Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots and settings are the exclusive property of J.K Rowling. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.
Acknowledgments: Thank you to my betas Umar, Yoshi89 and Fezzik for their work on this story.
Self Promotion: I have a discord server where you can chat and read all of my chapters early. If you would like to join, simply copy the link on my profile and for . I had to write it in that format for the site to allow it on my profile.
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Author's Note:
This is technically out a few hours late, but oh well. I had things to do this afternoon so I had to post it now. Don't worry this won't become the norm.
Recommendations:
Harry Potter and The Prince of Slytherin by The Sinister Man.
Harry Potter and The Boy-Who-Lived by The Santi.
Growing Up Black by ElvindorkNigellus.
The Hero and The Veela by JackPotter.
Stepping Back, and Honour Thy Blood by TheBlack'sResurgence.
The Mind Arts by Wu Gang.
A Cadmean Victory by DarknessEnthroned.
Magicks of The Arcane by Eilyfe.
"Speech."
'Internal Dialogue.'
Parseltongue.
Memories/In Story Text.
Harry Potter and The Dark Lord's Equal
By ACI100.
Year 2: The Looming of Shadows.
Chapter 12: Duels and Dilemmas.
November 21st 1992.
The Owlery.
8:11 AM.
As was typical, Harry had risen bright and early the day after his discussion with Dumbledore to ensure that he completed Moody's psychopathic workout regiment. As much as he still thought Mad-Eye was a sadist, a belief he thought he'd likely hold until the end of time, Harry was beginning to appreciate the work he was putting in. By now, the regiment, while still gruelling, was no longer the unassailable challenge it had been when he had first begun. He was still sore after some sessions, particularly the morning after a rather rough Quidditch match. Still, he got through it now for the most part without too much pain and the results were noticeable. For one thing, he had peaked in the mirror this morning and for the first time in his life, he could see the formation of defined abdominal muscles. Harry had always been very thin, but he hadn't truly had enough defined muscle to have abs. He was far from achieving a six pack or any such look, but Harry could certainly see the difference in his overall muscle definition, and not just in his abdominal region either. He also just generally felt better. Actions were less tiring and took less effort. It was obvious to him that he was becoming stronger and as much as he hated to admit it, he was grateful to Mad-Eye for it — he really was.
After he had completed that regime, Harry had spent some time in The Room of Requirement reading his mother's journal. He had put quite a bit of time into the journal so far this year. He had gotten through her first year at Hogwarts and was now well into her second. During her first year, she had taken a liking to Professor Flitwick, Slughorn and McGonagall and she had positively raved about the O+ she had achieved in Charms. Still, she ranted on and on about James Potter, Sirius Black and their lapdogs. She also still seemed to be very close with Snape. As a matter of fact, they still seemed to be best friends. Harry was still eagerly waiting for the bit where it became apparent how the one-eighty happened that allowed James Potter to win over Lily Evans and for Snape to presumably be cast into the background.
When he realized breakfast was approaching, Harry had packed his bag and made his way up to the owlery where he now stood, watching Hedwig fly off with the letter of acceptance he had drafted the night before regarding the Flamel's invitation. Harry was sending it to Augusta as she had ordered before it would be sent off to Flamel. If Augusta made no changes, she would simply send it off for him. If she wanted something changed, she would send it back with her suggestions in a separate letter and Harry would make said adjustments before shipping it off. Honestly, it still felt odd to have adults of any kind helping him with anything even though it had been more than a year now since meeting Neville and Augusta. It was not a bad feeling. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact, but that still didn't make it any less peculiar to Harry, who had grown up conditioned to expect the exact opposite. With a jolt, he realized it had actually been closer to a year and a half. Where the time had gone since the fateful day in the ditch off the side of a road Merlin only knew where, Harry was not sure.
Harry was pulled from his thoughts when he heard movement behind him. When he turned, his eyebrow quirked as he smiled slightly in amusement. "With the amount we've met up lately," Harry joked lightly, "one might think you've been making it happen, Parvati." Harry teased as the girl entered the room, presumably in search of her own owl. When she heard Harry, she jumped about a foot into the air. Evidently, she hadn't seen him. Harry winced. "Sorry," he told her, "I had assumed you saw me. My bad on that one."
Parvati took a moment to compose herself before she smiled back at him. "No, it's ok; you just startled me, was all. I should've been paying more attention." She sighed. "Let me guess, you've been awake for three hours now?"
Harry's lips twitched. "Almost four, actually, but I was awake a bit earlier than normal this morning."
Parvati tilted her head. "How come?"
Harry shrugged. "Couldn't sleep." The actual answer to that question was 'nightmares' but Harry would not be admitting that so freely.
Parvati just shook her head. "I'm surprised you even sleep at all." She muttered.
Harry smiled. "Unfortunately, it is an essential bodily function. If it wasn't, I might not bother."
Parvati just giggled. "I was joking, you prat!"
Harry smirked. "I know, but I wasn't."
November 22nd 1992.
The Room of Requirement.
4:43 PM.
"Bombarda!"
Harry's cry broke through the noise of his three friends, all of whom were also practicing in the Room of Requirement. The noise of his cry was nothing to the resounding bang that reverberated through the room once Harry's target, a stone statue that the room had conjured up that looked conspicuously like Snape, was blown to bits of rubble. Harry's outburst of celebration was the only sound in the room once the echo of the blast had worn off. All three of his friends were staring at him, open mouthed.
"What the hell was that?" Dean asked him, sounding absolutely awe struck.
Harry grinned at the other three of them widely; he couldn't help it. "The blasting curse!" He told them. "Remember back in September when I told you that I had to master it by Christmas without the incantation? Well, I've been working on the no incantation bit, but I only really started on the spell a while ago. It's been giving me hell ever since; that was actually the first time I managed it at all."
Ron whistled. "Bloody brilliant!" He commended. "That's what that was!"
"What year is that taught?" Neville asked, a gleam of curiosity in his eyes. Neville had focused much more this school year and had grown in leaps and bounds in Defense, Charms and Transfiguration. Frankly, he was still rather inept at potions when Harry wasn't tutoring him, but some things never changed, he supposed. In particular, however, Neville had put a frankly absurd amount of effort into Defense. As a result, the improvements in Neville's wand work in said subject was absolutely awe inspiring.
"Fifth." Harry answered, seeing no reason to downplay the act. "Maybe in a year, or a bit more, or whenever you're ready, I can teach you?" Neville nodded resolutely and smiled at Harry in thanks. Harry knew just the implication that he thought Neville could pull it off maybe even two years early would mean the world to him. "How have you guys come along?" Harry asked the other three.
It turned out the other three had done quite well. Neville had mastered three new spells for defense, Dean was easily performing transfigurations that would not be asked of them until Easter, and Ron was well past the Christmas break in terms of his charms work.
"That's brilliant!" Harry told them all genuinely. It was so nice to have friends, but it was another thing altogether to see them succeed, even more so because Harry reasonably felt as if he had made a large difference and contribution towards said success.
"What's next for you then?" Ron asked with a raised eyebrow, obviously wondering how the fourth member of their quartet would possibly top the blasting curse.
Harry sighed. "Well, that was O.W.L magic. Now we're onto N.E.W.T magic, because I have to master the damn thing without a word or Moody will have my hide."
November 25th 1992.
An Abandoned Classroom.
8:33 PM.
Harry rubbed at his temples as if to massage his brain as he and Daphne concluded another night, this one focused solely upon Ancient Runes. According to Daphne, Harry was moving through the third year curriculum at a startling rate, something he was very grateful for. He had been putting in as much time as his other pursuits would allow him outside of their time together and while he had Daphne at his disposal, he did his best to pick her brain on anything and everything he could think of that she could reasonably answer. He thought they worked very well together. Her Transfiguration and Charm work had come a long way, but he was improving in both Runes and Potions at a rapid rate as well, so he thought the trade off had honestly worked well both ways. That was not even considering the fact that he enjoyed their friendship for what it was. It was so nice to be talking to Daphne again with the worries of Halloween and their drama behind them. Sure, she was perhaps a bit more restrained than normal with her quips and the like, but Harry thought such things were only natural, if not inevitable in a situation like theirs.
Daphne sighed as she leaned back, seeming to slide out of what Harry liked to think of as her "lecture mode". "Was there anything else you wanted to ask me about Runes, or Potions, or whatever?" Daphne asked as she checked the time. "I should be going soon, but I have a little bit of time left." Harry hesitated and Daphne's eyes narrowed. She really was entirely too perceptive at times. "Harry, why are you nervous to ask me a question? I would think it's pretty obvious you can ask me most things without worrying."
Harry bit his lip. "It's not about magic, at least, not really." He said hesitantly.
Daphne frowned but raised an eyebrow almost challengingly. "So? I still don't see why you'd be nervous to ask."
"It might sort of fall under family bus-"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Harry! Just ask the stupid question! If I can't answer you I won't, but if I can, I will." Harry flushed. He had never been allowed to ask questions with the Dursleys, least of all of the personal variety. As the old saying went, old habits die hard. Harry thought he was mostly over the habit in the presence of Dumbledore and Augusta, but even though he was friends with Daphne, he was not as familiar with her as he was the other two, so the impulse to bite his tongue still reared its ugly head from time to time.
Biting down said impulses, Harry finally opened his mouth to ask the question. "Has your family had any dealings with Nicholas Flamel that you know of?"
The question seemed to take Daphne completely off guard for she opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "What?" She asked, thoroughly perplexed.
Harry sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "He invited me to a gala on the twenty-fourth of December. I've accepted, but I was pretty much just wondering if you could tell me anything about him?"
Daphne's eyes widened. "He invited you to his annual gala?" When Harry nodded, Daphne could not help but look surprised. "Well… Merlin, Harry — congratulations!" She seemed to want to hug him or something similar but she restrained herself. "I honestly can't tell you that much about him." Daphne said apologetically. "I wish I could, but I really don't know much myself to be honest. I could maybe ask father since he definitely has dealt with him, or at least people working for him in the past, but I can't promise anything."
Harry smiled, relieved at how that had gone. He would one day curb his irrational impulse against asking questions but unfortunately, that day had not yet come. "Thanks Daphne, I appreciate it."
December 1st 1992.
The Gryffindor Common Room.
9:08 PM.
When Harry and Neville returned from The Room of Requirement that night, they found the common room in quite a state of unrest. Shooting sideways glances at one another, the two second year Gryffindor boys swiftly made their way over towards their other two friends, Ron and Dean, who were both doing homework in arm chairs close to the fireplace. "What has this lot in such a state?" Harry asked as he took the armchair next to Ron.
"See for yourself." Dean said with a grin, gesturing towards the notice board on the common room wall. Plastered upon it was a message saying that Hogwarts would be holding the first meeting of a new duelling club in just over two weeks time, on December 17th.
Harry's brow furrowed. "That… could actually be really interesting." He admitted as his heart quickened a fraction at the thought of duelling.
Ron sighed dramatically. "You just want to school everyone in the year, don't you?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "I'd actually want to duel some upper years but sure, that could be fun too."
Ron sighed even more dramatically. "Impossible, he is." He told Dean and Neville, both of whom were snickering at the display put on. "Who do you reckon will run it?" Ron asked Harry as if he would obviously know. Somewhat annoyingly, the other two were also looking at him curiously, as if it was only natural he would know the answer.
Frowning, he thought for a moment but could only see one logical solution. "Flitwick would make the most sense." He said after a time. "He was a European champion duelist and I think maybe even a World Champion at one point." He did his best to imitate Malfoy's trademarked sneer. "So of course, knowing Hogwarts, it'll be Lockhart or some rubbish because they can never take the logical solution." All four of them laughed uproariously at that comment, hardly able to imagine Gilderoy Lockhart leading a duelling club of any sorts.
December 6th 1992.
An Out of Order Girl's Lavatory.
8:24 PM.
"This really was a brilliant place to brew the potion!" Hermione congratulated Ginny enthusiastically. "How did you think of this place, anyways? Nobody ever comes here."
Ginny shrugged as a mask of perplexed innocence slid effortlessly onto her features. "I honestly have no idea." She said with far more confidence than she had felt for most of the year. Only really in the last couple of weeks had Ginny noticed a sudden surge in her confidence. It was odd and sudden, but Ginny was grateful for it. Oftentimes now, she simply… knew what to do, or what to say, and she figured it was that which was boosting her own self esteem so drastically.
Hermione shrugged. "Well, it's about halfway done anyways. It should be ready by Christmas. As long as Malfoy and the other idiots stay over Christmas, we should be able to figure something out, like you said."
Ginny nodded, smiling confidently back at Hermione. "Even if Malfoy doesn't know exactly what's going on, he will likely know something useful." As she said those words, odd butterflies crept up inside her stomach, as if she were greatly anticipating something. What she was anticipating, Ginny had no idea. "We need the boomslang skin soon." She said absentmindedly as she peered into the depths of the mud like potion.
Hermione frowned. It was positively stunning how quickly Ginny had improved in Potions. At the beginning of the year, she had been average for certain, but no more so than that. Now, she had often pointed things out about the Polyjuice potion that Hermione hadn't even known. When Hermione asked how Ginny knew these things, she had always blown her off in a similar manner to how she had done just moments earlier. It was odd. If Ginny was not so genuine, Hermione may have even been suspicious.
"I can probably do it during Potions." Hermione offered. "Snape hates Potter and his group of friends. He'll probably blame anything I do on them."
Ginny had to resist a frown. She did not want Harry or Ron blamed for something that wasn't their fault but she felt an odd… compulsion, she supposed, to go along with it. After all, what could Snape really do without evidence? What was the worst thing that could happen? "That sounds like a plan." Ginny told Hermione, who smiled before excusing herself to head off to the library.
When she left, Ginny quickly glanced around the room before she bent down, withdrew a crystal vial from her pocket that she had conjured minutes earlier and filled it with some of the liquid. She would need to get some of her own ingredients, but it couldn't hurt to take a bit of the potion for more… recreational uses. She thought, perhaps, with a most uncharacteristically sinister smile that it would probably even be useful.
December 7th 1992.
The Great Hall.
8:11 AM.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Me and my wife are thrilled to hear of your acceptance and are eager to meet you on the twenty-fourth of December. The gala will begin promptly at 8:00 PM and will proceed until sometime soon after 12:00 AM on the twenty-fifth. Formal attire is required, but no other additional requirements are existent.
The finest of fortune until then,
Nicholas Flamel.
Harry was oddly tempted to just show his friends the letter as they shot him odd, inquisitive glances. He didn't though, for that would have raised questions he did not want to be answering in their current setting. Fortunately, he was saved from doing so when Professor McGonagall came around with the list for Christmas break, allowing Harry and Neville both to sign their names to return back to Longbottom Manor. Dean too signed to go home, but Ron told Professor McGonagall he was staying behind. Harry felt oddly guilty for his friend. His parents were leaving for Egypt but as it turned out, they did not have the funds to bring their children with them. Neville had offered to maybe ask Augusta about Ron staying at Longbottom Manor, but Ron had turned him down. As he told them, he would have Fred and George to keep him company, and anyways, he wasn't quite sure that his family would let him leave if none of his siblings had the option.
Neville had simply shrugged and gone back to his eggs, leaving Harry to ponder the letter he would need to send later that day in order to further a plan he had nearly forgotten about until now.
December 9th 1992.
An Abandoned Classroom.
8:39 PM.
Harry and Daphne finished yet another session in which Harry's brain was thoroughly put to the test by the complexities of Ancient Runes. Last week, they had worked on Transfiguration, so he supposed it was only fair. He really wanted to conclude the third year curriculum in Runes soon. He was well into the fourth year curriculum now in both Transfiguration and Defense Against The Dark Arts. In fairness, much of the third year Defense curriculum he really couldn't practice since it centered heavily on magical creatures, but he knew the theory. Transfiguration was just something that had always come extremely naturally to him. When he had learned the switching spell back before Halloween for their prank, he had figured he would try the other fourth year material. At this rate, it was very likely that he would be done with the fourth year curriculum by Easter at the latest. By the end of the year, his goal was to have half of the fifth year section completed. He wasn't quite as far ahead in Charms, likely early fourth year, but he still figured the fourth year curriculum was doable by the end of the year.
In terms of mastering the spellwork involved in the three wanded subjects, Supplementary Occlumency had been invaluable. So, in the last day or two, he had built up Thought Streams, something he had gained enough proficiency with to open one additional stream. It was taxing and he could only hold it for about five minutes, but those five minutes were always absurdly productive ones. He had still yet to manage the blasting curse non verbally, but he had managed Lumos once or twice, and according to Dumbledore, once he managed any success at all, the rest would come at a rapid rate.
"You're learning all of this really fast." Daphne complimented with a sigh, as she leaned back, stretching her arms leisurely over her head and smiling at him.
Harry grinned. "I've been working on them when I can outside of lessons. Honestly, I haven't had a whole lot of time lately, so I'm happy that I've managed to keep improving."
"You've done brilliantly," Daphne told him honestly, "Charms next week for me?"
Harry shrugged. "Transfiguration, Charms, Defense, whatever you'd like?"
Daphne paused. "Maybe Defense then," she said with a sigh, "I haven't learned a thing from Lockhart all year and I do unfortunately still want to stay ahead in that subject if I can."
Harry dipped his head in acknowledgement. "I'll do my best." He told her honestly, getting to his feet with a stretch of his own.
"I did ask my parents about Flamel, you know?" Daphne informed him, promptly causing Harry to turn around with a look of surprise.
"And?"
"They really couldn't tell me much," Daphne said apologetically, "just that he was very generous with his payments and prices and that he had always been easy to work with." She shrugged. "It's not a whole lot, but sometimes, something small like that can be a lot if you know what to make of it."
Harry frowned. "I didn't get the same lessons in politics that you did as a kid." He said quietly. "I've been learning a bit, but I'm not as far ahead as I'd like to be."
Daphne paused and gave him a rather inquisitive look. "We could maybe meet a second day and I could help you with that." Daphne offered, catching Harry by surprise.
"I don't want you to go out of your way to help me." He told her. "I'll learn it eventually, I just don't have the time or resources."
Daphne shrugged. "It's ok, we could do it on the weekend, but we might need a better spot to meet up. I'm not really sure how often people use this room on the weekend when they can roam more freely."
Harry pondered for a few moments. He knew of the perfect place, but did he trust Daphne enough to show her. In the end, the decision wasn't that hard, and privately, Harry had to ask himself whether it was a good or a bad thing that he was growing to trust people more easily, if only slightly. He didn't have the answer, but he justified his decision easily enough. Really, Daphne couldn't do anything to hurt him or his friends with the information, at least not directly.
"I know of a place." Harry told her. "You'll have to get there undetected though, because I really don't like the idea of people finding it out."
Daphne crooked an eyebrow. "And what is this magical place you speak of?"
Harry smirked. "I'll tell you if you explain to me how you manage to turn invisible."
Daphne stuck her nose up at him. "No chance, Potter." She said in the most snide and snooty voice she could manage.
Harry continued to smirk right back at her as he made for the door. "Then I suppose, Ms. Greengrass, you will find out on the weekend." He paused. "Sunday after dinner, maybe?" Daphne's nod was all the confirmation Harry needed. It was rather odd to be learning about politics from a twelve year old, but Daphne had been learning it for years and at the very least, she knew enough to progress him in the field. Honestly, he figured one or two lessons before the Flamel gala couldn't hurt.
December 10th 1992.
The Potions Classroom.
10:13 AM.
Harry sent Neville his patented, "don't you dare" look to signify that his friend was about to add the wrong ingredient as he stirred the potion in an unorthodox manner that he knew would speed up the brew time. Just as he made his final stir and turned to Neville for the next ingredient, he nearly leapt out of his chair when a loud bang resonated through the room. Seconds later, horrible, acrid smelling smoke was wafting through the classroom as the potion used by Hermione Granger and Seamus Finnigan had clearly turned explosive. Harry could feel some pity for Granger. She was genuinely very good at potions, but Finnigan was a menace and anything he touched practically screamed disaster. As Snape descended day on Finnigan, Granger got to her feet, evidently intent on using a restroom to clean herself off. Snape, having been distracted by the accident in front of him, did not notice as Hermione crept through the door leading to Snape's private quarters.
But Harry did, and his eyes quickly became as large as saucers. Hermione Granger, breaking the rules? Invading a teacher's private space? Trespassing?
'What are you playing at, Granger? It's clearly very important to you, if you're breaking rules.'
December 17th 1992.
The Great Hall.
8:00 PM.
The muttering in the Great Hall seemed to continuously rise in volume every second the collected students had to wait to see who would be instructing them in the first meeting of the newly formed Duelling Club. Harry, Ron, Neville, Dean, and the Weasley twins, along with Lee Jordan had managed to snatch spots near the front. The seven of them waited just as eagerly as the rest, but when Gilderoy Lockhart swept out onto the stage wearing magenta robes and being trailed by Professors Snape and Flitwick, Harry's eyes nearly bulged out of his head.
"Holy hell," he breathed, "I was JOKING!" The twins and Jordan shot him odd, confused looks but his three friends tried hard to suppress their laughter. Seeing as they were all suitably mortified by what Harry considered to be a great travesty, they did not have to try quite as hard as they may usually have had to.
"Well hello!" Lockhart called to the gathered students as he looked down on them from the stage, waving jubilantly as Flitwick too smiled enthusiastically, and Snape sneered. Harry thought Flitwick's smile was a bit forced and that, if at all possible, Snape's sneer came even easier to him than normal. "Can everybody hear me?" Lockhart called to the masses. When he received an overwhelmingly affirmative, if exasperated and rather annoyed response, he continued, seeming oblivious to the fact that the latter two emotions were spreading through the gathered crowd like wildfire.
"Right, splendid! Well, in light of the little conundrum we have going on at this most wonderful school, I thought it would be a marvellous idea to teach all of you how to protect yourselves in these less than safe times. The Headmaster graciously agreed so here I am, standing before you with my lovely assistants, Professor Flitwick and Snape."
"If he calls Snape lovely again," whispered Fred, "I don't think it'll be the curse that does him in."
"Now, what do all of you say we have these two fine gentlemen give us a little demonstration?" Clearly, this was pre planned, for Flitwick and Snape quickly took up opposing positions on either side of the large, ostentatious stage that had been conjured in the middle of the hall. Harry had to give Lockhart at least a modicum of props. He knew his strengths and weaknesses if nothing else. He was playing this out perfectly, putting all of his dramatic flair to work while not exposing himself as a fraud. By having Snape duel Flitwick, he could keep his dignity and provide the promised show at the same time.
"Now," Lockhart said with a flourish, "all duels begin with a standard bow." He gestured to both men and they both bowed, Flitwick doing so far deeper and more elaborately than Snape. "Now, on the count of three, both men will fire their spells. They will only look to disarm or incapacitate their opponent. Ready gentlemen? Alright! One, two, three!"
"Expelliarmus!"
Snape's spell flew towards Flitwick, but the man moved so fast that most in the crowd gasped. Harry did not; he had seen Flitwick move for the better part of a year and he had honestly moved faster during their mock duels. Nevertheless, Flitwick quickly darted to the left and had a perfect angle to attack Snape.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Instead of dodging, Snape raised his wand almost lazily. "Aegis Vocar." His shield flared, but held and Lockhart quickly stepped between them. Harry sighed; he would have loved to see how that duel might have ended.
"Thank you gentlemen!" Lockhart said graciously. "A rather rudimentary display if I do say so myself, but adequate nonetheless." When Harry saw Snape's lip begin to curl, he suddenly realized Fred may have been onto something with Lockhart's proposed murder at the hands of their Potions Master. After droning on for several more minutes, Lockhart finally began to divide their year into pairs. Harry wound up paired with Theodore Nott. He almost laughed when Snape paired Neville with Malfoy, maintaining a malicious glint in his eye the whole time. Snape was going to be more than a little bit surprised at the outcome. Harry was confident that Neville would easily be a top 5 student in Defense this year. Snape and the sneering Malfoy were going to get a rather rude awakening when they realized the work Neville had been tirelessly putting in was paying off.
As for Harry, he knew that Nott was one of the best Defense students in his year. He also did not care. For all of his modesty, Harry was also a realist. He knew that nobody in his year could compete with him. This duel was going to end one way and one way only. The outcome was inevitable.
"Are we all ready?" Lockhart called to the hall. When nobody objected, he began his count. "On three, two, one, commence!" Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy start early, but he was distracted a moment later when Nott fired a spell that was definitely not the expected disarming spell towards Harry.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
Harry sidestepped easily, cutting a similar angle on Nott that Flitwick to the one had cut on Snape before firing off a disarming charm. To his mild surprise, Nott managed to evade the spell with admirable grace and retaliated with a boil curse. Harry didn't even bother with a Protego. He simply activated the mobile Aegis Vocar shield and let it absorb the spell before he decided to up the ante a bit.
"Stupefy!"
Nott just barely managed to dodge Harry's stunner. His follow up bludgeoner, which followed the stunner at a speed that shocked the Nott heir as it grazed him, causing him to cry out and stagger. If the spell would have connected properly the duel would be over. Then, Nott's next spell took Harry aback; he knew of it, but only from a book he had snuck out of The Restricted Section earlier that year.
"Oblito!"
That, as Harry knew, was the incantation for the blinding curse. It would only last about an hour if not countered, but it was apparently horrifyingly painful for the first thirty or so seconds and Harry had no intention of being hit with it. If Nott wanted to play without the kid gloves, Harry would oblige him.
He waited for the spell to near him, almost smirking at the victorious glint in Nott's eyes before, at the last second, Harry batted the spell with the tip of his wand and sent it spiraling towards a thoroughly dumb struck Theodore Nott. Harry was mildly relieved. He had never tried deflecting a spell with such a horrid nature to it. There had been a chance it would not work but luckily, it did. Nott cried out in pain a second later, his scream filling the hall just as Harry swept his wand outwards, banishing Nott away from him with no incantation. He had finally grasped non verbal casting. Some of the more complex spells he knew still eluded him, but he could manage it for most spells now. The banishing spell was one he had mastered, but not quite non verbally. It worked perfectly fine, but his control without an incantation was not perfect. As a result, instead of simply being thrown a few feet back, Nott was thrown more than ten, where he landed hard on the floor. Within two seconds of landing, he had been hit in the sternum with a bludgeoning curse and been disarmed. Suffice to say, Harry had not appreciated his use of a curse like the blinding curse.
At that moment, Harry was sure that Snape would have bore down on him, if not for the scene playing out behind him. Malfoy, who was on the ground, wandless and covered in boils, was smirking victoriously at Neville who looked like he had no idea what to do as a large, venomous looking snake slithered towards him.
'Oh shit!'
Evidently, Malfoy had gotten one spell off at least. Without thinking, Harry bolted towards his friend, leaping right over the snake and landing with his back to Neville and looking directly at the approaching serpent, having pivoted in mid air. Just as the snake reared back, Harry opened his mouth and unbeknownst to him, his voice came out as a hiss.
"Stop!"
To his surprise, the snake obeyed. Clearly, the rest of the hall had been just as surprised, for they were all silent. But then, something clicked. If they were all surprised over the snake halting, why were they all looking at him with wide, terrified eyes. Then, the whole hall broke out into shouts, obscenities, and general chaos. Harry even had a few spells flung his way and before he knew it, Ron, Dean and Neville had surrounded him, quickly and efficiently marshalling him from the hall before things could get too out of control.
"What just-"
"Not here!" Neville said sharply, and his voice was more serious than Harry had heard it in months. It was enough to queue him to shut up and allow himself to be led up to The Room of Requirement. Only when they entered said room did Neville turn to Harry. "Why didn't you tell us? Me, at least?"
Harry blinked. "Tell you what?"
"You're a bleeding Parselmouth." Ron breathed in absolute shock, looking at Harry with wide eyes. Dean looked just as confused as Harry, but he had clearly read the situation and gone along with it.
"What is a Parselmouth and why is any of that surprising, or a bad thing, or-"
"Harry," Neville said, taking a deep, calming breath before continuing, "do you have any idea what you just did?"
Harry looked confused. "I jumped in front of you because I didn't want you to get bitten by a snake!" He pointed out, a bit annoyed at all of this. "I don't see-"
"You talked to it, Harry."
Harry blinked. "Well… I said stop, and it somehow listened, but-"
"Is that what you said?" Ron asked, nodding slowly along as if several pieces had suddenly come together.
Harry frowned. "What do you mean, 'is that what you said'? You heard me, didn't you?"
Ron shook his head. "I heard you hiss at the snake, mate. I had no idea what you said."
Then, it clicked. "Wait… hiss?"
"Harry," Neville said in a patient, but almost tired sounding voice, "you didn't speak English."
"But I-"
"I'm not saying you didn't mean to speak English but facts are facts, your voice wasn't English — it wasn't even human. You talked in snake language, hisses that no human should be able to make."
Harry gaped. He knew Neville, his friend would not pull something like this on him so he knew that what he was saying had to be true, even though it sounded positively ludicrous.
"But-but how?"
"Parseltongue." Neville explained, paling a bit at the word but pressing on valiantly. "It's what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. They apparently called him Serpent Tongue because he could talk to snakes." When it was clear that Harry had missed the significance of Neville's statement, he specified. "It was a trait that all of his heirs over the years were said to have."
Then, it clicked.
Enemies of the heir, beware.
'Oh… fuck!'
"But that's impossible!" He breathed. "I'm not the heir of Slytherin — surely they can't all think-"
"Did you see how they reacted?" Dean asked, now rather pale as opposed to his Normal complexion. It was clear that he too had put two and two together. "They were cursing you mate. They do think it's you."
"But it's not!"
"How do you know that?" Ron asked darkly.
Harry rounded on him just as his friend realized he had worded that very poorly. "I think I'd know if I was sending a ruddy monster-"
"That's not what I meant!" Ron placated at once, holding up his hands in surrender. "I know you're not THE Heir of Slytherin, but you might be A Heir of Slytherin."
"But that's insane!"
"Is it though?" Dean asked, looking to Ron for confirmation. "You said all of Slytherin's heirs had the power to talk to snakes. Are they the only ones who have it?"
Ron nodded solemnly. "I don't see how else you could speak it, mate." He told Harry, sounding apologetic.
"But that's impossible." Harry whispered, looking imploringly at his brother in all but blood. "It is impossible, isn't it?"
Neville shot Harry an apologetic look and Harry knew he was about to hear something that he did not want to hear under any circumstances. "Not even a little bit." Neville told him. "You're closely related to the Potters and the Blacks. Both families are known for being really secretive about their family secrets. For all we know, you could be an Heir of Slytherin."
"The Blacks have been Slytherins for generations." Ron put in.
"But my parents would've been a Parselmouth." Harry argued weakly. "Or one of the Blacks if it's on that side."
"They could have hidden it." Ron said weakly.
"Or," Neville said, "it could be a dormant trait. A bunch of families have magical gifts that don't show up for generations."
"Guys?" Dean asked, a bit nervously. "Beyond the whole Chamber of Secrets business, why would it be so bad for somebody to be a Parseltongue, or whatever you call it."
"Parselmouth." Ron corrected and with a sympathetic look towards Harry, he answered Dean's question. "Even outside of Hogwarts, people would try and hide it. It's not exactly… uh… a good thing if you ask most people. Well… you know the myths about Slytherin and muggleborns but… well… You-Know-Who was a Parselmouth, one of the most famous in centuries."
Harry's eyes widened as the wind was ripped from his lungs. Now he understood. Now he understood how a gift he had not realized he had until today was such a taboo in the wizarding world of Magical Britain.
December 18th 1992.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
3:14 PM.
To put it lightly, Harry had been experiencing what he considered to be a rather miserable day. He had barely slept the night previous. It had been so bad, in fact, that he had given up at half past three and just read ahead in his mother's journal. He was now late into her third year. She was writing less and less as the years went on. It was clear that she was slowly growing out of the practice. Even when he had woken up and left his bed, completed his workout regiment and strode into The Great Hall, his time had not improved. He received death glares from the entire student body, minus his few friends and most of Gryffindor house. Last night, Parvati Patil, bless her soul, had stood up in the middle of the common room and loudly proclaimed Harry couldn't be the Heir of Slytherin. She had seen him the night Colin had been attacked. There was no way he could have snuck out of the common room after that and petrified the first year Gryffindor. Most of the house believed her and did not treat Harry with outright hostility. In saying so, they still avoided him like the Black Plague. It was not favourable to be seen associating with somebody who was the supposed Heir of Slytherin. People actually scooted away from him at the breakfast table, for Merlin's sake.
This, in conjunction with his naturally grumpy mood as a result of little to no sleep had not gotten his day off to a good start. At the time, he had taken comfort in the fact that surely, his day could not get any worse. That day, Harry Potter learned that challenging the gods of irony was a positively miserable idea.
He had scampered off alone to the library to try and find any and all books on the Black and Potter family histories in an effort to somehow prove he was not the Heir of Slytherin, even though Neville had pointed out very reasonably that if he was, the family responsible probably would have hidden said information. Especially if it was the Potters, who had been notorious Gryffindors for generations. While searching, Harry overheard a conversation that practically condemned him as the next Lord Voldemort, something that upset him more than he cared to admit. It was not the inkling that he might go dark that bothered him. It was the comparison to a man who had murdered his parents and ruined his, and so many other's lives.
Still, the day managed to surprise him and get even worse. Just his luck, after literally walking head first into Hagrid while lost in thought, Harry stumbled upon the petrified forms of Nearly-Headless Nick and a Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley. As a matter of fact, it was one of the few Hufflepuffs who had been calling him Voldemort reincarnated several minutes prior. Then, as if that situation was not bad enough, Harry had been loudly called out by Peeves and brought to Dumbledore's office by a pale, rather sick looking Professor McGonagall.
Now, Harry awaited Dumbledore, positively shaking as he looked upon the ashes of Dumbledore's pet bird. If it wasn't bad enough he was caught at the scene of the crime with any and all bits of evidence pointing to him being the culprit, now Dumbledore's pet had died too. Just as the worry became almost too much to bear, the office door finally opened, and a rather grim looking Professor Dumbledore strode inside, waving his wand distractedly and conjuring Harry his usual chair.
Harry did not have to be asked to sit down. "Professor — I'm so sorry — I really am. Your bird, I don't know-" then, Harry stopped dead as Dumbledore did the last thing Harry thought he would do.
He began to laugh.
"Harry, you forget that Fawkes is no ordinary bird — he is a phoenix. Do you know much about phoenixes, Harry?" Harry shook his head. "I thought not, judging by your reaction. Allow me to enlighten you. Phoenixes are immortal creatures — truly and completely immortal. If they 'die', either by reaching their burning day, as you have witnessed, or suffering physical death, they are simply reincarnated from the ashes that swiftly follow their demise." He smiled. "Observe." He told his charge, his smile widening at the look of shocked incredulity as slowly, a minuscule bird poked its head out of the ashes, still bald and featherless.
"Now," Dumbledore continued, "onto more important matters."
"Sir, I promise — I know it looks bad but I didn't… I would never-"
"Calm down, Harry. I will tell you the same thing that I told you on Halloween. I am well and truly aware that you did not cause what happened today. I will extrapolate that statement even further by saying that I know you are not responsible for any of the attacks that have befallen the school. I very much doubt that there is anything our world could present me that would change my mind on that fact either now or in the future."
Harry was gaping. "You… don't think I did it?"
"No, I do not. I like to think I am a fairly good judge of character, and I am sure you would not do such a thing. Furthermore, I have some vague ideas as to what may be going on here, even if the specifics completely elude me for the time being. Ignoring all of that, if you were planning all of this, Harry, I do not think you would have warned me about it in advance."
A long, almost comfortable silence stretched between them before Harry broke it. "You have heard that I'm a Parselmouth, Headmaster?" Harry's voice was weak, almost hopeful, almost as if he hoped Dumbledore had not.
"I did." Dumbledore answered neutrally. "I must admit that I found that fact rather intriguing, if not wholly surprising."
"You knew?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "No, I did not know. I did, however, think it one of many possibilities."
"Do you know how I'm a Parselmouth then? Were my parents? Or the Blacks?"
Dumbledore took a full minute before he answered. "I… do not think it best I answer that question quite yet. I will do so as soon as this debauckle is over, but for your own safety, it is better if you do not know as of yet. I will tell you that I do not believe you are an Heir of Slytherin." He paused. "At least… not in the traditional sense."
Harry tried hard not to scowl. "Are-are you sure, sir?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Honestly, Harry, I am anything but sure nowadays. I do believe it is in your best interests that I do not tell you my theory, however. Partially because it may be confirmed or denied in time with the progression of these events. And partially because by doing so, I believe I would be putting you even more at risk than you might be already." Dumbledore ran a hand through his beard as he gave Harry one last, final look. "Have you found out any new information that you think may be of use?"
Harry shook his head, eyes downcast. "I'm sorry, sir, I haven't found anything."
"Very well," Dumbledore told him kindly, "you may go, but before you do so, I wish to impart one final warning and one olive branch, if you will." Harry looked back at him, not knowing what to expect. "We shall start with the latter. The Hogwarts rumour mill can be a dangerous thing at times, Harry. If it ever becomes too much and you wish for a place where none of the school's inhabitants can get to you, my office is open at anytime, whether I am here or not." Harry's eyes widened at that, but not nearly as much so as at Dumbledore's next and final statement. "My warning is this. Please act with care, Harry. I believe there will come a time when I may no longer reside over this castle and I unfortunately believe that said time is fast approaching. When it comes at long last, only then do I believe that The Heir of Slytherin will make his true intentions well and truly known. Only then do I think the Heir will seek out his true target." Dumbledore met Harry's eyes intensely before finishing. "I believe it is you he wants, Harry. The rest of us are simply pawns in a very dangerous game of chess."
Author's Endnote:
One brief thing here before I sign off.
I am sure people will be asking me how Harry did not know about Parseltongue and how he never realized he was a Parselmouth. Long story short, Hogwarts, A History doesn't give as much information on the chamber and Slytherin in this story as it does in canon. I found that wholly too convenient in canon and it really doesn't make sense.
Oh yeah, and buckle up for the next one. It is the Flamel's ball along with part I of the Polyjuice potion drama and some other bits sprinkled in here and there. It will also likely be a very long chapter.
Please read and review.
PS: The next chapter will be posted on Sunday, May 31st 2020 at approximately 3:00 PM EST.