It was with a note signed by Lockhart that Hermione claimed Moste Potente Potions from the restricted section. A brief skim over the recipe told them it would take about a month to make. Draco and Hermione would each be brewing a batch, just to have a back-up in case one went wrong. Draco had also suggested doing it this way in case one of them – Hermione - got attacked by the heir in the month that it took to brew.

That Saturday, Draco was lying in bed, worried. He wasn't on the subs bench for the first match of Gryffindor's season, but Harry was playing and he wanted him to do well, Gryffindor needed the points from quidditch if they were to win the house cup this year. Soon after Harry went down to breakfast- far earlier than usual- he got up and headed downstairs himself. At breakfast he joined the team- he was a member of the squad after all, so no one minded. They were all nervous. Harry was the worst of all, as this was going to be his first match. Later, the team went down to the pitch and changed. They got a shock when they saw the Slytherin line-up though. Their new seeker was Theodore Nott, and the whole team had been presented with Nimbus 2001's by Nott's father. Draco sat in the stands, listening to Lee Jordan's lively commentary.

'Here we are today on the Hogwarts' quidditch ground to watch this year's Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Match. Both teams are unchanged from last year, barring seekers. Slytherin have Theodore Nott taking up the role, whereas Gryffindor have Harry Potter. The Slytherin team are flying the new Nimbus 2001, the fastest broom on the market. It has an incredible straight line speed which may make the match rather difficult for Gryffindor. Potter comes from quite another school of thought though. Now Madame Hooch is stepping on the field with the balls, ready to start the match. She throws the quaffle in the air and the match begins. Potter's broom is of course the Waxwing, a broom from the shed of John Cattell. It is a finely balanced broom and while notably slower than the top brooms available on today's market, ithas the turning circle of a gnat. Pucey has gone on a run and he scores! Ten points for Slytherin. There was really nothing Wood could have done there, as he races to collect the quaffle which he throws straight to Angelina Johnson, not only is Angelina the first girl to score more than fifty goals in a season for Gryffindor since 1782, she is also by far the most attractive...'

'JORDAN! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU!' burst in Professor McGonagall, 'NO FLIRTING WHEN COMMENTATING!'

'And as Professor McGongall so eloquenty reminds us, quidditch is a sport to be taken seriously, just like the Gryffindor attack. The chasers are recycling the ball among themselves very effectively, the Slytherins can't get anywhere near them. Nor can the bludgers! Try as the Weasley twins might, one of the bludgers seems to be following Potter around. We have a rogue bludger, the first time since, I don't know when that that has happened, perhaps Professor McGonagall might have an idea.'

'It was 1427 that the last rogue bludger was recorded at Hogwarts, Lee.'

'Thank-you, Professor McGonagall. 1427, that's a long time ago indeed. The bludger is still chasing Potter and Nott seems to be laughing at him. By the looks of things Potter's none too happy with that, he's flying straight at him. Is Potter attempting the Hermite Slip? A move that hasn't been seen at Hogwarts since Charlie Weasley left? No! He's just flying straight at him. This will be interesting. AND HE'S SEEN THE SNITCH! Potter is weaving about now through the stands trying to find the most beautiful of balls and the waxwing is really showing how fast it can manoeuvre, Nott can't keep up despite his superior straight line speed. Ooh! That's close, Potter narrowly avoids flying into the stand. BUT NOTT DOESN'T! HE'S DOWN! HE'S DOWN! NOTT'S DOWN! But Slytherin have just scored another goal! The score is now fifty points to none! The race for the snitch only has one competitor though. Can Potter catch the snitch before Slytherin score another ten goals? He ought to, but he is a new player to the game and we simply cannot tell what he will do. The Bludger is right behind him and Potter has stopped. He appears to be searching for the snitch. OW! The bludger has hit Potter's arm and I think I could hear the bone break from here. Potter must be in agony. Will both of the seekers be eliminated? If so, what will happen? No! Potter is carrying on! Potter is carrying on! He's diving. A fine dive and he's going to crash! No! He hasn't crashed, somehow he managed to avoid crashing into the ground, but he still missed the snitch, it's right behind him, surely he can't turn quick enough to catch it, but no! That broom can really turn! He's managed to turn virtually on the spot and has caught the snitch! Harry Potter has caught the snitch and ends the game, scoring one hundred and fifty points for Gryffindor. Gryffindor win, one hundred and sixty points to seventy. Potter lands his broom and HE'S FAINTED. POTTER SECURES THE SNITCH AND LANDS BEFORE FAINTING. PROBABLY THE BROKEN ARM. NOW THERE'S A PITCH INVASION. A VAST CROWD OF GRYFFINDORS SEEM TO BE RUNNNING TOWARDS THEIR SEEKER! THEY'RE BEING LED BY PROFESSOR LOCKHART! WHAT'S HE DOING?'

'Calm down Lee!' interrupted McGonagall.

'It appears that Lockhart is attempting to fix Harry's arm. URRGH! THAT IS DISGUSTING. RATHER THAN FIXING THE BONES LOCKHART'S REMOVED THEM! Harry's forearm can be bent in two. He's in for a long and painful visit to the hospital wing tonight. But the match is over now, so this is your commentator, Lee Jordan and summariser, Professor McGonagall, saying goodbye. The next quidditch match will be Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw! So it's goodbye from me'

'And goodbye from him.'

As Draco and Ron helped Harry to the Hospital Wing, they complained about Lockhart. Removing the bones? How stupid could you get? If you didn't know how to do something like that properly, you should leave it to the experts rather than bodging it, just common sense. Draco was sure that there was cause for complaints, but that was nothing, nothing compared to the rogue bludger. Who had tampered with it? It must have been a really powerful wizard to get round the anti-tampering charms, so that ruled Lockhart out, but they had no idea who else might have done it.

That particular question was answered at breakfast the next morning, when Harry turned up.

'Harry! You look as white as a sheet! What's wrong?' Hermione asked.

'Nothing really, just had a bad night, first I got visited by a demented house elf and then Creevey was brought in. Woke me up both times, not to mention the pain.'

'Creevey? What was wrong with him?'

'He's been petrified.'

'What! Petrified like Mrs Norris?' asked Ron.

'Exactly.'

'Couldn't have happened to a nicer person.' Said Draco, who had, like all of them, quite frankly been getting annoyed at Creevey's Potter-worshiping.

'Draco!' admonished Hermione.

'You said something about a house elf?' asked Ron, trying to bring the conversation onto safer ground.

'Yeah. It's the same house elf that visited me over the summer. Apparently he stopped us from getting onto the platform in London and set that bludger on me!'

'That elf's a real menace.' Said Ron.

'Yeah, I wish Dobby would stop trying to be so helpful. He really isn't.'

'Did you say Dobby?' asked Draco.

'Yep.'

Draco's face turned, not quite as white as Harry's, but certainly noticeably paler.

'My Dad owns an elf called Dobby.' He whispered in a state of shock. The others, however, didn't hear him over the noise of Seamus Finnegan entering the hall.

'DID YOU SEE THE NOTICE ON THE DOOR?' He yelled at them happily. As he approached he got quieter.

'There's going to be a duelling club here, everyone can come along. Do you think you're going to go?'

Harry and Ron were really keen to go, so they went along at eight o'clock, and lined up in front of the stage that had been set up. They'd been hoping Flitwick might be taking it- the Hogwarts' rumour mill was saying that he used to be a duelling champion in his youth- but in walked the person they'd all been least hoping for. A quiet groan went around the room, unbeknownst to its cause, Lockhart.

'Hello. The headmaster has given me permission to start this duelling club, so I think I'll begin with a demonstration, with my wonderful assistant, Professor Snape!'

'Why does the fact he's doing a demo depend on the fact he's got permission from the Head?' Ron whispered in Draco's ear.

'No idea. Probably can't think straight, knowing him, or perhaps he thinks it is causal.'

'...can see that we have our wands in the accepted combative position. On the count of three we will cast our spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill of course.'

'Shame.' Said Ron.

'Amen to that.' Said Draco.

The two professors raised their wands and brought them down. Snape gave a great cry of 'Expelliarmus!' and Lockhart's wand duly went flying across the hall, shortly followed by Lockhart himself.

'Do you suppose he's all right?' asked Hermione.

'Who cares?' Harry, Ron and Draco said together. Lockhart was unsteadily getting to his feet.

'As you can see that was a disarming charm. I've lost my wand. Yes, an excellent idea that Professor, but if I may permit myself to say so, it was quite, quite obvious what you were intending to do, and had I not felt it would be more constructive to show its effects, I could have blocked it only too you, Miss Patil.' Snape was looking like he was ready to commit murder. For once, Lockhart had noticed and decided it was time for the student body to have a go.

'Time for you to have a try,Potter, Weasley, how about you two...?'

'Weasley's wand causes utter devastation with the simplest of spells. We'll be sending Potter to the hospital wing in a match box. May I suggest someone else? Malfoy, perhaps?'

'An excellent suggestion Professor. Malfoy, over here. Potter, with Professor Snape.'

The pair duly climbed onto the stage.

'Righty ho! I'm going to count to three. When I reach it, I want you to cast spells to disarm each other. One..Two..Three..'

'Rictusempra'

'Tarantallegra!'

Harry and Draco simultaneously cast spells at each other, as friendly as they were, each was playing to win and neither was going to listen to Lockhart.

'I said disarm only.' Yeah, right! Draco thought. There's no-one in this room who's going to cast a disarming spell. Well, maybe Hermione. Draco's train of thought was interrupted as Harry had by now gotten to his feet and had cast another spell. This time Draco ducked to avoid it.

'Well done, Malfoy! Finally using your Brain!' Snape boomed from the other end. Not even his friends attacked him without impunity though, so Malfoy cast again.

'Blatire!' Draco cast a babbling curse at Harry.

'Stop! Stop!' Yelled Lockhart, 'I said disarm only!'

'Finite Incantatem!' Snape had decided to take over. Slowly the mayhem in the hall ended.

'Ahh. I think perhaps it might be wise to teach you how to block unfriendly spells. Now, how about our demonstrating pair gives it a go. Now, you two, just watch me.'

Lockhart raised his wand and waved it in a complicated, wiggly manner, before the end of the wand hit his head and he dropped it.

'Yes, well, you get the idea. Now, on the mark of three. One. Two. Three!'

'Serpensortia!' bellowed Draco and a long serpent came out of the end of his wand.

'Don't move, Potter.' Started Snape, 'I'll get rid of it for you.'

'Allow me.' Interrupted Lockhart, 'Ascendere.' The snake flew up into the air and landed by a nervous Justin Finch-Fletchley.

All of a sudden, Draco heard a strange hissing sound come out of Harry's mouth. He was hissing at the snake! What was he doing? Trying to make the snake go towards Justin?

'Accendere.'

As Snape cast the spell, the serpent burst into flames before their eyes. So that was what Lockhart had been trying to do.

Ron came to his sense first, and dragged Harry out of the hall. Draco and Hermione glanced at each other, and followed at a trot. Back in the common room, Ron pushed Harry into an armchair.

'You're a Parselmouth! Why didn't you tell us?'

'I'm a what?'

'A Parselmouth, Harry, honestly, you can speak to snakes- you're a parselmouth.'

'I know. I' Harry coughed, 'accidently set a boa constrictor on my cousin in a zoo had been telling me about how it had never seen Brazil...'

'Harry, as nice as it is to have this rare gift, what on earth are you doing in Gryffindor?' Draco asked.

'Huh?'

'Well, the most notable parselmouth in the last millennium was Salazar Slytherin- there's a reason their house symbol's a snake, you know. It also happens to be a gift that runs in families.'

The truth was beginning to dawn on Harry. He'd just identified himself to the whole school as a possible descendant, heir if you like, of Slytherin.

'But, I'm not...'Harry stuttered. 'I can't be. I'm not the heir of Slytherin!'

'That'd be hard to prove' said Hermione, 'He died nigh on a thousand years ago, for all we know, you might be.'

No-one in Gryffindor slept well that night