Parseltongue Lets Me Talk To WHAT? Chapter 1: Introductions, a harry potter fanfic

Parseltongue lets me talk to What?

By: Tezza1502

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe is owned by J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, and Warner Brothers Pictures, amongst others. I only own the few brain cells I haven't managed to kill off or drive away screaming yet.

Notes: Oh boy.

Not really clear on exactly how I first thought of this one. Suffice to say, it probably went something like; 'hmm, Harry can talk to snakes. Where can I go with that?' (Author muses to himself as he rearranges his meat & two veg unconsciously.) 'Hey, wait a minute! What about him talking to trouser snakes?'

I fear my own brain sometimes…

Anyhoo, here it is. Not to be taken even remotely seriously, nor on an empty stomach. Nominally during fifth year, but totally AU. (Obviously.)

WARNING: Swearing, disturbing situations and an overly-gratuitous quantity of penis humour lies ahead. If this isn't your sort of thing, head back to the main page NOW!

^Parseltongue^

#Harry's, well, you'll figure it out soon enough#

-:Not Harry's you know:-

CHAPTER ONE:- INTRODUCTIONS

It was the summer break before Harry Potter's fifth year at Hogwarts.

And it had been the loneliest one yet!

He had not had meaningful contact with his friends from the magical school he went to since it had finished for the summer. All he could get out of them were short letters telling him that they couldn't tell him anything, and that he should be patient. Which was rather hard to do, when the monster who had murdered his parents had managed to resurrect himself recently. And using Harry's blood, to boot.

Knowing that your pretty much in first place on the shit list of the world's most deranged magical murderer was not conducive to a good night's sleep, in Harry's opinion. Especially when one seemed to have a magical mental connection to said nut job.

So, to try and combat the utter boredom and frustration he was experiencing, he had been experimenting with what he knew of magic. He couldn't use his wand without the Ministry of Magic coming down on his bony arse. He'd re-read his school books when he had a spare moment, from first year up. And by the third week of his incarceration, er, visit, with his darling relatives, Harry had gotten really bored.

So he'd begun speaking Parseltongue to every snake he could find in the neighbourhood.

It had started out as a random thought about maybe rallying snakes to his banner, and sending them out to do his bidding. You know, spy for him. Or becoming his silent assassins. Sadly, snakes are really only interested in keeping warm, eating, reproducing, and divulging the occasional bit of gossip. Unless he was willing to indulge in some rather dark blood rituals to bind them to his service, as Voldemort had done to Nagini, Harry was pretty much out of luck. Still, they were more scintillating conversationalists than his uncle Vernon, aunt Petunia, and cousin Dudley.

After having a brief conversation with a passing garden snake, Harry had slumped down on to a swing set near his house, his head facing his lap. He was so dispirited that he couldn't even be bothered trying to find some protection from the sweltering heatwave currently broiling the country.

^Bloody hell, its hot!^ Harry grumbled in Parseltongue.

#Preaching to the converted, dude.# A voice replied. #I'm melting down here.#

^Huh!^ Harry looked around, trying to see the snake that was talking to him now. Which was odd, since they usually waited for him to speak to them first.

#And would it kill you to give me a scratch every now and again. Maybe shift the twins a little. I've been in this one position for so long, I'm starting to cramp up!#

^Who said that?^ Harry hissed, both curious and annoyed at the same time.

#…Holy crap!# Came a surprised reply. #You can hear me?#

^Um, yeah. Your practically shouting in my ear.^

#But…but…How?#

^Um, cause you're a snake?^ Harry ventured.

The voice snorted in amusement. #I s'pose I might qualify, if you stretch the definition of a snake in a weird direction. Although usually I'm only called that as a joke.#

^Huh?^ Harry asked eloquently.

#You know! A Trouser Snake?#

^What?^

#Oh for heaven's sake, we'll be here all day waiting for you to figure it out.# The voice sounded like it was rolling it's eyes at him. #I'm in your pants.#

"Waaaaah!" Harry sprung to his feet and started shaking his pant legs while trying to strip them off himself. "Get out get out get out getoutgetoutgetoutgetout!"

#Ow! Stop! Ouch! Quit it! Erk! Cut it out!# The voice shouted painfully. #STOP! YOUR BRUISING ME!#

Harry paused. He then belatedly noticed that there was no sensation of something slithering around his trousers. He looked down. "What the…?" The voice was coming from inside his threadbare boxers.

#Hope the ladies have that reaction when you finally get around to introducing me to one.# The amused voice replied. #And in a 'Ain't no way that's gonna fit without a stick of butter involved' kinda way too.#

^No. No way in hell.^

#Go on. Say it!#

^Why is my…my…?^

#Say it.#

Harry took a deep breath. ^Why is my dick talking to me?^

#Another question would be, why is the dick I'm attached to talking to me?# Came the smart-arse reply.

^Hey!^

#Ho, how do you do.#

^What?^

#I get that a lot.#

^Huh?^ Harry was getting confused. ^Seriously, How can I be talking to my, um…^

#Knob? Wang? Dong? Junk? Willie? Johnson? Shlong? Tallywacker? Skin Flute? Meat bat? Love Truncheon? Baloney Pony? Block 'n Tackle? Beaver Basher? Family Jewels? Captain Winky? Meat Thermometer? Bed Snake? Meat and Two Veg? Albino Cave Dweller? Beater's Bat and Quaffles? 'Other' Wand? Pork Sword? Wizard's Staff? Cum Gun? Purple-Headed Womb Broom? Groin Ferret?#

^um, yeah.^ Harry was beyond disturbed that his genitalia actually knew so many synonyms for itself.

#No idea. You're the one that possesses the brain in this relationship, supposedly. You tell me.#

^Hey! No need to get sarcastic.^ Harry hissed.

#Oh fine. Best guess? Magic.#

Harry rolled his eyes. ^Really? How'd I miss that one? And how would that even work anyway?^

#This from the guy who's been talking to reptiles with brains the size of a small pea all day.# Harry's crotch snorted. #You tell me. You're the bloody wizard.#

'Where's Hermione to explain things to me when I really need her.' He thought to himself.

#Who? Oh, the messy-haired Goddess of Knowledge. Why aren't you tapping that yet? She'd have you wedged in a broom closet in an instant, I recon.# It suggested lustily. #Or a quiet corner of the library.#

^Don't talk about Hermione like that!^

#Oh come on, you have noticed that she's a girl, haven't you? That ride on the Hippogriff to free Sirius in third year should have clued you in, big time.# Harry heard a contented sigh, as they both recalled that ride. Hermione had been holding on to him from behind very tightly. And her excitement/terror over what they were doing had been quite obvious. #Never has being stabbed in the back felt so pleasant.#

Harry sputtered incoherently.

#If you'da had half a brain, you would have grabbed a feel while you two were hugging, during the Tri-Wiz that time, as well.# It groused, referring to the short embrace Harry and Hermione had shared, just after the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. #Or scored a dance at the Yule Ball. Plenty of chances for some 'close dancing' there. "Oh, I'm sorry! Did I just happen to accidentally rub against you during a twirl? Silly me!"# Harry's crotch said in an faux-innocent voice, clearly warming up to the subject. #Or, you could have stuck with Parvati. And her sister, Padma. Rowr! Hotties in sari's.# It drooled a bit, then sighed. #But no, you spent most of the night with Ron, of all people. He was even 'what you'll sorely miss.'# The voice paused, as if considering a line of thought that hadn't occurred to it before. #Hmm… Is there something you want to admit to me? You know, man to penis. And its okay. I wont judge you, or treat you any differently.#

^What? No!^ Harry shouted indignantly. ^And don't talk about my friends like that!^

#Why not? It's just the two of us here. It's okay to think dirty thoughts.# It whispered in a conspiratorial manner. #Let it out. I won't tell a soul.#

^It's…it's…disrespectful.^ Harry sputtered.

#You know, it really is okay to think dirty thoughts about girls every now and again. It won't kill you.# It sighed. #You need to shake hands with me more often.#

Harry sighed back. ^I have issues about that.^

#No kidding! I'd probably shoot nothing but cobwebs right now.# Another random thought struck it right then. #Although that could be fun, too.#

Harry decided that his L'il Harry needed a reminder about a few things. ^Do you remember the day after my ninth birthday?^

#Yeah.# L'il Harry said warily, not quite sure where this was going.

^Do you remember aunt Petunia catching me playing with you?^

#Yeah?# A vague memory was beginning to come back.

^Do you remember how she screamed at me for over an hour, about how I was a dirty, filthy freak, for touching myself like that.^

#yeah# L'il Harry whimpered.

^Do you remember the boiling pot of cooking oil she threatened to dunk you in if she ever caught me playing with you again.^

#Okay! Okay. I get the point. A childhood trauma is making you reluctant to rub one out. I get it.# L'il Harry shouted. #But what about-#

^Jerking off in a room full of boys my own age doesn't really do it for me, either.^ Harry retorted, thinking of the Hogwarts dorms he lives in nine months of the year.

#Two words; Privacy Charms!#

^Ah, no.^ The idea of accidentally opening his eyes, and seeing his dorm mates while at the point of orgasm turned him a little green. He didn't need another trauma.

#Another two words; Morning Showers!# L'il Harry was not going to give up, now that he was able to actually communicate with the one in control of the hands on this body they shared. The occasional wet dream just wasn't enough anymore.

^You have a one-track mind, you know that.^

#Well, duh! One of us has to think about it, 'cause you surely wont.#

^Hey!^ Harry hissed at his pants. ^Excuse me for having other priorities. Y'know, like staying alive! I do have a psycho after me, remember.^

#Details, details.# L'il Harry seemed to wave that excuse away. #Now, I believe we should take this conversation somewhere a little more private.#

^Why?^

#Because a young man sitting in a children's playground, hissing angrily at his pants is not a good look Your rep in this neighbourhood is already bad enough, without adding to the 'mystique'.#

Harry looked up and around at that. Sure enough, a couple of the worst local gossips (after his aunt Petunia) were scowling at him from the opposite end of the small playground. ^You may have a point.^ Harry reddened as got off the swing and headed for a more secure location to continue their conversation.

#Of course I do. It's blunt, too!#

Harry groaned as he ran his hands through the bird's nest he called his hair. ^Are you always going to be this juvenile?^

#Oh yeah! I'm always going to be a bit of a dick.#

Harry groaned even louder at that excruciatingly bad pun.

#And I have years of material to use, now that I have a captive audience.# L'il Harry chuckled. #Buckle up, kiddo…#

THE DURSLEYS

Over the next couple of days, Harry experimented with the communication now possible between him and L'il Harry.

It turned out to be fairly inconsistent at first, actually. It seemed to rely more on his subconscious desire for conversation than anything else. However, he soon began to figure out a few tricks to opening a dialogue, as well as begin to get his head around the weirdness factor of talking to one's own block 'n tackle. He also found that he didn't have to talk in Parseltongue to communicate with L'il Harry, or even talk out loud. Thinking was just as effective now that initial contact had been made.

And one night, he found out that it wasn't just his own Trouser Snake he could hear…

-:Kill me:-

Harry jumped up off his bed. "What? Who said that?" He asked groggily as he grasped around for his wand. (Not that one, you pervs! The holly and phoenix feather one.) He had been sound asleep in his bedroom at the Dursleys when he heard the plaintive voice calling for death.

-:Kill me:-

#Oh that. That's just, well…# L'il Harry paused. #I'm sure you know by now what it is.#

"Huh? Oh. Right." Harry frowned. "So, who's bloody…" He threw up a little in his mouth as the identity of the owner of the todger with the death wish narrowed sharply. "Oh no way in hell!"

-:Kill me:- Came the plaintive cry again. -:Don't make me go back there again. Not twice in one month!:-

#'Fraid so. Vernon's about to get his end away. And since you can't perform magic here, I'd advise putting as many pillows over your ears as you can manage. The peanut's a bit of a screamer.#

-:OH DEAR LORD, IT'S COMING RIGHT AT ME!:-

Harry quickly started jamming every bit of material he could find into his ear canals. His left ear was full of a hastily-chewed wad of parchment, (a trick he'd learnt by accident, trying to block out Hermione during her annual end-of-year exam freak-out.) and his right unfortunately acquired a bunched-up pair of yesterdays unwashed boxers. To no avail.

-:NO! NOOOOO! AAAAAAHHHHHHmrflle…:-

^I'm going to get a fresh mental trauma out of this. I just know it!^

-:AAAAmrflflfleAAAAAmrflflfleAAAAAAAAmrflrlrleAAAAAAAAmrflflflfleAAAAAAAAmrflflflrle:-

#Cheer up. It'll be all over in a few minutes, at most.#