"Is it supposed to smell like that?"
Ron plugged his nose shut and gave them a skeptical look. Even Hermione was beginning to look a little green. She and Ariel had spent all afternoon brewing and adding the final ingredients to the first stage of the Polyjuice. Myrtle zoomed overhead, watching them with wide eyes. She'd been grilling them with questions all afternoon but had grown silent as they added ingredient after ingredient, some of which made Ariel wrinkle her nose in disgust.
"Well, the book says nothing about what it's supposed to smell like," Ariel leaned over, flipping through the pages deftly. "But we do have the right color."
She watched the potion bubble and fume, sending a noxious plume of thick, gray smoke into the air. She stepped back, coughing, her eyes watering. Ron looked like he was going to be sick. Hermione skittered back, but rotated Moste Potente Potions in her direction to skim through the text for the fiftieth time.
"It's stable, don't worry." Ariel reassured Ron. "Just a few more ingredients." She took a pinch of powdered moonstone and sprinkled it into the cauldron. The potion hissed and spat, turning a bright red.
"If you say so," Ron said, but he took a few steps back. "Smells like when George left a sandwich under my bed — we thought the bloody thing had grown legs at one point, but it was a gnome who'd gotten a whiff and snuck into the house to steal it."
Ariel sniggered and turned the book back to her as Hermione scribbled notes on a piece of parchment, scanning the list of ingredients hastily. Around her the air began to shimmer, golden afternoon light playing across the walls. She could hear Ron complaining to Hermione about the smell, but she paid that no heed as she continued to work.
"We've got to head back soon," Hermione eyed the door nervously. "lunch is almost over."
"I know," Ariel sighed. "I think we're set for today, anyway." She checked the coin — Potions Classroom. Snape wouldn't have noticed them missing, then.
Ron paused, looking at her expectantly. "That's it?"
"That's it." she repeated, closing the book. "That was the final ingredient... we need to wait a month, now."
"A month?" Ron bleated. "That won't be until Christmas!"
"Well, we've got to still check on it and all…"
"That's a good thing." Hermione said, her gaze thoughtful. "If it's ready over the holidays, we'll be free to do whatever we want... and no one will be the wiser if we disappear for a while."
Ariel knew she was talking about Snape. He'd been showing up at random points during the day, scaring the daylights out of them. They'd only come during lunch today after they'd overheard Justin Finch-Fletchley mention that there had been some sort of accident in his Potions class that morning and Snape had kept half the class to stay back and clean. It was a good day not to be a Hufflepuff, it seemed.
Ariel felt her heart sink at Hermione's words. "Aren't you going home for the holiday, though?"
"I've already written to Mum and Dad that I'm staying at school." Hermione said, not bothering to look up as she started gathering her things. "We've got too much to do here."
Her heart swelled with warmth as she broke into a grin. "So we'll all be together for Christmas."
"Sounds like it," Hermione smiled back. "That way, we can all use the Polyjuice together. I'm sure we'll need to test it first… maybe on each other?"
"We only made enough for each of us," Ariel shook her head. "We've got to make one go of it."
"Now that I think about it…" Ron trailed off for a moment. "I'm pretty sure I overheard Malfoy mention he was staying over Christmas, too. I'm not exactly thrilled to spend the holidays with him, but if we need to sneak into the Slytherin Common Room…"
They all looked at each other, the same idea blossoming in collective agreement.
"It's settled, then." Hermione said. "We'll need to get samples next. That might be tricky…"
Ron made a face. "I trust you two. But Merlin help me, I am not drinking something with Crabbe's toenails in it."
Severus had not fully recovered from The Poisoning Incident with Miss Evans. He'd barely slept since then, spending his nights wandering the castle, stalking any students who were caught out after curfew and docking an egregious amount of House points. He'd gotten into a fight with Peeves last Thursday, after he'd nearly knocked over a suit of armor onto him, the din from the Hexes and Curses Severus had sent hurtling at him so loud that Dumbledore himself had heard the commotion and come to investigate.
Lucius' threat had stayed at the back of his mind and festered. Severus wanted to take the girl and lock her in a cabin somewhere in the depths of some Siberian wasteland.
Delay is a bitter tonic
It hurts
It's back can you hear
To protect me you said you'd do anything
He felt like death warmed over as he forced himself to attend breakfast that morning, managing to down three cups of coffee before he started ripping apart a piece of toast. At the other end of the High Table sat Minerva and Filius, their heads bent low together as they spoke. Every so often they would glance in Severus' direction, but he paid them no mind, his eyes assessing his House and the girl.
She was eating with those horrid Weasley-twins, his stomach turning at the idea of them sharing any sort of camaraderie. They were mulling over something — a list of some sort, it looked like. The girl had a quill in her hand, the parchment she was holding seemed to be covered in lines and arrows and notes, which were surely the work of two people who couldn't keep themselves out of trouble for more than five minutes. Severus' eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion. Nothing good ever came out of those two planning something. He could only imagine what they had roped the girl into. If she got herself into any more trouble, Severus was going to turn all three of them into potions ingredients.
Draco, on the other hand, seemed rather dour that morning. He was picking at his food, uninterested, as Parkinson sat opposite him, her voice bouncing off the walls like pinballs as she tried to get his attention with some tacky trinket. He'd been rather restrained since the girl's Incident. Severus had expected jeering and pot-shots that would end with Weasley-twerp scrubbing bedpans, but he'd shown uncharacteristic restraint.
It was growing tense between the two — Gryffindor and Slytherin. The Gryffindor-halfwits clearly thought someone from Slytherin had poisoned the girl. More fights between the two had broken out recently, resulting in Severus having to spend more of his precious time wasted on discipline. He'd had to throw Miss Evans out just the other night, three Gryffindor Third Years scraping tubeworms from the bottom of cauldrons for the evening. Severus wouldn't stand for any of it — the girl was his priority, but Slytherin was his duty. He often wondered how to tell the difference between the two.
Severus massaged his temple forcefully as those Horrid Twins left, Miss Evans quickly turning her attention back to her cronies. Weasley-twerp shoved all of his bacon onto her plate just as a house elf appeared and took it away. Granger stared at the spot with a look of haughty indignation.
Most of the staff was absent that morning, and so Severus didn't feel as obligated as he normally did to stay through the meal. He stood when he felt someone approach from behind — an ambush.
"Severus," Dumbledore stood behind his chair just as he was about to stand and take his leave. "I have a proposition for you."
"Unless it's the Defense position," Severus said snidely, "I'm afraid it will have to wait."
Minerva, who seemed to be taking her time with her meal this morning, eyed them with a suspicious gleam in her eye. She'd moved closer after Filius had left — Severus hadn't noticed until now. He glanced around to find that the rest of the hall was beginning to empty as the students headed off to their morning classes.
Dumbledore smiled instead, ignoring the comment. "Gilderoy has just had a wonderful idea…"
"No, he hasn't." Severus said nastily, unable to help himself.
Minerva snorted into her teacup. Severus sent her a scathing glare — she knew what was coming, meddlesome witch.
"He suggested a Dueling Club." Dumbledore twiddled his thumbs. Severus couldn't even walk away and act like he wasn't hearing this because he was trapped in between the table and the old coot.
"Oh, that's rich." he said flatly. "Perhaps one of the older students could teach him a thing or two. Or even better — you humor him."
"We thought," Dumbledore interrupted, his tone clearly telling Severus this had all been his bloody concoction. "that you could assist him."
Absolutely fucking NOT was the very first thing that threw itself across Severus' mind. It was insulting, to assist the babbling eyesorein an area that Severus himself was an expert in, the job he fucking deserved —
And then he realized that he'd been given an opportunity to Curse and Hex and Stun Lockhart, with all the little dunderheads watching. It wasn't even an opportunity – it was a gift, wrapped up in the kind of wrapping paper families like the Malfoy's used at Christmas, with a big red bow. Revenge for the cameras and newspaper articles about the girl. Revenge for nearly killing her. Revenge for putting the girl through mortifying ordeals in front of her peers. Revenge for being an insufferable halfwit.
"Of course." Severus replied blandly.
Dumbledore beamed. Minerva looked like she'd swallowed a hairball.
"Today, perhaps, after lunch?" Dumbledore asked, and Severus gave the briefest of nods. "Splendid! I'm sure the students will find it comforting in the midst of recent events."
Severus didn't believe that for a second, but he grunted and shoved his chair out from the table, taking his leave. For just a moment, he thought about this stroke of luck, this ingenious, mollifying, suggestion Lockhart had conjured up himself, and almost felt a twinge of satisfaction.
He knew that deep down, this was only a tourniquet.
"A Dueling club?" Ariel repeated. "You can't be serious."
Lavender almost looked offended by Ariel's incredulous reaction, fixing her cloth napkin in her lap. "He's fought countless dark wizards and monsters. We could stand to learn a lot from Professor Lockhart."
They sat huddled together at lunch as the other Houses whispered excitedly around them. The news had spread like wildfire, it seemed, a welcome reprieve to distract everyone from Slytherin's monster. Lockhart was over by the Ravenclaw table babbling away at some group of starstruck First Years, critiquing their wand technique. It was probably the most teaching he'd done all year.
"That's right," Parvati chimed in. "With Slytherin's monster skulking about, I'd feel much better knowing how to defend myself, wouldn't you?"
Ariel rolled her eyes at the mention of the monster. She knew exactly what to be scared of, and no one else did. No one had heard that insidious voice moving through the walls, ravenous and raging.
"I don't need to learn from Lockhart," Ariel muttered under her breath, her eyes fixed on the spot where Colin had sat. She had no desire to become a spectacle in front of the whole school, especially not after the poisoning incident.
Lavender and Parvati rolled their eyes and went back to talking at Ginny on how to cover up her under-eye bags with concealer.
The enchanted sky above them was full of clouds, light, misting rain falling just above their heads, mirroring Ariel's mood. Before she could lose herself to it again, she turned her thoughts back to the present and came back down to Earth. A Dueling Club might be a good place for everyone to vent their feelings, like a pressure valve released in a steam engine. That was what she told herself, anyway.
A house elf appeared next to Ariel suddenly with a soft pop. "Boppy has tested your food, Ariel Evans. Boppy found nothing unusual!"
This had been the routine for every meal. Ariel would serve herself her food, Boppy would appear and take the plate before returning it a few moments later. She'd taken to garnishing Ariel's plate the past few times, with sprigs of parsley or basil, depending on what Ariel had taken from the middle of the table.
"Thank you," Ariel smiled politely and took it from her. "I know it's a lot of trouble…"
Boppy's eyes widened. She let out a squeak, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment, before popping back out of existence.
"That's got to be getting old," said Ron, who was already on his second plate. Hermione had waited for Ariel, though, and started eating only after she had gotten her food back.
She shrugged. "I just feel bad. It's not their fault."
Hermione gave an annoyed huff. She wasn't thrilled with the idea of the house elves doing all the cooking and cleaning for nothing in return. She'd worked herself into a sort of frenzy the night before, ranting at Ariel and Lavender about the injustice of it all. Parvati had stayed in the shower way longer than usual, only coming out once Hermione had quieted and started writing her anger away instead.
As she took a bite of her mashed potatoes, Ariel turned her attention back to the Dueling Club. It had been Hermione's idea to attend this afternoon. The idea of being talked to by Lockhart about Defensive magic wasn't exactly appealing to her, but she had to admit it was better than sitting in her dorm room, wondering when Slytherin's monster would strike next.
Ron bent his head close to theirs. "Snape is going to be Lockhart's assistant."
Ariel nearly swallowed her fork. "What?"
"Seamus mentioned it earlier. There's a betting pool going around on who'll kill who first."
Hermione frowned. "Who said anything about them Dueling one another?"
Ron shrugged. "I figured there'd be demonstrations, wouldn't you?"
"Snape and Lockhart are teaching," Ariel said slowly, unable to comprehend this. "Together."
She'd known he was a skilled wizard, but the idea of him working with Lockhart was like the set up to a bad joke. She wondered if he had put up a fight when asked to assist. Had he been happy about it? Or was he as unenthusiastic as he usually was about everything?
Her eyes flicked up to the High Table. Snape sat beside Professor McGonagall, who was gesturing with her hands in what seemed like a pretty lively discussion. Snape looked miserable, as always, but Ariel noticed that when his mouth moved, it wasn't twisted in a sneer for once.
"I don't get it," she muttered.
"I'm sure he'd love to get a few good knocks in," Ron said darkly.
Hermione shot him a warning glare, but Ariel barely noticed as the two of them began to bicker. There was a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach, one that grew and grew and grew until she finally saw Snape get up and leave. The feeling popped like a balloon with too much air as Ariel threw her legs over the side of the bench, her half-eaten lunch forgotten.
"Where are you going?" Hermione called after her, alarmed.
"I'll be right back," Ariel threw over her shoulder, slipping into a jog.
"You don't think I upset her, do you?" she heard Ron ask, but she didn't answer. She tried to look nonchalant, slipping out of the doors and into the corridor. No one else was around as she headed after him, every stride only feeding into her determination to catch up to him.
Snape was billowing down to the dungeons, his robes cracking the air like thunder behind him. Ariel didn't call after him, but she picked up her pace until she was walking in tandem with him. He almost didn't notice for a second, his face set in fierce determination, like he was about to fight a manticore instead of teaching a Potions class. When he did finally notice her, he did a double take, his face contorting in surprise before he scowled down at her.
"What is it?" he grouched.
"Hello to you, too."
"Miss Evans, I am in no mood —"
"Okay, okay." Ariel interrupted him, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "I wanted to know if you'll be assisting Lockhart in the Dueling Club?"
She couldn't help but laugh at Snape's sour expression.
"I'm failing to see what about this is amusing." he said coolly.
"So you are." she stepped closer before looking around to make sure no one was listening. "Don't hold back, yeah?"
Snape arched an eyebrow at Ariel's request. "What are you insinuating, Miss Evans?" he asked, his voice low.
Ariel didn't flinch under Snape's intense scrutiny. "I'm not insinuating anything, Professor," she replied, meeting his gaze head-on.
Snape's eyes flickered with something near amusement before he schooled his expression back to its usual mask of indifference. "I'm not sure what makes you think I have any intention of doing anything other than ensuring you don't blow yourselves up. It would be an obscene amount of paperwork."
Ariel scoffed. "Oh, come on. You can't tell me you're not at least a little excited to show Lockhart what's what."
Snape's eyes darkened, an unsettling glint passing through them. "I have no interest in showing anyone anything."
Ariel didn't say anything for a moment, studying Snape's face. She knew he was lying and could see the spark of anticipation that lurked just beneath the surface. But why did he feel the need to hide it?
"Fine," she finally relented. "But if you do decide to show off a little, I won't tell anyone."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Ariel rolled her eyes, knowing that she wasn't going to get anything more out of Snape. "Right, of course not."
She left Snape with a small smile playing on her lips, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
This Dueling Club might be a good idea after all.
A stage had been set up in the Great Hall later that day, just as Dumbledore had promised, replacing the student's tables for the afternoon. There was a large crowd of the little cretins surrounding it, chattering excitedly, no doubt looking forward to putting one another in the infirmary. It was a horrible idea, probably the worst Dumbledore had ever entertained, but the prospect of injuring Lockhart was just far too tempting to pass up.
Don't hold back — show Lockhart what's what —
Severus' eyes roamed the crowd for any sign of Miss Evans. Lockhart beamed down at the hell spawn with a smile that lit up his face, making him seem almost human and not like a manicured doll. He looked out at the children and gave a self-satisfied nod.
"Hello, hello!" Lockhart greeted everyone with that infuriating smile. "Can you all see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"
The Slytherins had mostly gathered around Severus' section of the stage, the majority of the female population behind Lockhart. Granger was among them, her face wide in nauseating admiration. Weasley-twerp was standing in the middle of the crowd, the part that didn't favor Lockhart nor Snape, and were probably hoping to see the both of them finish each other off. Well, they'd have their wishes granted for one of the parties.
There was a flash of dark red in Severus' peripheral vision. He followed the head with laser beam precision. He hadn't been expecting the girl not to come, but he still found himself surprised by her presence, and a bit reassured. Severus could only imagine that she was more eager than anyone to see Lockhart Hexed. The thought almost warmed his heart, if he'd had one.
She pushed through the crowd to stand beside Granger. They looked like they were having a serious conversation, both of their heads bent low and calculating. Severus silently thanked whatever deities listening that they'd at least been smart enough to stay away from his Slytherins for this. He made a mental note to make sure that Lockhart didn't try and pair either of them off with Draco.
Her eyes briefly met his, and he made sure that his glare clearly conveyed the message — behave and do not do anything rash.
She blinked back, unphased by it — was that a fucking eye roll — and waved over Weasley-twerp to come and stand with them.
"Allow me to introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," Lockhart was practically glittering with the amount of enthusiasm in his voice. Severus wanted to snap his neck. "He tells me he knows a teensy bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a small demonstration."
Lockhart was going on about the Disarming Charm now with several unnecessary long metaphors. Severus turned his attention back to the girl, who had wormed her way closer to the stage with Granger in tow, who tilted her head close to the girl's and whispered something.
"Alrighty then!" Lockhart rubbed his hands together. "Let us give you all a demonstration. I can't promise that you'll still have a potions master by the end of this –"
A slow and painful death, slow and painful —
"– but I will do my best!" he laughed, giving Severus a bow so ridiculous that he was quite sure it hadn't been entertained for several hundred years.
Severus gave a jerk of his head, something that resembled a nod, and stalked to the other side of the stage.
"One!" Lockhart counted. "Two…"
"Expelliarmus!" Severus barked before Lockhart had finished saying three.
He put perhaps more force into the spell than was necessary. Brilliant scarlet light flew across the stage, slammed into Lockhart's chest, and flung him bodily across fifteen feet of open space, into the wall behind him. He slid, limp, to the floor with a deafening crash.
Half of the crowd cheered, though the majority of the female population gave a collective horrified gasp. Severus sent a sideways glance at Miss Evans, who was grinning the widest he'd seen possibly all year.
"W-well, there you have it," Lockhart wheezed as he tottered to his feet, face singed with black soot from the explosion and gelled hair standing up on end. "The Disarming Charm! A brilliant idea to show them that, Professor Snape, although if you don't mind my saying, it was pretty obvious what you were about to do, and if I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy…"
"So then, Professor Lockhart, why didn't you?" Severus drawled back, his voice laced with disgust. "I believe it would have been rather informative for the students to witness how to block Defensive spells instead of seeing the undignified aftermath."
The crowd murmured and snickered. Severus raised an eyebrow at the blithering idiot, who was wiping a strain of newfound nervous sweat from across his forehead.
"Perhaps," Lockhart picked up his wand from the ground, and looked at the pathetically empathetic fangirls behind him. "We should begin the student demonstrations."
Severus gave him a well-deserved sneer, disappointed he'd only been allowed to Hex Lockhart once. It hadn't been worth it, not nearly enough to curb Severus' overwhelming hatred for the man, but perhaps it would keep the daydreams of disemboweling him at bay for a week or two. If anything, the Disarming Charm left Severus wanting for more.
He descended into the demon-spawn-children, another plan to somehow get something resembling revenge play out within the next several minutes on his mind. He could already see Lockhart's eyes sparkling in Miss Evans' direction. He'd already made the girl enough of a fucking spectacle — Severus would handle her. She had to be with anyone but Draco. He could only imagine Lucius' reaction if his darling heir ended up with another broken nose.
"Weasley!" Severus snapped at the freckled face, whose blue eyes widened. "you're partnered with Malfoy!"
Miss Evans sent him A Look – he pretended not to see it – and instead, gave the girl a glare that clearly told her that she had better fucking stay put and wait for him, or he was going to ban her from whatever this shitshow was.
"Weasley!" Severus snapped impatiently as the boy stumbled over. He wordlessly pointed in the direction of the steps leading up to the stage.
Malfoy was already waiting on Severus' side of the stage, Weasley-twerp reluctantly skulked over to Lockhart. He seemed to visibly cringe as the moron gave him a pat on the shoulder, sending a smolder to the female audience behind him. Miss Evans had crept closer to the stage, her black eyes concentrating on Malfoy. Severus watched as an arrogant smile crept over the boy's face and an eager light kindled in his gray eyes.
Severus was going to need a bottle of firewhiskey after this.
"Now," Lockhart was calling from the stage. "you'll be casting your spells to disarm – only to disarm!"
He nearly rolled his eyes. Severus could immediately tell that neither of the little dunderheads were going to heed that injunction. For Merlin's sake, Lockhart hadn't even shown them how to properly pronounce the fucking Charm.
"One," Lockhart began. "two —"
Miss Evans was nearly touching the stage at this point. Granger was several feet back, watching with a worried expression. Severus found himself not being able to look away from the girl, afraid she would intervene and hurt herself like the little Gryffindor brat she was.
"– three!" Lockhart counted.
A series of deafening explosions rattled the windowpanes and shook the glass. Clouds of multicolored smoke erupted from various spots in the room, surrounding students like a deadly fog. The oil lamps on the walls flickered and danced and cast eerie shadows across faces as students shrieked with alarm, running for cover. Weasley-twerp had thrown away his wand completely and was rolling around on the ground with Draco in a headlock. Severus could barely make out a string of swearing that sounded like it was coming from both of them, a mixture of angry cries, and pained moans as they rolled across the ground.
"Stop! Stop!" Lockhart was crying above the utter and complete pandemonium, flapping his hands frantically, like that was going to do any good, like this stupid Dueling club had done anything –
Jesus fucking –
"Finite Incantatem!" Severus shouted, canceling out all the spells at once.
Weasley-twerp and Draco were still thrashing about on the ground, but before Severus could make a move to pry the cretins off one another, the girl and Granger had dashed onto the stage and were pulling the boys off one another. Weasley-twerp seemed to fight them at first, but at the sight of who it was, ceased, and wiped away at his bloodied lip with a triumphant gleam in his eye.
Severus pulled Draco back, a tense look in his shoulders that made him think the boy was going to launch himself at Weasley-twerp again, but instead, Draco scooped up his wand from the stage floor and –
"Serpensortia!" Draco shouted, pointing his wand straight at Weasley-twerp.
A streak of black shot toward Weasley-twerp and the girls, who skittered back, Lily's daughter's hand on Weasley-twerp's shoulder. The snake fell to the space just in front of them with an audible smack. The head of a cobra shot up automatically as it uncoiled itself and its hood flared out. The crowd screamed once more.
"Allow me!" Lockhart cried, and to Severus's horror, the stupid shit-for-brains idiot shot a bolt of bright yellow light at the fucking thing. It fell, even closer to them, closer to her —
Miss Evans shoved Weasley-twerp aside and stepped into the center of the stage, her eyes glued to the cobra. She stood tall, her fists clenched at her sides, a determined look on her face. Severus made a sharp gesture for her to get off, but she didn't even acknowledge him.
And then she opened her mouth –
And hissed at it in a long, unbroken stream of snake-like sounds.
The snake stopped, as if confused.
Severus felt all of the feeling drain from his face. He remembered Nagini slithering around his ankles, feeding under the table where he'd sat at every meeting. He could remember the crunch of bones, the wet smack of skin and sinew as she ate, just beside his feet. The Dark Lord would call to her in that same tongue and laugh and inform them all that she had enjoyed the meal, enjoyed the Muggle, or the Auror, or the Order member.
The speech, the strange, hissing sounds, wrapped around each syllable, caused the cobra to shrink back. Miss Evans was glaring fiercely down at it, taking a step closer and closer every few seconds. The snake's hood was slowly shrinking, and the continuous hissing coming from the girl's mouth was getting louder and louder. Her eyes were starlight.
Severus walked forward and put a restraining hand on Miss Evans' shoulder, who looked up at him, startled.
"Evanesco." Severus said, and the snake dried and fell away, like ash flaking away on the wind.
Miss Evans relaxed, her expression both relieved and pleased. Then she noticed everyone staring at her as if she was now the most unnerving thing in the hall, and she blinked. Whispers rose into the air in angry, frightened mutters. The girl looked back at Weasley-twerp, who looked grim, and then Granger, and then Severus himself.
She lurched forward, like her feet were giving out beneath her, and walked straight up to him. "Why are they staring at me like that?"
"You spoke Parseltongue," he said, his voice low and measured.
"And?" she asked, clearly confused by the reaction of everyone around them.
"It's a rare gift," Severus replied, his tone implying that there was much more to it than that.
Miss Evans frowned, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand."
"Enough!" Severus found his voice, booming across the hall and making every single one of the children shrink, like a tidal wave of motion. Miss Evans continued to stare at him, her black eyes asking him a million questions.
"Well…" came Lockhart's voice from the other side of the stage. "I… suppose that concludes our first meeting..."
Draco seemed to have become stuck to the stage, watching Miss Evans with his mouth agog. Weasley-twerp was covering half his face with his hand as he marched forward and grabbed the girl. She refused to move, staring up at Severus' face imploringly — searching for something —
"Ariel, come on," Granger practically pleaded. "let's go —"
The crowd parted for the three of them as they took to the girl's side, like they didn't want to touch them. He watched her go without another backwards glance for him.
There were only a handful of creatures Severus could think of that could Petrify someone, and the girl had unknowingly narrowed his already short list down to a single suspect.
"A Parselmouth." Dumbledore repeated back in a grave voice.
Severus nodded back in affirmation, just short of falling into the chair in front of the old man's desk and burying his face in his hands. He had hoped that Dumbledore would provide answers upon Severus telling him what had happened, but he could already sense an intense, troubling presence pouring off the wise, old figure seated behind the desk. Severus could feel it rush across the room like a ghost and settle on him like a heavy fog; Dumbledore was just as mystified as Severus was.
"You're certain?" Dumbledore asked, and Severus found himself wanting to smash something.
"Of course I am!" Severus snapped back. "I bloody well know what Parseltongue sounds like!"
He recalled how he and his fellow Death Eaters had shivered in the darkness of those night hours, their breaths held tight as they listened to the Dark Lord's menacing voice, calling out commands that chilled even the bravest of souls. Severus was no exception – though his Occlumency had done its job, muffled his fear and guarded him from it, he'd still felt an unsettling dread when that same voice seeped from the girl's mouth. Disturbing didn't even begin to cover it.
He waited for Dumbledore to make the connection between this development and the Dark Lord aloud.
"You are not a Parselmouth." he said instead. "And it isn't possible for Lily to have been."
"Perhaps there is a history that spans farther back in the Prince line." Severus' words weren't convincing – hell he didn't believe them himself – but it was the only damn thing he could think that would explain this. He had scoured every genealogy and tome he could get his hands on when he'd first arrived at Hogwarts, hoping to Merlin that he would find something in his ancestry that would make him special.
There had not been much – fertility issues had plagued the Prince line for generations, as it had for most Pureblood families. A Curse had been placed upon his mother's line in the early fifteenth century – only one child would be born per generation. There had been little else notable – certain inventions noted here and there, Curses and spells, but nothing more.
"It could very well be a matter of magic." Dumbledore said. "There are various theories as to how it is possible, but most agree that it has to do with the magical core of an individual. Ariel may have a strong magical core that is capable of supporting the ability to speak Parseltongue."
Severus shook his head. "You know as well as I that only descendants of Slytherin himself carried the gene. The only recorded Parseltongues are those with direct lineage."
Dumbledore sighed wearily, stroking his white beard in a calculating manner.
"What do you make of it?" asked Severus tonelessly.
"Has she ever mentioned this before?"
"Never… or at least, not to me, she hasn't. I don't see how a matter like this could have come up organically." Severus paused. "It would explain why only she can hear the basilisk."
A silvery eyebrow raised itself, "So you've come to the same conclusion then?"
"Don't act like you haven't known!" Severus snarled at him, feeling a wave of anger roll through him. "You've probably been sitting up here, all knowing, while the rest of us sit in ignorance –"
"It would not have made a difference, my boy." Dumbledore said quietly, looking all the more troubled. "We cannot let fear dictate our actions."
Severus gritted his teeth. Fear. As if he needed to be reminded of it. Fear was never far from his mind; it was what had driven him into the Dark Lord's fold in the first place. But this was different, this wasn't about him, this was about his daughter.
"What would you suggest that we do now?" he asked, clenching his hands at his sides. He wanted to break something. Maybe he would try and find Peeves, again.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his gaze still troubled. "We must ensure that Ariel is safe," he said slowly. "But we must also be cautious of how we proceed. We do not want to cause unnecessary fear and panic amongst the students and staff."
Severus nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him, not now. As loathed as he was to admit it, Dumbledore was right. This new revelation would cause… speculation, as if the girl didn't have enough as it was.
"I will keep an eye on her," he said firmly. "I can ensure her safety without anyone else knowing."
Dumbledore looked at him, studying him carefully. "Yes, I believe that would be for the best," he said after a long moment. "Ariel's safety is paramount."
Severus glared at Dumbledore, feeling a flash of anger course through him. "You don't need to remind me."
He gazed at him wistfully. "No," he murmured. "I don't, do I?"
It was near midnight when Ariel found herself leaving Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
She knew it was stupid to be wandering around alone with everything that had been happening. After today, though, her desperation to prove that Malfoy was the Heir had only grown, the need overpowering, clouding her every thought. No one would look at her in the hallways, dinner spent in tense silence as almost everyone sat away from her, staring, and whispering and pointing. Ariel had felt like crawling into a hole somewhere and never coming out.
Fred and George had thought it was hilarious — make way for the Heir of Slytherin — seriously you don't what to mess with her — a very dark witch coming through —
Ron and Hermione had been worried, though, Ron most of all.
It's not a very common gift, Ariel — this is bad —
Being able to talk to snakes is what Slytherin was famous for —
Ariel slouched against the wall and tried to calm her thoughts. She focused on that pinprick of light behind her lids and found her ocean, but the waves were so high that they blocked out the sky, blocked out the light. When her eyes flew open again, she was panting. Why couldn't she Occlude without Snape with her? What was the bloody point?
She knew she wasn't the Heir, that she wasn't hurting people. For Merlin's sake, her best friend was Muggleborn — her mum had been Muggleborn. She wasn't controlling and summoning some dirty monster from the depths of the castle to attack students. Ariel would never — could never — hurt innocent people like that.
There was this horrible, nagging… thing in the back of her mind. It remembered what had happened last year, how Voldemort had influenced her so easily, how he'd used her to hurt someone. Even if Malfoy had deserved it, Ariel had felt so… dirty. Used. Discarded.
What if she was bad? What if being a Parselmouth meant… meant that…
Snape was a Slytherin. They weren't all bad — she knew that — but Snape certainly wasn't a shining pillar of human excellence when it came to being decent. Everyone hated him, except the Slytherins, maybe, and that was only because he showed them so much favor. Ariel didn't think he was evil, but there was some reason Mum hadn't wanted to be with him. She racked her thoughts for what she had said, what reasons she had given, but it was all a blur. It hadn't mattered last year when all Ariel had wanted was for Snape to acknowledge her.
Her father being a Slytherin meant that there was a chance… that maybe…
Ariel pushed away from the wall and made her way through the corridors, determination igniting in her chest. She passed by portraits and shadows, past ghosts and locked doors, until she was standing outside Snape's quarters. Despite how many times she had been here, her heart pounded, and nausea settled heavy in her stomach. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door —
She stopped short as Snape stepped out from the shadows, his eyes as sharp as a blade. He had a way of looking at you like he could kill you on the spot, holding you captive with his gaze. Ariel felt her stomach dip and for a moment all her fear overwhelmed her. But then she remembered why she was here — to find answers — and that fear dissipated just enough for her to speak, defiance lacing the edges of her voice.
"I need to talk to you." Ariel said.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he whispered, but every syllable licked at her ears like a lashing. "You damnable girl — it is the middle of the bloody night —"
Ariel refused to back down. "I need answers, and you're the only one who can give them to me."
Snape glared at her, his black eyes burning into hers. "Do you have a death wish?" he hissed. "Someone tried to kill you —"
"I don't care." the words tumbled out of her mouth before she could even think to stop them.
For a moment, Snape simply stared at her, his expression inscrutable. Then he stepped closer, and Ariel could feel the venom dripping off his words. "You are too reckless for your own good. You disregard safety and common sense as if it were nothing —" he gritted his teeth in frustration. "Do you understand how dangerous it is? How foolish it is?"
"Are you descended from Slytherin?" Ariel asked instead. "Am I?"
Snape just stared at her with fathomless black eyes.
"The whole school thinks it's me." she wiped at her eyes furiously. "I spent all bloody night trying to talk to a group of First Years in the Common Room… they acted frightened of me."
She wasn't going to cry about this. It was so ridiculously stupid — but there was something nagging at her in the back of her mind, something dark and sinister that told her that she had been used by darkness once. Ariel knew she wasn't doing anything herself, but what if this was somehow her fault? Dobby had come to warn her, after all, hadn't wanted Ariel to come back to Hogwarts —
"No," he said finally. "you're not."
She felt her stomach unclench. "You're sure?"
His eyes narrowed. "I think I would know, girl."
"But what about —"
"My father was a Muggle, so there's no need to concern yourself there." Snape's voice was hard and heavy, like an anchor plummeting off the side of a ship. "My mother is a Pureblood with little relation to those who came from Slytherin himself."
Ariel's head desperately tried to wrap itself around all of the new information. She had about a zillion things she wanted to ask him but instead focused on the problem at hand — that everyone in the school thought she was a reincarnated Voldemort or something.
She swallowed. "Then why can I speak Parseltongue? Hermione said only direct descendants of Slytherin could — and Voldemort, too."
There was a long, deafening silence. It stretched like rope between them and pulled tight until it broke with a rushing sound in her ears.
"I don't know," he said, his voice as heavy as lead. "Why does it matter? It is a rare ability and nothing more."
"The entire bloody school —"
"Damn what the school thinks!" Snape snarled. "What do you think?"
Ariel hesitated, not sure how much she should reveal to him.
"I've just been feeling like there's something off," she admitted, her voice hushed. "Like maybe I'm part of whatever's going on. Don't you think so?"
His head jerked sharply in her direction, nostrils flaring. "What kind of a question is that?" he demanded. "You have an alibi from the night Creevey was found since someone had tried to —" he broke off, like he couldn't even finish the sentence.
"But what if I am?" Ariel persisted. "What if there's something about me that I don't even know?"
Snape lunged forward and grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging into her skin like claws. "Listen to me carefully," he hissed, his voice a low whisper of danger. "You need to understand something: You are in control of yourself and your actions alone — not anyone else's."
Her breath came in shallow gasps as she asked Snape the question burning in the back of her mind. "But what if I'm not who I think I am? What if... last year happens again?"
Snape's grip tightened painfully as he scowled at her with a look of pure ferocity. "Last year's events were an aberration," his voice was cutting, brutal and unforgiving. "And they will not be repeated here again — not while I'm here."
Ariel flinched at his harsh tone, but her eyes were still searching his face, seeking some kind of reassurance that he couldn't give her. She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat, trying not to let her fear show. But Snape seemed to sense it anyway, because his expression softened a fraction, and he loosened his grip on his wrist.
"The Sorting Hat wanted me in Slytherin." she forced out. "I've never told anyone that before."
Snape's face twisted in a mix of emotions, and Ariel couldn't quite place them. He looked angry, but also hurt. And a little bit proud? She couldn't be sure.
"That doesn't matter," he finally said, his voice low and hoarse. "The Sorting Hat is not always right, and even if it were, it is not the be-all and end-all of who you are. You are not defined by a piece of clothing that sits on your head for five minutes."
Ariel was taken aback by Snape's response — she had expected him to be angry or disappointed that she had turned down Slytherin, not indifferent. After a moment, she found her voice again.
"You don't care?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling with hurt.
Snape's eyes closed for a brief moment, and he let out a long sigh before meeting Ariel's gaze once again. His face held a strange expression that seemed to combine both coldness and understanding — an emotion Ariel wasn't quite used to seeing from him. He shook his head slowly before finally responding.
"No, I don't care," he said. "Your choices are yours alone. I will not try to control them or make them for you."
Ariel swallowed and gripped back at his wrist. Snape gave a great, shuddering breath, like he'd just walked outside and felt a terrible chill pass through him. There stood there like that, close, but not together, until she felt her heart harden with another determination — one that even Snape wouldn't be able to deny.
"Can you show me the Charm you used?" Ariel asked.
He just stared at her, like she'd spoken Mandarin — or Parseltongue.
"The Disarming Charm. I don't want the only thing I learned from the whole thing to be that everyone thinks I'm a freak for being able to talk to snakes."
Snape's gaze burned into her, his eyes scanning her face with ferocious accuracy as if to etch it onto his memory. Ariel felt the heat of his gaze like a thousand needles piercing her skin, searing her very soul until she thought she might combust from the intensity.
"Expelliarmus," she said, exasperated. "I want to learn it. Can you show me?"
The fire crackled and popped in the grate, casting dancing shadows along the bookcases.
Snape released her wrist. "Ready your wand."