Pansy Parkinson strutted over so that she now faced Lockheart, smirking broadly. With one more look of horror at her friends, Lyla slowly made her way to face the other girl.

"Alright everyone, now that that's done, I would like you all to face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Lyla and Pansy barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other. Lyla truly wished she were anywhere but here. Not that she feared the other, no, but more that she feared her own capacity to fail.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents— only to disarm them— we don't want any accidents— one... two... three!"

Without even thinking, Lyla swung her wand high, but Pansy had already started on "two": Whatever her spell had been, it hit the unsuspecting girl so hard that she felt as though she'd been hit over the head with a saucepan. She stumbled, but everything still seemed to be working, and wasting no more time, Lyla directed her wand straight at her opponent.

"Rictusempra!"

A jet of silver light hit the dark-haired girl in the stomach and she doubled up, wheezing.

"I said only to disarm!" Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as the girl sank further to her knees; Lyla had hit her with a Tickling Charm, and she could barely move due to intense bouts of laughter. Lyla watched from where she stood, still a bit dazed. She had a vague feeling it would be unsporting to bewitch her opponent while she was on the floor, but this was a mistake; gasping for free breath, Pansy unsteadily pointed her wand at Lyla's knees.

"Tarantallegra!" she choked out.

And Lyla's legs began to jerk around out of her control in a kind of quickstep.

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge.

"Finite Incantatem!" he shouted; Lyla's feet stopped her odd little dance, while Pansy stopped laughing, and they were able to look up.

A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting hard; Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, apologizing for whatever his broken wand had done; but Daphne and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had the smaller girl in a headlock and Daphne was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor. Blaise and Draco leaped forward and pulled Millicent off. It appeared to be very difficult: She was a lot bigger than the two combined.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan… Careful there, Miss Fawcett... Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second… I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair— how about Miss Parkinson and Miss Potter—"

The day was just proving it could get worse.

"Now, Lyla," said Lockhart. "When Miss Parkinson points her wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and promptly dropped it. Snape merely rolled his eyes as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops— my wand is a little overexcited—"

"Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?" asked Lyla, feeling a cold sweat begin to form at the nape of her neck.

"Scared?" muttered Pansy with a faint smirk.

"In your sorry dreams," she hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

Lockhart cuffed Lyla merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did!"

"What, drop my wand?"

But Lockhart wasn't listening.

"Three — two — one — go!" he shouted.

Pansy raised her wand quickly and bellowed, "Serpensortia!"

The end of her wand exploded with green light, and from it sprouted a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

"Do not move," commanded Snape between his teeth. He gave Pansy a narrow-eyed look before slowly stepping forward, wand raised ever so slightly. "I will get rid of it..."

"Allow me!" bellowed Lockhart.

He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, rather than vanish, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward the Ravenclaw boy from Herbology, Anthony Goldstein, and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

"Leave him alone!" shrieked Lyla without hesitation, and miraculously— inexplicably, really— the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Lyla and her alone. An odd wave of exhaustion washed over her. She knew the snake wouldn't attack anyone now, though how she knew it, she couldn't have explained.

She looked up and caught sight of the boy's pale face– filled with utter horror.

"What do you think you're playing at?!" he shouted, angrily, and before Lyla could say anything, the boy had turned and stormed out of the hall.

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. He, too, was looking at Lyla in an unexpected way. Shock, perhaps even a small inkling of fear. She was also dimly aware of an ominous muttering all around the walls. Then she felt a tugging on the back of his robes.

"Come on Lyla," said Draco's voice in her ear. "Move— come on— get up–!"

Without even comprehending what was going on around her, Lyla was steered out of the hall, followed by her small gaggle of friends. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. Lyla didn't have a clue what was going on, and no one spoke to explain the situation until they had dragged her into an empty classroom.

"You're a Parselmouth!" exclaimed Draco. "Why didn't you say anything to us before?"

"She's a what?" asked Arabella the same time Lyla dazedly asked "I'm– I'm a what?

"A Parselmouth!" said Ron rudely. "You can talk to snakes!"

"I know I can," said Lyla. "I mean– that's only the second time I've ever done it. Arabella and I accidentally set a boa constrictor free at the zoo once— long story—

Everyone gawked at the sisters as if they were mad.

"You too!?" shrieked Theo in utter shock, "you can speak to snakes too!?"

"So?" said Arabella, "it was telling us it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to that was before I knew I was a wizard —"

"A boa constrictor told you he had never seen Brazil?" Daphne repeated faintly.

"I bet loads of people here can do it," replied Arabella with a dismissive wave "can't they?"

"Oh, no they can't," said Draco, looking sweaty and even more pale than usual. "It's not a very common gift, and often associated with very, very dark magic."

"This is bad," huffed Theo, gaze flicking back and forth between the sisters.

"What's bad?" asked Lyla, starting to feel quite angry. "What's wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn't told that snake not to attack Anthony—"

"Oh, that's what you said to it?" asked Blaise with a frown.

"Of course, it's what I said! You were there, weren't you—? you heard me —"

"We heard you speaking Parseltongue," said Hermione softly. "Snake language."

"For all we know, you could have been saying anything," said Daphne in a whisper, "no wonder he panicked like he did, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something— it was creepy, you know—"

"I– I spoke a different language?" asked Lyla, turning to stare at Arabella for confirmation.

"I didn't hear that," her sister said lamely, "you sounded normal to me."

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