When Jane and Neville got back from school, Mrs. Birtch revealed that she and Tracey were regularly going to the park with their new friends Mr. Roberts, and his daughter Alison.

Jane started going with them. Apparently, when the girls went to play the younger girls often ended up leaving Jane out, and then Jane would just go and swing by herself. Jane did not really mind too much, but her mother did so one day she invited Neville to come with them.

Neville and Jane took turns skipping rocks, on the pond. Jane was better at it than he was, but they weren't making it a competition.

"Kids, lunchtime," Mr. Roberts called.

Neville and Jane started heading back. They approached the adults while they were setting the food out on the picnic table, but that wasn't all. They were smiling, and Mrs. Birtch was even giggling, and they were both looking at each other a certain way. Neville glanced at Jane, but Jane had not seemed to notice anything odd about that.

Tracey and Alison showed up. "What food do we have today?" Tracey asked.

Neville walked inside the house. "How was it?" Mrs. Longbottom asked.

"It was alright," Neville said.

"What's wrong?"

"Mrs. Birtch claims that Mr. Roberts is her friend, but he's clearly a boyfriend, but Jane somehow doesn't seem to notice that."

"Well, she's probably better off not noticing that. Why is it weird that she wouldn't notice?"

"Well, it's not so much weird as it is disappointing."

"Oh. Your feelings about Jane have changed over the years haven't they?"

Neville nodded. "I fear this may be evidence that her feelings about me have not." She had told him that she loved him once, but that might have meant that she loved him like a sibling.

"Maybe in a few years or so, her feelings about you will change too. You never know. Even if not, that doesn't mean there's nothing special about your relationship.

"When did you notice, that your feelings about Jane had changed?"

"Not very long ago. Why?"

"Years ago, you came home to go to Mr. Birtch's funeral. I warned you that Jane had an ugly wound on her face. When you saw her, you were afraid to look at her at first, but when you did you did a double take. You were then looking at her in awe, as if you were in love with you. That's when I knew, and that was years ago.

Also, I would like to point out that that was the same day when Jane spoke, for the first time in a week, while holding your hand. Months later, she was chosen by your mothers wand. She freaked out when you had to compete in tournament."

Neville smiled. "Thanks, Gran."

As usual, Jane had been visiting Mrs. Snake regularly over the summer, often taking other people with her. Neville, who went with her the most, was understanding more parseltongue than ever.

A few days before the end of summer, Jane and Neville biked to the local zoo. They went into the reptile house, only to find Mrs. Snakes' enclosure empty.

The zookeeper noticed them. "Sorry kids, but she was getting old for a python. She won't lay eggs anymore, and we were worried that she'd start to show more obvious signs of aging soon, so we put her down before she did."

Mrs. Snake didn't know how old she was, so Jane didn't know either, but Jane doubted that she would have been old enough to justify that.

"We'll get a new snake though, maybe one that's less scary."

Jane let out a loud wail and then started trembling, and sobbing, and then sunk down to the ground.

Neville quickly crouched down beside her.

"Look kid," the zookeeper said in a harsh tone, "she's just a dumb snake in a zoo. You need to grow up."

"Don't talk to her like that," Neville yelled.

The zookeeper walked off.

Jane rocked back and forth and grabbed Neville's hand. She wondered why anyone would be afraid of a python. Python's were not even venomous.

"Jane, will you read me a bedtime story?" Tracey asked, handing her a book.

Jane shook her head, and then took the book from Tracey, and handed it to their mother. "Sorry Tracey," Jane said. A moment later, she realized that she had just spoken. "Or maybe I can."

Her mother was giving her a weird look. "Jane, sweetie, you're speaking parseltongue."

Jane was surprised. In the past, she could not speak parseltongue without a snake around, unless she imagined that Mrs. Snake was there.

Jane tried to speak again. "What about now," she asked?

Her mother shook her head.

Jane trembled.

"It's okay. It's not your fault. It's probably just temporary."

After putting Tracey to bed, Jane's mother handed her a pencil and a piece of paper, with one line written on it.

Can you write?

Jane took the pencil and tried writing.

I think so.

Yes, I can.

I'm sorry I can't speak English. I don't know why.

Her mother sighed. "I don't know either. Maybe this is some state in-between being too upset to speak, and being able to speak. Or maybe this is a sign that too many horrible things have happened in your life, and that I should never let you out of my sight again."

Jane cringed, feeling smothered by the mere suggestion of that, and started rocking back and forth.

"Sorry, Jane. I'm not actually going to do that."