Harry fought that title as much as he could, even though, on the inside, he was pleased with it. Of  course, he was the heir; he could talk to serpents, could command them to follow or lead wherever he wanted; he had the look,  as well. Piercing green eyes the colour of a killing curse, where everyone who’d seen him as a babe had only seen brown or darkness close to black. A man of obsidian hair that could never be tamed and seemed, for all the world, to find efforts at control to be amusing. He also had an affinity towards dark and dreary things, though Harry knew the paranoia surrounding that was primarily due to light wizards and witches’ mania.