Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

I apologize for the long wait. School has been absolutely dreadful as of recently and I cannot guarantee a weekly update now that the exams are around the corner. However, I will try to be as effective as I can.

Chapter 10: Snakepit

'I have to admit it. I slightly regret underestimating the house elf,' said Tom as Ophidia scurried across the map which Dobby had sent her with the mail that morning. It was dinner and almost the entire common room was empty with a few exceptions, which was why Ophidia sought out the perfect opportunity to closely inspect the locations noted down on the map. Needless to say, she was not impressed with the results she had received.

As expected, it would seem that almost everyone who were previously affiliated with the death eaters during the war were widespread across the continent. The ones that had successfully avoided persecution for their involvement with the Dark Lord had never truly deserted their homes, yet were less than eager about staying cooped in one place if they wished to avoid further suspicion from the government. Others, including the Lestranges and Bartemius Crouch Jr., weren't worth paying any attention to since the possibilities of them ever making it out of Azkaban were low. Mulciber, Dolohov, and Rookwood were no good either.

"Igor Karkaroff, however, remains in Scandinavia at Durmstrang," she noted, placing the quill down on the map and drawing a red circle across the northern European region. "Though I'm uncertain about his use. From what you've told me, it doesn't sound like he's too keen on being reunited with his old friends. I don't see away from the possibilities that he may be useful later on, however,"

"And the Carrows are both in Liverpool,' Tom noticed, and on cue, Ophidia drew yet another circle on the map.

"I'll make sure that they stay in touch," Ophidia said and glanced down at the parchment Dobby had given her, scanning across the list of names she had crossed out. "Avery's in York, working as an apothecary for nasty maladies inflicted by Dark Arts. Wonder why he didn't just apply for an occupation at St Mungo's."

Tom scoffed. "He probably wishes to remain out of suspicion's reach. Given his history, it wouldn't look too good if he applied for something like a healer for Dark arts' inflicted injuries. It would give too much away."

She nodded and drew another red circle. "Makes sense."

"What about Yaxley?" he asked.

"Corban Yaxley, like the Carrows and Avery, managed to avoid persecution and is currently staying on the Ministry's good graces as a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He will undoubtedly be of use to us."

"Good."

She felt proud of herself, more so than she did on a daily. With the aid of something so trivial as a meek house elf, she had successfully been able to locate the majority of those who were previously affiliated with the Dark Lord during the war. Fewer of them had been reported as deceased by the ministry, fewer than she anticipated, but that meant much more for the taking once the time was there.

However, after having gone through with most of the names on the list, Ophidia came to notice something predominantly time-consuming as she sat there in the dormitory with the lantern on her desk and quill in her hand. The werewolves' locations, unlike the others, were more spread and changeable than those of the Death Eaters. Since the summer, they had actively avoided staying at one location for too long, most likely due to the wariness of being hunted by aurors. Despite their infamy, werewolves themselves weren't generally hunted down by anyone, with the exception of prejudiced good-for-nothings, but those affiliated with Greyback would doubtlessly be brought into consideration. Unfortunately for Ophidia, it was his lot she would have to acquire in the future. If only he didn't get his lot killed before the time, that was.

"You will have quite the work in the coming years," Tom said patronizingly, knowing very well that it would do little to ease her internal frustrations. Despite this, she packed the map away along with the list and, with the swift movement of her wand, they vanished.

"It's nothing I'm not prepared to do," she said, making her way across the dormitory and to the common room. "My life is already decided for, after all. Might as well act the par- Achoo!" Ophidia abruptly paused just as she entered the common room, holding her nose and earning herself several odd looks from the few students that were still occupying the space. Ignoring them, she drew the hem of her sleeve across her nose and inhaled shallowly. "This wretched season," she muttered begrudged.

"Hopefully, it doesn't escalate," said Tom.

He was wrong.

Ophidia had never particularly enjoyed the winter season, much less than she did with all the other ones. Spring was a mess due to her severe pollen allergies, summer wasn't as dreadful though she preferred to stay in the shade rather than indulging herself in the sun, and autumn was less of a nuisance because she wasn't expected to go outside if it rained, which happened on repeated intervals. Winter, however, was the worst. It was always then she ended up with some kind of flu or in some inconvenient state that rendered her incapable of functioning properly, more so than usual. Due to her weak immunity system which had plagued her since she was a child, Ophidia was always more susceptible to the external forces than her cousin was.

It was bothersome, really.

Mid throughout the next week, she had somehow been able to conjure such an ailment. Like said, it had escalated majorly. It was nothing too big at first, just an occasional cough or a sneeze so she didn't pay it much attention. But eventually, it developed into quite a nasty situation she had not seen coming. Not even three days after she showed the symptoms did she discover an ear-splitting headache that had manifested itself, followed shortly by a soreness in her muscles like she hadn't experienced since the diffindo incident with Parkinson. Getting sick was something she was no stranger towards, though it was something she never stopped loathing whenever she was unfortunate enough to receive it. Nevertheless, she didn't speak a word throughout the week about it, though her condition continued to worsen. It didn't really help that the corridors and the classrooms had decreased with temperature as well.

Especially the dungeons.

Throughout the Potions class, all Ophidia managed to concentrate on was the sound of her own heartbeats. Her skin had erupted with goosebumps and her breathing and been reduced to shallow, painful, almost inaudible gasps. They had been instructed by Snape to make a Wiggenweld potion and had been partnered up two and two. Like always, Ophidia partnered up with Diana Greengrass, yet was hardly able to focus as she felt the pain in her chest increase for each breath she took. To be subjected to such a derogatory state by no one was pitiable from her perspective. Feeling so weak and incapable of working was almost an insult.

Just as she raised the mortar to the cauldron and pour the powdered lionfish spine into the unfinished potion, a hand grasped her wrist just as the powder fell to the side and prevented it from going further. "We've just done that," said the Greengrass girl. Ophidia looked up hazily and shook the hand off her before she put the mortar firmly down on the table. "Are you sure you're alright?" the Greengrass asked, making sure to whisper as not to conjure the potions master's attention. "You don't look too good."

Ophidia nodded and waved her hand, dismissing the Greengrass girl's concern though her eyes could hardly keep themselves up. "I'm perfectly fine," Her tone was chilly and unwelcoming, and exactly like she was feeling at the moment. She could do good with a little less attention from others. Whenever she got sick back at Malfoy Manor, she would stay in bed, be served some sort of remedy, and have books keep her entertained. The Malfoys wouldn't bother her with questions like "How are you feeling?" or "Feel better soon." That would be it. They would only give her what she needed and more if she personally requested it. They didn't pry. Draco was the exception and would always stay beside her whenever she was sick, whether it was to read to her or play chess with her on top of the bed. It was childish, but the gesture itself was… appreciated, though hardly necessary.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco a little further up in the classroom next to Crabbe and Goyle. "For all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home." It was evident that this comment was aimed at something in the back of the room, though Ophidia wasn't able to discover who that unfortunate individual had been before she fell to her knees, holding her face in her hand.

"Oi, Cascabel!" someone in the room shouted worrisomely, and soon enough, almost every pair of eyes in the room was directed towards her. Ophidia felt humiliated for being seen in such a miserable state, but she said nothing and got up to her feet again, attempting her best to her abilities to ignore the unwanted attention she was receiving from her peers. She could do good with a little less unnecessary sympathy.

"I'm fine," she said as calmly as she could, not looking any one of those idiots in the eyes as she spoke. Her voice was colder than her bodily temperature felt like. "Just a little dizzy, that's all." Unfortunately for her, it wasn't just her peers' attention she had managed to get.

"Miss Cascabel," came Snape's voice and, true enough, approached her table from the front of the classroom. "You're no fit for classes. Go see Madam Pomfrey."

She glared at him, feeling her patience running thin. "I said I'm perfectly fine, professor," She was surprised by how composed she managed to stay. After all, there weren't many times that she accidentally, or deliberately, allowed her façade to slip. Yet another exception. "There's nothing with me that can be used as an excuse for skipping classes." Almost instantly after she had said that, another cough escaped her and she covered her mouth. Snape raised an eyebrow at this.

"Just my point. Miss Cascabel, go to the hospital wing now," he drew warningly, and despite her state, Ophidia was perfectly capable of deducing that his patience was wearing out as well. However, she wasn't about to indulge in the fact that she would miss the rest of her classes for the entire day if she had to go to the hospital wing, taking the matron's overbearingness into consideration.

"Ophidia, just go," said the brown-haired Greengrass girl, flashing her a concerned look from the corner of her eye. "You seriously don't look very good."

"Cascabel, now." Although Snape wasn't raising his voice a single bit, Ophidia knew that there was no avoiding the situation anymore. Growling incoherently, she grabbed her books and exited the dungeons without a second glance back. To say that she was annoyed would be an underestimation. She was infuriated.

"I don't see why this is necessary, I truly don't," she murmured under her breath as she walked through the corridors on the way to the hospital, making sure to walk as slowly as possible as to delay her entrance. "A little cough and suddenly I'm on my death bed. He's exaggerating, truly a nuisance when he wants to be," she said, indicating to the potions master.

"Well, you've always been prone to sickness," Tom reasoned, finding her sudden sense of irresponsibility to be tiresome. "The last thing we need are you getting useless."

"He could've just given me a pepperup potion and all of this would've be-" She felt a vehement cough build itself up her throat and she abruptly paused in her steps, holding her mouth as she let it out. Her throat felt raspy and dry and there was no telling how vigorous her current condition could render her in the future. She never did bode well with unpleasantries in the air, be it weather conditions or temperature. Had she not been a witch, a particularly talented one at that for her age, she would've been less than a useless muggle. That fact alone was enough to have her grind her teeth together to dust. Knowing her own inability to function properly under certain circumstances wasn't an attribute she necessarily favoured amongst her many others.

"Duck!"

But before Ophidia could respond, the sensation of something cold dripping down on top of her head had her completely freeze in her stance. A couple of seconds later, she drew her hand over her head and looked down at her palm to see some kind of black substance; ink.

"Oopsie, sorry, Ophie, didn't see you there," said the maniacal voice belonging to none other than the castle's most obnoxious little pest. Ophidia felt tempted to reach for her wand and curse that damned poltergeist to oblivion, but decided against it and decided to let it lay.

Looking up at the ceiling, she spotted Peeves floating there with a recently-emptied ink bottle in his hand held upside-down. He waved down at her, causing the bell at the end of his ridiculous hat to let out a ringing noise. Surprisingly enough, she felt more than capable of letting it slide by and she continued forward without any notice paid towards the trickster.

She could hear him complain from behind her. "You're no fun, Ophie! You're supposed to curse me and all that! That's the point of pranking you brats!"

"Then I apologize for not exceeding your expectations, Peeves," she said without turning around. "But if you wish to bothersome, I suspect that the caretaker is more than available at the moment. Won't he be more of a sufficient candidate?"

"Filch's almost no fun anymore. All he does is to wave that broom at me."

"That's unfortunate." And that was all Ophidia said before she rounded the corner and the poltergeist disappeared from behind her. As soon as he was gone, she drew her wand over her head and had the ink easily disappear. "If I encounter another bothersome piece of arse around this place, I might consider having Mr Malfoy transfer me to another school. All these problems hardly seem worth the effort anymore." She was well aware of how attached she had grown to the castle, but it could all be challenged by how bothersome she found it in the end.

"I believe it would be more sufficient for you to remain here," Tom interfered. "Hogwarts is not like any other school around. It's the core of everything you wish to achieve."

"For someone who claims to find everything even remotely similar to affection foolish, you sure to indicate that you feel much of it here more than anywhere else," she contradicted gravely and didn't care about how coldly she was addressing him. Tom scoffed and let out a sneer.

"Don't be hypocritical," he said. "You're actually fond of this place. You wouldn't leave even if you got the chance."

"Just because of all the opportunities it would grant me," she said, not realizing that she had just verified Tom's earlier statement, and instantly reprimanded herself for her spontaneous behaviour. As if matters couldn't turn worse, another pang of pain hit her head and she placed a hand on her head, groaning. "Fine, I yield." With nothing more to say, she didn't stand around long enough to notice the figure lurking behind her as she walked. Tom, however, didn't put his guard down for a single moment. Not until he was sure that they were out of harm's way.

It would seem that that fool never gave up.

When she finally reached the entrance to the hospital wing, Ophidia had hardly grazed the handle before it barged up and a towering figure exited with what appeared to be some kind of Christmas tree hanging over their shoulder. "No problem, Poppy," said the rumbling voice that was unmistakably the gamekeeper's. Ophidia held her breath and didn't move as he passed her by, the branches of the tree covering her from his line of view. After he suddenly decided to turn back, Ophidia had to duck as not to be smashed into the wall, holding her head. "I'll bring yeh a smaller tree next time."

"That would be appreciated, Hagrid," came the matron's voice from inside the wing. "Christmas is something that should be celebrated, but it would be preferable for the trees not to take up so much space in the hospital wing."

"O' course." Said the half-giant and was just about to turn back around again, but having just spotted her there in the corner of his eyes, he smiled and put the tree down on the floor. Ophidia took the opportunity to regain her stance and composure simultaneously, though being incapable of concealing the contemptuous state she was in. "'Ello, Miss Cascabel," he greeted her.

"Mr Hagrid," she nodded in acknowledgement, eyeing the tree somewhat suspiciously.

He patted it proudly. "It's Christmas soon, so I've bin getting some trees to celebrate. Yeh plannin' on stayin' here at Hogwarts or yer travelin' home?"

She shook her head. "I'll be travelling home for the holidays,"

"That's a shame. Christmas is always so pretty here during the winter seasons."

She frowned. "I couldn't tell."

"Anyway, gotta go. Good luck with whatever yeh gotta do at Poppy's." and with that, he lifted the tree up over his shoulder again and headed down the corridor, whistling a holiday tune as he went. Ophidia ended up looking strangely at him until he disappeared around the corner and vanished from sight before she finally headed into the hospital wing, bracing herself for the uncomfortable meeting she would inevitably end up having with the overbearing woman.

Then she stopped just as her left shoe braced the doorframe and turned around and headed straight for the gamekeeper, turning around the corner and spotting him just making his way towards the stairs. "Mr Hagrid!" she called, sensing the increasing ache in her throat and the severe inhales her breathing required for her to focus properly. Having heard her at once, the half-giant turned around, tree still swinging over his shoulder, and watched in astonishment as the young Slytherin girl hastily made her way towards him, her face reddening for each step she took.

"Yeh alrigh', Cascabel? Yeh don't look too good."

"Mr Hagrid," she called one final time as she reached him, puffing and panting as if she had just run a couple of marathons. "I have something I need to ask you, if you could spare a moment or two."

"Sure!" the gamekeeper nodded. "Wha' is it?"

"I was wondering," she gasped for air and straightened her back, attempting her best to keep the dizziness she was experiencing from being visible from an exterior perspective. "If you could tell me what you know about three-headed dogs, Cerberuses,"

The second those last words escaped her, the half-giants already-big eyes almost doubled in size and he nearly dropped the tree over his shoulder on the ground. "How do you know about Fluffy?"

"Fluffy?" both Tom and Ophidia thought incredulously.

She narrowed her eyes. "Who's Fluffy?"

"Don' pretend not to know!" the half-giant shouted, an expression standing firmly between anger and uneasiness. "Did Harry tell yeh? Him, or Ron, or Hermione?"

"Potter? N-No," She waved both her arms in front of her as if to seem more gullible. "I came across it in a book I read at the library, and I-I just figured out that since you have an affinity for magical creatures of that kind, that perhaps you could tell me something about it."

"Absolutely not!"

"Why not?" she persisted, wishing to corner him. It was always an efficient method for getting people to speak the truth when they didn't want to. The other one was Veritaserum, but it was always much more of a hassle than simple verbal conversations.

"Fer the last time, it doesn' involve anyone else! I've already told Harry an' the others! It's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel-"

"Nicholas Flamel?"

"I apologize," said Ophidia calmly and inclined towards him. "I didn't mean to pry on anything, sir. I'll leave you alone."

The half-giant's face softened up and he sighed. "'ts alrigh', Cascabel."

"Then," she turned around and prepared to walk back to the hospital wing, but not before giving the gamekeeper a sincere smile. "I wish you a good day, sir,"

"Good day, Cascabel."

"Nicolas Flamel," Ophidia pondered in the dormitory during the afternoon, having been given some medicine to evade her mild influenza from developing into a much worse condition but found it no less difficult to put her mind on something specific without experiencing another headache. With her back against the chair and quill in her hand, she had written down the name on top of the parchment. The rest, however, was all blank.

Thanks to dinner, the other girls were gone and only the cat was there to keep an eye on her. Ophidia paid it no attention and kept her eyes glued to the parchment, occasionally marking down a dot with no real context whatsoever attached to it. Just a simple dot, maybe two, maybe three at a time. She groaned and rubbed her temples. "This is becoming an annoyance, everything," she growled. "I didn't imagine the first year to be so bothersome."

"Expect the unexpected," said Tom matter-of-factly.

"Appreciate the advice, but it won't do me any good now,"

Her stomach let out a growl.

"You should go eat," he said. "You starving yourself won't do you any good at this rate."

"I'm perfectly fine as it is," she dismissed his claims even though she knew he was, essentially, correct. She was hungry and in need of sustenance, but without making any progress she didn't feel like doing much except ensure that she was, exactly, making progress.

Her stomach growled again.

"I can tell," If Tom had eyes at that moment, he would have rolled them.

"That hound is called Fluffy, for whatever unfathomable reason, and there lies no doubt that the oaf of a half-giant brought it here himself. At Dumbledore's orders, I'm certain." Ophidia didn't care that she spoke aloud anymore, seeing it as the wretched cat was the only spectator of this. "But what I still haven't figured out is what exactly that beast is hiding, why Quirrell wants it, or who this Flamel is."

"Hmmm…. I swear I've heard that name from somewhere before,"

She put the parchment away and stood up from the desk, wobbling a bit due to the dizziness caused by her current state and lack of food. She drew a hand over her head and supported herself on the back of the chair. "I'll go to the library tomorrow and check. Hopefully, Pince won't be there to interfere." She exited the dormitory and entered the common room, surprised to see her fellow Slytherins Davis and Zabini sitting there, heads buried deep within several books which had been scattered around on the table in front of them. Judging by their expressions, they were behind in homework. History and Defence against the Dark Arts, evidently. In all honesty, she couldn't blame them for not prioritizing those subjects. Professor Binns was hardly the ideal teacher and Quirrell was just pathetic, in more ways than few.

"I still don't quite get it," Davis said, furiously scratching the back of her head as she dipped the quill back into the ink, writing over something on the parchment in front of her after having found out that it was incorrect. "Why are werewolves and doxies a required field to know about for first years? It doesn't make sense!"

"Filthy half-breeds and all," Zabini mocked. "This school is sometimes too soft for its own good."

"That's not what I meant, but it seems a little vague, don't you think?"

"On the contrary," Ophidia sat down across them and cast a quick look over the parchments and books that had been scattered around them on the table. "Though I agree that professor Quirrell's teaching methods are far from ideal," She felt tempted to scoff but continued, "However, that doesn't mean that the information we learn should be so easily discarded."

"Then tell me, Cascabel," Davis said hastily and leaned forth over the table, almost knocking over a bottle of ink on the side. "What's the best method for curing doxy bites?"

"In modern ages, a simple antidote is all that is required. Even though doxy bites are quite nasty, they are in need of little in order to heal properly."

"What about werewolf bites?"

"Apply silver and dittany to the open wound."

Davis scribbled down the notes on her parchment.

"Wait a minute," Zabini intervened, tilting his head to the side in confusion. "Didn't professor Quirrell say that aconite was applied?"

Ophidia shook her head. "He was mistaken. Aconite is another word for Wolfsbane and is the essential plant used in a wolfsbane potion."

"I knew there was something wrong there!" Davis exclaimed. "Remind me never to listen to Quirrell's classes ever again."

"I still don't," said Zabini casually just as he too started writing down the answers on one of his pages. Ophidia felt a little bit easier now than before but she still couldn't find the strength to concentrate on anything for too long without growing faint again. Even so, there was still one question that bothered her.

"Do either of you know anything about Nicolas Flamel?" she asked, not even processing what she had just said before the words left her mouth. The two students turned to look at her with raised eyebrows. That's when Ophidia knew that she had just let the worst thing happen, and that was allowing herself to seem like some sort of spectacle in front of her fellow Slytherins. If there existed something that she was afraid of, it was that her actions would decrease her chances of making a profit of the others. This didn't exactly make her chances any better, but perhaps – just perhaps – they knew something about this Flamel person.

Unfortunately….

"Nicolas Flamel? Who's that?" Davis asked dumbfounded.

"Never heard about him," Zabini said.

So much for hope on that part.

Ophidia waved her hand dismissively and said with the sincerest smile she could muster given the circumstances. "Oh, just forget it. It was just someone I read about.

The door to the common room suddenly opened and Draco entered along with the others, and Ophidia took that as her cue to leave before the afternoon would become just another day of trivial chatting. The library would suffice. It always did. If she could figure out who that Flamel person was, then she could perhaps come a little closer to the answer as to what was hidden behind the three-headed hound and why Quirrell so desperately wanted it, if the occurrences truly were connected. She didn't doubt that they were in one way or the other.

Ophidia let out a sneeze that appeared out of the blue, earning herself the attention of the inconvenient librarian. "Quiet over there!" The vulture-like woman snapped, eyeing the entire library from the front of the room in search of the perpetrator. When she found no susceptible ones out of the few students that were there, she resumed with dusting one of the bookshelves without saying anything else.

Initially, Ophidia assumed that searching for this Nicolas Flamel would be an easy task, as anyone even remotely associated with the likes of someone like Dumbledore would be mentioned at least once or twice in some book. However, after half an hour of searching in every book from Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century to Notable Magical Names of Our Time and every bookshelf with something akin to them as well with nothing, she started to doubt that her chances were as good as she first thought. It was like the name was unheard of, and she didn't dare ask for Madam Pince's assistance. Her eyes kept occasionally glancing over at the Restricted Section, wondering whether the information she needed was to be located there. But it would be too risky with Madam Pince still breathing down her neck, so she decided against it and kept trying without much luck.

It didn't really help when she had a hard time focusing. Her mind was a deteriorating mess and by the time the library was about to close, even Tom's voice was becoming little less than ringing in her ears. Eventually, Ophidia put the books neatly back where they belonged and exited the library. As she opened her mouth to mumble the password in front of the entrance, the sound of shrieking could be heard coming from inside. "What in the…." She tried to think of the password, but her mind was still disorganized. The letters aligned themselves in her head little by little until the word returned to her. "Echidna."

The door opened and she stepped inside. What she found once there was a sight that she never in her life would suspect would come to her attention. Almost all of the first year Slytherins, Draco, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode, Davis, Nott, Zabini, the Greengrass girls, were all standing on top of the couch, faces pale with fear and eyes that were doubled in size. Parkinson was clutching fearfully onto Draco to the point where it seemed like his ribs were on the verge of breaking internally, and judging by the semi-purple colour on his face, Ophidia doubted that his source of discomfort didn't originate from Parkinson more than whatever had simultaneously inflicted such terror within them all.

"What are you all doing….." Her eyes fell on the floor, and that was when she discovered what had sent them all into an uproar. Scattered and coiling around the floor beneath them were numerous of snakes, swirling around and hissing at the scared children who were standing on the furniture. Without counting, she would guess that the number was well-beyond ten at the least. As her eyes trailed upwards, she spotted an opened suitcase on top of the table.

"Ssssssuch imbecilesssss…." One of the adders hissed, bearing its fangs at Parkinson and Draco. "Such loud pestsssss…"

"Ssssssshould we bite them?" asked one of the other snakes, a female. "Ssssshould we keep them quiet?"

"What fun would that be?" hissed another closest to the armchair where Bulstrode stood trembling, the largest snake of them all. "I quite like watching them ssssquirm and sssssqueal."

"Ophidia, look… Out!" Draco managed to shout in-between the gasps of air that Parkinson's embrace had restricted.

Ophidia didn't move an inch, but she could feel her anger reaching its breaking point. After having spent days like an inconsequential, unfunctional piece of waste that could hardly work normally, much less care for a room full of serpents, she decided that enough was enough for one day. "Get. Out." she hissed. All of the adders on the floor turned their heads to her at once, doubting that what they had just heard for a moment, in their own tongue, would ever come from a human.

"Did that two-legger just say something?" asked the female.

"Sounded like it," said another.

"Get out of here, now," Ophidia said again, feeling her patience thinning and her headache increasing by the second. Surprisingly, her voice was low and hardly audible, so the Slytherins didn't "Who sent you here? What are you doing here?"

"Ssssshe does talk out tongue," Realization dawned upon the adders.

The female adder slithered up to her, raising her head slightly. "Sssssome two-leggers trapped ussssss in there," she whipped her tail up to the suitcase. "Two of them."

For some reason, she already suspected who the two culprits were. Without saying another word, Ophidia walked up into the room, and surprisingly, the serpents made way for her so that she didn't end up stepping on either of them. The Slytherins were torn between shock and scepticism as they watched the Cascabel girl reach for the suitcase and place it down on the floor in front of the serpents.

"Cascabel, what in Merlin's name are you doing?" Zabini asked incredulously, looking no less dread-inflicted than before. Ophidia didn't answer as she opened the suitcase, revealing it to be empty inside.

One of the larger adders hissed viciously at this, bearing its fangs with the threat of striking. "What are you doing with that, two-legger?" the snake demanded.

"You need to leave. I'll release you once we get outside." She explained, giving the hostile reaction no facial response.

"You will do no sssssuch thing!"

"I don't have time for your argument," she said bluntly. "Don't cause me any problems. I'll take you back to where you came from."

"We can find our way out ourssselvesss."

"There are forces inside the castle that wouldn't hesitate to kill you once given the chance," she reasoned. "Most aren't too fond of your kind here."

"Yet you speak our language, two-legger,"

"I can't help that."

The female adder suddenly slithered up towards the suitcase, looking sceptically on it before she proceeded to look up at Ophidia. "You will take us home, yes?"

"You have my word."

The female adder lingered for a second or so before she finally decided to take her word for it and slither into the suitcase, coiling up in the corner as if to make herself a little comfortable in the restricted space that would become her temporary containment. In a little less than a minute, more of the serpents began to make their way up towards her, some hissing at the scared children as they went whereas others simply went quietly into the near-crowded suitcase. The last one was the largest of the number, the one with the most voice. His glare stayed on Ophidia and he said dangerously, "If you are fooling usssss now, two-legger," and then he went into the suitcase too, gathering up with the others.

Ophidia clasped it shut and locked it before she stood up, holding cautiously in her arms as not to rattle it too much. She looked around the floor and when she didn't spot any serpent that had managed to sneak away, she turned to the Slytherins and said, "It's safe now, you can come down." Another minute or two passed without any of them moving, yet none looked away from the Cascabel girl.

"H-How did you do that?" Draco managed to muster, finally pushing the Parkinson girl off him.

Ophidia looked unimpressed. "Do what?"

"Did you…. Talk to them?" Bulstrode asked, still vaguely shaking.

"Talk to them?" Ophidia tilted her head to the side, feigning confusion. "What do you mean?"

"How did you make them move into the suitcase?" Davis asked, seemingly more composed than the rest.

"I'm honestly more curious about how they got here in the first place?" Ophidia's eyes narrowed at the Davis girl, who seemingly flushed at this.

"W-Well-"

"It's her fault!" Parkinson's head jerked to Davis with a sharp scowl. "She opened the suitcase to begin with!"

"Hey, that's not fair!" Shouted Diana Greengrass, stepping down from the couch which she and her cousin had shared. "You said that she should do it!"

"I didn't think that there would be any snakes in it!"

"Neither did she!"

The sight of their constant argument with each other like children made Ophidia want to rub her temples with frustration, but remembering the suitcase she held in her arms, she decided against it.

"We have to tell this to Snape!" Davis said.

"Where did you find this suitcase?" Ophidia asked, genuinely curious as to what the suitcase was doing there in the first place. It had to have been brought inside one way or the other, and nobody except Slytherins could get inside the common room.

"It was outside our common room. Someone had put it there."

"Any idea who?"

Nobody answered.

"Probably some Gryffindors," Draco sneered vehemently. "It's always them."

"We don't know for certain," Daphne Greengrass didn't let her doubt go unnoticed.

"Who else would want to mess with us like this? The Hufflepuffs?"

"Alright, I see your point," she relented.

It was hard to tell which one of them looked the most flabbergasted about how the situation had unfolded from a floor crawling with venomous adders to whether Hufflepuffs had been the perpetrators. Ophidia, however, didn't let it bother her for more than it ought to, which wasn't very long, before she headed towards the exit to the common room.

"Where are you going, Cascabel?" Zabini asked just as she had stepped out of the room and to the corridor outside.

"I'm going to tell Snape about the incident," she said curtly. "And see to it that incidents like this won't occur in any near future."

"Shouldn't one of us go with you?" Parkinson suggested, looking fearfully around the room as if expecting a snake to jump on her from someplace. "J-Just so he'll believe you? May- Maybe one of us can join and verify what has happened?"

Ophidia exhaled exasperatedly. "Snape wouldn't believe Slytherins would release snakes on themselves, not even Crabbe and Goyle."

"That's saying something," Draco agreed.

"I'll be back shortly," she said, and before anyone could say anything else, the door shut itself and blended in with the wall. Taking a deep breath, Ophidia let out a cough, a few actually, and patted her chest with the elbow that was closest to her despite the suitcase that was still held tightly onto. The hissing and the cursing coming from what the suitcase contained were as loud to her as Peeves' cackles in the distance were. She could only hope that, regardless of whatever happened, she wouldn't run into him.

"What strikes me as a little odd," said Tom as she headed for Snape's office. "Is that they said that there were two people who put them there."

"Perhaps what Draco suggested wasn't too far from the truth,"

"Gryffindors?"

"Worse,"

"Reckless Gryffindors?"

"Worse than that,"

"Reckless Gryffindors with a particular disdain for Slytherins?"

"Correct." Granted, the relationship between the two houses was nothing short of a daily conversational subject in the school. Nobody was oblivious towards the hostile interactions the Snakes had with the Lions and vice versa, but to put several serpents outside the former's house just for some sort of joke seemed childish at the least. Then again, if it truly were some frivolous Gryffindors that were the source of this ridiculous scheme, then she didn't doubt that their only intentions were to scare the Slytherins. Venomous snakes usually conjured something more than just harmless laughs.

They wanted to hurt the victims of their jokes. They wished to inflicted pain, and in worse cases, fatal accidents. They wished to make sure that the supposed snakes of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wouldn't dare to walk freely in the halls without paranoia accompanying them. In between the occasional coughs and sneezes, Ophidia couldn't help but to find everything really ironic, as she had been doing for the past months. For being the supposed house where the brave reigned, they were far from as courteous and heroic as the usual tales made them appear to be. They seemed less than children in her opinion if they allowed such calamities to occur at their own hands, by themselves.

She would probably have given it more thought had it not been for what occurred only a second later. She felt a pair of hands on her shoulder and with an easy push, Ophidia fell back onto her rear and dropped the suitcase on the floor, effectively conjuring a range of aggressive hisses from the snakes inside it.

"Look here, Henry. It's the little snake again."

Despite her disorganized mind, Ophidia was easily able to put a face on that name. She glanced up, hoping that it had just been a voice in her head and not a part of reality, but the theory was soon debunked as she came face to face with the two Gryffindors she had had the misfortune of encountering weeks ago. There they stood, sneering down at her with arms crossed and eyes sharpened into what looked like sinister glees with dubious intentions lurking behind.

Hurriedly, she reached over for the suitcase, but a foot stepped down on her hand and she let out an inaudible yelp, gritting her teeth together as the pain surfaced. "What are you trying to do, snake? Trying to get away?" said Herrington mockingly and deliberately put even more force down on his shoe, successfully intensifying the pain in her hand. "Don't think we'll let you off easy just because you're a first year, and especially not after that detention you gave us."

She muttered, "You were perfectly capable of ensuring that yourself."

The foot was lifted off her hand and a hand grabbed the collar of her robes, forcing her to stand up and face him with her feet dangling a few inches above the ground. "What was that, snake? Did you just say something?" Though Ophidia could admit with ease that his breath smelled of dungbomb and whatnot, it suddenly dawned on her that she would rather not wish to make the same mistake that Davis did when she got her legs locked for calling that Gryffindor muggleborn a mudblood. It was a derogatory term that not even she felt obligated to call someone by, though it would most certainly ensure her satisfaction to watch them feel their pride being torn to shreds.

"How are you going to handle this?" Tom asked apathetically with a sigh. "It's not even been a year and you've already been put through a lot of problems we agreed was beneath us."

"Well, I apologize, your highness," she said coldly, not even aware of the fact that she had just said so aloud in front of Herrington's face. At first, confusion was written over his face as if he was finding it hard to decode what she had just said, but then it crunched up to a scowl and he threw her down on the floor.

"You little…." His eyes darted to the suitcase where the hissing continued and a grin spread across his lips. "Hey, Richard, get me that," he said and gestured to the suitcase, and like an obedient little pup, the Ledwell boy did as he was told and retrieved it for his friend. Ophidia could only watch as the Herrington boy proceeded to open it, undoubtedly intending on pouring what it contained all over her. Such a childish act for the sake of some petty revenge was beyond her.

One thing was for certain, however.

She. Had. Had. Enough.

"Bite him." she said, pointing a sharp finger at the Herrington boy.

Both of the boys looked at her oddly before they let out ear-piercing shrieks as all of the serpents within the suitcase slithered out across the Herrington boy's arm and started wrapping themselves around him. It wasn't long until the same thing happened to the Ledwell boy, who was too frozen to move very much. One might have suspected that he had been exposed to a leg-locking jinx himself, much like Davis had been prior to the first Quidditch match. As Ophidia got up to her feet, glaring down at the Gryffindors who had been unfortunate enough to fall victim to their own pranks, she felt no gratification whatsoever, nor any fulfilment upon watching them squirm. If anything, she felt tired and bored.

"How childish of you," Tom reprimanded her though with no anger evident in his tone. "What are we going to explain to the teachers?"

"We're going to tell them what happened," she said simply, raising her wand from her robes. The boys' screams had faded into semi-inaudible squeals that could hardly be heard within a few meters distance. They looked so pitiful there on the floor it was hardly an amusing sight, but somewhat intriguing to say the least. Being exposed to your own actions felt like the most efficient kind of retribution from her perspective. They wouldn't die, which honestly was a shame, but they wouldn't walk in a straight line for a little while.

She glowered down at them, wand in her hand, and with eyes cold as ice. Whereas Herrington was practically turning purple now and far from conscious, Ledwell, on the other hand, was still conscious enough to look up at her with eyes which were twice as wide as they should've been physically able to become. Tears were streaming down his eyes just as the biggest of the adders started coiling around his throat, effectively cutting off any oxygen. She glanced around, seeing nobody there, and then did something she never expected to allow.

"Tom, I need a favour."

"What is it?"

"I need you to wipe their memories."

"Really?"

"They saw me speaking the Tongue. I can't cast the Forgetfulness Charm just yet. You can do it, yes?"

"Of course, I can."

"Then do it."

"Am I supposed to clean up your mess?"

"The fewer problems I have, the better it will be for the both of us, wouldn't you agree?"

"True."

And with that, Ophidia fell back into the dark and Tom resurfaced, instantly feeling the effects of the symptoms making it to him. He had to say, it had been quite a while since he himself had been inflicted with such nasty afflictions. In fact, it had been quite a long while since then, from a time he would rather prefer to forget. Still, there were other matters to attend to, and looking down, he spotted the Ledwell boy looking up at him through that dirty hair of his. Tom scoffed as he bent down, holding the wand up to the boy's face. "You know," he said slowly. "If you want my personal opinion, silence in a pretty poor choice of words, don't you think so?"

Unable to do anything but to blink, the Ledwell boy remained in completely silence.

Tom let out a chuckle. "Though I do much prefer it when people don't let their tongue slip so easily, particularly Gryffindors, you may run after I'm finished with this little procedure." Tom lifted Ophidia's wand and to the boy's forehead and muttered the word that would Ophidia's current problems go away. "Obliviate."

There was a moment where the Ledwell boy's eyes went dark and distant, but then, he fell asleep. Tom couldn't tell if it was the aftermath of the memory charm or the serpents' asphyxiation, but either way, he could care less. After proceeding to do the same thing with the already-unconscious Herrington boy, Tom reached over to the suitcase and held it open. "Friends," he said, warranting the attention of the snakes. They snapped their heads to him and this time, tilted their heads.

"The two-legger said we would get home," said the female.

"You will," said Tom.

"But you are not the same two-legger!" snapped the largest of the adders. "Who are you, two-legger?"

Once again, creatures' uncanny abilities of seeing through the true natures of people once again served its purpose. Intriguing him.

He smiled. "I'm a friend."

"Are you now?"

"I am." The smile didn't vanish. Good gracious, it felt good to speak to them again in person. Be that as it may, he had other matters to finish. "But now, if you wouldn't mind…"

He slammed the suitcase down on Snape's desk, earning him a dubious raised eyebrow from the professor. To find him still at Hogwarts was a surprise, as Tom would have expected almost everyone previously associated with them to turn tails and run once the opportunity showed itself. So many others did, but it would seem like this man knew what was best for him even in peaceful times such as these.

"Miss Cascabel," Snape put a stack of newly-corrected tests away, few of which had managed to avoid the red ink he was so infamously known for. "Might I inquire what this is about? It's soon curfew."

"A pair of Gryffindors put these outside the Slytherin common room, professor," Tom said, gesturing to the suitcase. On cue, the hissing was heard and Snape cast a second glance at the suitcase, raising yet another eyebrow as if uncertain about how to react in a way which wouldn't seem ridiculous, which wasn't a trait that could be spotted amongst Snape's few. "The students were Henry Herrington and Richard Ledwell, two Gryffindors, were responsible for it."

"Very well," Snape said monotonously, hardly looking Tom in the eyes as he spoke. "I will contact professor McGonagall and have this matter sorted out."

"And the perpetrators?" Tom asked, expecting a little more from the professor he had once viewed as a trustworthy follower. If things continued to stay hard on the girl whose body he inhibited, this would remain unnecessarily complicated for the rest of seven years.

"They will be dealt with accordingly. Herrington and Ledwell, you said?"

"Yes."

Snape breathed through his nose, seemingly deep in thought before he proceeded to ask, "And how did you know for certain that it was them? Do you have any evidence?"

This was preposterous. Tom sucked in his cheeks and attempted his best to keep his emotions even, even if it did require a little bit of effort not to. "I encountered them in the hallway. They …. They tried to ambush me and throw those snakes at me. I don't doubt that they were the ones to blame."

"Where are they now?"

"Still in the hallway, unless they've been found. They opened the suitcase, but the snakes suddenly attacked them once they got out."

"Which strikes me as a little bit odd." Snape didn't raise his tone at all.

Tom blinked. "How so?"

Snape opened his mouth slightly as if to say something but then shook his head, having seemingly decided against it. "It doesn't matter,"

And suddenly, he felt that all respect for the professor had vanished in the matter of a moment. Teachers were supposed to be reliable and, most of all, fair. There were people back in his time that were far from as unsupportive as the teachers at Hogwarts were, but this man, this person he once viewed as a respectable one, seemed to have lost his glorious days. His appearance said it all. He may have aged a bit, but there were more qualities that had vanished as well. Whatever fondness Ophidia held for him was taken into account, but not on his own terms. "Then, if you don't mind, professor," Tom said slowly. "I will take the snakes back to the forbidden forest. They must wish to return home."

"No thank you, Miss Cascabel," Snape placed a pale hand down on top of the suitcase, not breaking the eye-contact, he held with her. "I will have Hagrid deal with the-"

"That oaf?" Tom snickered. "He could hardly find his way out of a paper bag."

"Miss Cascabel," Snape's voice turned dangerously low. "Please return to your dormitory. This will be handled and your presence isn't required at the moment. Now leave."

Tom prepared to say something, but closed his mouth and decided to let it lay. "Alright, then I bid you a good night, Severus."

"Excuse me?" There was evident shock in the professor's voice, but Tom had already shut the door behind him on his way out.