Seeker chuckled to himself when Hermione wanted to stay in the castle over the holidays.
Her point was a reasonable one - if it's a student, who else could it be but the slytherins? Eventually, Harry sat her down and showed her the notes he had received. She stared at them, then at him, and back at them. Then she gave him the look - as if she had fifty questions, and couldn't decide which to ask first.
"Explain," she finally said. Harry chuckled as he leaned back in his chair.
A week after Colin Creevey's attack, Harry had received a note via Hedwig. It came from Lord Greengrass, who had invited him (and Lord Black, interestingly) to dinner one night over the holidays. Inside the envelope, Harry had found a very small, very discreet second note, written in flowing script.
No fear, just confusion in S as to Heir. Best read - it's not a snake. DG
During charms that afternoon, Seeker had dropped his assignment next to Daphne's bag. Mumbling an apology, he bent over and gathered his papers. That evening, Daphne found a small note tucked into the pocket of her bag.
Many Thanks. HG seeking other options. Chamber opened in '43 - a clue? Stay safe. -H
Hedwig had brought a reply two days later. It was a short note in a blank envelope.
Tell HG 'Cui Bono?' BP bragged that student died in '43. Who? As for you - Tell my father "Yes" and learn some subtlety. Clumsy, you aren't. DG
Seeker had chuckled at the very slytherin admonishment, as he looked across the great hall and caught Daphne's eye. He nodded once, and then she looked away. That was about as close as they could get, these days, to direct communication - but even that was a beginning, he reasoned.
Hermione was hesitant to trust just any slytherin - but she had spoken with Daphne before, and got along with her, in as far as you could get along with someone while sitting in a charms classroom.
"Cui Bono?" asked Harry.
Hermione smiled. "Who benefits?" She looked back at the notes. "She wants us to see who would gain from attacking muggleborns and closing the school." She held up the second note. "Who exactly is BP?" She could think of no slytherins with those initials, and wanted to know.
Harry grinned. "That would be your friend and mine, the Heir Malfoy. Or, as he is known in the halls of Slytherin House, the Blonde Ponce."
Hermione tried to look stern, really she did. But the laughter escaped her before long, and soon both were sharing a laugh over Draco's new nickname.
oOoOoOoOo
November ended, giving way to December, and its early Scottish snows. Even with no attacks since Colin Creevey, the question of who the Heir of Slytherin might be had rapidly taken over the usual talk of the common rooms.
Everyone had a different theory. Was it Salazar Slytherin himself, returned across the centuries to root out the muggleborns from his beloved school? Or one of the Slytherin upper years, hoping to curry favor with the remaining death eaters? Perhaps it was a disguised Professor Lockhart, hoping for another adventure that might sell books.
What if the actual Heir of Slytherin walked these halls? Surely they would wear green. Slytherin House was the obvious culprit, or at least one of their number. Everyone knew it.
The Five remained unconvinced - Spellforged had given them a healthy skepticism, usually whenever something that 'everybody knows' is true came up. He was well pleased when the others started picking up a few of his habits, such as questioning everything. It made the ravenclaw in him proud.
It helped that they had inside intelligence. Rose had no hint that anyone from her version of Slytherin was involved - and, indeed, every member of the house had been present in the great hall during the Halloween feast, when the first attack took place. The painted warning (in rooster blood, it turned out) had still been wet - a sign that the attack took place during the feast. The other houses, it seems, did not keep as close an eye on their members as Slytherin, for none had taken a head count.
If it was a student, they had escaped notice.
With the Yule break fast approaching, their thoughts turned to holiday plans. Once again, Rose planned to spend the entire break with the Greengrasses. Spellforged would be staying at Gringott's for most of the holiday, though he would portkey over to join his mother and the rest of Clan Sullivan in Killarney, in the south of Ireland, on Christmas Day. Seeker would split time between the Burrow and Longbottom Hall - as would Marigold, though she would also go with Neville to the New Year's Eve party held by Madam Bones.
Chaser had encouraged Marigold to get to know Amelia Bones, and Marigold had been eager to oblige. Madam Bones was her godmother, as it happened, and had been close to Sirius before everything exploded on that Halloween. Part of the reason for the party was to welcome Sirius back into wizarding society. It was to be a small affair, friends and family, but Marigold looked forward to it.
As did Sirius. In all five worlds, afternoons and shopping trips with the newly minted Lord Black were planned. Sirius was still sorting out his old family home, and while papers had been filed for full guardianship, none of those three worlds had seen any movement on that front. Mister Fitzpatrick had expected a slow process, which is why a stay with Sirius had not been planned for - but, for Seeker, Rose, and Marigold, summer prospects were looking up.
Ron and Hermione, who had both suggested sticking around and investigating the slytherins, ultimately decided to go home as well. They already had good information on what the snakes were up to, and most of the snakes they wanted to spy on would be gone as well. Some Hermiones needed more convincing than others, of course, but in the end they all agreed to take the holidays to relax.
Marigold walked in on an argument between her Ron and Ginny, one day in December. Ginny was adamant that she wanted to stay in the castle, but would not explain why. All of her friends - including Marigold, Ron noted - would be gone. Moreover, Bill and Charlie - their older brothers - would be coming home for Christmas, and didn't she want to see them? She huffed and stormed off, plopping down in a corner of the common room and furiously writing in her diary.
Despite the threat of further attacks, it seemed that things had quieted down for the moment. At least, right up until the day that a Dueling Club was announced.
oOoOoOoOo
Spellforged looked at the long, narrow dueling platform that dominated the great hall. It seemed better suited to fencing or some similar sport, as it was narrow enough to prevent one from properly dodging. And if he wanted to approach his opponent, he'd basically be charging their wand - never an optimal strategy.
Not for the first time, Spellforged found himself missing the wide oval arenas of the training pits.
To his surprise, Professor Flitwick - the former two-time European dueling champion and Master-level duelist at the ICW level - was not involved in organizing the dueling club. He had seen Professor Snape hovering at the back of the room, but the man took no step toward the stage. Which left…. Oh, no.
Oh, yes, came Seeker's annoyed reply. Welcome Professor Lockhart.
The Defense professor walked up and down the platform, describing how this club would teach the students of Hogwarts how to defend themselves, just as he had in his long career. Of course, he took the time to mention that they could learn about his various encounters with the darker forces of the wizarding world by looking to his published works.
Then, Lockhart invited Professor Snape up to the platform for a mock duel. They followed all of the niceties - bowing at the center, saluting with their wands, and then pacing to each end of the platform. Lockhart himself counted off the duel. Snape offered his trademark sneer, before casting what had to be the most telegraphed Expelliarmus in the history of dueling.
Lockhart stood there and took it, flying back against the shield at the end of the platform. His wand clattered to the deck. Snape stood there, shaking his head.
Spellforged saw one of the hufflepuffs from their year shaking his head as well, his eyes watching as Lockhart brushed himself off. "Not quite what you expected, is it?" Harry asked.
Justin Finch-Fletchley offered a bit of a shrug. "Everyone gets lucky once. I'd want to see how they do in a real duel."
Nodding, Spellforged watched the professors as they had a rather tense discussion on the dueling platform. "Maybe. I wish we had a proper dueling floor, though. It'll be hard to dodge."
Justin looked at him. "Why dodge when you can cast a shield instead?"
Spellforged smiled a knowing smile. "Because you can't hear your opponent cast a throwing knife." He looked over at the hufflepuff's surprised expression, and offered his hand. "Harry Spellforged."
Justin shook his hand, after a moment. "I know. I mean, everyone probably knows. Justin Finch-Fletchley."
"Yeah, I get that a lot." said Harry.
"I'll bet," replied Justin. He nodded toward the platform, where Snape and Lockhart were pairing students off. "You've done a lot of this, then?"
"Some," he allowed. "But, well… let's just say that the Goblins do things a little differently."
Justin looked like he wanted to ask another question, but was interrupted by Snape's approach. "Mister Finch-Fletchley, you will find Neville Longbottom waiting for you in the corner. And as for you, Mister Spellforged." Snape made a show of pondering the question. "Let's see what Mister Malfoy makes of you. Center platform."
The large center platform had given way to several smaller ones, each featuring a pairing of second years. Malfoy was already waiting for him, a sneer across his face. Well, then, thought Spellforged.
They bowed to each other. Malfoy bowed in the traditional manner, dipping his head in a show of respect for his opponent. Spellforged did the same, except his bow was in the Goblin manner - extending his neck and keeping his eyes on his opponent at all times.
Lockhart noticed. "Why did you bow improperly, Mister Spellforged? Surely you saw my demonstration a moment ago?" The professor spoke with amusement, but Harry could tell that he really didn't understand the question.
"That is the bow I was taught, Professor. Your eyes must always remain on your opponent, even before the duel." He paused, considering how to explain without insulting Lockhart - to his face, in front of dozens. "See, if you take your eyes off of your opponent, you are saying that they are no threat to you. It's an insult, you see. Better to treat their magic with a healthy dose of respect. Sir."
Lockhart nodded sagely, as if absorbing the advice. Spellforged learned something about the professor, in that moment - the man had absolutely no idea how thoroughly Goblin his upbringing had truly been. That could be fun, mused Spellforged.
"Very well then, Mister Malfoy, Mister Spellforged. Proceed!" And with a swish of his cape, he stepped away from the platform. As Spellforged walked to his end of the deck, he noticed with some amusement that several other students bowed as he had - eyes firmly on their opponent. With a grin, Harry turned back to face Malfoy.
Lockhart remained at the center of their platform, and decided to count them off.
"One, Two," He shouted. Spellforged saw Malfoy begin to cast, before the duel even began, and straightened himself up. He's going to aim high, thought Spellforged.
Sure enough, a red spell came screaming toward Harry's chest. The platform didn't give enough room to sidestep, so he did the next best thing and fell onto his back. Of course, his wand was out as well, and he had his own disarming hex in the air before he landed. Malfoy never saw it coming, and flew backwards.
"Splendid, Splendid!" said Lockhart, clapping lightly. Shouts from the other platforms caught his attention, then, and he started to survey the damage.
Malfoy was seething as he got up. "I won, you fell over first!"
Spellforged shrugged. "I dodged your spell, and then hit you with mine." He gave the Malfoy scion a grin. "You fired too soon, of course, so your spell didn't even really count."
Draco had no response. He quieted down when Snape whispered something to him, a grin crossing his features.
Lockhart quieted the room, and suggested that they learn how to block spells. He attempted to demonstrate the proper wand movement, but dropped his wand in the process. "Well, you get the idea. Now, Mister Spellforged, Mister Malfoy, let's try doing that, shall we?"
Harry looked at him. "What, dropping our wands?"
"One, Two, Three!" shouted Lockhart, eager for the room's attention to be anywhere but on him.
Draco wasted no time, aiming his wand and shouting a spell Harry was not expecting. "Serpensortia!" From the end of Draco's wand, a long black snake appeared. Harry looked at it, judging the distance, and reached for his belt with his off hand.
"Expelliarmus!" he shouted, and again a red spell knocked Draco down, his wand clattering to the floor beneath the platform. No one bothered to retrieve it, all eyes were on the snake. Some of the students shrieked in fear.
"Allow me, Mister…." Lockhart froze when he saw the knife in Harry's left hand. It went up, and then came down with a swift motion. It was a short throw, as the snake had continued to advance while he dealt with Draco. With a THUNK, the knife pinned the snake to the platform.
"LET ME GO, YOU COWARD, I CAN TASTE YOUR FEAR, YOU ARE MEAT!" Spellforged looked around, wondering who was shouting - and then locked eyes with the snake. The snake was shouting angrily at him. And he could understand.
Snape arrived, then, and vanished the snake in a black puff of smoke.
The room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Snape had to elbow Lockhart before the Professor dismissed the students. Draco still sat on the platform, staring at the knife embedded in the wooden deck.
Spellforged walked over calmly, wrenching the blade free of the wood and returning it to its sheath. He saw Millicent Bulstrode watching him from the floor, two wands in her hand. He knelt down beside her, looking at the wands. "Draco's, I assume?" Millicent nodded, handing over the Hawthorn wand. "Thank you, Miss Bulstrode." He smiled as she gave him a nervous nod.
Draco saw him walking toward his end of the platform, and started scooting away. This did not work well, as he was already out of room. To his surprise, Spellforged offered a hand.
"We should do this again sometime, Mister Malfoy," Harry said with a grin. Draco shook his head, but took the offered hand and stood up. He was surprised when Harry handed him back his wand. Harry offered him a dainty little wave, as the slytherin stormed off.
I think I screwed up, guys… said Seeker, across the link.
oOoOoOoOo
Marigold wished she could have given the whole dueling club thing a miss, as Rose had decided to do. Rose had not wanted to be put into a position of dueling against Draco Malfoy, which made a great deal of sense - they had already had enough run-ins to last the entire year. So she spent the evening with Daphne and Astoria, relaxing in the common room.
Marigold, unfortunately, had no such excuse. She did manage to convince Professor Lockhart that she shouldn't participate, since Madam Pomfrey still wanted her taking it easy on her magic - "And you don't want to make Madam Pomfrey mad, do you, Professor Lockhart, sir?" She had fought the urge to bat her eyelashes at the man, as that would probably be laying it on a little thick.
"Quite right, Miss Potter. I hope you will at least attend as a spectator?" Lockhart's glee at the prospect was written all over his face.
"Of course, Professor, I wouldn't want to fall behind, after all."
That was how Marigold Potter found herself watching Draco Malfoy facing off against Justin Finch-Fletchley, from Hufflepuff. Draco had won his first match by jumping the start, and Justin was not happy. Lockhart had tried to demonstrate a shield charm, but failed badly - and then scampered off the platform like the coward he seemed to be. With a quick count, the rematch was on.
"Serpensortia!"
Shrieks came from several students, as the long black snake made its way toward the hufflepuff. Justin froze, almost hypnotized. Snape stepped forward to vanish the snake, but Lockhart wanted to assert himself. And so, when he attempted to cast the spell, the snake flew in the air.
And landed right in front of Marigold. She sensed the students around her backing away, but couldn't will herself to move. The snake, meanwhile, was furious. It surged forward, striking at what now looked like the only likely prey in its path.
"Fuck," hissed Marigold, not realizing that it sounded to all in the room like an actual hiss. The snake was startled by the word, but could not stop its strike as it was already in mid air.
Stepping to the side, Marigold reached out and grabbed the snake behind its head. It writhed angrily in her hand, but she gave it no room to move about. "Professor?" she asked, looking expectantly at Snape.
Snape looked at her, his expression unreadable. Then he pointed his wand at a now empty corner of the room. Marigold nodded, and then tossed the snake in the indicated direction. Snape had it vanished before it landed.
After Lockhart dismissed the room, Hermione and Ron came over to her. Ron grabbed her arm, and then released it when she flinched.
"Did you hiss at that snake?" He asked, and the look on his face said that he was dead serious, despite the ridiculous nature of the question.
"It leaped at me, Ron, I was startled is all." She shrugged. "Didn't you ever hiss when you hurt your knee on something? A damn snake was jumping at me!"
Hermione and Ron looked at each other. She spoke next. "It sounded like you were speaking to it."
Marigold chuckled, hiding her nerves at the direction this was going. "About the only thing I would have said would have lost points for Gryffindor, Hermione." Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing full well how large Marigold's vocabulary could be when it came to swearing. "Guys, it's no big deal. Really."
"You're sure you didn't speak to that snake, Marigold?" asked Hermione. "This is important."
"Of course not," she lied.
Her friends seemed to sag in relief. "Good." said Ron. "If you had, you'd be a Parselmouth. And those are almost always Dark." Such was the venom in his voice that she heard the capital D in 'Dark'.
She smiled, trying to put them at ease. "Do you really think that I would go dark?" asked Marigold.
Hermione looked uncomfortable. "Well, no, but what if the school thought you had? Do you know why Slytherin House has a snake as its mascot? Because Slytherin himself was a parselmouth."
Marigold's eyes grew wider. "They'd think I was the Heiress of Slytherin." Now she understood her friends worry. "Wow."
"Yeah, wow." said Ron, picking up his bag. "Come on, we'd better head back."
As they walked to the common room, she heard Chaser and Seeker grousing about their duels - and about learning that they were indeed Parselmouths, in front of the entire bloody school no less. Chaser had managed to keep his mouth shut, having been warned by Seeker, at least, but it was still a concern. Marigold suddenly felt relief at having dodged that problem, at least.
oOoOoOoOo
Chaser's duel had gone about as well as Seeker's had - right up until Lockhart sent the snake flying toward Justin Finch-Fletchley.
Harry had not considered telling the snake to stop, as Seeker already had - he knew how that would play in front of the school. Instead, he tried Marigold's trick of grabbing the snake. A quick "Accio Snake!" and the thing was flying toward him. He may be a chaser, but he knew he had good enough reflexes to be a seeker - and here, they served him well, for he was able to grab the snake behind its head, as Marigold had done.
The look of relief on Justin's face matched the one on Chaser's - he had avoided outing himself as a parselmouth. The snake, meanwhile, was less than amused. A quick toss, and Snape had vanished it - just in time, too, for Chaser had felt the need to curse at the snake just to shut it up.
Professor Snape, annoyed even more than usual, had turned to Lockhart - only to see that the man had vanished. Grumbling, he dismissed the room before turning and leaving himself, cloak billowing.
Once the room cleared, Chaser spoke for a moment with Ron and Hermione and Susan, none of whom were thrilled with how the evening had ended. When the three began talking about Justin's reaction, Harry thought he heard something. Turning his back to his friends, he cast his mage sight.
There, sitting against the wall in a conjured chair, was a disillusioned Gilderoy Lockhart.
"I think I'm going to walk a bit, calm my nerves," said Harry. "Sue, can you tell Justin I'm sorry about everything tonight? That must have been quite a scare."
Susan nodded. "Sure, Harry." She hugged him, to his surprise. "Take care. I'll see you tomorrow for breakfast?" Off his nod, the three left.
Once they were gone, Harry sat on the dueling platform, his feet dangling off the edge. "Professor, are you alright?"
Lockhart cancelled the disillusionment, and Harry forced himself not to gasp. The man was pale, almost as if he might pass out at any moment.
"Professor?" asked Harry.
"You could have died, Mister Potter." Lockhart was looking at nothing, but his hands and his heavy breathing all screamed 'Panic Attack'. "That snake was venomous, it could have bitten you easily. You or Mister Finchley there."
"Finch-Fletchley."
"Yes, him! Though his name wouldn't bloody matter when the Prophet headline comes out, would it?" Lockhart chuckled, bitterly. "Hogwarts Professor starts dueling club, hufflepuff second year dies on opening night!"
Harry watched the professor place a finger on his wrist, trying to take his own pulse and calm himself down. The five had discussed Lockhart at length, especially after his opening class and its quiz. The others had described a brash, vain man, obsessed with his own image. Chaser had seen some of this as well, but the man in front of him was something different. His manner spoke of a man in over his head, overwhelmed by the position he found himself in.
Spellforged, Seeker, and Marigold all said that Lockhart spoke to the room before dismissing the club. Here, Snape had had to do so - and had been furious about it.
He's built a career by lying through his teeth, and now he's seen what could happen if he isn't up to scratch, thought Harry.
"It wakes you up, doesn't it?" asked Harry, quietly.
"What does?" said Lockhart.
"Fear." Off the professor's look, Harry shrugged. "You know, when I showed up here, everyone expected me to have all these tales of my adventures around the world. Photos with witches and wizards of legend. It came as a shock when they realized that none of those stories about me were true." He kept his eyes on Lockhart, waiting for the point to hit home.
He did not have to wait long. A sad chuckle came out of the professor. "So what did you do?"
"Nothing. I didn't write the stories, I didn't claim they were true. I just tried to do the best I could, and let my own actions speak for themselves." Harry leaned forward, his hands on the edge of the platform. "It's hard, I would think. But it's doable."
Lockhart shook his head. "Take away the books, and what's left?" He looked up at Harry. "The stories, that's all I am, Mister Potter."
Harry looked at him a moment, seeing the remorse across the man's face. Did he make up his stories from whole cloth? Some of them were outlandish enough that that may be the case. Or did something darker happen, perhaps? Did the stories even match across worlds, he wondered? He thought back to the five's discussions of the man, and asked himself if this Lockhart had simply found himself overwhelmed - or if this Lockhart was the only one of the five to care.
After a minute, Harry got out a piece of parchment and wrote down a name and address. Folding it neatly, he handed it over to the shaking professor.
"What's this, Mister Potter?" asked Lockhart.
"That, Professor, is the name of my family's solicitor. Mister Fitzpatrick has an office down in Hogsmeade, and will keep everything you discuss confidential. He'll take an oath, if you like." Harry nodded at the parchment. "If you really do think that you're in over your head, sir, then I'd suggest talking to him. Anything you decide, he'll know where to start."
Lockhart just stared at the name. He did not notice Harry collecting his bag.
"I hope you have a pleasant holiday, Professor." Lockhart looked up at Harry, as if seeing him for the first time.
"You too, Mister Potter." Lockhart held up the parchment. "And thank you, Harry."
Chaser nodded, before turning and heading back to Gryffindor tower.
A/N: Several reviewers noted - correctly - that some Lockharts were different than others. Well caught. Take years of guilt and paralyzing fear of getting caught, mix in an addiction to fame and money, add a dash of impostor syndrome, and you have a recipe for, well, whatever this was. Chaser has not taken on a project - he thinks of it more as damage control. And on his end, you also have Harry's natural compassion factored in. It's no accident that Harry and Susan figured out that the books were fake quickly - for they are indeed more obvious in that world. How that plays out will be seen later.
I started this on a whim five months ago - and the response has been amazing. Thank you again for reading and reviewing.
Feedback, as always, is welcome.
