The Riddle

2:40 p.m., December 5

"I don't get why you two wanna start so early on Quirrell's project," Ron complained as he slumped into a library study room seat next to Harry. "It's a Friday, we have three weeks, and it can't be that hard."

"Maybe for you, since you come from one of the longest pure-blood lineages," Hermione returned from across the table. "But as a muggle-born, I don't have family records to base a report on my innate magical talents. I'll have to draw on wandlore, my class records, my professor's comments and magical manifestation theory to write a decent essay."

"Okay fine," Ron begrudgingly accepted. "But what's your excuse, Mr. Potter."

"I don't know if my magic takes after my parents," Harry said.

"Says one of the youngest seekers this school has ever had," Ron scoffed. "You're a chip off the ole block if I've ever seen one."

"You also have the Potter-Gryffindor talent for combat, if that troll's anything to go by," Hermione added.

"Well in that case, guess I don't need to stay," Harry responded as he made a show of grabbing his bag.

"Wha—where are you going? We just got here!" a flabbergasted Hermione exclaimed. Harry sat back down, but enjoyed a high-five and good snicker with Ron.

"But on a serious note, my wand isn't like either of my parents'," Harry explained. "It's actually most similar to that of a wizard named Tom Riddle."

"Who?" Ron asked.

"A half-blood Slytherin from Class 999," Harry answered. "Best student of his time — got Outstandings on every O.W.L. and N.E.W.T., was a prefect, Head Boy, leader of the debate society, led cultural exchange trips and even got a 'Special Services to the School' award."

"Wow," Hermione gasped.

"And he was a half-blood in Slytherin, fifty years ago?" Ron questioned with amazement.

"I know, right," Harry agreed with Ron's sentiment.

"There were more pure-bloods back in the day, or wizards who called themselves that anyway, and they darn near filled up Slytherin," Harry informed Hermione. "Being a half-blood in the house was like being a girl on the Quidditch team."

"Your Quidditch team," Ron retorted. "Ours lives in modern times."

"Times of 300-0 losses?" Harry quipped. Ron rewarded him with a punch on the shoulder, at which Hermione gave her classic eye roll.

"What happened to Mr. Riddle?" Hermione asked.

"That's what I've been trying to find out for months," Harry sighed. "Mr. Ollivander called him a great wizard, and I know Tom was a collector and dealer of rare artifacts and powerful relics. But he mostly kept to himself before he vanished seven years into his career."

Killed by Voldemort, if I understood Hagrid, Harry remembered the giant's implications on Tom Riddle's fate.

"Do you know anyone you can ask about Tom Riddle?" Hermione asked.

"Well, one of my roommates' dad roomed with Tom for seven years," Harry revealed. "But take one guess who."

"Don't tell me it's Nott," Ron groaned.

"I won't tell you then," Harry deadpanned.

"Are you gonna do anything about him by the way?" Ron asked. "Percy says Nott's getting a lot of the older Slytherins to hate you. And your buddy Malfoy doesn't seem to be helping."

"Draco's the only reason I can sleep without Nott jumping me," Harry defended his friend. "Besides, all the second and third-year guys like me, and Marcus is the leader in the house."

"Still, you should keep both eyes on him. He looks like he's planning something," Ron stated.

"Is there anyone else you can ask about Mr. Riddle?" Hermione followed up her previous question.

"Cormac had a relative just two years below Tom, but I dunno how close they are, or how well that McLaggen knew Tom," Harry said. "There's also Hagrid. He was in Class 1000."

I'm not that desperate though, Harry finished his thought on Hagrid silently.

"By the way, Hagrid asked me again to see if you had time to stop by," Ron mentioned.

"Well…I've been pretty busy," Harry evaded. "Between classes, Quidditch and…other stuff."

12:01 a.m., December 6

"DEPULSO!" Harry and Ron yelled at each other to commence their duel. The pulses of energy crashed into each other with a thunder-like BOOM!

"Expelliarmus!" Harry hollered as Ron simultaneously shouted "Flipendo!"

"Accio wand!" Harry called while unceremoniously flipping backward.

Harry felt Ron's wand fly into his left palm as his second summersault took him for a supine crash-landing. He spread his arms and slammed his palms against the ground a fraction of a second before his back touched down. Having kept his wands secure between his thumb and pointers, Harry curled into a sit up only to be tackled.

"Ugh!" Harry groaned at being forced into a physical brawl. Ron demonstrated time and again that Weasley wrestling trumped dealing with Dudley.

Thus, Harry's top priority became keeping Ron's wand secure. He let Ron tear off his glasses in favor of twisting out of an attempted leg lock. He used the momentum to roll them over so he lay on top, which he followed by pressing his own wand's point against Ron's neck.

However, Ron's sudden grab for his own wand caused Harry to pull his left hand back too enthusiastically, shifting his right hand just enough that Ron evaded the wand point and headbutted Harry just above the nasal bridge.

Harry ignored the throbbing ache and swung his left arm backward to hurl away Ron's wand, banking on having never seen Ron summon his wand. Ron took advantage of Harry's exposed armpit to…tickle him?

"Rictumsempra!" Ron shouted as he began scratching.

"St-ha-ha-stah-he-ha-ha-ah-ah-ooo-op-ha!" Harry laughed as Ron's tickling spread through every sensitive spot of body.

"St-stah-stop!" Harry cried out as he convulsed with laughter. This only goaded his grinning opponent to intensify his attack.

With Ron channeling the jinx through his fingers as he tickled Harry's armpits, sides, belly and neck, Harry barely held on to his wand. But he did find the strength to say one thing.

"Ri-ric-rictumsempra!" Harry chortled out.

Within half-a-minute, the two friends were rolling over each other as tears of laughter began to streak down their red faces. With Harry holding firm to his wand and Ron holding firm to him, neither could break the other's jinx. And both were too proud to concede.

"W-wat-watching," Ron laughed from below Harry.

"N-nope," Harry rejected Ron's attempt to play on his paranoia that they'd be discovered.

"S-serious-ha-ha!" Ron tried before Harry increased his jinx's ferocity, a favor Ron returned.

The pleasure grew so overwhelming that it became somewhat painful, which in turn made it yet more pleasurable and all the more difficult to concentrate on each other. Even so, the Slytherin and Gryffindor refused to relent — until someone made the decision for them.

"Expelliarmus!" Ernie's voice dictated out before following up with a "Perpello!" that sent Harry rolling off of Ron.

"Hey, I wanted to see who'd pass out!" Anthony complained.

"Were you ready to deliver first aid then?" Ernie retorted as he handled Harry's wand.

The newly separated and empty-handed Harry and Ron still spent the better part of a minute laughing as they experienced the come-down from their session.

"What…you two…doing?" Harry gasped out as he recovered.

"Tony insisted we shift our dueling practices from Saturday to Friday midnights, saying no one would possibly have the same idea," Ernie answered. "Wrong," he directed at Anthony with a haughty face.

Anthony didn't mind being wrong though for once, but rather radiated with excitement.

"The more the merrier!" he exclaimed with a bounce.

"Well…you clearly aren't gonna tell," Harry considered as he tapped into the bond he held with his wand to summon it from Ernie's hand. Harry duly noted the Hufflepuff's shock as he proceeded to "Accio" Ron's wand while directing it to Ron's hand rather than his own.

"You can control the thing's path once you get it to come toward you," Harry explained his variation on the summoning charm.

"It's more that you wordlessly and wandlessly snatched something from my hand," Ernie replied. "And that," he added when Harry retrieved his glasses with just a casual wand flick.

"My wand and my glasses," Harry shrugged. "The two things I most need in a fight. Wouldn't want to be caught blind or powerless, would I?"

"You'd still cast a mean Depulso," Ron countered.

"It's just raw energy," Harry dismissed. "Couldn't have cast the tickling jinx without a wand."

"Well, I was tickling you," Ron returned. "Besides, knowing you, you just learnt that spell."

"Spells come easily to me once I feel what they do," Harry stated. "Wanna have a go?" he offered Anthony and Ernie.

"Two on two or every man for himself?" Anthony asked.

"Teams," Ron decided.

"Prepare yourselves," Ernie said as he raised his wand against his forehead in a salute.

Fifteen seconds later, Harry and Ron found themselves flat on their backs and wandless once more. Each had his legs frozen together and arms stuck to his sides, leaving no choice but to concede to the blond angling a wand toward his throat.

"Try some defensive spells," Anthony suggested to the defeated pair as Ernie released Harry's binds. "You've got great speed and timing. You're terrific at dodging, Ron. And you, Harry, are hella powerful."

"Neither of you underwent training?" Ernie rhetorically questioned as Anthony freed Ron.

"That a problem?" Ron replied with a defensive edge in his voice.

"Nope," Anthony said. "That's what the Dueling Ring used to do here, so we wouldn't have to dish out stacks of galleons for private tutoring — and we'd have practiced with our friends! Professor Flitwick has loads of stories from his time in it."

"Did he say why it was canceled?" Harry wondered. When searching through Potter Hogwarts' records, he'd noticed that every one up to his father became captain of the Dueling Ring during their time as students. Sadly, Dumbledore axed the popular student organization during his first years as Headmaster.

"Some thought it had become both too elitist and enthralled with dark arts," Anthony answered. "I guess the last three official captains — Orion Black, Goldwin Avery and Darren Rosier — didn't help."

"Well I'll say, seeing how Avery and Rosier went down as confirmed Death Eaters," Ernie input. "And Black's son was the worst of them all."

When searching up Slytherin contemporaries of Tom Riddle, Harry found Orion Black was the Class 993 Head Boy and Avery and Rosier were prefects from the 998th and 1003rd classes respectively. Sadly, dead wizards could not offer opinions on another dead wizard.

"Last official captains?" Ron picked up on Anthony's distinction.

"The ring went underground at first, but it dried up decades ago," Anthony lamented.

"Tony is attempting to bring one back," Ernie mock-whispered.

"We're in," Ron said immediately.

"As long as you don't mind keeping it quiet that I'm not the 'dueling peer of Dumbledore'," Harry added with a conspiratorial smile, inspiring a round laughter.

"Nott and Malfoy are the only other ones in our year who could beat you two anyway," Anthony opined. "So, every Friday midnight?"

"Well, we only missed Halloween," Harry recalled while looking at Ron.

"We'll be here," the ginger answered confidently. "Rematch?"

Anthony and Ernie answered with wand salutes. And so, Harry and Ron spent the next two hours getting very familiar with the stone floor.

11:34 a.m.

"Aaah," Harry sighed as he sunk himself into the Corvinus arena's thermal pool and leaned against the smooth stone border.

"Have to admit squirt, you're getting good," Terence complimented before flipping over Harry into the water, treating Harry to a full view of his nether regions followed by a wave of hot water to the face.

"Thanks," Harry replied half-sarcastically before gripping his glasses and muttering "Sicco" to dry them.

"Thank you for no longer making us the last blokes at practice," Terence returned as he treaded the water from about ten feet away.

Harry shuddered at the memories of being the last two left to endure Marcus. The captain had an unfortunate habit of "forgetting" the five-hour maximum on a single day's practice. It became all the worse once two hour after-class practices were added to Wednesday and Thursday — bringing weekly Quidditch practice to the 20 hour maximum at face value.

"I live to please," Harry smiled cheekily.

"Mmm-hmm," Terence hummed. "Some of your yearmates disagree."

"They don't say anything to my face," Harry scoffed. "Sides, Draco and Pansy are all I need."

"Horndog half-blood," Terence teased to the snickers of both.

"Thanks for giving me Draco for the Yule Gift Exchange, by the way," Harry brought up. "Can't say I'd have gotten the nicest gift for say…Nott or the black widow's son."

"We prefects have an interest in the common room not blowing up just before we leave," Terence laughed. "Word of advice, shop earlier than later. This weekend's a good choice."

"You think the person who got me is shopping…" Harry tried to fish out the name of the yearmate who'd be giving him a gift.

"Ah-ah-ah. Spoilers," Terence shut down.

"If it's Pansy, I'd be alright with a kiss," Harry shamelessly voiced.

"Oh Merlin. How many Potters are there gonna be when you leave Hogwarts?" Terence proded.

"Seven?" Harry shrugged with faux innocence.

"Goodness, I hope you're not starting now with your late Friday nights," Terence groaned.

Harry tried to give a blank expression, but it didn't quite work.

"You know we prefects know every time the door is opened past curfew, right?" Terence inquired while giving a stern glower.

"Guess you'd be up then, huh?" Harry smirked. "Up inside…"

"Shut it, you," Terence retorted with a water splash directed at Harry's mouth. "Keep up your cheek, and I'll tell Concordia a certain potty-mouthed first year needs discipline. You know she'll jump at the chance to hex you."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Harry dramatically pleaded.

"Just be glad you're not a Ravenclaw," Terence chuckled as his easy-going face returned. "That house could actually be a threat if they didn't spend half their time tearing each other down."

"Pretty sure that's what's said bout us," Harry pointed out.

"Except our differences are solved internally, so we present a united front when it matters," Terence countered. "I mean, you wouldn't get your yearmates docked points, would you?"

"I'm no snitch," Harry said proudly.

"We just catch them," Terence followed up, to which they both enjoyed a round of laughter.

2:07 a.m., December 13

Harry silently descended the Grand Staircase as he stretched out sore muscles and joints from the latest dueling session. Unlike last week, he'd gotten a win against Ernie, even if said Hufflepuff and Anthony beat him and Ron every other round.

As Harry walked down the sub-ground corridor that led to his dormitory, he realized he no longer feared running into Argus Filch — and that he hadn't feared the caretaker for weeks. Students debated whether Mrs. Norris was simply a cherished cat, a familiar or a more…intimate partner. But everyone agreed that the troll attack broke Filch. Not only had there been no stories of late-night encounters with the curfew enforcer for nearly a month, but many suspected that most of Filch's magical powers had been tied to the black cat. Particularly his awareness of roaming students and his ability to track them.

Harry would have felt bad for the man if he had good experiences with animals. However, he only knew the miserable brood of cats kept by that muggle Figg — the neighbor who always dismissed a naive younger Harry's attempts to tell her of his treatment by the Dursley pigs — and the wretched dog of Vernon's filthy sister Marge. But with how those two muggles cared more for animals than people, Harry thought it for the best that Filch's cat died if he would mourn it like a human. Such behavior held no place among wizards.

Mrs. Norris, Harry sneered at the memory of the cat treated with more dignity than he knew for a decade. In fact, he was probably older than that thing. And to think I bowed to it. Gah!

Approaching the snake-decorated stone wall that served as the door to the Slytherin House, Harry spoke "Hedwig!" with confidence two seconds before he would walk into the wall.

He walked into it anyway.

"Hedwig," Harry repeated the name of the Germanic warrior witch of antiquity. Nothing happened.

Hedwig was just posted Monday! No way the password already changed, and not on a Friday night! Harry thought bitterly.

"Hedwig!" Harry shouted outright. Still nothing happened.

"Ugh, this better not be you Terence," Harry groaned at the possibility the starting seeker was playing a practical joke on him. If so, he'd have to get him back at practice — if he could stay awake through it!

Slumping to the ground with his back to the door, Harry barely heard a hisssss before a blur of motion descended toward his face.

"SSSTOP!" Harry instinctively hissed before recognizing what was dangling in front of him.

"A king cobra," Harry observed the twenty-foot, raven-black snake hanging upside down from the door wall so its hooded head hovered just above his face.

"You ssspeak the tongue!" the snake hissed in surprise. "You are one of the sacred! How dare that two-legsss use me against you! Forgive me!"

"Someone told you to attack me?" Harry questioned.

"Forced me to think you meant me harm! But you have freed me from the two-legs' sssorcery," the snake answered.

Harry frowned. He didn't appreciate mental compulsions, so he shared the king cobra's indignation.

"You know who, right?" Harry asked.

"I can track him by sssense anytime," the king cobra hissed with audible venom. "Shall I ssstrike him for sssacrilige?"

"Firssst, I need to know who elssse he worksss with," Harry answered, remembering Ron's warning that Nott was gaining rapport among some of the older students. Given a prefect facilitated this attack, Concordia and Aloysius Rowle — daughter and son of an incarcerated Death Eater — came to mind as potential co-conspirators. He knew that despite the good words Terence put in, they disliked him more than any other Slytherin.

"Asss you wish," the king cobra answered.

"We have to keep our communication a sssecret," Harry cautioned. "There are ssschemers in that house who have no honor."

"You are wise, sssacred one," the snake praised as it gave an upside down bow.

"I like your ssscales," Harry blurted out. He loved how the king-cobra's glossy-black was contrasted by a golden flame-like pattern on the underside of the upper-third of his body — and especially by the scarlet color of the inside of his hood.

"You are graciousss, sacred one," the king cobra thanked.

"Do you have a place to sleep?" Harry wondered.

"I shall be close, but out of the two-legs' sssight," the snake answered. "The sssecond you call, I shall come."

"Thanks," Harry replied. "You wouldn't happen to know how to get into here, would you?"

"The power of the ssspirit resides in that door, as it does in you, sacred one," came the response.

"Duh," Harry sighed as he smacked his stupid head. "Open," he hissed at the Slytherin door.

7:01 a.m., December 19

"Did you ever get a response back from Horace Slughorn?" Professor Quirrell asked Harry in the middle of their weekly walk.

"Yes, but a lot shorter than I hoped," Harry answered. "I mean, Tom Riddle was the best student he had as Head of House, but Slughorn acted like he didn't remember anything besides Tom's academic record. I honestly quoted him for today's paper just because."

"A shame," Professor Quirrell responded. "I believed Tom Marvolo Riddle would be the most memorable of all students, but perhaps Horace's blood-purism still runs strong despite his departure from Hogwarts."

"Slughorn was a blood purist?" Harry asked with a tinge of disgust.

"Don't mistake me, he denounced Lord Voldemort's crusade as strongly as anyone," the professor quickly replied. "However, I doubt it a coincidence that the great majority of the marked Death Eaters were Horace's prefects during their time at Hogwarts. He held well-known favoritism toward old-money pure-bloods, particularly those whose families ranked alongside his own in Cantankerous Nott's 'Sacred Twenty-Eight'."

"Do you think Slughorn and Voldemort had the same beliefs, even if they disagreed on actions?" Harry questioned.

"One can never be completely certain," the professor stated. "However, Slytherin gave Lord Voldemort far more servants than the other houses combined. Indeed, more of the Dark Lord's inner circle hailed from institutions abroad than from other Hogwarts houses."

"Hmmm," Harry considered. "How do you think Tom Riddle rose up in Slytherin? From day one, he'd have had to deal with the Lestrange, Avery and Nott heirs — not to mention the Black heir was the favorite student at the time."

"We can only speculate, though I reckon as half-bloods we can understand the situation better than most," Professor Quirrell began. "Even now, with most wizards classified as half-bloods and the proportion of muggle-borns ever increasing, pure-bloods still receive cultural and hierarchical favor from society. How much more prejudice would Tom Marvolo Riddle have contended with in Slytherin as the old families reeled from the recent defeat of Grindelwald?"

"I'll bet he was attacked, and Horace's precious prefects looked the other way," Harry muttered bitterly.

"Have you been attacked?" Professor Quirrell caught on. "Are you…"

"They failed," Harry interrupted. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. I just don't want to involve teachers."

"Because of that muggle Dudley you lived with," the professor deduced, to which Harry nodded. "You may find such behavior is not limited to the muggles unfortunately, but presents itself in all those who base their worth on their family's social status."

"They're weak," Harry derided.

"Yet they think themselves superior, unless bested at their own game," Professor Quirrell remarked.

"Running behind their mommy's skirts?" Harry scorned.

"Well, there is that, but that is not what I was suggesting Tom Marvolo Riddle did to put such rats in their place," the professor responded. "Everyone has a talent, however small, that they value most and believe gives them value in turn. To truly best a foe, you must best him at what he is best at. And to conquer him, strip him of his value utterly."

"I understand," Harry internalized.

12:44 a.m., December 20

"St-stop!" Harry begged his assailant as he writhed on the stone ground while convulsing with laughter.

"You know how," Anthony rejected. "Rictumsempra!"

"S-st-stay locked," Ron attempted to reason as he suffered the same jinx from Ernie.

"Open the door!" Ernie demanded in an unusually concise manner.

Harry found it impossible to make intelligible words once Anthony started focusing his jinx on specific areas, such as Harry's belly-button, the insides of his thighs and even his balls.

Why…did…we…joke…bout door, Harry pitied himself as tears streamed down his face from the intense discomforting pleasure.

"Mmmm! Mmmmm!" Ron sounded as Harry began to grow lightheaded.

"F-fine!" Ron conceded between guffaws when Ernie released some of the pressure of his jinx.

Harry sent Anthony a pleading look at this. Mercifully, the Ravenclaw relented.

"No tricks?" Anthony asked the recovering Harry.

The giggling boy shook his head.

Eventually, Harry stabilized enough to reclaim his wand, repower himself and return Ron's wand to him.

"Ready?" Harry asked his best friend before they trudged to the end of the corridor.

"Not trying to go through that again," Ron shuddered as he jerked his head to the grinning Anthony and Ernie.

"Okay," Harry turned to the two blonds once the group reached the metal door. "Ron's going to open the door, but don't go inside. Cast a Lumos if you wanna good peek, but the door's only gonna be open for a few seconds."

"Oooo, shall we brave a big, bad troll?" Ernie dramatized to the tune of Anthony's snickers.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to Ron. "Ready when you are."

Ron took a deep breath, then commanded the door, "Alohomora! Aperio!"

"DEPULSO!" Harry shouted as two of the cerberus' heads hurtled toward the opening. "IMPEDIMENTA!" he aimed at the beast's entire body to freeze it for a few seconds.

"Well?" Harry directed at the stunned blonds behind him. Ron snorted at their silence.

"Pello," Harry pushed the door shut before the nearly-recovered cerberus struck again.

"Colloportus," Ron followed with The Standard Book of Spells locking charm.

"Hello! Anybody home?" Harry asked as he waggled his fingers in front of the blonds.

"Wa-what?" Anthony stammered out.

"I think his brain's broken," Ron snickered. "And Ernie over there's lost his voice box."

"Maybe we can help them out," Harry smirked at the ginger.

"N-no thanks…" Anthony stuttered as he fumbled for his wand — but it was too late.

The blonds instantly rediscovered their voices as they began shaking with fits of laughter. Soon enough, they became the beggars — not that Ron or Harry heard their pleas.

"What's going on—Harry?" a familiar prefect suddenly asked.

"Terence," Harry quickly returned. He kicked himself mentally for forgetting to reamplify his senses, but his teammate was the best prefect to be caught by. "Sup?"

"You."

"Guilty," Harry admitted with a bashful smile. "Uh, could you not dock my friends points from their houses?"

"So this is what you get up to Friday nights," Terence considered. "Well, twould be a shame to ruin your networks with other houses. So few Slytherins have that."

"You're the best," Harry thanked. "You going back to the house? Your patrol's done about now, right?"

"We will go back right now," Terence more or less dictated.

1:09 a.m.

"You think you'll be a hundred percent by our Ravenclaw match mid-January?" Harry asked as they entered the underground corridor leading to Slytherin.

"Should be, though Marcus hasn't exactly been helping — and neither have you squirt," Terence accused jokingly.

"Hey, who said I haven't been taking it easy on you, old man?" Harry teased.

"Bratty prat," Terence retorted.

A minute of silence fell between the two as they approached their house door.

"Loki," Terence directed at the door as they got within several paces of it. But the door remained unmoved.

"Loki!" Terence repeated, but the door refused to budge.

"Dammit!" Harry shouted.

"What's wrong?" the seventh-year prefect asked as his protege hissed in anger.

"This happened last Friday," Harry divulged. "One of the prefects who's caught on to my Friday schedule changed the password so I'd be trapped out here and…"

"And what?" Terence asked with concern.

"Promise not to tell anyone?" Harry asked, to which Terence nodded. "Someone tried to poison me."

"Wha—you're serious?" Terence returned with shock.

"A number of Slytherins haven't liked me from the moment I was sorted, and I know more have joined that camp over the months," Harry spieled. "And that's okay, I get it. Of course the Rowles would hate me from day one — I'll bet that's why Gemma did our tour without Aloysius. And since so many Death Eaters decided to have babies at the same time my parents did, I'm lucky my roommates haven't all ganged up on me. But you get it, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" Terrence asked.

"It wasn't easy for you when you came in, right? Son of aurors," Harry empathized. "Class above you had Merula Snyde and Barnaby Lee, whose Death Eater parents were rotting in Azkaban. I doubt they liked you, and they were pretty popular in the house, weren't they?"

"You could say that," Terence muttered bitterly.

"Then, of course, you had a Sacred Twenty-Eight Rowle in your year, she had a sister three years above you, two years above that was a Sacred Twenty-Eight Rosier, a year below you was a Sacred Twenty-Eight Flint, and then the Rowle boy came the year after that," Harry recited. "What I'm trying to say is we get each other, right? More than seeker to seeker?"

"Well yah, I've always liked you," Terence said in a voice that suggested confusion as to where the conversation was going. "You know I've got your back, right?"

"Between you and me, I think the team's all that's keeping me afloat in the house," Harry confided. "I don't think even Draco would have been enough with how much Nott hates me."

"You have Gemma's support," Terence encouraged. "And Peter's best friends with Marcus, so as long as Cap likes you, you've got the school's most skilled duelist on your side too. And Cassius has taken a real liking to you, so you've got the third years behind you, team or no."

"That's good to know," Harry smiled. "You know, I wouldn't be here today if not for you."

"What can I say, you're a quick study," Terence shrugged.

"I still feel like I took credit from you though, so if you ever wanna — hex me or something — I'm cool with it," Harry continued, but Terence raised his hand in rejection of the offer.

"Don't be dramatic," Terence laughed. "Annoying as you can be, I don't have any reason to do that."

"Just wanted to make sure of where we stand — never know in the snake pit, eh?" Harry laughed along with the seventh year.

"So squirt, given all this time we've spent talking, looks like there's no venom this time, huh?" Terence proposed with a smile.

"Venom? Didn't I say poison?" Harry wondered aloud as a dagger-like grin took over his face.

Harry hissed a second time, causing his king cobra to leap from the shadows above to wrap itself around Terence.

"At least you know the difference between the two — too many don't," Harry applauded as a predatory gleam took over his eyes. "I mean, how hard is it? Poison if you bite it, venom if it bites you."

"H-Harry…" Terence tried before the king cobra constricted his throat.

"If you just came clean, I'd have let it go," Harry stated frostily. "No harm, no foul. But no, you used the chance I gave you to lie to my face. Not to mention pretend that you didn't change the password again. Planning on a good laugh over a shag with Concordia?"

"N-not…like…" Terence wheezed as he began paling.

"Not like that?" Harry sneered. "See, at first I thought you'd be mad over the troll. And that's fair. I dragged you out there, got you hurt, then I used your spell to destroy the troll. You were rushed to St. Mungo's, I was cheered on as a hero and then as the seeker in the first match. But the funny thing is, I've told Marcus multiple times I'm happy to be the reserve as long as you're on the team. I'm not a threat to you…but you still went out of your way to sic the longest king cobra I've ever seen on me. And you tried it again tonight, didn't you? Walked with me back to the house to make sure I got bitten, huh?"

Terence shook his head and tried to say something, but the king cobra tightened his grip.

"You know what I think?" Harry continued. "I think you saw the growing dislike our housemates have for me as a chance to tread on a bloke. To feel high and mighty for once, share laughs with the Death Eater goons? I mean, what's funnier than the vanquisher of Voldemort getting sent to the Hospital Wing for a snake bite? Or maybe, sent to the morgue?"

Terence jerked his head in denial of the last claim, but Harry couldn't care less.

"So, Terence, is this funny?" Harry pressed. "Shall we have a jolly chuckle?"

At a hiss from Harry, the king cobra flitted his tongue over Terence's neck before brushing it with his fangs. Fear radiated from the seventh year, and Harry drank it like a desert oasis.

"You now see that I've got far more power than you can dream of, huh?" Harry boasted. "That if I want your final year to be hell, no one can stop me? Not even Snape?"

Terence whimpered. Harry laughed.

"Cormac mentioned you the other day," Harry brought up casually. "Something about your dad and his uncle being good friends? I was actually asking him about another uncle — a dead one, not the point. Anyway, you apparently taught him how to fly as a kid, told him you felt most free and alive when you're in the air? Something like that, yah?"

"Well, here's the deal," Harry proceeded. "You're going to tell our good friend Marcus that you quit. Maybe something about N.E.W.T.'s — don't know, don't care. But you're gonna tell him by the time of our gift exchange. I expect him to come to me today and tell me I'm the starting seeker. If he doesn't, I'm not going to be very happy. Understand?"

Terence nodded.

"I also will have your support against anything Nott tries, yes?" Harry continued. "I have a hunch he's gonna make his move sooner than later. And if I have to smack him down in the common room, I can expect to have at least one seventh-year prefect backing me, right? Likely two, since you're joined at the hips with Concordia nowadays?"

No response came.

"You're quiet, everything okay?" Harry sniggered at the sheet-white ex-seeker. "Oh right, I almost forgot. I can trust you to keep my…heritage…a secret, right?"

"I asked you a question!" Harry roared when he got no response.

"Y—y—ye," Terence strangled out.

"I'll hold you to that…literally," Harry chuckled as he directed the snake to hug Terence a bit tighter. Within five seconds, the seventh year passed out.

"Shall I ssstrike him?" the king cobra asked.

"Snape can read mindsss," Harry cautioned. "I can't have him sssent to the hospital wing with a sssnake bite after our dissscusion."

"How will you take revenge?" the snake asked.

"This vermin will give me what he valuesss most," Harry answered. "And he'll alwaysss remember this holiday ssseason of giving for it."

"Shall we leave him?" the snake asked.

"In a sortsss," Harry replied with a smirk while grabbing a flask of hard alcohol he had hidden near the door.

After forcing enough down the unconscious Terence's throat that his lungs would absorb the stench, Harry smeared some over the prefect's lips and chin, drizzled some over his shirt and guzzled the rest. Harry then stripped Terence of his cloak and tie before messing his sandy hair to give a disheveled appearance. Wiping down the flask for his fingerprints, Harry then levitated it next to one of Terence's hands while brushing the hand over it. He then levitated the flask into one of Terence's pockets.

"Ha-Harry?" Terence whispered as he started to come to. "I'm so…"

"Dormi," Harry commanded. The prefect would not wake for hours — hopefully only after being found in this disgraceful state. But in any case, he would be locked out until someone opened the door from the inside. Because Harry had set the final password of the night.

"Riddle!" Harry dictated before the door. He then strode into his house with the regality befitting of an Heir of Slytherin.

Perhaps he presumed too much, but Harry felt that if Tom Riddle could see him now, he would make Hogwarts' greatest Slytherin proud.

Author's Note

The king cobra is this fiction's first completely original character. The series will keep OC's to a minimum, although it will take liberties in creating names for characters bereft of those (Slytherin 2nd-year Niall Flavus is based on the unnamed Slytherin dueling captain from the Half-Blood Prince video game).