Reborn As A Squib In Harry potter

The goblin in front of us tripped and stumbled a bit at that, no doubt surprised as I was by Harry's claim.

"It's a talent known as Parseltongue, and no, snakes aren't actually secretly intelligent. It's just the language itself is magical and bestows a minute amount of awareness to the snake in question so it actually can answer and obey you," I replied, keeping my expression calm. "Some say Parseltongue was invented by a race of magical snake-people, the Naga, but since they're extinct and have been for over a thousand years, I suppose no one knows for sure."

I tilted my head to the side. "How did you find out about your snake-talking ability, anyway?"

"Oh, recently I went to the zoo for Dudley's birthday. There was a big snake in the reptile house and I was able to communicate with it. And, err, I accidentally freed it with some accidental magic," Harry admitted with a blush.

"Huh. Neat," I muttered. So that hadn't changed from canon, then. "Might want to keep it on the downlow, though. Wizards in England – and Europe in general – see it as a Dark ability."

"Why?" Harry asked, confused.

"Because Moldyshorts was a Parseltongue, and so was Salazar Slytherin, and a really nasty dude named Herpo the Foul. They kinda ruined it for everyone by being evil."

Ahead, the goblin snorted in amusement at that.

"Of course, there are places where being a Parseltongue is considered a good thing," I continued, making sure Harry didn't feel bad about his gift. "In India, they revere snakes as divine entities and bringers of rain and fortune. Same in some places of Africa and the Americas as well. Those who can speak to them are treated highly, and well respected outside of the so-called 'Western World.'"

"So, it's not a bad thing?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Absolutely not!" I said firmly. "Never think that any part of you is bad or evil or wrong, Harry. People here in Magical Britain have heavy prejudices towards that which they see as 'Dark' due to their history, both recent and ancient. For now, having people know you can do something 'Dark' would be bad. They can be as fickle and quick to shun as they are to praise. They're basically sheep with superpowers."

Again, the goblin runner escorting us choked out a laugh before stopping in front of a door.

"We're here," he said simply, and I flipped him a silver sickle as a tip. Goblin society revolved heavily around tips. You were expected to do it for practically everything.

He bobbed his head at me, surprised by my gesture, then wandered off to do something else. I led Harry into the room without knocking. Another cultural difference. You didn't knock on doors and wait to be let in, you just went in, especially if you were already expected.

"I am Mudclaw, Senior Account Manager for Gringotts," the goblin at the desk in the office we entered said crisply. "You wish to register a Vault Key?"

"For my friend," I said, gesturing to Harry as we sat down in a pair of comfy chairs.

"And your friend is?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Take off your hat," I told Harry, and he did so, revealing his messy black hair and scar to the world. Mudclaw hissed in shock, ears and nose twitching madly.

"I know Harry is too young to have access to his family's vault, but I believe his parents set up a Trust Vault for his schooling and such," I said, speaking as if I hadn't shocked the goblin out of his wits. "Unfortunately, we don't trust his current guardians, magical or otherwise, to do the right thing. As such, I want the Rite of Sanctuary to be invoked, so both of us are protected."

"You even know about the Rite," Mudclaw whispered in surprise, schooling his expression as he did so. "Who are you?"

"Just a Squib with too much time on his hands and plenty of old books to read," I replied with a smirk. And having a red-headed friend who worked as a Curse Breaker for Gringotts didn't hurt, either. "And, above all that, Harry Potter's friend."

Harry nodded in agreement at that, and Mudclaw glanced between us before sighing.

"Very well. Let us begin with getting the boy a key for his Trust Vault."

This process involved a bit of blood from Harry – partly to ensure he was, in fact, Harry Potter, and partly to infuse his magical signature into the key itself, which was a study, solid iron mass.

It was heavy, and yet Harry was able to hold it easily. Some documents also needed signing – also from Harry, and in blood as well.

Then, once that was done, Mudclaw provided a statement on the status of Harry's Trust Vault.

"You won't be able to access the main Potter Family Vault until you turn seventeen," Mudclaw informed Harry. "However, your Trust Vault is connected to it, and is filled with one thousand galleons a year on your birthday. You currently have fifteen thousand galleons in the vault, which is ten years plus the initial five thousand your parents put in when you were born."

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