Ron had been there, too, and he had to use a little kid's broom like Harry did, but Charlie had said -- afterwards, and in private so Ron wouldn't get upset or jealous -- that Harry was the better flier. No one had ever told him he was better at something than someone else. Not ever, even once.
"I'll be a great Quidditch player, Tree," he told the kneazle who kept up with his short strides with ease as they rounded the base of the hill and curled away from the pitch at last. "You'll see."
They did all the exploring they could on the way to Hagrid's, climbing over outcroppings of rock and peering into odd little burrows. It when he was clambering over a bit of slippery stone covered in green, fuzzy moss to get a better look at the queer looking tree nearer to the Forbidden Forest -- Charlie said was a Whomping Willow -- that he heard the voice.
"Watch your ssssstep, walker."
Harry looked all around, but it was Treacle who found the snake. Her ears were laid flat, her tail -- like a lion's Hagrid had told him, with the little puff of fur at the end -- was all bushed out like a bottle brush. She crouched, back end in the air, right between Harry and a pale gray snake with a black zigzag running down the length of its spine and an upside down V on its neck.
Nelli, just behind Harry, sucked in a breath and whispered, "Don't move, Master Harry. Please don't move."
Harry shot her a look, not understanding why not, and shrugged. "Sssorry," Harry told the snake. "I didn't sssee you there."
"You sssspeak?" the snake asked.
"Sssure. Why do you all asssk that?"
The snake's head rose slightly, making Treacle growl low in her throat, but neither of them moved an inch more. "You have ssspoken to one of usss before?"
"Yessss. In the garden of Ssspinner'sss End, and in Ssssurrey." He frowned over the memory of that first snake he'd ever talked to, but shook it away, not wanting to think about it. "Not many of usss speak, huh?"
"You are the firsssst I have encountered, walker. I heard sssstories of another, many hatchingsssss ago."
"Well, nicccce to meet you. My name isss Harry. Not walker."
He was almost sure the snake laughed at that; it's head shook back and forth as it said, "But you walk, yessss?"
"Well, ssssure. I've got legssss." Treacle's hind end was twitching, like she might pounce on the snake, so he said, "No, Tree. Leave the snake be."
She didn't move, but her hind end quit being all wiggly, and Harry relaxed a little.
"Thankssss," the snake said. "Her clawssss look sssharp."
Harry grinned. "They are. Ssshe clingsss great to my ssshirt." He sat down on the rock and pulled some of the leftover toast from breakfast from his pocket. "Want sssome?" he asked, offering a piece to the snake.
Looking over Treacle's head, the snake peered at the browned bread. "Isss it dead?"
Harry laughed. "Nah, well, it'ssss not alive, isss it? It'ssss just bread. Toassst. You put jam on it."
"Not a vole?"
"No, ssssorry. Isss that what you eat, then? Volesss?"
"If posssssible. They are very tassssty. But lizardssss are nicccce, too." The snake turned slightly -- though still keeping one eye on Treacle -- and looked at the forest. "It issss almost time for ssssleeeping. Then, no more eating till sssspring."
"You hibernate in the winter?" Harry remembered that word from day school, when they'd been studying bears.
"Yessss. There issss--" The snake suddenly cut off and darted into a crevice in the stone, vanishing from sight.
"Hey!" Harry called, scrambling to his feet and looking down into the crevice. "Hey, snake! Come back!"
"Who you talking to, Harry?" a voice behind him asked.
Startled, Harry spun around. In his haste, he slipped on the stone, twisted his ankle and fell backwards. It wasn't very far to fall, no more than a couple of feet, but he landed hard on more stone, on his back. His breath rushed out of him, and it hurt to draw another. Above him, framed by the castle behind her, was someone in Slytherin robes; he could tell by the green and silver patch. The girl had long brown hair and a short sort of face, and peered down at him through narrowed brown eyes.
"You all right there?" she asked.
"Yeah," he managed to say once he got a little breath back, and pushed himself to hands and knees and then up on his feet. His ankle hurt, so he kept most of his weight off it. It was the same one he'd hurt when Dudley and his friends beat him up. His father had spent so long fixing it, Harry knew he couldn't let him know he'd hurt it again. His lower back hurt, too, but it was probably just bruised. He'd fallen worse before.
"Who were you talking to?" the girl asked again.
Harry shrugged and brushed stone ships and smeared moss off his palms. They were scraped and he blew on them a little to relieve the sting. "I don't know its name. I think it was a boy, though."
"A boy what?"
"Snake. Was just here. Must've got frightened when you came up."
"You . . . were talking . . . to a snake?" The girl sounded a little choked.
Harry nodded. "Uh-huh. It was hungry for voles. Do you know where I can get voles?"
The girl made another choking sound and shook her head. "Does . . . does your father know you're out here?"
With a glance at Nelli, who had gone quite pale, and was trembling besides, Harry nodded again. But he really wanted to sit down. And it still hurt to breathe. "But he's in class, so Nelli's got to watch me till lunchtime."
"I think . . ." The girl reached down for his hand, and Harry hesitated only a second before taking it and letting her help him up over the rock, while trying to keep the weight off his ankle. "I think he'll want to see you. "
"Really?" Harry asked. He'd be glad to see his father; he missed having breakfast with him and dinner and they'd only had one short story last night before bed. "Okay!"
Limping along, but smiling, Harry accompanied the girl back to the castle.
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A/N: Thanks for all the enthusiastic reviews and encouragement for this story! I should have a new chapter out in a couple of days. Harry Hugs for everyone!
*Chapter 5*: Chapter 5
Whelp II -- The Wrath of Snape
By jharad17
Chapter Five
Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Honest. She's rich, blond and British. I'm not.
A/N: If you haven't read "Whelp" before reading this story . . . well, why not? Really, you should, 'cause otherwise, you're gonna be plenty lost.
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When Rose Parkinson interrupted the Potions class just before lunch, with a quick knock on the door before she opened it, Severus glared at her hard enough to bruise. But then he saw who she had by the hand, and his heart clenched, at the same time as he strode toward the two of them. Could he have not one morning where everything went as planned??
"Harry," he said in a low tone. "What is the meaning of this?"
The boy looked up at him with confusion, one his hand firmly in Rose's, and the other clutching his kneazle close to his chest. Severus noted that his clothes were in disarray, as if he'd been in a fight. To Rose then, he said, "What has he gotten into now?"