Douglas glanced at Harry, a sly smile tugging at his lips, then turned to Dumbledore and announced,
"Mr. Potter is a Parselmouth."
The office fell utterly silent. On the wall, Phineas—Phineas Black, Hogwarts' first Headmaster from Slytherin—stared at Harry in disbelief, muttering,
"This can't be. Slytherin's heir, a little lion? Impossible…"
This time, none of the other portraits bothered to hush him. Instead, every painted eye fixed on Harry with shock and suspicion.
Through Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles, Harry met a pair of piercing, brilliant blue eyes. They seemed to see straight through him, and his heart skipped a beat.
Thankfully, Dumbledore only held his gaze for a moment before turning back to Douglas.
Douglas, far less nervous, found himself a chair and sat down with casual ease.
"I've tested it. I've never actually heard Parseltongue before, but what Harry spoke definitely sounded like a snake."
Dumbledore straightened, his voice warm and gentle.
"Please, sit down, Harry. Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Juice? There's no need to be nervous…"
Lost in a whirl of anxious thoughts, Harry took a moment to process the invitation.
"Ah—sorry, Headmaster, I… you…"
Douglas grinned, pointing to a chair.
"Relax. Sit. Professor, let's have some juice, shall we? That meal at Hagrid's was a bit heavy."
With two taps on his desk, Dumbledore conjured two glasses of juice, which appeared at Douglas and Harry's elbows.
Watching Douglas's easy composure, Harry felt his own tension melt away. He quickly murmured his thanks and sat down.
Douglas eyed Dumbledore's little display with a hint of envy—show-off. With his own Transfiguration skills, he could only manage to snap away simple spells, nothing this smooth.
Dumbledore caught the subtle grimace and chuckled, popping a sweet into his mouth with a twinkle in his eye.
Following Douglas's account, Dumbledore conducted a quick experiment himself. It was soon confirmed: Harry was indeed speaking Parseltongue.
Now Harry sat anxiously, watching Dumbledore deep in thought, his nerves stretched taut.
Suddenly, Dumbledore looked up, his tone calm and steady.
"Harry, there's no need to be afraid. I don't know if James or Lily's ancestors ever married into Salazar Slytherin's line, but your Parseltongue isn't something you were born with. It's because Voldemort is a Parselmouth…"
Douglas gave a polite cough and stood.
"Ahem, Professor, if there's nothing else, I'll take my leave…"
Dumbledore winked at him, a mysterious smile on his lips.
"Wait a moment. We'll have something to discuss shortly… And I'm sure Harry won't mind you knowing a bit more. After all, in a way, you have a right to."
Harry chimed in at once,
"I trust Professor Holmes completely—he's helped me so much!"
Douglas wasn't sure what Dumbledore was getting at, but he didn't dare overthink it. He nodded and sat back down.
Dumbledore continued,
"Now, where was I? Ah, yes—Voldemort is Salazar Slytherin's last heir, as you already know. If I'm not mistaken, on the night he gave you that scar, he also transferred some of his own magic into you. Of course, I doubt he meant to…"
Harry stared, stunned.
"Voldemort… transferred part of himself to me…"
The words felt strangely familiar, as if he'd read them somewhere before, but he couldn't quite recall where.
Douglas glanced at Dumbledore, who was already watching him. Clearly, the old man was thinking of that article.
Suddenly, Harry blurted out, a little desperate,
"So I should've been in Slytherin. The Sorting Hat must have seen something Slytherin in me, so it…"
Dumbledore replied, unhurried and kind,
"Listen to me, Harry. You simply happen to possess some of the qualities Salazar Slytherin prized most when selecting his students. Some of his rare gifts—Parselmouth… resourcefulness… determination… and, perhaps, a certain disregard for the rules…"
At this, Douglas noticed Dumbledore's silver beard quivering ever so slightly. Then, quite suddenly, Dumbledore turned to him.
"Douglas, I recall you once told me the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Gryffindor, didn't you?"
Caught off guard by the question, Douglas glanced at the battered Sorting Hat on the nearby shelf and nodded.
"Yes. It's not that I dislike Gryffindor, but I felt Hufflepuff suited me better… so I suggested it place me there."
Suddenly, a voice rang out:
"No! He's lying! He wanted to take me apart and study where my brain is! Gryffindor would have only encouraged his arrogance…"
Everyone turned to stare at the Sorting Hat, which promptly fell silent again. Then they turned to Douglas.
The portraits on the walls all wore looks of astonishment, sneaking peeks at Douglas.
Douglas just shrugged, adopting the tone of an eccentric uncle trying to tempt a child.
"Wouldn't it be amazing to have a magical device that could advise you on your studies? It could be a hat, or an earring, a ring, a necklace…"
Harry nodded instinctively, imagining how wonderful it would be to have such a device—something that could chat with him anytime, remind him of answers in class… (After all, with the Sorting Hat on, you could communicate directly with your thoughts.)
Dumbledore asked, curious,
"So, have you made any breakthroughs?"
Douglas shook his head, feigning regret.
"It's never let me study it. Shame, really. I taught it so many fun songs…"
Dumbledore let out a breath of relief for reasons he didn't explain, then quickly steered the conversation back.
"Harry, do you understand now?"
Harry was still lost in visions of a portable magical mentor. When Dumbledore spoke, he answered on autopilot,
"Actually, I think making it into a ring would be best, just like in Professor Holmes's stories. And if you added an Extension Charm—Hermione told me about that—then it could be like… Uh, Headmaster, is something wrong?"
Before Harry could finish his daydream, Dumbledore shot Douglas a glare and rapped his knuckles on the desk, cutting Harry off.
He sighed,
"I meant, what do you think about what Douglas said regarding the Sorting?"
Harry snapped back to the present and nodded quickly.
"I'm just like Professor Holmes. I asked not to go to Slytherin, but I never threatened the Sorting Hat—Headmaster, you can ask it yourself!"
But the Sorting Hat now sat as silent as any ordinary hat.
Dumbledore breathed a quiet sigh of relief—the conversation was finally back on track. A gentle smile returned to his face.
"Exactly. That's what makes you so different from Tom. Harry, it is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. Just as Douglas, though he carries certain Gryffindor traits, is still every bit a true Hufflepuff…"
Harry sat on his stool, mulling over Dumbledore's words. Every so often, he'd sneak a glance at Douglas, who was munching on a banana. Suddenly, Harry's thoughts wandered to Douglas's book, "The Banana-Loving Honey Badger," and he snorted with laughter.
Both Douglas and Dumbledore looked at him, baffled.
Harry panicked for a moment—his detention had just ended, and he was finally enjoying a proper holiday.
Thinking fast, he blurted,
"Headmaster, Professor, I understand now! Life is like Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans—you never know what you're going to get. Whether the road ahead is smooth or bumpy, you can't forget your original purpose… No, what I mean is, life is like a multiple-choice question. Since I chose Gryffindor, as long as I stay true to myself, I am Gryffindor, no matter what other qualities I might have from other houses…"
Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. Even if Harry's answer was a bit muddled, he'd hit the heart of the matter.
Douglas was left speechless—those were the very words of inspirational nonsense he used to feed his students, and now Harry had thrown them right back at him.
Noticing Douglas's expression, Harry forced a sheepish smile.
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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