Merry Christmas you miserable lot. Get anything good?
Spy: A few minor trinkets.
Heavy: I HAVE NEW WEAPON!
Engineer: Yippe-kee-ya-ki-ya-kai-yo!
Soldier: I read a book written by a magnificent bastard!
Kyugan: Well that's nice. In any case, the wheel of fate is turning, let's see what the continuum shift has wrought.
Chapter 9: The Duelling Club.
By Monday, the whole school knew that Colin had been attacked while sneaking out to visit Herwald and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing. As a result the first years, understandably, were now moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone.
Ginny Weasley, who sat next to Colin Creevey in Charms, was distraught, and the antics of her elder brothers, the twins to be more specific, wasn't helping the clearly unsettled redhead. She'd grown up hearing Hogwarts was the safest, most magical place in the world, it was rather world shattering to learn students were getting sent to the hospital wing every other week, and that was simply from accidents in class.
Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Herwald was hard put trying to keep Neville from buying a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail, citing that he wasn't in any danger in the first place, being a Pure-Blood, never mind the fact the only thing the 'totems' would be good for were paperweights, and possibly potions ingredients. He'd taken the crystal though, it'd make a decent gift for Rin with a bit of work.
In the second week of December, Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Herwald and his friends naturally decided to stick around, though Neville took a moment or two to consider, apparently weighing the consequences of being alone with his grandmother against the possibility of facing off against whatever was stalking Muggleborns in the halls. The fact the Gryffindor chose the latter only cemented Herwald's opinion to never cross the Longbottom Matriarch.
However, as unsettling as the situation was, Herwald's attention was diverted to trying to locate the spectral knight from the Deathday party, a task that was proving to be most difficult indeed, as none of the Hogwarts ghosts had no recollection of her.
"There are as many ghosts within the halls of Hogwarts as there are secrets, young Einzbern." The Bloody Baron informed him once, when he'd asked the Slytherin ghost for advice "If one cannot be found, it is because they do not WISH to be found."
Herwald had taken the Baron's words to heart, though it didn't stop him from asking around. The Fat Friar had been particularly eager to assist where he could, the Hufflepuff ghost having not lost his helpful nature even in death, while Sir Nicholas offered his full support, clearly appreciating Herwald's support during the Deathday party.
However, a week passed with no sign of the Knight, and with the lessons beginning to pick up before the winter holidays, Herwald soon found himself hard pressed to think of anything other than his homework.
It was after a rather informative lesson on Swelling Potions, and Herwald, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were walking across the entrance hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Spotting Hermione, Ron and Neville nearby, they decided to investigate.
"Seamus says they're starting a Duelling Club!" Ron revealed excitedly "First meeting tonight! I don't reckon Slytherin's Monster can duel, mind you, but getting a few pointers couldn't hurt."
"Certainly worth looking into." Draco agreed, nodding thoughtfully "I wonder who Dumbledore chose to teach it? I know first hand Professor Snape is a first class duellist, he's won awards for it, but you'd never get him to agree to it."
Ron and Neville sighed in relief at the revelation Snape wouldn't be teaching, they had enough of him in Potions as it was, and so at eight o'clock that evening the group, as one, hurried back to the Great Hall, only to find the long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead, the many faces of the moon depicted on it's surface. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.
"Have you heard anything about who'll be teaching us?" Hermione asked as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Someone told me Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was young, maybe it'll be him."
Herwald could care less who the instructor was, so long as they were competent, fair, and above all, knew what they were doing. So naturally, when Gilderoy Lockhart walked onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum, the Einzbern let out a streak of German curses, of the non-magical variety unfortunately, that earned a few looks of intrigue from the Slytherins, who as mainly Purebloods had some mastery of foreign languages, and alarm from the rest of the crowd, including Lockhart, who took one look at the enraged Einzbern and stiffened, his winning smile faltering slightly, looking like it had been plastered on hastily.
"Ahem…yes…" the fop stammered, recovering nervously whilst waving an arm for silence, not that he needed to, for at that moment Severus Snape swept into the hall, dressed in his usual black robes which billowed behind him dramatically as he moved, like some great black bat, the students falling silent from his mere passing glance.
"Gather round, gather round!" Lockhart called out, taking advantage of his colleague's, Superior rather, arrival to seize control "Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me?" he smiled as the students gazed up at him nervously, it was that or risk meeting Snape's annoyed glare "Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions." He preened pompously "For full details, see my published works."
Herwald scowled, glaring at the man, his emerald eyes like a pinpoint laser that was boring into Lockhart's brow, wishing fervently he possessed a form of Mystic Eye, preferably an offensive one, though he'd settle for Ilyasviel's eyes of binding if it meant shutting this drama-queen up.
"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," Lockhart continued, either too dense to notice the focussed enmity Herwald was emitting, or adept at ignoring it, gesturing to the Potion's Master whilst flashing a wide smile "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself, and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin." He winked roguishly at the crowd "Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry, you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"
"He's a dead man…" Draco noted, a cold, mocking smile on his face that was matched by every Slytherin in the hall "Ten Galleons says he goes down with the first spell." He added, earning an affronted look from Hermione.
"Fifteen says he goes down before he can even CAST a spell." Herwald countered, Hermione looking at him in betrayal, even as the rest of the Slytherins, and surprisingly, every Ravenclaw and the Gryffindor Males began exchanging bets. Not surprisingly, the only ones to show any belief in Lockhart's skills were predominately Hufflepuffs, who were generally good sports, and the Gryffindor Females, who the least said about the better.
Herwald idly wondered if Snape was reinforcing his hearing to listen in, or if he was using Legilimency to see what the crowd was thinking, because for a split second he saw the Potion's Master's trademark 'I'm going to kill you, slowly, painfully, and then do unspeakable things to your corpse' sneer, which he'd been levelling at Lockhart's back, twitch up at the corners for a split second in a show of dark amusement.
One really had to marvel at Lockhart's ability to stand firm in the face of that smile, for while it wasn't NEARLY as intimidating as one of Grandfather Jubstacheit's, it still gave the impression to anything with a working brain in their head that they should have started running before they knew he was coming.
Truly, ignorance was bliss.
Unaware of the betting going on around them, or more likely, unaware that the odds were decidedly stacked against him, Lockhart turned to face Snape, the two Professors bowing to their opponent, or rather Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands no less, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably, his Wand held at his side like a dagger, before moving into a stance, his open hand extended before him, wand held over his head in a reverse fencing pose, whereas Lockhart assumed a traditional fencing stance, his off hand resting on his hip.
"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position." The fop revealed to the silent crowd "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."
"I wouldn't bet on that." Neville murmured, flinching at the look Hermione shot him, though Draco shot the boy an approving look while Crabbe and Goyle snickered openly.
The Professors moved after a count of three, or rather, the minute the word Three had left Lockhart's lips Snape's arms came down like a streak of black lightning, the Potion's Master crying out "Expelliarmus!" as a flash of dazzling scarlet light erupted from the tip of his wand, blasting Lockhart off his feet, sending the fop flying backwards off the stage, flipping ass-over-tea-kettle through the air, only to smash comically into the wall, sliding down to sprawl head first onto the floor.
As Lockhart picks himself off the floor...
"Do you think he's all right?" Hermione squealed, dancing on her tiptoes in concern, even as the Slytherins, and a few members of other houses, broke into cheers.
"Who cares?" the boys replied as one, Herwald and Draco accepting their winnings with matching grins, even Ron having made a killing, as he'd bet that Lockhart would make a tremendous ass of himself.
"Bet you anything he's going to try and cover that up by saying he LET Snape blast him." The redhead suggested, only to flinch at the glare Hermione sent his way, though he soon ignored it as people began taking his bet, just as Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet, his hair, visible now that his hat had fallen off, standing on end as if he'd been electrocuted.
"Well, there you have it!" the fop declared, tottering back onto the platform like a mildly concussed bar crawler "That was a Disarming Charm, as you see I've lost my wand…" he looked around for the missing piece of wood, only to be disappointed "Erm, has anyone seen it?"
Herwald smirked, the missing wand clutched in his right hand, having snatched it out of the air before anyone had noticed, as they were too busy watching the man's well-anticipated flight courtesy of Air-Snape. He half considered snapping it, or better still, destroying it, it would take no more than a tightening of his grip, but he relented in the end. For one thing, he still wasn't back to full strength after the encounter with Dobby's Bludger, his arms were healed but his reserves had taken a serious dive, and were only about halfway filled even after a week, so he didn't dare use alchemy until he was certain he hadn't fried his circuits.
For another...well, it'd make a nice souvenir by which to remember the year, he might even have it gilded and sent to Snape as a Christmas Present.
"Ah well, I'm sure it'll turn up eventually." Lockhart stammered, trying not to look too put out, though his smile was rather strained "As I was saying, the Disarming Charm, handy little defence, and an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape." He smiled daringly at the Potion's Master "But if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy, however I felt it would be instructive to let them see…"
Lockhart's heavily stunted survival instincts must have gotten a nice jump-start earlier, because the man took one look at the positively MURDEROUS expression on the Potions Master's face and wisely turned his attention back to the students with a wide smile that didn't cover his nervous eyes "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me?"
They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, while Snape paired Draco off against Ron, Herwald would have taken either Crabbe or Goyle, but apparently the professors weren't about to have housemates pointing wands at one another, and so Herwald found himself facing off against either Fred or George Weasley, the Einzbern resolving, come hell or high water, that he'd learn how to differentiate between the twins or die trying, while Hermione was paired with Millicent Bulstrode, a large Slytherin girl with an unfortunately large heavy jaw which jutted aggressively outwards, who did not return the Gryffindor's weak smile.
"Face your partners!" Lockhart called out, having scampered back onto the platform, safely out of the range of fire of any miscast spells "And bow!" he waited while the students did so, though the Gryffindors and Slytherins were wary of showing TOO much respect "Wands at the ready!" the fop shouted "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents, and ONLY to disarm them, we don't want any accidents, on three: one, two, three-!"
THREE! Minutes later...
Herwald had to admit, Fred or George, whichever twin it was, turned out to be surprisingly quick on the draw. Apparently the twins' reflexes as beaters served them well in duelling. However, Herwald had been trained in combat since he was six years old, had fought in a Grail war when he was TEN, and so could make out the subtle motions of their shoulders, and had his wand aimed at his opponent before the redhead could even open his mouth.
"EXPELIARMUS!" he yelled, the spell hitting the twin so hard he doubled over and actually flew back several feet, though unlike with Snape with Lockhart, Herwald hadn't been trying to injure his opponent, so rather than flipping backwards and crashing in the wall, George, (or was it Fred?) simply fell flat on his back, blinking dazedly up at Herwald as the Einzbern stepped forward to help him up.
"Blimey mate…" he muttered, rubbing his chest with a good natured expression "You're not half fast on the draw aren't you? With Reflexes like that I'm almost glad you never tried out for the Slytherin team."
"Quidditch is Draco's area of expertise." Herwald noted, smiling wryly at the redhead, who returned the grin, the two taking their stances again, only to frown as a fight had apparently broken out between Ron and Draco, the two having apparently given up trying to disarm one another, and were now hurling actual curses.
"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, even as Draco sank to his knees, Ron's Rictumsempra having hit him full on in the stomach, the Malfoy heir fighting off the tickling charm long enough to launch "Tarantallegra!" at Ron's knees, the redhead letting out a yelp as his legs began to jerk around out of his control in a kind of quickstep. "Stop! Stop!"
"Finite Incantatem!" Snape yelled, the Potion's Master retaining his cool, cancelling out the spells, allowing Ron to recover control of his legs and Draco to cease his uncontrolled laughter, the two looking up at the hook-nosed professor warily.
A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting, while nearby Hermione and Millicent Bulstrode were still moving; Millicent had Hermione in a headlock and Hermione was whimpering in pain; both their wands lay forgotten on the floor, Crabbe and Goyle, surprisingly, stepped forward to pry their housemate off, apparently deeming that since Hermione was Herwald's friend, she was theirs too.
"Dear, dear…" Lockhart muttered, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels with wide eyes "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 all how to BLOCK unfriendly spells…" he added as an afterthought standing flustered in the midst of the hall, glancing hopefully at Snape, only to look away quickly when the Potion's Master's black eyes glinted "Let's have a volunteer pair…Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?"
"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart." Snape countered, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat, looking down his hooked nose at the round-faced Gryffindor "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." He ignored Neville's embarrassed flush "How about Malfoy and Potter? At the very least we can be certain they won't actively try to murder each other."
"Excellent idea!" Lockhart declared, though he tensed slightly at the word 'Potter', clearly wanting nothing to do with Herwald, a sentiment the Einzbern shared, even as the two friends and housemates moved to the middle of the hall, the crowd backing away to give them room.
"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you…"
Herwald ignored him, the Einzbern standing before his friend, the two mimicking Professor Snape's tense, yet ready stance, bowing slightly towards one another, before stepping back, both assuming the Potion's Master's earlier stance, wand arm raised over their heads, the other held out as if to block an oncoming spell.
"Scared?" Malfoy asked, his tone teasing, though there was a hint of competitiveness there that Herwald didn't miss. Malfoy's were notoriously competitive as a whole, if they couldn't beat someone they'd hound them until they could.
"I would ask the same." Herwald countered, his tone bemused, for while the Malfoy's were a competitive breed, the Einzberns had discovered new levels of stubbornness, a trait developed from their never winning a single Grail War since the first over 200 years ago.
However, when it came to magical duelling, Draco had a slight edge, Herwald was simply too used to relying on alchemy to get the job done, which is why, even as the Einzbern managed to get off another Disarming Charm, sending his friend stumbling backwards on his arse, he was still caught by surprise when a long black snake shot out of the end of Draco's wand, falling heavily onto the stage floor between them and raising it's fanged head to strike.
"Oh bloody hell…" Draco whispered, his voice audible even over the screams of the crowd as they backed away from the stage, the Malfoy heir looking horrified at what he'd inadvertently summoned "Herwald, don't move! That's a Black Mamba! It can take down an elephant!"
"Don't move, Potter." Snape ordered, the Potion's Master's gaze locked on the deadly serpent, his wand coming up with a flick "I'll get rid of it…"
But Herwald wasn't listening, his emerald eyes were locked on the serpent, which continued to hiss at him menacingly. "Where am I?" it demanded, glaring at him with fangs bared "How did I get here? Did you bring me here? Ssssend me back right now or sssso help me I'll bite you!"
"Calm down." Herwald muttered, the rest of the hall forgotten as he matched looks with the serpent, rather intrigued to find it could talk "Proffessor Snape will send you back in a second…no need to bite anyone…"
"You ssspeak!" the mamba hissed, and Herwald got the impression it was startled as it clamped it's mouth shut, the serpentine eyes looking at him with alarmed curiosity.
"Of course I speak." Herwald countered, quirking a brow at the serpent in disbelief "I should be asking how YOU can speak. Are you a familiar of some sort?"
"How can thisss be?" the Mamba muttered, tilting it's head from side to side in order to get a better look at the boy "The line wasss broken…we sssensssed it so…yet here you ssstand…a ssspeaker…" it paused briefly "Let me tassste you…"
Herwald frowned, wondering if the Serpent meant it wanted to bite him, only to recall that snakes didn't so much have a sense of smell, but rather a highly developed sense of taste, the sensory glands in their tongue allowing them to detect prey from miles away, and even tell the temperature. Kneeling down, he extended his hand to the snake, who stretched forwards, forked tongue coming out to flick against his skin briefly.
"Ssstrange…" it hissed slowly "you do not possess the blood of a speaker…but I can tassste the gift…" the serpentine head flicked to his wand "and you sssmell of an old one…"
"Do you mean Medusa?" Herwald asked, and the serpent's head flicked to his face "She's a friend, well, a friend of a friend really; she gave me a hair for the core of my wand."
"You wield a favour from an old one?" the serpent exclaimed, and Herwald swore he detected a hint of wonderment in that serpentine voice "Who are you, ssspeaker?"
Before Herwald could answer, the Serpent vanished in a puff of black smoke, the Einzbern looking up to see Professor Snape standing over him, a calculating expression on his face that made the boy's skin crawl, or did he appreciate the ominous muttering all around the walls, which had him so tense he almost hexed Ron and Draco when the boys grabbed him by the robes and tried to drag him off the stage.
"Come on." Ron urged him, the pair steering him out of the hall, Hermione Neville, Crabbe and Goyle hurrying along after them, the larger boys glaring at anyone that made as if to follow them, pulling the doors shut behind them.
Outside the Great Hall...
"I can walk, thank you." Herwald muttered, the Einzbern looking at his friends in annoyed disbelief as they tried to get him to follow them "Could anyone care to tell me just what's going on?"
"I could ask YOU that." Draco countered, the Malfoy Heir staring at his friend as if seeing him for the first time "Why didn't you tell me you were a Parselmouth?"
Herwald blinked, looking at his friend as if seeing him for the first time, unable to comprehend what he'd just been asked. Parseltongue was a unique magical language, part of the 'gift of tongues' class, which allowed the speaker to converse, easily, with snakes, serpents and their ilk. Like all magical languages, it was notoriously rare, passed down through select magical bloodlines as part of their inheritance.
"So that wasn't a familiar you summoned?" he asked Draco excitedly, unable to help himself, his Inner Magus literally leaping up and kicking his heels for joy at the idea that he might possess a rare magical gift "I was actually talking to a snake?"
"More like hissing and spitting that actually talking." Ron countered, the redhead looking both alarmed and unsettled at Herwald's look of glee "It's not something to be proud of mate, this is bad. VERY BAD."
"I'm afraid I have to agree with Weasley on this one, Herwald." Draco muttered, looking unsettled, though whether it was at the admission or the fact his friend could converse with snakes was debatable "I'm afraid you're going to face a lot of prejudice from this." He looked Herwald in the eye "The ability to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent."
"Exactly." Ron muttered, the youngest Weasley Brother looking grim as he said it "And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something."
"Oh Scheiße not more of this Heir of Slytherin bullshit…" Herwald muttered, his good mood souring instantly as he pinched the bridge of his nose "Bloody Englanders, I swear there I times I wonder why I bothered coming back here at all…"
"I know it's a lot to take in Herwald." Hermione insisted, looking at her friend in concern whilst patting his shoulder "But I'm afraid it's only understandable, what with everything that's been going on."
"That's not what I'm bothered about." Herwald muttered, waving a hand dismissively "I could care less if they think I'm Slytherin's Heir or something that slipped through his contraceptive potions." he continued on, ignoring the snorts of his male friends and Hermione's flush "What vexes me is that they consider Parseltongue to be a DARK gift." He waved a hand at their looks of confusion "Think about it, one of the most famous Parseltongues in Mundane and Magical history was St. Patrick, Patron Saint of Ireland." He continued as their eyes widened in surprise "Though I suppose the fact he was recognised by the church would explain why he's not so openly known for his gift, more than likely he was stripped from any magical records during the crusades. My point is that if a Patron Saint can be a Parseltongue, I don't see how it can be a 'Dark' Magic."
"You'll have a hard time convincing everyone else of that." Draco muttered, though he looked intrigued by his friend's logic "The fact you're a Slytherin yourself is already a factor against you."
And so Herwald get's a little christmas Prezzie of his own.
Spy: Sssssacre bleu!
Kyugan: You did that on purpose.
Spy: I don't know vat you're talking about...hissssss.