A/N Just so you know.. this is my first fanfic (be kind to me!) :) Reviews and constructive criticism would be appreciated, but just knowing someone's read my writing is a reward in itself.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognise.. that's all JKR (I'm still working on it though!)

'Parseltongue'

Mind/memory speech

Edit/warning - So, err... some people have messaged me with a few concerns about Harry being an flawed character. The only answer I have is: have you ever met a completely perfect human being? So, Harry will do illogical things, he will change his mind, he will not always do the right thing and he will sometimes be a bit of an idiot. If you're looking for a super!Harry fic, then this isn't it. But if you're in for the long haul, want to experience the turbulent journey of a teenage HP, then you are in the right place.

Finally - Enjoy!

Whispered Words

1. Responsibility

Sirius turned around to once again face the scene of absolute devastation caused by the dark lord's visit, a visit that the sleeping bundle in his arms had somehow survived. He blinked back tears as he lightly traced the lightning shaped mark across the boy's forehead, one that he would now live with forever, serving as a reminder of the best moment in wizarding history, and the child's worst: the day he lost his parents. Sirius' whispered words fell on deaf ears as he apparated away from the destruction, the memories.

He appeared in front of a muggle orphanage, one he had ran away to as a child of eight, and rapped harshly on the door, momentarily forgetting the now half woken babe in his other arm. The response was fairly quick, considering the lateness of the hour, and a tired looking middle aged woman appeared in the doorway. She stood there for a moment in shock as she took in the sight before her.

"Stephen?" she asked, more than a little confused.

"Look, there's no time to explain, there's something that I need to do," the woman felt her heartbeat quicken at the malice in those eyes before it faltered, seeming hesitant, "and I... need you to look after him for the night, I... I don't want him to see."

The woman finally recognised there was a figure in the blankets and looked up to Sirius, raising an eyebrow. She'd heard this kind of story before.

"He's not mine!" said Sirius abruptly, mistaking her expression, before casting a sorrowful gaze at the child, smiling a bit when he grabbed and held onto his finger, "But he's as good as," saying this more to the child than her, before looking back up, "and it really is only for the night. I'll come back in the morning. I promise."

The last was said with so much earnest that the woman went against her better judgement and believed him. The softening of her eyes was all that was needed for Sirius to suddenly thrust the babe into her arms, eliciting a yelp, before resolutely turning away and rushing off into the night.

"Wait!" shouted the woman, still mildly surprised, "You haven't even given me a name!"

Sirius stopped midstride and cast a broken look over his shoulder, voice cracking as he said it, "Harry James Potter ," before disappearing off into the night. He would avenge them, his best friends, the boy's parents.

I'm sorry pup.

x ~ x ~ x

"Harry!" came and annoyed female shout from downstairs. Harry himself was in his room, plotting a suitable punishment for his soon to be former bully, Andrew Coleson. The boy was nothing but a thug, and Harry had finally snapped when he had set fire to his meagre collection of books, mostly about history.

Go away, ten year old Harry thought and waited, hoping she'd give up and call on someone else to do whatever it was she wanted.

"Now!" slightly more forced. Harry stood up reluctantly and stared at the ceiling, praying that Andrew or his set of bullies hadn't set him up again before heading towards the stairwell.

He entered what served as the dining room and was greeted by a stream of mild profanities by three older boys, as well as a punch to the stomach when Claire, the housemistress, was berating the use of language. The boy who hit him in the stomach, Peter, crowded Harry's doubled over form.

"Freak," he said, before smirking and moving away.

Harry hated that word. Hated Peter, hated Andrew, who was now pulling faces at him as he was getting told off. But most of all, he hated this place. He looked at each of the boys in turn, standing back up to full height, hoping he delivered a glare that promised revenge.

When Claire finished, all four boys ran out of the room, leaving only him.

"Harry," Harry tensed as he felt a familiar rush of déjà vu, how many times had this happened in the past month? He inwardly cursed Andrew, again.

"What... is this?!" she shouted at him, producing a smallish brown rat, face turning livid, "and why was it in the fridge?"

The first question was rhetorical and she probably didn't want an answer for the second, but Harry was fed up so he answered anyway. "That," he said slowly, as if speaking to an idiot, "is a rat, a dead one at that, and it was probably in the fridge to keep it cold."

Claire's eyes bulged. This would be the third time Harry had crossed the line this week, and considering it was already Tuesday, that was pretty good going.

"You are the most arrogant, idiotic and repulsive child I have ever come across in my life!" she took a moment to calm down, noting the stoic stare the boy was giving the table behind her, "you'll do all the washing up for today and tomorrow as well as cleaning the kitchen and the bathroom."

She had turned to walk away when Harry finally protested, "But.." he squirmed a bit under her levelled gaze before deflating, "okay."

Harry watched her back dazedly, the insults didn't hurt anymore, the punishments didn't matter, he thought to himself over and over, desperately trying to stop the tears from forming and the injustice to form into thought. But tomorrow is my birthday.

Harry ran to his room, barely noticing Andrew and Peter's name-calling all the way up the stairs, so he could breakdown in private. He promised himself he would not cry, and he very nearly didn't.

x ~ x ~ x

I'm sorry pup.

x ~ x ~ x

Harry stopped scrubbing the toilet bowl, took off his gloves and sat red faced on the edge of the bath. He released a long sigh and once again thought about his nightmare; screaming, a green flash of light and three whispered words.

"Harry!" Claire's firm voice from downstairs set an already irate Harry on edge.

He immediately forgot all about nightmares and angrily picked up the gloves, bleach, brushes and other cleaning items and stormed down the stairs and into the dining room, speaking before the woman had the chance to open her mouth.

"Before you accuse me of anything consider that I've just spent the last three hours cleaning the kitchen and the bathroom on the day you chose to be my birthday!" Harry looked at the items in his hands before looking up at the shocked woman's face, she'd forgotten, Harry realised angrily. He saw red, "thank you very much for remembering, I appreciate the gesture,but you can take your presents back!"

With that, he threw the bottles, dirty sponges and gloves at her feet, angrily enough that the bottles exploded on contact, covering her with a mixture of various cleaning detergents and dirty water. She looked angrily at Harry, who was still breathing heavily, before thinking better of it and looking to a point past his left shoulder.

"Take him, just take him. You won't want him, he's a hopeless case, but just TAKE HIM!" those last words were nearly a shout before she exited the room. Harry felt his face go white as his righteous anger rushed out of him. He unclenched his fists and felt his shoulders sag as he realised that she wasn't about to tell him off for some prank he didn't commit, rather, she was going to introduce him to somebody; fat chance of that happening again. His heart sank as he saw the door close on his freedom from this place. Still, he couldn't resist turning around and looking at what could have been his, masochist that he was. He was slightly shocked to come face to face with a stern looking slightly older woman dressed in very strange clothes.

"Mr. Potter," came the clipped voice, "what I have just witnessed bears no consequence to what I am about to say. But it shall be remembered and not tolerated again."

That definitely made Harry pay attention, maybe the door was about to open again. He nodded, as the woman seemed to be waiting for a response. Satisfied, she pulled out a short stick and waved it a couple of times, but started talking before Harry had the chance to be confused.

"Mr. Potter, my name is Professor McGonagall and I am pleased to meet you," Harry thought she looked anything but pleased, but listened anyway, "I teach the subject of Transfiguration and am deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yes, magic does exist Mr. Potter and you can control it. Yes, Mr. Potter, you are something very special indeed, and I'm here to invite you to come live and study at this school."

Harry had to admit, it was a pretty good act, she had even worn a long green coat to go with it. But that's all it was, all it could be. An act. Harry couldn't help it, he snorted, wondering who could possibly have set this up.

"Look, Professor, I'm not going to fall for it, so stop trying now," the wind seemed to have rushed out of him as he spoke next, " It's pathetic you know; who's convinced you to come here and say all of this to me? Was it Andrew, or Peter? How can you, who has no idea what it's like to live like this, come here to play on what every child here wants most in the world? That's just cruel."

McGonagall was slightly taken aback by Harry's scalding response, and his sincerity almost had her bowing her head in shame and apology before she remembered she had committed no such wrong. There was only one problem: Harry Potter was not convinced. She held up her hand for quiet and her natural authority stopped the boy's next words.

"I'm sorry, that was definitely not my intention Mr. Potter. But my point still stands," she held his gaze for a moment, making sure he was calmer, and listening, "Have you ever noticed strange things happening around you, impossible things, things you can't explain?"

Harry reluctantly cast his mind back to barely a minute earlier: he hadn't thrown the bottles with that much force, he couldn't explain why they smashed, and why nothing had splashed onto him. Then there was the time that Andrew had given his shoes to a dog on the way home from school. He had put them in his bag afterwards and walked back barefoot, ashen faced, all the while dreading explaining that he needed new ones, only to find that by the time he had got back they were as good as new. There were countless of other times too, that he had just dismissed the incidents as 'odd'.

McGonagall smiled as she saw the cogs turning in the child's mind, remembering each and every strange occurrence in the past few years. She was so intently staring at the child's face that she almost missed the calculating look he was giving her.

"I don't believe you," he said coldly, wary of being messed around, "Prove it." He watched her sigh inwardly, now she would be stuck. But she again plucked the stick out of her sleeve and, incredulously, Harry watched her swish it at one of the gloves on the floor. He watched it shrivel up, turn into a squirrel and jump up to the dining table. Another swish had it turned into a candlestick, then a robin that flew over and perched on Harry's shoulder. He looked at it in wonder before facing the professor.

"You can teach me how to do that?" he asked tentatively, still a bit disbelieving.

McGonagall smiled knowingly, "and much, much more," she agreed.

Harry looked solemnly up at the professor; this was truly, his great escape from this world, just as he'd always wished for. He wasn't about to screw that up.

"Professor," he said politely, "I apologise for my behaviour and I would like to join your school."

x ~ x ~ x

It took all of Harry's self control to stop his jaw dropping at the sight of so much gold in front of him. The next revelation broke that control completely; this was all his.

"I'd suggest you take about 200 Galleons." Professor McGonagall said helpfully from beside him, "the gold ones," she said hesitantly, noticing Harry's uncomprehending look.

Shrugging to himself, he took out that figure, and a bit more on the side. The professor raised her eyebrow but didn't say anything as he made his way back to the cart. The ride back to the surface was just as terrifying as the ride down had been and Harry couldn't help but glare evilly at their goblin escort who, contrary to both humans, seemed perfectly steady on his feet afterwards.

"Would you like any help with shopping for you school supplies?" asked the professor.

Harry considered, he had a piece of parchment in his hand with everything he would need for the year written upon it, and even a few shop names to get the items from, and quite frankly, he was getting annoyed with the overbearing woman by his side.

"No thank you, I should be fine." He nodded politely. McGonagall did a double take, not expecting that answer from the boy. Nevertheless, she acquiesced to his wishes, let the boy have his freedom, it was probably the first time he had been allowed any, she reflected.

"Very well, remember to stay in this alley only. I'll meet you back in the Leaky Cauldron no later than five thirty understand?"

Harry nodded, eager to be off and explore.

"Be safe."

Harry nodded once again, and then watched her leave Gringotts.

First thing was first, thought Harry, as he turned around and walked back over to a counter, he had to check how much, exactly, he owned.

"Excuse me?" he asked as confidently as he could, being unable to peer over the infernally high desk, he hoped he would put on a considerable growth spurt in the near future.

"Yes?" came a drawn out reply after a small pause.

Harry stood a little straighter as an ugly head appeared over the marble surface of the desk, he tried his best to put the strangeness of this world to the back of his mind, "I would like to talk to somebody about my account."

The goblin inspected him slowly, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up on end. The goblin then deigned him with a condescending look. "You can ask for that by owl," he said finally.

Harry didn't know what that meant, so he continued along the same line, hoping he didn't sound foolish, "I would much prefer to talk to someone." He hoped that he sounded stronger than he felt.

"Very well, key please," the goblin demanded after a pause, holding out his hand. Harry gave it over and felt rising panic as long moments passed without the goblin making his presence known.

"Mr. Harry Potter, this way sir," came a voice from behind him, a bit politer. Harry inwardly sighed in relief as he turned to see the new goblin ushering him towards a set of ornate double doors across from the entrance. Harry fell into step behind the creature, wondering if this had been such a good idea after all.

They entered a modestly sized room, bare of any personal ornamentation, but filled with the same atmosphere and casual wealth of the main lobby. "Take a seat, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked around and sat in one of two chairs closest to the door, it was ornate and seemed to dwarf him, he shifted uncomfortably on the edge of his seat. The goblin sat opposite him, a desk between them.

"My name is Griphook, I am the one that your father, James Potter, entrusted with his, now yours, accounts," he said formally. Harry thought that this was the nicest goblin he had met so far, and nodded in understanding.

"I'm Ha-"

"I'm sure that most people in this world know your name and your story Mr. Potter," Griphook cut in quickly. Harry had noted this disturbing fact also when McGonagall had accidently let his name slip to the barkeep in the Leaky Cauldron, and he wanted to know why those people had made an uproar at his appearance.

"Why is that?" he asked, before Griphook could continue.

Griphook blinked at him, "Because you are the boy-who-lived," he stated simply.

"The what?"

There was another pause as Griphook came to terms with the question, "The only person to have ever survived the killing curse, by the vaults! You bought about the fall of the dark lord, he-who-must-not-be-named."

"Am I right in guessing a killing curse does what it says on the tin?" Harry asked half-heartedly, "Is that why my parents abandoned me?"

Griphook spluttered, "James and Lily Potter died the night of that attack Mr. Potter, they wouldn't have abandoned you for the world."

As Harry opened his mouth to ask another question Griphook put up a hand, much like the professor had earlier, to signal silence, looking profusely uncomfortable, "Perhaps I am not the best person to explain all of this to you. What did you want concerning your accounts?"

The abrupt change in topic had Harry's mind reeling for a second before he tightly reigned in his curiosity and, in a roundabout way, asked for a written breakdown of his estate. Griphook nodded, more at ease with the more common request. He placed Harry's key in the top left corner of a piece of blank parchment and mumbled some strange language, then, in front of his eyes, the parchment filled with figures and words. The parchment was then handed over to Harry, who scanned it quickly.

"Sir? What's a galleon?" he asked, shifting in embarrassment. Griphook stared at the ten year old in disbelief before launching into a full explanation of wizarding currency and Harry's estate.

Half an hour later Harry emerged from Gringotts a little light headed, but armed with a lot more knowledge about the wizarding world than he had before. His head was still giddy from learning that he owned houses. Plural. Not one, but many spread mostly across England, but with some further afield throughout Europe.

With a new found confidence he walked down the alley, ignoring the stares from not wearing the strange robes everyone else did, that would be corrected shortly, and walked into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

The seamstress made quick work of outfitting Harry for the year at Hogwarts and had happily helped him choose a robe to wear whilst not at school. "Would you like to wear the blue one now?" Madam Malkin asked kindly, understanding the purpose behind the purchase and casting a disgusted look at Harry's old muggle clothes. Harry smiled at her; she was a nice lady with a keen mind.

"That would be wonderful."

"That would be 42 galleons, two sickles and four knuts please," she smiled at him. Harry placed the stack of coins on the counter, he had also bought a featherweight, magically expanding money purse from her as well. He was glad he had too; Gringotts had given him a plain old pouch.

The woman bound and wrapped his new clothes and placed them in a handled box with the same charm as the pouch so Harry could carry it.

Harry emerged in a royal blue attire, with a trim of silver tipped black fur. He then floated around the alley first collecting everything he would need for the year before seeing how much money he had left over. A little over 50 galleons, but he had spent a little more in the book store than he probably should have done, if not for the featherweight charm he could very well imagine himself dragging around his shopping on the ground.

He was standing outside Ollivander's, a little shudder went through him as he remembered the strange episode in the store. He hoped he never needed a new wand: that man was just creepy. He looked over to a store front that was completely full of owls and remembered, with a jolt, that he had forgotten to buy a familiar. He looked down at his purse and hoped that familiars didn't cost too much.

The shop somehow managed to maintain a dingy atmosphere, despite the large amount of light that was let in through the windows. Harry looked around, not really sure what he was meant to be looking for.

"Welcome to the Magical Menagerie! What can I do ye for?" a cheerfully gruff voice asked from behind Harry, who jumped at the sudden sound.

The voice chuckled, and Harry turned to see it was a red faced middle aged man. "I... err... I'm looking for a familiar," he said uncertainly.

The man beamed, "muggleborn are ye? Not to worry! I'll give yer a quick tour!"

Harry didn't know what a 'muggleborn' was, so he just nodded and while he appreciated the kindness, the man was needlessly boisterous, which nearly made him decline his offer.

Not that he was given the chance.

If Griphook had launched into an explanation earlier, then this man full on catapulted himself into one, Harry barely had time to listen as he was whirled around various tanks and cages.

"Toads aren't really useful for much and they run away more often than not, but they're small and low maint'nce," the man smiled conspiratorially at Harry, "not teh mention cheap." Obviously he thought that Harry must not have much money on him, a fact that Harry wondered over himself. Would he be able to afford even a toad without making another trip to Gringotts?

"These here cats make for marvellous companions, they'd be hardly no maint'nce if they didn't like primpin' so often!" the man smiled at the cats in the line affectionately, introducing Harry to each and every one of them. "Last up is yer owls, best familiars in the world if you be asking me!" he said proudly.

This time he managed an astounded, "They're beautiful," before he was being looked over and pecked in greeting whilst having the many benefits of having an owl recited to him. He stopped by a snowy owl that seemed to gaze through him. This was the one.

"How much for this one?" he asked boldly.

The man was mid sentence and it took him a moment to clarify which bird Harry was looking at, he smiled when he noticed, "She's a real beauty that one, all high'n'mighty though, never deigns to notice anybody. She's yours for 30 galleons, cage an' all."

"Done."

Harry was just leaving the counter when he heard a strange silky voice from a corner

'Humanss. Alwayss the ssame, alwayss the night-hunterss and mouse-chaserss, never the mighty sserpent.'

'Maybe not thiss one Chiana, see, it comes.'

Harry peeked into the glass tank in the corner and felt his eyes widen in surprise when two snakes bobbed their heads up and down, inspecting him, tongues flickering out, forgetting the glass between them. Harry felt a desire to possess that he'd never felt before.

'Bah! It'ss just a boy.'

'Shusshh Chiana, I think thiss one is worthy.'

Harry looked around immediately to the shopkeeper, who was eying him strangely, "How much for two snakes?" he asked nonchalantly.

"You're bound for Hogwarts right?" at Harry's affirmative he carried on, "they don't allow snakes there no more, you'd have to leave 'em somewhere."

Harry thought about this, so he'd just have to smuggle them in somehow, both were less than the length of his forearm though, it shouldn't be too hard. Besides, he really did want them. He plastered on a fake grin and matched the man's boisterous attitude, "it's okay, really! Mum said I could get something else as well as an owl, you know... something to keep close by at home, and these are so small! She won't mind if I get two." He looked, in what he hoped was a hopeful manner, at the man.

"Okay fine! Tell her you can bring 'em right back if she don't like 'em! Ten galleons each, so 20 total."

Harry grinned and put down all his shopping again, including his new owl, who ruffled her feathers in what he supposed was an indignant manner and paid for the snakes, which were then carefully placed in a small glass container, which Harry placed in another bag so he could carry it.

"Be careful with them," the man said, suddenly serious, "snakes can get vicious for no apparent reason."

The sudden change made Harry pause in the doorway and lock eyes with the man and mutter a solemn, "I will," before heading back to the Leaky Cauldron, having completely depleted his funds, and his ability to carry any more purchases.

He would not tell McGonagall about the snakes.

A/N erm.. yeah.. tell me what you think if you got the time, would be much appreciated =) Is my characterisation acceptable, or just plain odd? This is quite a boring chapter really, but it sets it up nicely for the future. Just as a warning, the next chapter will have a time jump in it, I can't imagine myself happily writing through the first few years of Harry's education.

Well yeah... thanks again. I'll try get the next update up in a week max. =D

apisci