Chapter XIX: The Cat was Never in the Bag
"What was that, Harry?" Ron asked, bewildered.
"I just told the snake to stop," he answered defensively, looking about the crowd that had formed a ring around him, willing them to believe him, instead of whatever else it was they were believing.
"Is that so?" professor Snape sneered, pushing through to loom in front of him. "And you did not command it to attack Mr Malfoy, hmm?"
"That was the snake's idea," he protested, "and Malfoy deserved it anyway. He's the one who summoned the thing!"
"Be that as it may, Potter, did you really think it wise to reveal yourself a parselmouth at this time?"
"What's a parselmouth?"
Harry hated asking the question that would make him look dumb in front of the loathed professor who was clearly mocking him, but if he was going to be insulted then he could at least know how offended to feel.
"A parselmouth. A speaker to serpents. One with the slithering tongue."
Harry looked at him dumbly. Why was he making this out to be such a big deal? I can't be the only one who can talk to snakes, surely? Judging by the growing susurrations of the crowd though…
"Silence!" Snape ordered. "It is clear you have no comprehension of your gift, Mr Potter, and I am loathe to educate you, but I will say this: The most recent speaker of that tongue was the Dark Lord, he being the latest in a long and illustrious list of dark wizards blessed with such a talent, stretching back through time and blood to Salazar Slytherin himself."
"Time and blood?" a girl behind Harry asked. "What does that mean?"
"It means he's Slytherin's descendant!" Malfoy shouted. "He's the heir! Harry Potter's the heir of Slytherin."
Half the gathered masses gasped in shock, as the other half muttered dark agreements. The bolder among them crept forwards, tightening the circle around Harry like a noose. Snape cast a derisive glance about them, drew his wand and did something to make his cloak billow in the still air. The tentative advance halted as he levelled his wand, though it wasn't aimed at a student; with a flick he had the door slamming open, the sound echoing like gunshots down the hall outside.
"Potter, you will accompany me to the headmaster's office. The rest of you, go back to your partners and continue practicing."
"What about Malfoy? He cast that snake at her!" Ron yelled, pointing at Draco as if 'stabbing finger' were a dark curse.
Snape pointedly ignored the boy even as he addressed his concern. "Miss Granger, do you feel that Mr Malfoy endangered your wellbeing beyond the conditions of the duel?"
Harry looked to Hermione, and saw her fall into her thoughtful expression. That, he reckoned, would be a tough question for her. One the one hand, she had been presented with a chance to get the slimy git in trouble, or at least under unpleasant scrutiny. On the other, the price of that would be her pride. To admit she had felt threatened by him… That wasn't something Harry could do in her place. It wasn't wise to show bullies any hint of weakness. He hoped she knew that, though he wouldn't wish her to have learned the lesson as he did.
Who am I kidding? Hermione knows everything.
"Was the snake venomous, Draco?" she enquired.
"No," Draco claimed, "I'm not stupid."
Harry doubted him on both counts.
"In that case, sir, I do not feel threatened by Draco Malfoy in the slightest," Hermione declared, smirking.
Despite his situation, Harry shared in that smirk. Go Hermione! You tell them.
"Good," Snape stated, before twirling to place a hand on Harry's shoulder, which resisted Harry's efforts to shirk it off as he was hustled through the parting crowd and out the door. Snape walked him to the Headmaster's office, and the entire way the only sound from wither of them was the clacking of Snape's boots on the stone floors and stairs.
At the office Snape gave the password - Bertie's - and the gargoyle slid aside grudgingly. Apparently even Hogwarts itself didn't like the dungeon bat. Harry was thrust into the office and braced himself for Dumbledore's disapproving eyes and confusingly sage advice, but that was not to be; in his chair sat professor McGonagall, going through a stack of parchment with a frown on her face. Said frown deepened considerably when she saw who was entering.
"Do come in, professor Snape, Mr Potter," she said, putting the papers aside. "I'm afraid Dumbledore is indisposed with Wizengamot business, so whatever this is, let's hear it."
"Once again, Minerva, your students have been causing a ruckus in this school. Mr Potter here has just set a snake upon Mr Malfoy."
Minerva looked at Harry incredulously, and he shrank a little. He didn't think she would be against him, but if she was then this would be unpleasant.
"Draco summoned it. I just talked to it."
That raised her eyebrows, marking the first time Harry had ever seen them move by more than a twitch.
"You talked to a snake?" she asked, then turned to Snape. "He is a parselmouth?"
"That he is," Snape confirmed. Harry didn't answer, as he sensed he wasn't expected to.
"What does this mean, Severus?" Minerva whispered, even though they were alone in the office.
Snape gave Harry a measured stare, like he was studying a piece of art - or meat.
"I will have to speak with the headmaster when he becomes available," he said, not sounding happy about it. "In the meantime, Mr Potter here is not actually in any punishable trouble; I thought it best to bring him to you, before his peers could have their say."
"Thank you," Harry mumbled. It was really the least to be expected of a teacher, but if he didn't seem at least a little grateful he was sure Snape would find an excuse not to do that the next time. That there would be a next time seemed a certainty to Harry's mind - that was just how his life went.
"Do not mistake this for kindness, Potter. Much as may I dislike it, your wellbeing is amongst the responsibilities I will not fail."
Taking a step away from the man's vitriol, Harry wondered what responsibilities he was talking about; his stressing of the word suggested more than teacher things, but what else was the bat up to?
"I bid you good day, professor McGonagall. Do try to control the boy," Snape said flatly before spinning to stalk from the office.
"Professor - Minerva - what was that all about?" Harry asked, but she didn't appear to hear him, as she was rifling through her pocket for something. He stood in respectful silence until she was ready.
"Hmmm, what? Oh, Harry, do not mind professor Snape, the man has a great deal on his mind I have no doubt. Now," - she brandished a sheet of parchment, her features setting ominously on her face - "tell me what has happened - in your own words please."
"Oh, well, Hermione and Draco were duelling and then" - Minerva's frown deepened, prompting him to explain - "at the club with Lockhart, that is, and Draco summoned this big black snake to attack Hermione, and I told it to stop and it did," Harry babbled.
"And then you set it upon Mr Malfoy?"
"No, well yes, but... The snake wanted to; I just... let it," he admitted, casting his eyes down to his feet.
"Demonstrate."
"What?"
"Speak parselmouth to me."
"Umm, okay..."
Harry tried to remember how that worked. At the time it had felt like speaking English, although it did leave his tongue feeling funny afterwards. At a loss for how to proceed, he repeated his first orders to the snake.
"Stop. Don't bite her."
"I asked you to speak in the tongue, Harry, not repeat the words in English."
"But it sounds like English to me!" he argued. "I just talk to the snake like normal, and it understands me."
"Interesting... Demonstrate."
"Ma'am?"
Why was she asking him again, when he had already- looking up he found his answer. On the desk was a small grass snake, coiling in on itself to rest with no regard for his presence. Understanding his task, Harry focused on the snake, and spoke.
"Hello."
The snake didn't respond, and Harry noted his mouth felt normal. Meaning he was speaking normally. He gave Minerva and apologetic look; she motioned to the snake, inviting him to try again. Closing his eyes, and fixing the image of the snake in his mind, he replayed the end of the duel. Draco's snake lunging at Hermione, his desperation for it to stop, to obey. Latching onto that feeling, like he had when he learned to fly, he focused his resolve and will, and opened his eyes to speak once more.
"Salutations, sister," he addressed the snake, recognising it as female by its pheromonal notes. Its head flicked around in alarm. "Relax, lay still," he told it, "as you are safe."
The snake dipped its head low, settling into its coils comfortably. Its slitted eyes pierced Harry's as it awaited his command.
"Merlin's beard," Minerva gasped. The snake dispersed into wisps of magic as her conjuration collapsed. "This is most concerning."
"Is something wrong with me?" Harry asked, dreading the answer. After all the years of being called a freak, he was terrified that it might turn out to be true. That even among wizarding folk, he was odd; destined to be an outcast in both worlds.
"Not wrong, dear, but disconcerting nonetheless. I think... I believe it about time we cut this off at the pass, so to speak. Rumours are only ever harmful, and you and your friend Ms Granger have suffered quite long enough."
"What are you going to do?"
Harry fought down the swell of hope rising within him. At least until he'd heard what she was planning.
"Do you recognise these people?" she asked, turning the parchment she held around to reveal a list of eight names. Harry scanned it and shook his head. A couple of the surnames were familiar - older Gryffindors maybe? - but no-one he knew featured.
"You might know them better," she continued in a scathing tone, "if they were to surround you in a corridor with scarves across their faces."
"You mean..?"
"Aye."
"But we never said anything to anyone!" Harry exclaimed, realising as he said it that he couldn't be so sure. He hadn't snitched, but maybe Hermione let something slip.
"No, you did not. You should have, yet you did not. Regardless, there is little that happens amongst my cubs without my knowing. I have not acted yet because, truth be told, you and Ms Granger appear content with your current sleeping arrangements, however this latest revelation will change things. This list is by no means complete, but it is my hope now that when others hear of the punishments I have planned, they will change their tunes most rapidly."
With no idea what to say, Harry said nothing. Minerva allowed him time to gather his thoughts, and what a maelstrom they were. His head of house had known, maybe not all along, but clearly for some time, the situation he was in, and done nothing. When did she find out? Unimportant. Why didn't she help? Why didn't she defend him, and more importantly Hermione? They could have been hurt, more than once. But weren't. Even so… Why wait?
'…by no means complete'. So, she was gathering information then; trying to get them all at once, round them up so the others couldn't take revenge. So that he and Hermione wouldn't be punished for going to her about it. Which meant she really was acting in their best interests; Harry hadn't actually doubted that, but finding the logic behind it was reassuring. Knowing that his head of house was being careful was comforting too. With his recent experience of jumping headfirst into a problem, contrasted to Hermione's more measured approach, he had no delusions of his method being the better. What sort of trouble might he be in without calmer heads looking out for him?
Oooh, who knows, maybe letting the whole school know you can talk to snakes, and are therefore the antichrist?
"So, Mr Potter," McGonagall interrupted his thoughts at last. That she used his surname was not lost on him, but by the look on her face he knew it was no slight on their relationship; her eyes held equal parts compassion and fury, and if he wasn't mistaken just a twinkle of mischief. "Care to help me, how do they say it these days... bash some heads?"
Definitely mischief.
"We should fetch Hermione first. I think she'll want to hear this."
Although he didn't think Hermione the vengeful sort, she'd certainly enjoy a front row seat to any justice being dished out in her name. And for all Minerva's intimidating presence, he'd feel much better facing those bullies with his best friend at his side.
Besides, he really, really wanted to get her opinion on the whole 'talks to snakes' thing.
"You really didn't know?" Ginny asked, making her the seventh to do so.
"No, no I didn't," Hermione snapped, tiring of the question. She was trying to figure out why Harry hadn't ever told her he was a parselmouth, and all these people interrupting just kept taking her back to step one: He hadn't told her.
"Why wouldn't he tell you?"
That was step two, which meant Ginny had gotten further along the thought process than some of the others interrogating her. Step three was 'why did he go and put his foot in it?', but maybe that was actually tangent one, with the answer being 'because that's what Harry Potter does'. Alternative step three was 'why might he hide it from you?', which came with all sorts of nasty potential answers. She hadn't yet made it past those, and if she stayed in her present company she wasn't going to.
"Excuse me, I need to get some air," she said loudly, to no one in particular.
Then she realised she'd once again gotten turned around in a classroom she didn't know, and had only a vague sense of where the door was. What she was absolutely certain of was that it lay beyond several pairs of students who'd gone back to slinging spells at each other, either unconcerned about the newest development or planning to gossip about it more privately later. In either case, that suggested Slytherins. Walking blindly between spell-slinging Slytherins was categorically not a good idea, and that left Hermione stuck.
"Come on people, give the lady some room," Justin ordered with schooled authority. "Miss Granger, might I escort you to the door?"
She could have kissed him. Aside from the many reasons she wouldn't do such a thing, of course, and so she didn't, but she could have. Chivalry wasn't something she was entirely comfortable with, being a bit too much of a feminist to appreciate it, but she wasn't about to turn down his offer. Never look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Why thank you, Justin," she accepted, offering an arm which he promptly took.
Although… Best to check the horse isn't full of Greek soldiers, logically at least. So… Why was he helping her? Simple kindness perhaps? Still trying to keep on the heir's good side? Would that mean he didn't now believe Harry was the heir, or that being a friend of a friend would be better than not? Hermione quickly resolved that for any of those answers, she'd be a fool not to act friendly herself. Not to mention, she was rather approving of the thoughtfulness the boy was exhibiting, regardless of his motive. Here was a man with a plan, executing it calmly and effectively in a way that benefitted them both. Maybe Harry could take some much needed lessons?
Assuming Harry isn't the heir.
Hermione startled herself with that treacherous little thought, but she didn't squash it immediately. A proper conclusion can't be reached without examining every angle - plotting every point of evidence. So with that in mind, could Harry truly be the heir?
"Here we are," Justin declared, carefully guiding her through a doorway too small for two. The door closed behind them.
"Thank you for that," Hermione said.
"Not a problem, Hermione. They were being rather uncouth back there."
"Yes, they were," she agreed.
An awkward silence descended - they were strangers as of a half hour ago, after all. Hermione shuffled her feet, wanting to be on her way but unsure of how to leave without causing offence. Justin's upper class manners weren't something she had any experience of.
"Well," he said, "will you be alright from here? I'd be happy to escort you to your tower, though you'd have to show me the way. And I was quite hoping to keep working on my disarming charm…"
Hearing the reluctance in his voice, Hermione seized the chance he was offering. As much as she was hesitant to walk the corridors alone, she knew a route that few would be taking on a Saturday. Not to mention, she wasn't actually going to the tower, and that was information the Hufflepuff was not privy to.
"You go on in, Justin. I'll be fine."
"I suppose I'll see you around then."
"Yeah. Hey, Justin?"
"Yes?"
"You don't think Harry could really be the heir, do you?"
Hermione wasn't sure she should be asking, but she really needed more input on her conundrum, and there weren't many people she could go to.
"I think…" - Justin paused for a while before continuing - "I think it would pay to remain his friend either way."
Of course you do. Not that you're wrong…
"Have you considered going into politics, Finch-Fletchley?" Hermione quipped.
"It is the family business," he said as he opened the door. "Take care, Hermione."
"You too," she responded, smiling in his direction until she heard the door close.
Then Hermione was alone with her thoughts, and what thoughts they were. Finch-Fletchley's answer hadn't helped other than to give advice on how to proceed regardless of who Harry was, and it wasn't advice she felt confident following. If Harry was the heir, if he had attacked Colin, could she really stay friends with him. Could she even act friendly to save her own skin?
Yes, obviously, but that doesn't mean you have to like it. To like him.
Hoping it wasn't true, but mindful that hope was nothing more than wishful thinking if you didn't have something to back it up, she focused fully on the problem at hand. When in doubt, make a list.
Reasons Harry isn't the heir:
He had an alibi leading up to each attack. But he could have planned them well in advance… They say the heir has a monster after all.
He liked Colin. Or acted like he did.
He was only a little first year. 'The heir has returned'.
The invasive addendums her own mind was supplying were getting on her nerves, so she switched advocacy.
Evidence he is the heir:
He's a parselmouth. So? Need to read up on why that's so terrible.
Catching me at the scene with Mrs Norris was a little too convenient. Lying about hearing a voice?
He knew where Colin would be when he was ambushed. Circumstantial at best.
Damn it brain stop arguing with me, when I'm trying to argue with myself!
The absurdity of that thought broke her concentration completely. Setting up her paper plane and point me - she didn't know the route back perfectly - she admitted to herself that this was the sort of problem which called for serious study time, and a night or more to mull over in bed. In the meantime, she'd just have to act normal around Harry. And until she was sure Justin didn't have the right idea, she'd better make sure there wasn't any bad blood between them; that was the logical thing to do.
"Hermione!" Harry shouted out as he saw her turning a corner up ahead. He broke away from McGonagall to rush after her, and almost crashed into her as he rounded the corner himself.
"Hi Harry," she greeted him, sounding a little out of sorts. Not surprising given the day they'd had. "I didn't expect to see you again so soon."
"Yeah, uh, professor McGonagall had some news - good news - and I thought you should hear it before we do anything."
"Good news? Is it about the parseltongue thing?"
"What? Oh, no not that. That's just… Well, that's a thing, I guess. No this is about the Gryffindor problem."
"Harry! You told her!?"
"Not at all, Ms Granger," McGonagall said as she caught up. "But there is little that happens in my tower which I do not know about."
"Oh," Hermione's shock was replaced by worry, clear on her face. "Are we in trouble?"
"Good heavens no, child. I am here to help."
"But we kept it a secret and must've broken curfew so many-"
"-I shall pretend I did not hear that last part," the professor interrupted sternly, "before you successfully argue your way into detention. I am aware of your current sleeping arrangements, and given the circumstances I cannot say I disapprove."
"Show her the list, professor," Harry babbled as his excitement got the better of him. He was so eager for it all to be over, to go back to being normal. He even forgot, for the time being, that there were other troubles on his plate.
"Yes, yes, patience," McGonagall chided. "Ms Granger, I have with me a list of students involved in these most despicable events. Mr Potter has already confirmed that none are on it who shouldn't be, but I am wondering if you might know any names that should be?"
"No, ma'am."
"You need not protect their identities. Any on this list will be severely punished and carefully watched. Further transgressions would surely lead to expulsion."
Hermione jerked slightly at the last word, but repeated her stance, "I didn't recognise any of them, honestly."
"Then I shall proceed with the list as it is."
"Are you sure it's complete?" Hermione asked.
"Unfortunately, I am quite sure that it is not. However, the example it sets should discourage any I have missed from acting out. You need not worry on that regard."
Hermione didn't reply, but it was obvious she was thinking - her tongue even poked out her mouth a little. Harry was bobbing on his feet, anxious to get started on nailing the bullies, but the professor was waiting on Hermione, so he did too. Rushing her when she was thinking was never welcomed.
"Hermione?" he eventually ventured, worried she had gone off on some tangent in her mind.
She shushed him irritably, but a few breaths later she spoke her mind.
"If we waited, could you finish the list?"
"Ms Grange, what are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking I don't like the idea of any of them getting off scot-free. I'd rather go on as we are for a while if it means we get them all later."
"That is not your decision to make," McGonagall reminded her, not unkindly.
"Isn't it?" she hotly replied. "Well it should be! Mine and Harry's, that is - we're the ones being affected here."
Harry was surprised at her vehemence, especially to a teacher she respected, and that she wasn't more excited about putting the mess to bed. Slumming it in a classroom had been affecting her more than him, or so he thought, and he was eager enough to be done with it. What didn't surprise him was her insistence on controlling the situation.
"You may have a point there," McGonagall admitted after a moment's thought, which earned her an odd look from Harry as he tried to figure out just who really was in charge here. "What do you think, Harry?"
What do I think? I think… Harry racked his brains as they did their best to short circuit under pressure. He had been so keen to act, but now Hermione was saying they should wait, and McGonagall wasn't outwardly disapproving. Act or wait, act or wait? Rush in or plan it out fully? Figure out exactly what's happening, or go in wand blazing?
Putting it that way, his choice was obvious. He'd follow Hermione's lead; she hadn't led him wrong yet.
"I can wait," he declared his choice. "Best not to rush things, right Hermione?"
He looked to his friend, and was a touch disappointed not to see the smile he'd expected that comment to earn him. Something was definitely bothering her. Had someone said something after he left with Snape?
"Well, if you are both in agreement, then I shall respect your decision. Provided nothing changes, I will continue working on this list. However, this must end eventually. I will act upon whatever information I have no later than a week on Monday."
"Isn't that Halloween?" Hermione asked immediately, so fast Harry wondered if she'd even checked her mental calendar, or if she was counting down the days like it was Christmas.
"So it is, Ms Granger. That would make for a most memorable feast, wouldn't you say?" McGonagall - no, that was definitely Minerva - mused aloud, wearing a broad Cheshire grin.
Harry stood slack jawed at his professor's antics as she bade them both a good day and left the way they had come. He could swear there was a skip in the woman's step, and was she humming?
"Did that just happen?" he asked Hermione.
No reply came, and looking to his friend he found her deeper in thought than earlier. He repeated his question, assuming she hadn't noticed him speaking. That happened sometimes.
"Hmm? Oh, yes," she mumbled. "Say, Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"I, uh… I should say sorry."
"What for?"
A pang of worry shot through him, as much at her tone as the idea she'd done something he wouldn't like.
"For, uh, for being mean about Patricia. I mean, I know you were trying to help, it's just… no, that doesn't matter." - the last was clearly to herself - "Point is I wasn't all that nice to you, when you were trying to help. And now you've helped me again, what with Malfoy's snake and all, and I just… I wanted to be sure we're friends."
An apology like that was the last thing Harry had expected that day, which was saying something. Since when had she changed her tune, and why? Harry was pretty convinced he was the one in the wrong, and had deserved the chewing out she'd given him. Vernon would have beaten him for an hour over behaviour like that.
"Course we're friends Hermione," he breathed.
"Good. Good. Don't go thinking you weren't an idiot though."
"Yeah," Harry laughed nervously, "I know I'm thick."
"Oh Harry, you're not thick. But I, uh, well…" Hermione fumbled with her words most uncharacteristically, and Harry winced in sympathetic pain, "if you… if you were the heir, you'd tell me. Right?"
"Hermione's what's wrong?"
"Answer the question. Please. I know it's stupid, God it's so stupid, but… please?"
"Uh, okay. Well I'd-" Harry was about to answer that of course he would, but he stopped as he studied her demeanour. The way she was chewing her bottom lip, the way she wrung her hands with worry; this mattered to her. He agreed it was a stupid question, and it would be easy to just say what she wanted to hear, but… Actually, would it? She doesn't want to hear 'yes'. She wants to hear the truth. Whatever it is.
So, Harry asked himself the question; would he tell her? Instinctively, yes, of course, she was his friend and the first person he'd confide in, but… But there were many things he hadn't told her, and possibly never would. If he were the heir, wouldn't that be another such secret? And in that case, the answer had to be:
"No. No, if I was the heir I wouldn't tell anyone. Not that I am, obviously."
"Not that you are," she repeated. "But then, that's what exactly what the heir would say."
Harry badly wanted to refute that, to defend his hypothetical heir self, but how could he when she was right and he'd told her as much? Worse was the way she stood, expectantly, like she was hoping he could prove her wrong, only for him to fail her in that; for lack of anything to say, he said nothing.
The walk back to their classroom was made in uneasy silence. Harry spent the whole time puzzling over what had changed so much between them that day, and he kept coming back to the terrible thought that, somehow, saving his friend from a snake might be the biggest mistake he'd ever made.
A/N
Even bigger thanks than usual to my regular reviewers, as your input inspired me to crank out 2600 words the day it came through, and my muse is negotiating an end to its strike. (I'm placating it by finally planning out the story, chapter by chapter to its conclusion, and now this little side project I started on a whim is threatening to hit the million words mark by the end...)
My thanks to TigerWolf as well, glad you're liking Luna.
Sounds like some people have a decent handle on the characters as I've tried to portray them, which implies I don't totally suck at this. Not saying a word as to your predictions though... spoilers! ;)
And lastly a tiny apology, my proofreading for the last chapter posted was rushed, as it is this time: When my motivation is limited, that energy has to go into writing over re-reading. I accept letters of complaint by owl, or tied around bricks and thrown through my window. And if you're thinking I could have simply done a better proofread using the time I wasted writing this apology then you're absolutely correct, and my stupid muse would like you to kindly not mention it.