"What?"
Ron shook his head fractionally, and spoke up. "Professor, students forget lots of times to do the readings. You never made anyone leave class over it before."
"I didn't forget. I never got it--"
"Speak when you are spoken to, Potter," snapped Aran. "That'll be fifteen points from Gryffindor. And another fifteen if you aren't out that door in thirty seconds."
"Fine," Harry spat, so angry he could feel his blood boiling. Realising he was in danger of really saying something he might regret, he hurriedly Occluded. It didn't help much. He still ended up saying, "I'll just go tell my father I'm not allowed in Defence. I'm sure he'll want to talk to you about that."
Aran's face paled. "Sit," he changed his mind. "But behave yourself."
"Yeah, Harry, be good," Seamus whispered from behind him.
"Seamus, shut up," said Neville in an equally quiet tone. Quiet, but somehow very intense. "Harry doesn't understand, so just knock it off!"
"What don't I understand?"
Stomping over, Aran slapped a sheaf of parchment onto Harry's desk. "That's another fifteen points from Gryffindor after all, Potter. When I say to speak only when spoken to, I mean it!"
Harry decided he'd better not point out that he had been spoken to. "Yes, sir." He made a show of getting started reading, ignoring the way Aran wasted no time backing away from him.
Defence class only went downhill from there. After about twenty minutes of reading -- first and second year material, no less -- Aran instructed the students to pair up and practice their blocking techniques. Harry got no further than the first syllable of his incantation before Aran called a halt.
"What was that, Potter?"
Harry was still looking at his ring when he tried to answer.
"English, Potter!"
He looked his teacher in the face. "Sorry, sir."
"Sorry for speaking that foul language in the company of decent wizards?"
"Sorry for not switching to English to talk to you," Harry said, so stunned that he didn't really know how else to reply. Foul language? "Um, didn't my father, I mean Professor Snape, didn't he explain about the Parseltongue? The other teachers seemed to know--"
"You will not, I repeat, will not even use that word in here, Potter, is that clear? It's nasty. It is filthy, and I will not have it! I certainly won't have you speaking it! Fifty points from Gryffindor for sheer... evil!"
It wasn't often that Harry's mouth fell open from astonishment.
"You think Parseltongue is evil, do you?"
Harry whirled to see who had spoken. He saw Dean, standing up straight with narrowed eyes, his fingers clenched on his wand.
"Well, you're wrong," Dean went on, eyes blazing. "Harry's been speaking it in class for two whole days and nobody's come to any harm!"
"Yeah," Seamus said, his lower jaw jutting out. "It took us by surprise but now that we're used to it, it's no big deal. Harry's not evil and you're not going to say he is!"
Harry had to admit, that took a lot of sting out of the be good nonsense that had been going on.
Parvati was nodding emphatic agreement. "Don't you read the papers, sir? Harry's had an awful year. We're glad to have him back, Parseltongue and all!"
Awful year... The phrase almost made him smile despite the seriousness of the situation. Because it hadn't been, had it? He'd ended up with not just a father but a brother as well, two things he'd always wanted. Those two things alone far outweighed any suffering he'd endured.
"You will not say that word!" thundered Aran.
"Parseltongue, Parseltongue, Parseltongue!" shouted Seamus.
"Yeah, PARSELTONGUE!" echoed Neville.
"Quiet, all of you!"
As the shouting died away, Aran wiped a hand across his forehead. It came away dripping with sweat. "A hundred more points from Gryffindor," he muttered, glaring at his students. At everyone but Harry, actually. He actually seemed a bit reluctant to look directly at Harry.
"I'm not dangerous, sir," the boy sighed, beginning to understand. It wasn't just ignorance driving this. It was fear as well. "Really, I'm not."
Aran weakly shuddered. "You will do the incantations properly, Mr. Potter. That means English or Latin, depending on your curse or block. I'd have the same attitude towards... Swahili in my classroom. It's not proper magic."
Sure you'd have the same attitude, Harry thought. Well, at least the Gryffindors had rallied around him. He knew full well that a lot of them didn't much like the Parseltongue, but they'd stood up for him all the same. That almost made Aran's attitude worth it. "All right, sir."
Ron gave him a reproachful look. Harry shrugged. It wasn't lost on him that neither Ron nor Hermione had leapt to his defence. But that made sense; they knew all his secrets and had to be careful what they said and how they phrased it. Just like Harry had to be sure to give the right impression to all concerned.
While Aran retreated to the back of the classroom, Ron came closer and made as though he were adjusting Harry's grip on his wand. "Tell your father," he said in a low voice. "He won't stand for this."
Harry shrugged and spoke in a voice that couldn't possibly carry. "Just as well, really. Now everybody can see how bad my normal magic is."
"What they're going to see is how dependent you are."
"They'd figure that out anyway... hey, you called Snape my father!"
"Did not."
"Did so."
"Did not."
"Did so... I think you've only said it before when you were being sarcastic or something."
Ron flushed and began stepping away. "Well, anyway, you make sure you tell him."
Harry grabbed the other boy's sleeve. "I can't go running to him every time I have a problem with another teacher, Ron. And he wouldn't want me to. I'm not five years old."
"He also wouldn't want you losing eighty points your first week back, half of them from Slytherin," Ron pointed out. "He'll be coming to ask you about it."
"Shite. I bet he will." When he has time, Harry mentally added.
"Problem there, Potter, Weasley?" called Aran from his position well away from Harry.
"No problem, sir," Harry said. From then until the end of class, he cast in English; Ron's every curse hit him. But Ron wasn't putting much effort into his spells so it wasn't too bad. When Aran dismissed them, Harry waved for his friends to meet him at the door , then quietly approached the teacher's desk. "Um, sir, can I have a word?"
Aran looked up, his face more wrinkled than usual, like two solid hours of fear had really taken a toll. "I suppose this is where you threaten again to have Professor Snape come see me?"
"No, sir." Harry took a breath. "I'd like to avoid that, actually."
Aran slumped in his chair. "That's fine, then. But still... I can't have... that... in my class, Potter."
"I understand but... look, if you take all those points Professor Snape will come down to see you. Because I lose points from Slytherin too, these days. I wondered if you could give me the eighty points back? Otherwise he's going to ask me what happened."
"Oh, very well. Eighty points back to Gryffindor, however the counters want to work it." Aran sighed, looking about as exhausted as the Slytherins had been, though Harry didn't really think he was coming down with what they had. "Is that all?"
"No, 'cause if you can't have... that, in class then how am I supposed to pass practical tests?" Harry grimaced. "Professor, I don't want to fright... I mean... um, upset you, but I have a real problem. I think you must realise that after you saw me get knocked over about twenty times by Ron's curses. I'm just glad he knew all the counters."