immediately after thinking that, he felt like whacking himself on the head; of course there was a reason, there was a reason for everything, wasn't there? Now Slytherin... a lot of them came from dark families, didn't they, like Malfoy? That would certainly count against them because children emulated their authority figures, like Dudley with Uncle Vernon; but then that would just mean those particular traits had been passed down from generation to generation, and there had to be a reason it'd all started in the first place. So what was it about Slytherins that made them turn dark to start with?

"Ambition." Not knowing where exactly the answer had come from but dead sure he was right, Harry looked confidently towards the professor, smiling a little at what he deemed a sudden bout of cleverness. "Slytherins are known for their ambition. When you're ambitious, you'll often do anything to get what you want; and if turning dark will get you further faster..." It all made sense with a sudden, startling clarity. The characteristics of what made up a Slytherin, ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness left them especially vulnerable to turning dark; but... "That doesn't mean ambition's always bad, though. If you don't have any, it's not likely you'll get very far in life, definitely won't get to the top. It only becomes bad when you let it get too far out of hand." Slytherins weren't born dark, they simply chose to let the darkness overtake them in a bid for power and success; an easy trap to fall into. Harry could easily be part Slytherin and still be good. It all depended on what he chose to do. "I understand now."

Jenkins was looking both startled and immensely pleased. "Yes, Harry, I really think you do. Forgive me for saying this, but that alone breaks house stereotypes right there. Gryffindors are often known for being too stubborn and set in their own ways to truly see things from a different point of view so clearly." His smile turned sly. "Must have a bit of Hufflepuff in you, eh?"

Knowing he was being given a compliment (the man had already said he'd been a badger himself), Harry flushed and looked down at his lap with a goofy grin. He really liked it when he made the professor happy... though his smile faded when he remembered once again why he was even there. "When I go back they're all going to stare at me. Talk behind my back. Even some of the other Gryffindors."

Jenkins faced crumpled with empathy, and Harry was surprised to find himself suddenly engulfed by a pair of deceptively strong arms, held tight against a broad chest while one hand came up to stroke through his hair. "Oh, Harry, really, don't you pay them any mind. They don't have any idea what they're talking about, you know that."

Harry had frozen the moment the man went to touch him. What was going on? He was... being hugged? But that couldn't be right, people, adults didn't hug him, only Mrs. Weasley, and that hadn't been anything like this. This type of contact was reserved for other children, normal children, not him. No one had ever... It... it was really nice. It might just be the nicest thing he'd ever experienced before.

"If anyone bothers you, you just come straight up to me," the man went on, pulling the boy tighter against him. "It doesn't matter what anyone says, I know you, Harry. You're my good boy, aren't you?"

Harry melted into the professor's arms, tears actually stinging the back of his eyes like hot coals, though he didn't know why. It just felt like his chest was swelling up too big and might burst out through his ribs, up through his throat. He was warm all over. "Yes, sir."

He'd do anything in order to stay Professor Jenkins' good boy. He'd do anything if he kept getting more hugs like this.

-Disfigured-

Interestingly enough, Professor Jenkins' words on how Hufflepuffs could indeed be quite dim-witted at times were proven more than true just the very next day. Harry had gotten himself so worked up over the incident with Justin, Hermione had finally thrown him out of the common room during a canceled Herbology lesson, ordering him to find the other boy and explain everything properly. When he saw the group of second-year Hufflepuffs sitting at the back of the library and had approached them to ask after their missing friend, the distinct sound of his own name caught his attention, forcing him to duck behind the bookshelves and eavesdrop shamelessly. He knew it was a bad habit and all that, but years of surviving at the Dursleys had taught him that sometimes it was better to be rude and safe than polite and hurt... something he was pretty sure was a Slytherin attribute; except that knowledge no longer bothered him as it did before.

So pretending to read over the spines of old, leather-bound tomes and fixing his eyes distantly on the peeling gold letters of Pesky Pixies and Other Winged Pests, he listened to Ernie Macmillan give a long-winded speech about just why Harry was a Dark wizard in the making while the other Puffs ate it up as though it were the gospel truth. Confronting the lot of them did absolutely no good, of course, and clenching both fists and teeth, Harry stormed from the library, pausing in the hall to furiously pace back and forth, not sure what to do. Idiots, the lot of them, especially Macmillan. Why couldn't the damn snake have gone after him last night rather than Justin, because at least Finch-Fletchley wasn't so bloody full of himself.

**"He's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark wizard. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes?"**

That wasn't true. Being a Parselmouth just usually ran within the Slytherin line, and Slytherins were more likely to go bad than others; but being Slytherin itself didn't make you bad. Being a Parselmouth didn't make you bad.

Harry was not going to turn into a Dark wizard.

Taking a half a dozen steps towards the common room, the boy stopped and abruptly headed in the opposite direction. He really couldn't stand to be around Ron and Hermione right now, Ron with his stuffed-up bravado and "Who cares what a bunch of pansy Puffs say" attitude and Hermione with her constant needling and demanding to know exactly what Harry was thinking when it was something he couldn't put into words even if he tried. No, being around them right then would only serve to drive him mad. He needed to be around someone who instinctively understood, who demanded no explanations, just offered a friendly ear and a safe place to relax.

Ten minutes later he was comfortably slouched in his chair, sipping a cup of calming peppermint tea, relaying the whole story as close to verbatim as he could manage, earning a soft smile and kind eyes the entire time. It wasn't until he rushed down to his next class (Potions, unfortunately) and made it just in time to avoid lost points and a probable detention with the bat that he heard about Justin and Nearly Headless Nick.

Staring agape at his friends, Harry barely even noticed the stares he was getting from nearly everybody in the room. "Petrified? Both of them?"

"Yeah, mate," Ron went on softly, while Hermione just nodded her bushy head next to him. "They were found in the corridor by a bunch of other Puffs. Finch-Fletchley was on the floor'n Nick was... just sorta floating there, I guess."

"Poor Hannah Abbot nearly had a breakdown when she saw it," Hermione whispered, looking mildly horrified herself. "This is really bad. I mean, what happened with Mrs. Norris in the first place was bad enough, but with Colin and now Justin that makes two students who have been attacked. Students." She couldn't seem to wrap her mind around a school where the students weren't properly protected from an obvious threat, and Harry could easily see where she was coming from. Had this been the Muggle world, he'd no doubt the school would have been at least temporarily closed by now until something could be properly done; the wizarding world just seemed to have a different view on what was considered too dangerous and what was acceptable risk. Maybe because magic had an inherent air of danger about it to begin with?

"It's awful," he agreed softly. Still deep in thought, angry and upset he'd never even been able to find Justin and apologize for the scare he'd given him, let the other boy know there had been no ill will behind his actions, he completely missed it when his two best friends shared a look with one another.

"Harry," Hermione started gently, "we should probably tell you... you see—"

"That git Macmillan told everyone how he was just so sure you were the one behind the attack," Ron interjected with a growl, clenching a pale fist on the table. "Said you were looking for Finch-Fletchley right before it happened, then threatened the lot of them in the library."

Brows drawing low over green eyes in a V, Harry bit out, "I was looking for Justin, you know that; and I didn't threaten anyone."

"Well yeah, Harry, we know," the redhead said, looking a little startled at Harry's defensiveness.

"We told everyone we could already," Hermione picked up for him. "It's just some people," here she shot Lavender and Parvati a contemptuous look across the room, "thought it was a bit suspicious you were nowhere to be found."

"Yeah, where'd you go anyway?"

Irrational annoyance set in overtop of the ire he was already feeling, making Harry snap waspishly, "It's none of your business where I was, Ron. I'll go where I please when I please, sorry if that bothers you." Immediately after saying the words, Harry wished he could take them back. Not only because Ron really hadn't deserved that kind of hostility, but also because Snape had chosen that very moment to walk in, making the whole class fall silent and making his petty words stand out loud as a shout. All eyes on him, the Gryffindor flushed, sinking down slightly in his seat and wishing he had his Invisibility Cloak to hide under. Even Snape hadn't taken points, was just observing Harry coolly, much in the same way he had the night before at the Dueling Club. Like Harry was an attraction at a sideshow. The Freak-Who-Lived.

With the way things had been going lately, he was really starting to feel like it.