No Mouth But Some Serpent's

Chapter 14 - Paying the Piper

Professor McGonagall gazed at him for a long time, then nodded, troubled. "If you say so, Mr. Potter," she said, standing, "I think I can trust you."

Harry winced. He would have liked to tell her the truth, of all people. She had been kind to him. She seemed wise, and not just in the matter of Transfiguration theory. She could help him.

But her help would almost certainly consist of urging him to trust the Headmaster and accept his presence in Harry's head instead, and Harry did not intend to do that. He trusted Sylarana and Draco. He didn't trust Snape, but he knew the man was necessary to maintain the shields.

The Headmaster he didn't even trust to serve the agenda of keeping this safe and secret and trying to fight Riddle out of Harry's head. Dumbledore was too unpredictable, and Harry hadn't managed to work out what his ultimate goal was yet.

He was so involved in that kind of thought that he didn't notice they had arrived at the statue, nor who waited there, until Professor McGonagall said, "Mr. Potter," in a sharp voice. Harry glanced up.

Connor turned around from the gargoyle, face red with startlement for a moment before it fell into wariness. His gaze jabbed his brother.

Harry would have looked calmly back, or sorrowfully, he thought, imploring Connor to trust him again, only a few hours ago. Now his brain raced and sparkled with anger bordering on the urge to scream and throw things.

How could you distrust me like that? I'm your brother. You were swearing that you would trust me when I was put in Slytherin and when I showed you I was a Parselmouth. Yet you turned against me the moment my friend's father did something wrong and I refused to let Ron hurt my friend. Why, Connor? What is it about that one thing specifically that set you off? I don't know, and it's wrong, and it hurts-

He halted the flow of his thoughts as he realized Connor was backing away from him. His brother had actually drawn his wand before McGonagall said, "Mr. Potter! That is quite enough. Why are you here?"

"I have to see the Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, ma'am," said Connor, looking as if he wanted to glare at Harry around her robes again, and not quite daring. "There's been another Petrification. Neville, this time."

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I am aware of that," said McGonagall. "I am taking your brother to see the Headmaster now."

Connor's face transformed like the sunrise. "Does that mean he did it?" he asked. "Does that mean I was right?"

You were right, Connor, and you didn't deserve to be. You never deserved to be. All those times that I-

Harry stamped down the flow of his thoughts again and reduced them to another lava flow hiding beneath a scab, frightened at the turn they had taken. His brother was making a mistake now. That did not mean that he had made mistakes his whole life, as Harry might have shouted out if he decided to speak right now.

Indeed, Connor's judgment had been clearer than that of many children his age. Harry could picture other brothers turning their backs the moment they found out a sibling was a Parselmouth.

You have no right to feel like that, he told himself firmly. None. Anger is one thing, irrationality another.

"Mint Humbugs," McGonagall told the statue, and it leaped aside. Harry followed her towards the staircase. He was breathing softly now. He could make it up the stairs. He would count the stones in the walls, and watch the way that the professor's robes swished ahead of him, and he would ignore Connor.

Then Connor spoke again.

"You didn't answer me, Professor McGonagall," he said, voice that of a teacher chiding a student for an oversight. "Does that mean that I was right? Does that mean that he was the one who's the next Dark Lord?" He nodded his head.